Chapter Fifty: The Ghostly Army

Step by step, he retreated, dragging the corpse little by little out of the burial ground. Closely following behind, Song Nianqiang had already begun forming incantation gestures; soon, Thunder Break erupted from his hands.

A thick blue bolt, as thick as a man’s arm, struck the corpse with a deafening crack. Perhaps the yin energy hadn’t been activated yet, for a wisp of greenish smoke curled from the corpse’s head before the body abruptly collapsed and lay motionless.

“What should we do?”

Prodding the body with a sapling to make sure it didn’t move again, Song Nianqiang and his companion approached cautiously. “Looks like it’s dead,” the fat one concluded after giving it a kick. “Let’s get her out of here!” Song Nianqiang wanted to see whether the corpse would remain intact after leaving the burial ground.

With difficulty, they used the sapling to drag the body out. The moment it crossed the boundary, it began to rot; by the time they finished pulling it free, only a skeleton remained. “It seems as long as we don’t go in, nothing will happen to us,” Song Nianqiang sighed, turning to the fat man.

“But our bet…” Fatty was stubborn, and couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Song Nianqiang chuckled, “They’re not here—who’ll know if we went in or not?”

At that, Fatty grinned too. The two of them squatted among the weeds, realizing sleep was out of the question tonight. This place was sinister—who knew what deadly things might occur?

At some point, the sun had set. Tonight, there was no moon; heavy clouds drifted across the sky. After a few minutes, the rumble of thunder sounded. Song Nianqiang and Fatty exchanged nervous glances—by the look of things, rain was coming.

Heaven will rain and a mother will remarry—there’s nothing mortals can do. Thankfully, it was only thunder for now. They crouched on the ground, making brief conversation, but their eyes never left the burial ground ahead, afraid something strange might happen at any moment.

It was soon eight o’clock. The thunder had been rolling for over an hour; though the rain hadn’t come yet, the thunder only grew louder. “Qiangzi! If it starts raining, shouldn’t we find some shelter?” Fatty shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Hearing him, Song Nianqiang looked around, then pointed to a spot across from him. “Only there—we can stay dry!” Fatty followed his gesture and saw a large banana tree. Ordinarily, such trees didn’t grow this big in the north, but under the circumstances, neither of them thought much about it.

“Wait, I’ll go get some leaves!” With that, Fatty hurried toward the banana tree. To reach it, he had to pass through the burial ground. By now, rain the size of beans had started to fall. Song Nianqiang would have stopped him from taking the risk, but before he could speak, Fatty had already set off.

He didn’t get any banana leaves, but Fatty soon found himself in danger. Intense yin energy surged up from beneath the burial ground. By the flashes of lightning, Song Nianqiang could see the black mist materializing. “Fatty! Come back!” he shouted anxiously, but the storm drowned out his cries.

Left with no choice, Song Nianqiang activated his yin-yang eyes. The sight nearly frightened him to the ground—the burial ground was crawling with ghost soldiers. These weren’t ordinary ghosts; they were enforcers from the underworld, far more formidable than common spirits. Fatty, lacking the yin-yang eyes, was oblivious to his peril.

If those ghost soldiers decided to kill Fatty, he wouldn’t last a minute. Song Nianqiang couldn’t hesitate any longer. He leapt into the burial ground, letting the rain soak him, water streaming from his hair down his cheeks, yet his gaze never left the ghost soldiers.

If they moved, he would strike first. The Seal of the Demon-Suppressing Well, the incantation for binding spirits, was already forming in Song Nianqiang’s hands. This time, he was playing for high stakes. Though ghost soldiers weren’t technically demons, he would treat them as such. The power of this seal was immense—he could barely wield it.

Meanwhile, Fatty had reached the banana tree and picked two of the largest leaves. When he turned back, he noticed Song Nianqiang’s stance was odd. Though the rain blurred his vision, Fatty’s sharp eyes could still make it out.

Sensing danger, Fatty hurriedly activated his own yin-yang eyes. At a glance, his expression matched Song Nianqiang’s—there were ghost soldiers here! Unbelievable. It seemed a fierce battle was inevitable.

A lightning bolt split the night. With its crack, the ghost soldiers began to move. Their first target wasn’t Fatty, whom they’d surrounded, but Song Nianqiang, whose yang energy was stronger. Twirling their long halberds, more than twenty ghost soldiers floated toward him.

Seeing the ghost soldiers drawn toward Song Nianqiang, Fatty immediately ran to the side. He wasn’t stupid—lacking any self-defense skills, staying meant certain death. Escape was his only option.

But his movement caught the attention of some ghost soldiers, who began to pursue him. Fortunately, from helping Zhang Yu previously, Fatty had learned a thing or two and had since crafted a few waterproof talismans.

He pulled one from his pocket, thoroughly wrapped with clear tape, though he didn’t know if it would work. Brandishing it at the nearest ghost soldier, the spirit instinctively retreated a step—it worked! Delighted, Fatty glanced at Song Nianqiang and, seeing he was in no immediate danger, relaxed a little.

Fatty was holding a Sun Talisman, specifically designed to counter ghosts. To them, it was like a blazing sun. However, in these conditions, its effectiveness was limited—especially with the talisman covered in transparent tape.

Fatty knew this couldn’t last. The ghost soldiers had only just emerged and weren’t fully adapted to the world of the living—no matter how weak the yang energy here, it was still far stronger than in the underworld. Given time, once they adjusted, both Song Nianqiang and Fatty would be in grave danger—especially Fatty.

He had only one talisman left, and for now, it could barely hold them off. But if things dragged on, it wouldn’t be much use. Fatty was already thinking about how to escape.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his shoulder. Whipping around, he saw he was surrounded. He thrust the talisman behind him, forcing the nearest ghost back—but only a little. They were adapting to the living world.

Ghost soldiers closed in from all sides, quickly hemming Fatty in the center. Suddenly, a blood-red light burst from him, forcing the spirits back.

Fatty sat cross-legged on the ground, quietly chanting the Purification of Heaven and Earth Incantation. This time, he was truly meditating—before, he’d only skimmed the surface, but now, his life was at stake. Yet even this depth of incantation was beyond his ability to sustain; before long, he’d be finished.

Seeing the blood-red glow radiating from Fatty, Song Nianqiang knew things were dire. He had no time for hesitation. Stepping carefully according to the steps recorded in the Maoshan Taoist arts, he edged toward Fatty. But even so, they were at least ten meters apart—at Song Nianqiang’s current pace, he wouldn’t reach Fatty before his strength gave out.