Xu Si smoked, his gaze unfathomably deep and his tone turning serious. "That's called a Wenwang Drum. Together with the Great Deities and Second Deities, this is an authentic Shaman Spirit-Summoning Ritual."
"Zhang Chulan, keep your eyes wide open and watch closely. Miss this chance, and you probably won't see anything this formal again in your lifetime."
"Authentic?" Shock showed in Zhang Chulan's eyes as he stared fixedly at the bizarre lineup below.
Zhang Zhiwei was watching with particular interest too. "To think these two northeastern lads would take this so seriously. They really are treating their opponent as a formidable enemy."
This time, Lu Jin did not argue. "Yes. I've never seen anything like this in my life either. What an eye-opener."
Lu Linglong was wrapped in bandages, her eyes fixed solely on Wang Zhuo, her heart filled with worry. "Great-grandpa, nothing's really going to go wrong, is it?"
"What are you afraid of? Zhang Zhiwei is right here. Keep your eyes open and watch closely. This really is extraordinarily rare."
"Quick, quick, quick! Start recording! Miss it, and there won't be another chance!"
"You all heard that, right? Even Old Master Lu, one of the Ten Elders, said he'd never seen this!"
Everyone pulled out their phones to film, ready to record this extraordinary scene.
"Boom!" With that strike of the Wenwang Drum, Deng Youcai's aura changed in an instant.
Holding the Wuwang Whip, he swayed his head and beat the Wenwang Drum, rocking as he struck it, making the copper coins inside the drum clatter.
He had been a thoroughly rugged northeastern man, but now he gave off a sense of oppression.
The female companion who had been ignored from the very beginning suddenly began to cry, her wails so mournful that anyone listening could not help wanting to cry along.
Deng Youcai drummed and danced, raising his voice in song:
"The sun sets west, the sky turns black; every household shuts its door.
Nine homes out of ten are locked; only one door stands unclosed.
My left hand lifts the Wenwang Drum; my right grips the Wuwang Whip.
First the drum, and then the whip: a willow hoop, planed smooth and round.
Three across, four down, eight strings; four face north to settle all beneath heaven.
A vajra ring is set within; bagua copper coins hang above.
The little spirit whip, one foot three long, has streamers of five colors hanging on either side.
Lift it upward to a point; lower it down into a bend.
Erlang once drove with this whip; mountains moved and seas ran dry.
The whip shakes, the drum resounds; before the Spirit-Summoning Hall, we summon spirits!
Without cause, we do not beat the spirit hall's drum; without hardship, we do not invite the old immortal.
Incense burns in the golden censer; paper turns to gold and silver.
The Deng family's incense altar is already laid; your disciple Youfu's mortal body awaits.
The first mounted messenger goes to scout; the second carries word.
First invite the Hu Family's thousand generals, then the Huang Family's camp of ten thousand steeds.
The Bai Family Medicine Hall stands before the hall; the Long Willow Python Immortal shakes the depths with his cry.
Next invite the Stele King to command the yin formation; the Clear Wind Ghost Lord leaves the tombs.
Wandering souls and homeless ghosts, heed the command; underworld officers guide the way out of the netherworld.
Disturb not the living breath of the mortal world; follow my incense smoke into the hall.
We invite no idle strangers from elsewhere, only the old immortal of Changbai Mountain.
Through a thousand years of bitter tribulations, saving others and delivering the world to cultivate the fruits of goodness.
Old immortal of the Liu Sect, Liu Kunsheng!
Old immortal, hear your summoner's words; mist and cloud stretch across a thousand mountains.
Beyond one mountain lies another pass.
Earth gods and mountain gods, make way; wild immortals along the route, stand aside.
Linger not over the mountain's clear spring water; crave not the sweetness of wild fruit in the woods.
Come before the hall and look closely: incense and candles shine bright, the offerings are complete.
Your disciple Deng Youfu quietly awaits this immortal encounter.
I offer this body as an altar; I open my orifices to receive the immortal.
Bind the orifices and take your seat; do not delay!
Old immortal, descend to the mortal world and speak; please see to the matter before the hall."
The rhythm picked up. His body swayed with the drumbeats, his feet tapped the ground, and he stiffened his neck, opening with that same old tune.
"The sun sets west, the sky turns black..." His voice was cracked and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping wood.
He was not singing but shouting, overpowering the voices throughout the arena and driving into everyone's ears.
Some spectators turned to look at him, but he ignored them all.
His eyes stayed fixed on the drumhead as he struck faster and faster. The slow beat became a driving rain, and the Wenwang Drum vibrated until his palm went numb.
When he sang, "Only invite Changbai Mountain's old immortal of the Liu Sect, Liu Kunsheng,"
at that line, he thrust the drum forward and pointed the drum whip toward the sky.
"Bind the orifices and take your seat-do not delay!"
Deng Youfu had been completely motionless.
His eyes were closed, his breathing long and slow, as though he were asleep.
The bells at his waist hung silent, and his decorated staff rested against the ground.
But as Deng Youcai's drumming quickened, his eyeballs began moving beneath his lids.
First, his fingertips went numb.
He knew that meant the old immortal had stirred.
Without opening his eyes, he straightened his back further, clenched his teeth, and set his jaw into a tight line.
When the second round of drumming fell, his shoulders jerked violently.
It was not a shiver from the cold, but a force surging out from between his bones, as though a chill were crawling from his tailbone all the way to the back of his neck.
His Adam's apple bobbed once, but he made no sound.
The bells at his waist clattered.
He had not moved. The bells had rung on their own.
Deng Youfu's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling more sharply.
Suddenly, he flung his head back.
He had not done it himself. Something pulled his neck sharply backward, exposing his Adam's apple.
The decorated staff struck the ground with a crack.
Then his whole body began to jerk.
It was not an ugly convulsion, but a vibration from within: shoulders, back, arms, wave after wave, faster and faster.
His mouth hung open as he panted, as though he had just been hauled out of the water. Veins stood out on his forehead, and sweat streamed down his temples.
Small whirlwinds sprang up all around him, lifting dust from the arena into vortices. Each appeared at a precise position, without disorder or error.
It was the spirit hall's Clear Wind Ghost King leading troops to lend support.
The Troop-Summoning Art, the Spirit-Summoning Tune!
Authentic Northern Spirit-Hall Arts.
Faced with this extraordinary scene, everyone present was momentarily unable to react. They even unconsciously softened and slowed their breathing, afraid of disturbing something.
People always said certain things were mysterious beyond explanation. Now they were seeing them firsthand.
This was not a technique cultivated by Outsiders, but a specialty passed down through the Shaman lineage.
Some even wondered whether they were hallucinating, repeatedly rubbing their eyes to confirm that the whirlwinds surrounding Deng Youfu were not an illusion.
Even stranger was Deng Youfu himself. He had not changed at all and still looked human, unlike his earlier beastlike appearance with snake pupils and a forked tongue.
He sat silently in midair with one leg crossed over the other, as though an armchair invisible to everyone supported him.
Deng Youfu opened his eyes and looked at the young man opposite him. "I wondered what the matter was, that you'd pass over so many immortals to call me here. Past the Hu, Huang, and Bai Families before reaching my Liu Family's hall."
"You Deng boys made such a grand fuss and called my true soul here from countless miles away, just for a fight?"
Deng Youcai dropped to his knees at once, not wasting a moment, his voice like an opera singer's. "Great Elder Liu, please hear me out! This gentleman's surname is Liu, his courtesy name Guanyi. His abilities reach into the profound; surely he is a hero among men, a dragon among the crowd, an immortal among cranes. Your disciple has made an exception and invited Lord Liu to display his might!"
The entire arena fell deathly silent. No one dared speak; they could only hold their breath and watch the match below.
What had they summoned?!
Lu Jin was appalled. He had never believed there were immortals in the human world. But now, what was this being before him who had cultivated for a thousand years?
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