Corpse in the Sophora

In the dim room, only the faint firelight from the brazier remained. A chill blew in from outside with the wind, rolling up wisps of smoke-like cold vapor.

At this moment, the room was utterly silent.

The burly blacksmith merely stood motionless, staring at the scholar who had burst through the door.

His face was hidden in darkness, his expression impossible to discern. Yet in his eyes, malice was uncontrollably taking tangible form, condensing into a faint, miserable green glow.

This was the malice of the dead toward the living.

"Get out." At last, the burly man spoke, his voice hoarse yet deep.

"You jest, Officer. Now that I'm here, how could I simply leave?" Tan Shuchang was in an excellent mood. Thanks to the divine power Water-Mirrored Lotus Veil, he had already clearly sensed the number and locations of the fierce ghosts.

Not counting his dog-headed strategist, there were exactly nine of them—not one more, not one less.

He had originally thought he would need to scheme against Langshou Ghost City to obtain enough fierce ghosts. Who would have thought that on this single trip through the instance, he would be able to capture nine fierce ghosts?

Hearing this, the burly blacksmith fell silent.

But the next moment, he raised his head slightly, as though looking at Tan Shuchang, yet also as though looking toward somewhere outside. He muttered in a daze, "Why are you forcing me? Why are all of you forcing me?"

As he murmured those few words to himself, the burly man tore off his own face, revealing a grayish-brown head of flesh and blood.

It looked like scraps of dried flesh still clinging to a skull.

"I promised her that I would never harm anyone again. After I sucked her blood dry, I couldn't suck anyone else's blood. Why are you forcing me to kill you?"

The burly man continued, and when his words fell, his appearance had already undergone an earth-shaking change.

His face resembled a dried corpse, his body was enormous, and upon his grayish-white robes was a blood-red character: "Funeral." The iron hammer the fierce ghost had been clutching suddenly transformed into a long banner, bearing another character: "Constable."

A domain of malice spread out, summoning gust after gust of yin wind.

"I'm going to refine you into a human pill!" the burly man roared at Tan Shuchang after revealing his true form.

Tan Shuchang had no idea why this fierce ghost looked as though it had been provoked, but he did not care about that, nor did he care what kind of past story lay behind the ghost's words.

He struck.

Thus, the burly man went from roaring at the top of his lungs to begging loudly for mercy in less than a single breath.

"I—I still have to avenge her! Please don't kill me! Let me go! Once I kill another three hundred people, I can avenge her!"

"Wasn't the 'her' in your mouth killed by your mouth?" Tan Shuchang did not like hearing that, because there was not even a complete thread of logic in it.

Then, as bloody water began to emerge beneath his feet and pounced toward the fierce ghost, the ghost vanished without a trace.

"The ghost-suppressing arts originating from the Netherworld are truly useful!" Tan Shuchang could not help saying again. This fierce ghost had been unable to withstand even one exchange because the technique he had used just now was a secret art passed down from the Netherworld.

This secret art had no name, only four simple words—Ghost Suppression, First Form.

Secret arts passed down from the Netherworld that specifically targeted ghostly creatures were widespread throughout the Jia Five Realm. Nearly every immortal cultivation sect knew a few such techniques.

Yet there were very few immortal sects that had collected them all.

That was because these secret arts displayed astonishing power only when facing fierce ghosts and wandering souls. Using them against cultivators was no different from taking off one's pants to fart.

At times, they could not even harm an ordinary mortal who had never cultivated.

Therefore, every immortal cultivation sect required its disciples to know such highly specialized secret arts before descending the mountain, but knowing one or two forms was enough.

Tan Shuchang, however, knew them all.

Given the Tan family's former influence, gathering all these secret arts aimed at ghostly creatures had not been difficult. Back then, Tan Shuchang, born a bastard son, had not been permitted to cultivate. Thus, he could only read these secret arts meant for ghosts to ease his longing for cultivation.

Over time, he had instead learned every one of these secret arts for dealing with ghosts.

After suppressing that deserter ghost constable, Tan Shuchang followed his senses and found the dilapidated thatched hut. At this time, the old butcher inside was boiling a kettle of hot water. When he saw Tan Shuchang, he could not help sighing before saying, "Young man, you shouldn't have come."

"Sir, may I ask why this student should not have come?" Tan Shuchang had still burst through the door, but his words remained exceedingly courteous.

"Young man, you really do have some manners, but not much!" Glancing at the fragments of door scattered across the ground, the old butcher spoke slowly. After he finished speaking, an eerie green glow began to rise in his eyes.

"I happen to need to eat a person to recover to my peak, and you came right at this moment. Tell me, should you have come?" The old butcher's voice was hoarse, and as he spoke, gust after gust of yin wind howled out.

"Then I truly should not have come..." Hearing this, Tan Shuchang nodded at the sound logic.

"Young man, you really are good at putting on an act!" The old butcher let out a shrill, low laugh.

But Tan Shuchang did not like hearing this praise, so he struck first. This time, he used another ghost-suppressing secret art—Ghost Suppression, Third Form.

Just like the deserter ghost constable, the old butcher could not endure even one exchange. But unlike the ghost constable, after the ghost was suppressed by Tan Shuchang, the old butcher's corpse remained where it was.

It still retained some warmth.

Tan Shuchang could not help looking at it twice more, then understood that the ghost here had used a method to seize a living person's fleshly body. Or perhaps the old butcher had voluntarily offered his body to this ghost.

Tan Shuchang's latter conclusion was a simple guess based on the man's identity as a butcher and the environment he had been in.

Then Tan Shuchang prepared to search for the remaining seven fierce ghosts.

But as soon as he stepped out of the thatched hut, he saw those seven fierce ghosts walking toward him.

This was also Tan Shuchang's first time seeing General Sophora. After one glance, he discovered that something was off about the other party. So he attacked, and then Tan Shuchang learned what exactly was wrong.

Other than General Sophora, the other six fierce ghosts were all real.

The ghost-suppressing art easily subdued the six fierce ghosts General Sophora had brought, but after General Sophora alone was suppressed, he directly transformed into a section of tree root, while his true body disappeared without a trace.

Thus, Tan Shuchang summoned his dog-headed strategist.

"What is going on?"

The scholar fierce ghost knew the reason.

"My lord may not know this, but General Sophora's true body is a Corpse in the Sophora. A corpse fused with a sophora tree, granting it an inconceivable ability to create avatars. Yet this also restricts it in turn, preventing its killing pattern from successfully advancing."