He Ping's whole body tensed. He whipped around, stomping down hard on the strings suspended beneath his feet. Then he flung out his sleeves. With a sharp twang like a plucked string, the Milo Blade shot from his hand and spread like hundreds of empty blades drifting in the wind, forming a dense net of deadly slashes.
A green-robed figure had suddenly appeared behind him. The figure had barely begun to speak before the Milo Blade's fierce, surging sword aura unfurled from every direction. Before he could dodge, he was swept into it. His body instantly split apart, scattering in all directions like scraps of cloth.
"Something's wrong!"
He Ping's pupils contracted sharply. There was nothing inside the torn strips of cloth. A gust of wind sent them fluttering like butterflies. The crisscrossing blades hadn't even grazed a shadow—
Only then did he realize that the figure torn apart by the net had actually been nothing more than a green robe. Chixinzi himself wasn't there.
"The voice definitely came from behind me, but no one's there..."
Before he could think it through, two dark phantoms suddenly shot out from the scattered green robe.
"Hands?"
He Ping focused his eyes and saw that they were a pair of arms, their palms carved from dark golden wood. Their five slender fingers were exquisitely lifelike as they flew straight at him.
"Severed Ghost Hand?"
His brows knit, and his expression changed drastically.
At that very instant, the two bizarre hands pounced on him. Golden mist shimmered between their long, pointed fingers as a blinding radiance blazed forth.
—The Severed Ghost Hand was also a puppet technique. It was recorded in the Formless Secret Treasury scroll He Ping possessed, but the method of crafting it had been "lost long ago," with not a single word left behind.
(As it turns out, the records in the Formless Secret Treasury probably aren't complete. The method for crafting the Severed Ghost Hand hasn't been lost...)
It all happened in the blink of an eye. He leaped backward, setting the strings beneath his feet swaying, and flicked all ten fingers through the air. In an instant, the Milo Blade's assault began anew. More of the strings crisscrossing the air thrummed, transforming into hundreds of invisible, formless blades, their overwhelming force nearly impossible to resist. They swept toward the incoming Severed Ghost Hands, intent on shredding them.
Several sharp, tearing sounds rang out. The blade net and strings shattered together. The Severed Ghost Hands blazed with spirit light, breaking through the web and pursuing him like shadows. They became two beams of golden light, one on his left and one on his right, capable of piercing through all things. The sound of their passage ripped through the air!
"The Severed Ghost Hand is a puppet technique too, so naturally it can be imbued with Armor-Clad Spirit Light. I can't take that head-on!"
The Immortal Puppet Sect's puppet techniques were exceptionally wondrous. Each puppet they crafted could awaken a different magical property.
For members of the Immortal Puppet Sect, making a puppet was tantamount to refining a spell. The stronger the puppet they crafted, the more powerful the spell it was imbued with.
As these thoughts flashed through his mind, He Ping raised a hand. The Formless Strings suspended in the air tugged at him, and his robes rustled in the wind as he darted away like a ghost.
Behind him, the Severed Ghost Hands pursued at lightning speed, their momentum fearsome. In the blink of an eye, they caught up and lunged for He Ping's back.
But just then, He Ping made a bizarre shift in midair. His body drifted in another direction, colliding with a string that had appeared out of nowhere on his right. He kicked off it, his trajectory suddenly bending and changing.
The flying Severed Ghost Hands moved in a straight line. They charged too fast and overshot He Ping, slanting down into the forest one after the other. They punched through thick tree trunks and smashed into the earth, sending sand and stone flying. Leaves and dust drifted through the air.
"That was close!"
He Ping let out a breath inwardly, but his body moved up and down among the several strings strewn across the canopy, just like a spider.
The forest was filled with countless strings crisscrossing like a web. He could shift directions at bizarre angles in midair, or hang there like a paper puppet stuck to the strings. It was all thanks to the grafting method used in puppet arts:
For example, the Paper Spirit Puppet's Armor-Clad Spirit Light could be grafted onto the Paper Sedan to reinforce its defenses. The Wood Demon Puppet He Ping had made could also transfer its unique Spider Walk Technique onto him, allowing him to move as lightly as if he weighed nothing and turn in midair with the help of the strings. It was extremely convenient.
Just then, another sound of tearing air rang out. He Ping looked up and saw several golden shadows whistling down from the sky. They were several Severed Ghost Hands with clenched fists.
"Damn, are those missile fists?"
Clicking his tongue, He Ping dropped into the forest. Golden light pierced the air and shattered the surrounding trees. Countless branches and leaves rustled, wood chips and foliage spraying everywhere, but he still managed to escape through a gap.
The dense forest was a complicated place, and its sinister woods at night made a perfect hiding place.
He Ping landed as lightly as a puff of cotton. A few tiptoeing steps brought him to a halt. Then he darted between the trees like a nimble cat. His constitution was terrible to begin with. Without the Spider Walk Technique, he could never have moved so swiftly.
"I don't know where that bastard is hiding and keeping watch. I didn't bring the Wood Demon Puppet or the Paper Puppet with me, since I wanted to spy without drawing attention..."
Moving around with a large group of puppets would attract too much notice. To avoid the trouble of having others discover his movements, he had secretly hidden the Paper Puppets, the Paper Sedan, and the Wood Demon Puppet in a secluded spot some distance away.
"This is the perfect time to use them."
He Ping gathered strength in his feet, ducked his head and shoulders to avoid the branches overhead, and sprinted forward like a streak of lightning.
On the rugged, winding mountain trails, his legs moved in a blur. After several successive leaps, he was moving so fast that his form became impossible to make out. Anyone watching might have mistaken him for an ape in the mountains.
For now, he had no intention of traveling by the suspended-string web he'd set up. Chixinzi was probably watching him from an open area or a high vantage point. Only by taking cover in the thickly leafed forest could he escape Chixinzi and the Severed Ghost Hands.
"Senior, over here!"
Suddenly, a figure darted out from the trees ahead. It was Cheng Zhi, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.
(Why is he here?!)
He Ping's five senses and six perceptions were far sharper than an ordinary person's. His soul could even sense his surroundings, letting him detect killing intent and hostility without relying on sight or hearing. Yet he hadn't sensed Cheng Zhi's arrival at all.
He adjusted the ghost mask on his face. His foot seemed to slip, and his body veered off his original path as he ran in another direction, away from Cheng Zhi.
But as soon as he moved, Cheng Zhi sprang off the ground, hooked a foot onto a nearby tree, and climbed it. Grabbing a vine, he swung toward him.
"Die!"
With one swing, he shouted and drew the Burmese Iron Soft Blade from his waist. Dropping from the air, he gripped the blade in his right hand and chopped down at He Ping's back.
"Looking to die."
He Ping didn't even need to turn around to sense what was happening behind him. He wasn't puzzled about why Cheng Zhi was trying to kill him. Chixinzi had already shown himself, so it was hardly surprising that the boy had been led astray and turned against him.
He didn't turn. He flicked his sleeve backward, and the Milo Blade burst through the air.
At that instant, Cheng Zhi's eyes turned a spectral green, as if some demonic force had taken up residence in them. The Burmese Iron Soft Blade in his right hand, along with his palm, gave off a faint, strange glow.
Buzz...
The blade sliced through the air. The Milo Blade's web of refined threads burst apart in layer after layer, while the blade accelerated toward He Ping's back.
This time, He Ping had nowhere to dodge. He spun around, and the fingernails on his right hand, hidden in his sleeve, quickly turned black. He lightly tapped the air with one finger.
With a clear chime, the Burmese Iron Soft Blade shattered. Cheng Zhi spat out a mouthful of blood and was sent flying backward.
"Idiot, you think you can—"
He Ping's blood and qi abruptly seized up, and an icy force seeped into his body. He realized something was wrong and lifted his eyes. Cheng Zhi lay sprawled nearby, his eyes shifting with a spectral glow, as though a formless flame were burning in them.
"What... what strange spell is this?!"
He Ping's face was full of shock. Suddenly, it was as though some foreign force had taken control of his body. His muscles slackened, and his body grew heavy, like an iron block sunk beneath deep water. Even his mind felt as if it were "emptied out."
His entire body seemed frozen by a strange force. His consciousness, too, seemed to be slowly coming apart, until there was nowhere left for him to dwell.
Only now did he understand: Cheng Zhi's body had been subjected to some evil spell and turned into a "medium" through which it could reach him—no, it didn't need to touch him at all. A mere meeting of their eyes was enough for the spell to cling to him like a bone-burrowing maggot and invade his body.
"Something's wrong. This force isn't targeting my body. It's aimed at a cultivator's soul. If that's really the case—"
In an instant, the sensation of being frozen all over slowly faded. His mind regained control of his flesh, and the evil spell was losing its effect.
"That's right. This must be an evil spell that specifically affects a person's soul and will. It can be transmitted through sight, but against me..."
He Ping laughed soundlessly to himself.
Unlike ordinary people, two souls were hidden in his mind. One belonged to him, the transmigrator, while the other belonged to the original owner of this body.
The evil spell transmitted through the Eye-Borrowing Technique could affect only one of his souls. For example, the gloomy, sinister power generated by the spell was now contaminating the original owner's soul, but it had no effect at all on his own.
"It's completely useless against me—"