Ghost Formation

Before the paper sedan, the paper puppets stepped out to form a formation, guarding the front, back, left, and right of the sedan.

Suddenly, a cloud of dust and gravel, over a man's height, surged up from the ground and rained down toward the paper sedan like a volley of arrows.

Several paper puppets blocked the path like human shields. The gravel, as hard as stone arrows, struck the bodies of the puppets, but it was as if they had hit an invisible wall; a faint light shimmered across the surface of these mulberry-paper figures.

This was the "Armor-Clad Spirit Light." The paper puppets He Ping crafted looked like mere paper-pasted toys, giving the impression of being fragile and vulnerable, but in reality, each one possessed a layer of protective spirit light.

With this "spirit light" protecting them, ordinary blades and spears could hardly leave a scratch, and even sorcery struggled to break through this barrier.

Meanwhile, as the dust and gravel swirled, the Green-Grasping Ghost hidden underground seized the moment. Its figure transformed into a wisp of smoke, bypassed the array of paper puppets, and flew toward the paper sedan.

This ghost was cunning; it knew there was the scent of a living person inside the sedan, and rather than entangling with these puppets, it was better to trouble the living man.

Swish! The Green-Grasping Ghost reappeared, lunging from the air with elongated, sharp claws. Yet, just half a foot from the sedan, the green ghost claws were ensnared by countless spiderweb-like threads.

"Zheng!"

With a sound like a vibrating zither string, the blade-like web of threads tightened sharply. The Green-Grasping Ghost's arm and half its body were shredded. The creature felt the pain, its form suddenly blurring as if it had turned entirely into smoke, and it dove back into the ground like a smoky serpent.

"Did it escape?"

Seeing this group of ghosts either dead, fleeing, or running away, He Ping's expression remained largely unchanged.

He realized that this Wandering Soul Village was not simple; the spirits and ghosts lurking here were no ordinary specters.

In lonely graves and wild mounds, there are only wandering souls with weak yin energy. Aside from scaring ignorant passersby, they aren't worth mentioning... but in this ghost village, there are long-standing evil ghosts, such as the Cat-Monkey, the Tree Crawler, the Well Ghost, and that Green-Grasping Ghost. If these things appeared individually, it would be nothing, but gathered together in a swarm? This situation is clearly wrong!

Especially the Green-Grasping Demon Ghost. For such an evil ghost to form, one must have harbored deep resentment and hatred in life, hiding beneath a coffin containing a corpse from an "all-yin" year, month, day, and hour. By acting as a cushion for the corpse and practicing for forty-nine days without food or water, there is a very slim chance of becoming a half-ghost, half-corpse—a Green-Grasping Ghost.

Of course, there were many taboos and tribulations involved. Furthermore, even if one were lucky enough to become a Green-Grasping Ghost, one had to constantly absorb the death energy of those who died during an "all-yin" year and month but an "all-yang" day and hour to maintain its form.

However, such demon ghosts were not purely spectral; they possessed physical bodies, did not fear sunlight, could remain active during the day, and possessed various supernatural abilities, making them extremely troublesome.

Yet, while these demon ghosts in Wandering Soul Village were more than enough to deal with ordinary people, they struggled to exert much influence against someone like He Ping, who had achieved some success in sorcery and could deploy arrays with puppets.

This Wandering Soul Village is very strange. I fear someone is refining ghosts here—no, they are refining a ghost array!?

He Ping's heart grew increasingly astonished.

He did not know much about ghosts, but based on the knowledge he had obtained from Wu Yousheng, it would be understandable if such powerful ghosts appeared individually. However, for so many to gather in this ghost village made no sense.

Fierce ghosts were like tigers and wild beasts; they had their own "hunting grounds" and "territories." As the saying goes, one mountain cannot hold two tigers; if the territories of ghosts overlapped, there would be conflict.

In such a small place as this ghost village, to have so many powerful ghosts crammed together—theoretically, they should have torn each other apart long ago!

This is a ghost-refining ground, a ghost array. That there are so many ghosts here is entirely man-made...

He had not considered that someone would turn an entire village into a ghost domain, and that this ghost domain had become a ghost array. The person who set this up intended to use the yin energy of this domain to cultivate the swarm of ghosts.

To have such capability, they certainly wouldn't be an ordinary person, but a true practitioner of the Dao who has studied sorcery.

He Ping muttered to himself, feeling there was no need to offend a master of Daoist arts. He had originally assumed this Wandering Soul Village was a natural ghost domain.

Now that he judged it to be the handiwork of a fellow practitioner of Daoist arts, there was no need to take things to the extreme.

Having driven away the group of demon ghosts, he did not continue to hunt them down but ordered the paper puppets to continue carrying the sedan.

The white paper sedan set off once more, and in the blink of an eye, it arrived before the ancestral hall at the end of the long street.

"Fellow Daoist, I have trespassed into your esteemed territory by mistake, with no intention of causing trouble. I am only here to capture a petty thief who stole my sect's techniques. I ask that you show mercy, release the thief, and allow me to take him back for punishment."

He Ping did not intend to offend anyone immediately. He decided to first pin a crime on the green-clad servant, such as stealing sorcery techniques—a matter only those within the Immortal Puppet Sect would know about. By spouting such nonsense, outsiders would have no way of knowing the truth.

"Fellow Daoist, this concerns my sect's private affairs. I ask for your cooperation. As long as you release the person, I shall depart immediately."

He frowned and added another sentence, his tone becoming more forceful compared to his previous words.

"Fellow Daoist, why not spare a moment to meet?"

He Ping's expression darkened slightly as he asked again in a loud voice, but unfortunately, there was no reply from the ancestral hall.

In the pitch-black night, the ancestral hall stood there, seemingly indifferent, offering no response to him at all.

He Ping hurriedly appealed to the dark, gloomy ancestral hall several more times, but still, there was no response.

What is going on? Are they too lazy to acknowledge me, or... could it be that this Wandering Soul Village is truly not controlled by anyone, just an empty ghost domain?

He Ping's expression was full of doubt.

Such a thing shouldn't be possible... with this village being used to "refine ghosts," it's impossible that no one is managing it, right?

Suddenly—

The two bronze doors of the ancestral hall, adorned with beast heads, creaked open. Behind the dark door panels, it was as if a giant beast had opened its maw, revealing a bloody, gaping mouth.

He Ping grew alert instantly. He narrowed his eyes, his ears twitching, and he heard a sudden, intense "shoo-shoo-shoo" sound.

In that split second, he saw countless white shadows flying out from the ancestral hall in a dense swarm.

He Ping was startled by the sheer number, his expression shifting slightly as his pupils constricted!

The next second, his fingers rapidly formed several incantations, and he let out a low shout.

"Form the array!"

No sooner had he spoken than dozens of figures leaped out from behind. The paper puppets were driven into action, rushing over, each wearing a different expression: joy, anger, sorrow, worry, and fear.

The ghost spirits attached to the paper puppets had long been refined into curse-spirits. The power of these curse-spirits erupted on the spot, and instantly, the "Armor-Clad Spirit Light" on the puppets activated, their thin hands waving in the air, flashing with streaks of afterimages.

Swish, swish, swish! The incoming white shadows twisted and coiled in the air, only to be severed by the paper puppet's hand-blade, writhing like the dismembered bodies of long serpents.

"Fellow Daoist, shall we not talk this over?"

He Ping frowned slightly, though his tone remained calm.

The old, red-lacquered gates of the ancestral hall had turned pitch-black with the passage of time; from within the gaping entrance, countless white shadows poured out like fish in a stream, then soared into the sky, blanketing the air as they flew toward the paper sedan chair.

It seemed the other party had no intention of talking any further!