Seeing a Ghost

Looking at the corpse he had cleaved in two, Qin Yang finally snapped out of that frenzied state.

"Did he say something just now?"

"Forget it. Probably misheard."

Qin Yang crouched down and searched through Zhao Jiu's two severed halves.

Sure enough, he found a manual.

"Primordial Qi Shield."

Seeing this manual, Qin Yang's heart leaped with joy.

After all, there was no guarantee Zhao Jiu would carry the manual on him.

Coming here tonight had been a gamble.

But judging by the outcome, everything had gone perfectly.

Just then, Qin Yang heard faint footsteps again.

"Someone else?"

"This guy sure is popular."

Qin Yang tucked the Primordial Qi Shield manual away and looked up.

The footsteps drew closer.

Two wandering swordsmen stepped into the main hall of the broken temple.

"You're too late."

"I already killed Zhao Jiu. Turn back."

Qin Yang stood up and slung his great cleaver back onto his back.

The two swordsmen glanced at the corpse on the ground, momentarily stunned.

"Impressive skills, brother," one swordsman exclaimed in admiration.

"If only we had skills as good as yours," the other swordsman sighed with feeling.

"Just keep practicing."

Qin Yang shook his head slightly, then caught a glimpse of a nearby swordsman corpse—and his pupils dilated instantly.

That corpse looked exactly like one of the swordsmen standing before him!

In that moment, a chill ran down Qin Yang's spine.

He quickly turned to look at the other corpse.

"Impossible!!!"

Panic flashed in Qin Yang's eyes.

Identical!

These two corpses were the very same two swordsmen standing at the temple entrance!

Two dead men were now appearing right before him!

Qin Yang had no way to explain what he was seeing.

"Hey, hero, why'd you go quiet all of a sudden?"

One swordsman, seeing Qin Yang frozen in place, was utterly baffled.

"Hero, you alright?"

The other swordsman moved closer, as if to check on him.

"Don't come near me!"

Qin Yang was on edge. As the swordsman approached, he yanked out his great cleaver.

"Hero, we mean no harm."

"Really, we have no ill intent!"

Both swordsmen quickly tried to explain.

But Qin Yang could clearly see blood dripping from their eyes, their skin an eerie, deathly pale—the pallor of the dead.

If that wasn't ill intent, then hell had frozen over.

"I don't care what the hell you are!"

Qin Yang growled, his eyes bloodshot like a rabid beast.

No matter what it was—if it wanted his life, it would die.

Roar!

The great cleaver swung out wildly, a fierce gale sweeping up in its wake!

The entire Broken Temple seemed to surge with wind.

Po Jun · Great Wind Stance.

This was the fastest slash in the Po Jun Saber Technique!

The blade howled through the air, turning into a streak of white Cold Light as it brutally lopped off a Wandering Swordsman's head.

Qin Yang summoned another burst of strength, tilting the great cleaver upward in a rising arc.

Ptoo!

In that instant.

Another Wandering Swordsman's chest was viciously split open.

But the swordsman flashed a sinister grin, drew his longsword, and thrust it straight for Qin Yang's throat.

Qin Yang sidestepped to dodge, simultaneously yanking the great cleaver back in a horizontal sweep.

Ptoo!

That swordsman's head was cleanly severed as well.

Suddenly, Qin Yang felt a foul wind rushing at him.

It was the head of the first Wandering Swordsman—the one already beheaded—soaring through the air, wearing a grotesque smile, its mouth gaping wide to bite.

"Come on!!!"

Qin Yang roared.

Anyone who wanted him dead—die!!!

He channeled every ounce of his strength, his body taut like a drawn greatbow, and slammed out a heavy punch.

Arhat Demon Subduing!

Boom~!

The Wandering Swordsman's head let out a shriek as it was scorched by the fierce, blazing blood energy of the fist, then exploded outright!

At the same time.

Qin Yang stabbed the great cleaver forward!

Ptoo!

Another head came flying in, only to be viciously impaled by the cleaver, dissolving into white smoke.

Their corpses likewise turned to white smoke and vanished.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh~

Qin Yang was panting. He didn't bother to steady his breath, intending to leave the Broken Temple, when he felt a chilling malice at his back.

He couldn't help but turn around.

There, hidden in the darkness, sat a dilapidated Buddha statue in lotus position, smiling at him.

That smile plunged Qin Yang into an icy abyss.

Sinister, uncanny, dark.

He couldn't find the words to describe it, his heart flooding with a terror-stricken, bone-chilling cold.

He seemed to see a massive Buddha materialize out of the Black Void.

That Buddha was pitch-black all over, wearing a false, eerie grin, raising an enormous black hand that bore down on him like a Five-Finger Mountain.

"No!!!"

"This is all fake!"

"All fake!!!"

Qin Yang screamed wildly, forcing himself not to believe what he saw.

But as the hand was about to fall, he still couldn't suppress his fear—until his expression shifted to one of neither sorrow nor joy.

Zen Meditation!

He entered a state of deep, focused calm.

Watching the black giant hand descend, his eyes were serene, utterly unruffled.

Because deep down, he was certain it was all an illusion.

Only in the Zen Meditation state could he hold firm to his heart.

Boom!

The moment the hand came crashing down.

Qin Yang finally returned to the present world.

He was drenched in sweat, not daring to look again at that evil Buddha, and turned to walk out of the great hall.

Just as his foot was about to step out of the hall, it froze mid-air.

Before the gloomy great hall hung row after row of monk corpses.

Their faces were twisted in terror, like dried jerky, their shriveled eyeballs fixedly gazing at Qin Yang.

Eerie. Frightening.

"Damn it!"

Qin Yang couldn't tell if what he saw was real or not.

He couldn't distinguish it.

If he rushed out, it would be like walking into a trap.

But if he didn't, behind him was that sinister Buddha statue.

Qin Yang was caught between a rock and a hard place, unsure what to choose.

"Heaven is vast and bright, the underworld is bleak and dark."

Suddenly.

A strange copper bell sound came from outside the broken temple.

A Daoist, wearing a tattered yellow Daoist robe, shaking a copper bell in his right hand and scattering paper money with his left, walked into the broken temple.

"The living have their path. The dead have theirs."

The Daoist shook the bell and chanted a bizarre incantation.

Strangely.

As he shook the bell and scattered the paper money, Qin Yang felt the malice clinging to him vanish.

The Daoist quickly came before Qin Yang.

Only then did Qin Yang get a clear look at the Daoist's face.

Around forty years old, sharp-faced with a glib look, sporting eight-character rat whiskers.

"If you don't want to die, follow me out."

"Remember, don't breathe—hold your breath the whole way!"

The Daoist said as he stuck a yellow talisman paper on Qin Yang's brow.

Qin Yang had no idea what was going on, but with no other choice, he could only obey the Daoist.

He held his breath and followed behind the Daoist.

Along the way.

Qin Yang felt those dried-up monks staring at him with malice, keeping his nerves taut as a bowstring.

But the whole journey passed without incident, and he actually managed to walk out of the broken temple.

"A temple this fierce and you dared to walk in? You've got a death wish!"

The Daoist shook his head slightly.

"Daoist Master, what is all this about?"

Qin Yang couldn't help asking.

"How would I know? All I know is that this temple reeks of deathly malice."

"If I hadn't happened to pass by, I guarantee you'd be hanging dead like those monks."

The Daoist sneered.

Qin Yang couldn't help but shiver.

The scene just now was truly too eerie and horrifying.