The last trace of dusk faded from the horizon, and the abandoned temple and mountain wilderness sank into bluish gray. Wind poured through a breach in the surrounding wall, rustling the weeds. Something was wrong with the main hall. Black Snake and the others stood outside without rashly entering.
The old man was far too calm-nothing like someone driven into a dead end.
Black Snake held his longsword angled toward the ground and spread out all his senses, swiftly piecing together an image of his surroundings.
The breathing and heartbeat rhythms of the experts.
The hall's layout, the positions of its doors and windows, the faded lines of the damaged murals, the circulation of the great ghost's yin energy and its stance, Master Nan's breathing rate. Swaying blades of grass, the temperature of stones, the gaps between the floor tiles...
When the image reached the altar table, it was abruptly forced to stop.
A dense, viscous mass of faith power lay there, accumulated day after day by countless ordinary people. It differed from Master Nan's aura and must have belonged to the abandoned temple all along.
Apparently, this was what gave him his confidence.
He had found a ready-made venue, cleverly arranged his setup, and staged his performance here.
The others exchanged glances and attacked in unspoken accord, raising their hands to send two concealed weapons flying.
The great ghost roared furiously and charged out of the hall.
Just as they prepared to meet it, a clear, cold gleam of sword light flashed from the side, so fast its path was almost impossible to follow. The blade swept diagonally into the great ghost's waist, tearing a huge gash through half its abdomen!
There was no blood, only black vapor mixed with gold dust. The wound writhed but struggled to heal.