Spirit Realm Walker

There was nothing but dense fog as far as the eye could see. Granular wisps of mist drifted with the air currents as though caught in streams of water, like gossamer veils dancing in the wind.

Zhang Yuanqing did not wander aimlessly, but remained cautiously in place. Li Xianzong had summoned this wall of fog. Did that mean he wasn’t planning to retreat after all? The longer he dragged things out, the smaller his chances of escape became. Was the man hiding another trump card, or had he simply lost his mind?

There was something else as well. Even if nobody could reach Fu Qingyang, the Public Security Bureau had surely reported everything up the chain. It was understandable that the steward might not arrive in time, but what about that dog elder? Was he really not coming either?

Next time I see him, I’m going to scrub that furry head raw, Zhang Yuanqing vowed.

Mid-thought, a gunshot cracked through the air, and Zhang Yuanqing’s blood ran cold. He threw himself to the ground on instinct and rolled.

Bang! Bang!

Two more shots rang out, and pain flared across his lower abdomen. He’d been hit.

Working from memory, he rolled toward a row of public seating and ducked behind the information desk, using it as cover against further bullets.

Tap, tap, tap. 

Footsteps echoed from deep within the fog, followed by a lazy, drawling laugh.

”I’ve got two more minutes, Yuanshi Tianzun. If you can survive that long against me, we’ll play again next time. Otherwise, yours truly will end this trial early and collect the bounty on your head.”

Zhang Yuanqing’s blood boiled at the sheer arrogance of the statement. His hand twitched toward his pistol, ready to fire blindly at the source of the voice, but he wrestled his temper back under control.

He’s baiting me into revealing my position, Zhang Yuanqing reasoned.

He replayed the details of what had just happened. When the first shot rang out, he had been standing perfectly still. If Li Xianzong had already locked onto him, his skull would have been blown open. But the bullets had only found his abdomen after he’d started rolling.

Was a moving target easier to hit than a stationary one? Obviously not. The truth was that his original position hadn’t been exposed. It was the act of rolling that had given him away. The man was most likely tracking him through disturbances in the fog. 

That theory’s worth testing. Zhang Yuanqing silently summoned Little Goofball, directing the infant spirit to crawl onto the information desk and knock over a potted plant.

Crash! Bang!

The sound of shattering ceramic and the gunshot occurred in near-perfect unison.

It was just as he’d suspected. Li Xianzong was reading disturbances in the fog to pinpoint locations. The moment the shot rang out, Zhang Yuanqing burst from cover, firing toward the source of the sound.

The slide kicked back. Flame and cordite erupted from the muzzle. The bullet carved a faint red trail through the dense fog.

It missed entirely, ricocheting off the walls in a series of sparking deflections. That was his true level of marksmanship.

Damn it. Zhang Yuanqing rolled several times in quick succession, entered stealth, and bolted toward the exit of the waiting hall. There was no point going toe to toe with this man. The hostages had already been rescued. Retreating was the smart play.

I have plenty of allies. Why would I fight you one on one?

The instant he moved, the fog behind him surged forward like a tidal wave. Zhang Yuanqing didn’t think. He spun and fired.

The attacker behind him seemed to have anticipated his reaction. Before Zhang Yuanqing could even finish raising his arm, the man tilted his head to one side, and the faint red streak of the whizzing bullet grazed past his ear.

”Inside my fog, you can’t escape.”

They were close enough now. Through the swirling mist, a face emerged—sharp angles, a high nose bridge, eyes keen as knife edges, and a faint smirk that hovered somewhere between mockery and provocation.

The instant Zhang Yuanqing registered the face, he saw it—dark crimson arcane runes flaring to life in both of Li Xianzong’s eyes.

Enchantment. It was the signature skill of a Transcendent-tier Enchanting Demon. A brief burst could deliver a devastating psychic shock, while prolonged exposure to enchantment could cause a target to fall fully under the caster’s control.

Zhang Yuanqing didn’t so much as flinch. He raised his pistol and pulled the trigger.

He had drawn on his experience from the fight against Ou Xiangrong and already cast a preemptive purification on himself.

Genuine shock flashed across Li Xianzong’s face, but he displayed the reflexes befitting an Enchanting Demon, bending backward at the waist and whipping his right leg up in a single fluid motion. His foot connected with Zhang Yuanqing’s wrist with a sharp crack, and the bullet punched harmlessly into the ceiling.

The Burst Pistol flew from Zhang Yuanqing’s hand, spinning through the air, sailing over the railing and clattering down to the first floor lobby below.

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Zhang Yuanqing activated Night Wandering and vanished from sight.

That was when he saw Li Xianzong raise his gun and point the muzzle directly at where he had dodged.

A chill ran through Zhang Yuanqing’s veins. He can still see me? He’s still tracking my position through the movement of the fog. 

Night Wandering concealed sound, scent, and heat signatures, but it didn’t truly phase the user out of existence. Movement still displaced air. In a certain sense, the Enchanting Demon’s fog reading ability was a hard counter to the Nocturnal Specter’s stealth.

Bang! Bang!

Bullets cratered the floor tiles around him as Zhang Yuanqing ducked low, skirted the shots, and circled behind Li Xianzong, closing the distance to deny him any chance to fire again. Gripping the Demon-subduing Awl in one hand and the Bloodthirsty Blade in the other, he drove the awl toward the man’s spine and the blade toward his throat.

Li Xianzong’s lips curled. He sidestepped and spun, his right hand dancing. A silver butterfly knife pirouetted through his fingers, its wings unfolding to reveal a wicked edge.

Holding the knife in a backhand grip, he swung it around, its blade catching squarely against the Bloodthirsty Blade. Steel rang against steel, and sparks showered the air.

Zhang Yuanqing’s grip went numb, and he nearly lost his hold on the hilt. Then, through the Eye of the Observer, he saw it—the muscles in Li Xianzong’s legs swelling, followed by his back and core muscles tightening, channeling explosive force from the ground up. The Eye granted him the ability to read his opponent’s movements before they happened.

Zhang Yuanqing immediately moved a palm downward to block. There was a sickening crack of bone fracturing as the bones in his palm splintered against the brutal force of the incoming knee strike.

Zhang Yuanqing staggered backward. The fog still obscured his vision just enough to cost him that split second he needed for a cleaner reaction.

Flames erupted around Li Xianzong’s knee, burning through his trousers and scorching the skin beneath, but the man seemed immune to pain. He didn’t falter for even an instant, following up his first attack without pause.

The butterfly knife stabbed and flicked, slashed and gouged, carving wound after wound across Zhang Yuanqing’s body. Each cut refused to heal. At the same time, his free hand and both legs served as equally lethal weapons, hammering his opponent into a full retreat.

Li Xianzong’s ability at close-quarters combat outclassed Zhang Yuanqing’s by several tiers, and a Level 3 Enchanting Demon’s physique was simply stronger than a Level 2 Nocturnal Specter’s. Without the Eye of the Observer granting him predictive awareness, and without the Thug’s Gauntlets lending him agility, Zhang Yuanqing would already be lying on the ground in two pieces.

Pfft!

Li Xianzong’s knife sliced open Zhang Yuanqing’s chest, sending out a fountain of blood. The Enchanting Demon tasted iron in the air, and his eyes burned a feral crimson as his battle lust soared.

Step after ragged step, Zhang Yuanqing stumbled backward, gasping for air. His condition was deteriorating rapidly. Pain wracked every inch of his body. His wounds stubbornly refused to close, and the accumulated blood loss was dragging him toward the edge. Dizziness clouded his thoughts, and he felt his limbs growing heavy.

That butterfly knife clearly had the same bleed effect as his own weapons.

Where are the reinforcements? Is the fog keeping them out? I can’t hold on much longer. Thank god I didn’t use the Celestial Toad Incense Burner, or I’d have burned myself alive. 

Zhang Yuanqing could feel his body’s condition plunging. The hail of attacks was relentless, and he couldn’t even find an opening to pull out the Red Veil. Moreover, summoning the ghost bride required two to three seconds of channeling before she would appear. This was not the moment for it. He had to create that time somehow.

”Not bad, but much weaker than I expected.” Li Xianzong extended his tongue as if to lick the blood from his blade, then seemed to think better of it, baring his teeth in a grin instead. ”One more minute. Don’t bother hoping for reinforcements. The fog will make them lose their way, acting like a ghost wall illusion. No one is coming to save you. You’re meat on a chopping block.”

Even as he spoke, his hands and feet never slowed. He launched himself forward, giving Zhang Yuanqing no room to breathe.

Arrogant bastard! Fire flashed in Zhang Yuanqing’s eyes. He clenched both fists and slammed them together against his chest.

Boom!

A wall of flame and concussive force rolled through the waiting hall in a devastating wave.

Fury blazed in Zhang Yuanqing’s eyes. He didn’t stop, but smashed his fists together again. And again.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

He let off explosion after explosion, each shockwave crashing outward like a tsunami.

The barrage of detonations stunned Li Xianzong senseless. Concussive force hammered into his chest and sent him hurtling backward, forcing him to curl into a defensive ball and abandon his attack.

The explosions lasted over ten seconds before finally subsiding. Zhang Yuanqing collapsed to the ground, blood seeping from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Multiple internal organs had sustained damage. Crucially, though, he had bought himself the opening he needed.

Without hesitation, he summoned the Red Veil. Right at that moment, though, he was seized by a violent fit of coughing. He hacked up bloody fluid as blood streamed from his nostrils. Hallucinations swam before his eyes. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his kidneys were failing rapidly.

He had been poisoned.

From his crumpled position on the floor, Li Xianzong began to laugh, an arrogant and savagely triumphant laugh that echoed through the hall. He rose slowly to his feet, the smirk returning to his lips.

”Nocturnal Specters really do have impressive vitality. The venom I coated my blade with took over a full minute to kick in. Hex Masters may be filthy and beneath contempt, but their techniques certainly get results.”

He killed a Level 4 Hex Master. He has their venom. Zhang Yuanqing’s vision grew more blurry. His limbs refused to obey him, and his heartbeat was growing faint. Despair settled over him like a shroud.

Li Xianzong wasted no further words. He drew the pistol from his waistband and aimed it squarely at Zhang Yuanqing’s head. 

”No hard feelings,” he said as he stood over him. ”Your head? I’ll be taking it now.”

The next instant, Li Xianzong lost his sight. A tiny infant spirit had wrapped itself around his shin, hanging onto his leg in a death grip and swapping away his vision. It was Little Goofball. 

Zhang Yuanqing blinked in stunned surprise. He hadn’t ordered the infant spirit to attack. Between the desperate struggle against his opponent and the reckless aggression the Thug’s Gauntlets induced in his mind, he simply hadn’t had the chance. However, the moment he sensed his master was in mortal danger, Little Goofball had acted on his own. The spirit had already developed considerable intelligence.

Seizing the precious seconds, Zhang Yuanqing raised his trembling hands and, with agonizing effort, draped the Red Veil over his head.

Blinded though he was, Li Xianzong showed no panic. He grunted as he reached into his inventory, pulling out a foul smelling overcoat and draping it over his shoulders. Then he pressed his palms together and bowed toward his feet.

Fortune Shearing. Curse.

A Hex Master’s Fortune Shearing skill and curses drew no distinction between flesh and spirit. They weren’t as effective against spiritual entities as an Illusionist’s techniques, but against a low-level vengeful spirit, a Saint-tier item could still produce formidable results.

The filthy overcoat pulsed with a dark light that surged downward like a tide, crashing over the infant spirit clinging to his shin.

Little Goofball shrieked. His form began to dissolve and grow murky, tainted by the corruption, but he refused to let go.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four.

The vision swapping held. Little Goofball endured to the very last moment, then crumpled to the ground, growing fainter and more translucent with every passing heartbeat.

The instant his vision returned, Li Xianzong looked toward Zhang Yuanqing and saw the red cloth draped over his head. A terrifying, overwhelming wave of yin energy descended upon the hall like a tidal surge, like a tsunami.

Every hair on Li Xianzong’s body stood on end. The Enchanting Demon’s instincts screamed danger. He fired two shots at Zhang Yuanqing’s head, then without waiting to see the result, he fumbled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a circle on the ground. The next instant, a hazy yellow barrier of light enveloped the circle and everything inside it, and Li Xianzong vanished within the glow.

By then, the Ghost bride had already seized control of Zhang Yuanqing’s body. His arms turned pitch black, muscles knotting and bulging, dark veins protruding beneath his skin as razor-sharp nails extended out from all ten fingers.

But the enemy was gone. With no target in sight, the ghost bride stood frozen in place, bewildered.

Go. Go, save him. Zhang Yuanqing’s thoughts reached her in a silent whisper.

The Ghost bride sensed his will. She walked slowly toward Little Goofball, who was on the verge of dissipating entirely. Guided by Zhang Yuanqing’s influence, she sank to her knees, spread her arms wide, and cradled the fading infant spirit against her chest, holding him the way one holds something precious that was nearly lost forever.

He took Little Goofball back into his body. At last, with the weight lifted from his heart, he surrendered to unconsciousness.