Chapter Thirty-Four: Battle with the Water Demon (Second Update)

However, they did have one advantage: aside from Song Nianqiang, the other four—Zhang Yu and his companions—had already rushed into the ruined temple, making it impossible for the water ghosts to follow them inside. As a result, all the wrath of the water ghosts was directed at Song Nianqiang alone. At this moment, he was completely entangled by the spirits, unable to move. The large man had to stay and look after Zhang Yu; if Zhang Yu’s soul were to leave his body, that would spell real disaster.

Now Song Nianqiang found himself surrounded, where even the slightest misstep could mean instant death. He was forced to proceed with the utmost caution. Once more, he formed a hand seal, invoking the Eight Vajra Guardians, representing the Four Heavenly Kings and divine protection. With this, he managed to drive the water ghosts back so they could not come near him.

“Nianqiang! Hurry! Zhang Yu can’t hold on much longer!” The large man’s anxious shout echoed from within the ruined temple. Yet, reaching that shelter was no simple task for Song Nianqiang. It wasn’t merely a matter of a few steps; he had to deal with the water ghosts first, or he wouldn’t be able to move an inch.

Song Nianqiang’s anxiety mounted as he tried repeatedly to break through the encirclement, but each attempt ended in failure. Panic gripped him. Though ignorant of Zhang Yu’s exact state, he could infer the gravity of the situation from the urgency in his friend’s cries.

Stepping swiftly in the manner prescribed by Maoshan Daoist arts, Song Nianqiang made another dash for the temple. Yet after only three steps, he was forced back to his original position by the water ghosts once again.

“Nianqiang! Zhang Yu’s about to die!” The large man’s voice rang out, more desperate than before. Realizing the crisis had reached its peak, Song Nianqiang understood that every minute’s delay could mean Zhang Yu’s permanent death.

“Damn it! You brought this upon yourselves!” With a fierce clench of his teeth, Song Nianqiang risked grave self-injury, wielding a powerful technique he had not yet mastered. He remembered only the hand gestures, nothing more, but with the situation so dire, he had no choice.

Rapidly shifting hand seals and chanting incantations under his breath, he suddenly shouted, “Infernal True Fire!” Instantly, crimson flames erupted around him. The water ghosts, who had been pressing close, recoiled in terror at the sight. Those who were too slow to retreat were instantly incinerated by the blazing fire.

Though the infernal fire lasted only three seconds, it was enough for Song Nianqiang to burst into the ruined temple. As he leaped inside, the water ghosts outside let out heart-chilling shrieks.

Coughing up blood, Song Nianqiang paid a heavy price for wielding the Infernal True Fire. But now there was something even more urgent than his wounds. The large man, one hand pressed to Zhang Yu’s forehead, was incessantly reciting the Purity Invocation, temporarily suppressing the water ghost within Zhang Yu. Yet the effect was weak; it was clear that soon the ghost would gain the upper hand, and not even a celestial immortal could save him then.

Zhang Yu, lying on the ground, was rolling his eyes and foaming at the mouth, his body convulsing in spasms. Thankfully, his two subordinates had come with him and were struggling to restrain his flailing limbs.

“There’s only one thing left to do—bring out the items!” One of the middle-aged men restraining Zhang Yu dashed to the backpack and retrieved the necessary ritual objects. First, he lit incense and stuck it in the ground, handed Song Nianqiang a short wooden sword, scattered glutinous rice and soybeans on the floor, then hurriedly burned some spirit money. He set a cup of clear wine in front of Song Nianqiang, and lastly, placed a talisman in his hand.

Though Song Nianqiang was far from attaining the highest Maoshan rank, he had no choice but to invoke the Celestial Immortals now. Only the highest deities could force out and destroy the water ghost within Zhang Yu.

“By the reverence of the Three Pure Ones of the Three Realms, the Supreme Elder Lord, and the Celestial Commanders Zhang and Zhao...” After reciting the lengthy incantation, Song Nianqiang’s body shuddered violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. With his current powers, he could barely withstand the force of the summoned immortals, but there was no other path left open to him.

The burning spirit money suddenly flared brighter, and the incense glowed as if fanned by an unseen wind. Song Nianqiang hurriedly affixed the talisman to the wooden sword, stepped in the sacred pattern recorded in Maoshan lore, and quickly approached Zhang Yu. Gently, he tapped the talisman-tipped sword to Zhang Yu’s forehead and shouted to one of the helpers, “Cut Zhang Yu’s left index finger—let the blood flow!”

Without hesitation, the man grabbed Zhang Yu’s left hand and, forgoing any blade, bit down hard, breaking the skin and drawing a swift flow of blood from the wound—a wound that was surely deep.

Song Nianqiang placed the peachwood sword and talisman in the flowing blood. When the sword was sufficiently stained, he stopped and returned to his original position, lips moving in a rapid, unintelligible chant.

As the critical moment arrived—and with the large man’s face now a deep shade of purple, barely able to hold on—Song Nianqiang could wait no longer. He roared, “Now!”

At that instant, the talisman on the peachwood sword burst into a pale blue flame, its light dazzling in the gloom of the ruined temple. Outside, thunder crashed and the rain intensified, drumming wildly on the ground and cascading from the eaves in torrents.

Song Nianqiang brought the flaming talisman close to Zhang Yu’s forehead. The blue flames suddenly brightened, surging from the talisman onto Zhang Yu’s brow. At once, Zhang Yu’s face contorted in agonizing pain. He opened his mouth to shout but no sound escaped, and great beads of sweat broke out upon his forehead.

Even so, the ritual was not enough to drive out the water ghost entrenched within Zhang Yu. So Song Nianqiang bit his own tongue, spraying blood onto the burning talisman. The color of the flame instantly shifted to violet. Song Nianqiang pressed down on the peachwood sword with force.

This time, the effect was clear. Zhang Yu’s eyes sprang open, radiating a greenish light, resisting the purple flames of the talisman. Cursing under his breath, Song Nianqiang freed one hand and, in a desperate move, bit his own left index finger.

“Let’s see who is more ruthless—you or me!” By now, Song Nianqiang cared for nothing else. If he couldn’t even handle a single water ghost, he might as well go home and sell sweet potatoes. He smeared his blood onto the talisman, and the flame turned a deep, impenetrable purple—one the water ghost could no longer withstand. The fire surged again toward Zhang Yu’s forehead.

At last, the water ghost in Zhang Yu’s body could hold on no longer. Yet it stubbornly refused to leave. The talisman’s flame, though burning with deep purple light, did not consume the paper at all.

But Song Nianqiang had invoked the Celestial Immortals and employed a ritual only the highest Maoshan priests could perform. His own spiritual strength was nearly exhausted. If the water ghost did not emerge soon, there was nothing more he could do.

Even so, Song Nianqiang refused to give up. Suddenly, he thought of another way. He shouted to the large man, “Your talisman—can you use it now?”

Upon hearing this, the large man slapped his thigh in sudden realization. How could he have forgotten his specialty at such a crucial moment? Without delay, he rummaged through his backpack and produced a talisman—the most powerful one he had ever drawn, designed specifically to expel evil spirits from the human body.

(Today there will be five updates, and tomorrow as well. Keep supporting!)