Yin-Lifespan Crossing, the Capital of an Old Friend

Huang Bai was somewhat surprised.

"What are Transcendent Daoists?"

He had genuinely never heard that term before.

Seeing that he was not pretending to be ignorant, A-You slowly explained.

"Few people mention the term these days. It generally refers to cultivators from before the Eastern Jin."

He paused there, as though organizing his thoughts.

Daoists in the world today generally fell into several branches: Zhengyi, Quanzhen, and the various folk lineages.

Modern Daoists, aside from their own cultivation, placed greater emphasis on seeking audience with divine lords and receiving registers and transmission rites. Only then could they rightfully borrow power, use talismans, conduct rituals, and hold fasting ceremonies.

"To put it plainly, they borrow their patriarchs' methods, the gods' methods, and the altar's methods."

Huang Bai nodded slightly as he listened.

It had some similarities with the spirit mediums and Deity Invocation practitioners he had encountered before, except Mount Mao had a far more systematic structure.

A-You continued.

"Among Daoists of this kind, Zhang Daoling, Ge Hong, Sa Shoujian, and Xu Xun were all extremely famous figures."

"There is another kind known as Transcendent Daoists."

Zhong Jiu stood to one side. Rarely, he did not interrupt, merely narrowing his eyes as he studied Huang Bai.

"These Daoists consumed elixirs, refined pills, gathered qi, and tempered their forms, gradually cultivating their own Dao attainment."

"Guangchengzi, Pengzu, Lü Shang, and Red Pine Master all belonged to this kind."

"Because Biographies of Exemplary Immortals recorded such people, later generations casually called them 'Transcendent Daoists.' Strictly speaking, though, they should be called Qi Refiners."

Only then did Huang Bai fully understand.

"So that's how it is."

Still, he did not really agree with that distinction.

As far as he was concerned, anything useful to him was worth learning.

The three chatted as they walked outside.

Just before they parted ways, Huang Bai suddenly glanced at the haunted building and said,

"I'll get to the bottom of the hanged female ghost this time."

Because this was definitely not as simple as a hanged ghost suddenly going mad.

As for who was behind it, Huang Bai already had someone in mind.

After returning to the Daoist temple, Huang Bai did not rest immediately. He sat cross-legged, circulated the medicinal power of his Inner Elixir once, then casually summoned the Yaksha to stand guard beside him.

Ever since the ancient temple had acknowledged him as its master, he could directly communicate with the temple's ritual altar. He no longer had to carry the Spirit Army Altar around everywhere.

Huang Bai slowly opened his eyes, but his mind was occupied by something else.

If I kill Zhong Jiu ahead of time, would that count as completing the Heavenly Dao Talisman Edict's task?

The talisman edict had given two conditions.

The first was to kill the zombie.

The second was to obtain the Mount Mao Talisman Register.

In the original story, Zhong Jiu was naturally an unavoidable part of it. If Huang Bai simply got rid of him first, could that actually complete it early?

After considering it, Huang Bai suppressed the thought.

"No rush. I'll check out 2442 first and confirm whether Zhong Jiu was responsible."

The madwoman's husband had supposedly been an upright teacher.

A man like that could not possibly undergo such a drastic change in temperament for no reason and suddenly assault twin female students.

Even if he truly wanted to do such a thing, he should not have done it in his own home.

The only explanation that made sense was that he had been influenced by something.

And those twins had eventually become conjoined vicious ghosts, their resentment far fiercer than that of ordinary spirits. That did not seem naturally formed either. It was more like someone had given them a push.

The more Huang Bai thought about it, the more certain he became. Zhong Jiu was absolutely involved in this.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the public housing estate.

The lights in Zhong Jiu's home were dim, and an ornate, gaudy ritual altar stood in the center of the living room.

The altar held unidentified beast bones, old spirit tablets, and a pile of crookedly drawn talismans that radiated an evil aura.

Zhong Jiu stood before the altar, shaking a bell in one hand. With the other, he pricked his fingertip with a silver needle, squeezed out a drop of blood, and slowly drew a talisman on yellow paper.

After finishing it, he walked to a black jar nearby and gradually dug out the white ashes buried inside.

Threads of black smoke rose from the ashes, gathering without dispersing. They vaguely condensed into sinister human faces, creating an indescribably eerie sight.

"By edict!"

Zhong Jiu's gaze sharpened. He slapped down a talisman, shattering those ghostly faces on the spot.

Immediately afterward, he took a deep breath and inhaled the ashes and black smoke through his nose.

A moment later, his originally sallow, ashen complexion gradually improved, and even his breathing became much steadier than before.

"It's about time to make a move."

Zhong Jiu wiped the corner of his mouth and muttered quietly.

"That Daoist from the Heavenly Dao Temple doesn't understand Mount Mao Arts. He can't ruin my plans."

The technique he used was called Yin-Lifespan Crossing. It forcibly extended his own life by taking the yin lifespan of ghosts.

The ashes in the black jar came from an infant's bones. He had refined them into Ghostling Smoke with evil arts, inhaling it every day to keep his nearly broken life hanging on.

The more this technique was used, the less effective it became.

Once his natural lifespan ran out, the ghost officials would eventually come knocking and drag away this man who was supposed to be dead but was not.

He had stolen too much yin lifespan over the years. When that time truly came, he might not even have the chance to reincarnate.

Therefore, Zhong Jiu knew very well.

If he wanted to keep living, he needed to raise an even greater evil.

"The twin vicious ghosts are nearly ready."

"Now all I need is a shell that can contain the evil."

Standing before the altar, Zhong Jiu's greater plan slowly took shape in his mind.

In the dim secret chamber, the flames of incense and candles flickered unsteadily.

Snow-white little ghosts occasionally darted past Zhong Jiu. They had no pupils, their footsteps as light as the wind. From time to time, they turned back to glance at him. The entire scene was so chilling that it made one's scalp prickle.

During the day, beneath the public housing block.

A haggard middle-aged man entered slowly with luggage on his back.

The man's name was Qian Hao.

In the past, he had been a household-name action star. Now, he was merely a dejected middle-aged man whose career was destroyed, whose wife and children had left him, and whose eyes no longer held even a trace of light.

He stood beneath the public housing block and raised his head to look at the rundown, desolate old buildings, his expression blank.

Only when his gaze accidentally swept over the Daoist temple that had been erected not long ago did a faint ripple appear in his eyes, as though he had remembered something from long ago.

"You're the new tenant, right?"

Uncle Yan, the security guard, came over from behind and greeted him with a cheerful smile.

"I'm the security guard here. Just call me Uncle Yan."

Qian Hao came back to himself and forced out a smile.

"I'll be troubling you, Uncle Yan."

Uncle Yan led him upstairs, explaining things as they walked.

"You rented 2442."

As he said that, his expression visibly turned awkward. It seemed he wanted to say more, but he ultimately held back. He hurriedly handed over the keys, made an excuse, and left first.

Qian Hao did not care.

Carrying his pitifully small amount of luggage inside, he slowly tidied up the room.

The room was empty, with nothing much worth mentioning. The only thing he carefully set aside was an old Qing Dynasty official's robe, faded almost black with age.

It was a symbol of his former glory.

Now, only this faint remnant remained.

Qian Hao sat at the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the official's robe without any expression on his face.

His former glory, family, marriage, children, reputation... all of it had scattered completely.

He rose, hung a rope from the fan, tied a knot, slowly slipped it around his neck, and finally kicked away the stool.

As the suffocating sensation gradually surged over him, his consciousness slowly blurred.

Scenes from the past spun before his eyes like a lantern reel.

The film sets of his youth, the lights, the applause, the cheers, the smiling faces of his peers... scene after scene, all seeming to lie behind a layer of water.

At that moment, the temperature inside the room suddenly dropped.

Strands of crimson blood slowly seeped from the snow-white ceiling.

Pitch-black hair spread from the corners and ceiling, covering the entire room like a spiderweb.

Two figures slowly emerged from the shadows.

They were two female ghosts in bloodstained white dresses, their faces ghastly pale and distorted, their eyes black without a trace of white.

They walked side by side, their resentment as heavy as a surging sea of blood. The instant they appeared, the entire room seemed to be dragged into another world.

Qian Hao hung in midair, his breathing nearly cut off. Yet as he looked at the two ghosts, he felt little fear.

Instead, he smiled.

"Ghosts..."

In his hazy state, he seemed to return to twenty years ago.

It had begun because of ghosts, and it would end because of ghosts.

This ending was not so bad.

Just as the twin vicious ghosts were about to pounce on him, an angry shout suddenly exploded outside the door.

"You audacious fiends!"

The door burst open.

A Daoist in a yellow robe charged in with a sword in hand. His ritual sword cut through the air as he strode in Dipper Steps, his robes snapping in the wind.

Qian Hao's consciousness was blurred, yet his vision suddenly swam.

He seemed to see the figure of an old friend.