First Steps into the Spiritual Void 74. Will-o'-the-Wisps Among Desolate Tombs

Abbot Tianhong had been secretly observing the actions and words of the destitute scholar all along. Hearing his explanation, Tianhong grew even more suspicious, pondering, “This man’s behavior truly baffles me. Could it be that he really acts on another’s behalf and genuinely knows nothing of the masked man’s true identity? Otherwise, he and Miss Jie surely would have recognized each other. Yet, their pretense is so flawless that not a single crack shows.”

He saw the scholar standing there, lost in thought. The others spoke in unison, “Master, let’s follow Miss Jie. Now that the silent masked man’s identity has been revealed, it will be easier to trace his background and the circumstances of the crime.”

Abbot Tianhong chanted a Buddhist verse aloud and said, “Very well. If we can use the connection between Miss Jie and the masked man to prevent further bloodshed, it would truly be a blessing for the martial world.”

Beyond this great forest lay the Han River; following the river upstream would lead out of the county. The terrain here was perilous and steep; without exceptional lightness skills, it would be impossible to traverse at such speed.

Once everyone began their leaf-skimming flight, they resembled eleven bats gliding through the air, scaling peaks and crossing ravines. In the span of three or four mountains, the two masked men’s skills proved superior—they had already vanished from sight.

Abbot Tianhong gathered his energy; his massive body soared into the air, and in a few leaps, he reached the summit of a high peak. From there, scanning the surroundings, he suddenly spotted two figures gliding along the mountainside in the distance—like wisps of smoke drifting weightlessly, their speed astonishing.

He turned to see the others had also arrived; springing from his legs, he lunged toward the opposite peak.

Whether or not those two shadows were the masked men from before, they wasted no time and pursued at full speed.

The two black figures ahead darted forward, their bodies unmoving and feet barely touching the ground, like two black masses flying through the air. Miss Jie, observing their peculiar movement, quietly said to Baihua Girl beside her, “Sister, the technique those two shadows are using is most odd. Even someone with perfect mastery of lightness skill wouldn't glide forward so weightlessly. They must be ghosts, not men.”

Baihua Girl harbored the same doubts. She replied, “Yes, I think so too. No matter how advanced one’s skills, one’s limbs wouldn’t remain so still—those two are more like black clouds floating in the sky.”

When the group reached the peak, the two figures had disappeared. Suddenly, they found themselves in a slanting field of desolate graves.

From among the tombs, clusters of phosphorescent lights flickered and drifted along the ground. Seeing those wandering greenish globes, Baihua Girl cried out in alarm, “Will-o’-the-wisps! Ghost lights!”

The ghostly green lights hovered uncertainly among the graves, their brightness waxing and waning, lending the barren hills an even more sinister and terrifying air.

Except for the siblings Jie Zhenzi, Miss Jie, and Mo Dao, the rest were all seasoned martial artists; yet even they had never seen such mysterious lights before. Abbot Tianhong suddenly intoned, “Amitabha.” Then he said, “This lonely graveyard at the foot of the slope is most peculiar. Could it be—?”

Before he finished, at the far end of the burial ground, a patch of dark trees suddenly flashed with red light—eleven times, matching their number.

Priest Chunming, recognizing the signal, said, “Master, you are right. There are indeed martial artists hiding below. We must be on our guard!”

Suddenly—

From the deep valley to the left of the graveyard came a bone-chilling scream, sending a cold shiver through everyone.

Before their hearts could settle, another wail echoed from the right valley, even more mournful and ghastly, heightening the already oppressive sense of dread.

Yun Haoran was about to rush over to investigate what manner of beast or spirit made the noise, but Abbot Tianhong stopped him, saying, “Brother Daoist, someone is deliberately creating confusion. We must keep calm and not panic.”

Miss Jie, a young lady from a noble family, had learned martial arts at Mount Wudang but had never witnessed such terrifying scenes. Unconsciously, she clung to Jie Zhenzi, exclaiming in fright, “Oh! This haunted place could scare someone to death…”

Jie Zhenzi put his arm around his junior sister’s slender waist and reassured her, “Don’t be afraid.”

Baihua Girl glanced at her godfather, seeing his brows tightly knit, as if weighed down by a grave and insoluble matter. She wanted to ask but feared disturbing his thoughts, so she merely watched him in silence.

The destitute scholar furrowed his brow for a moment, then suddenly seemed enlightened and laughed heartily, “I must have let the strong wine muddle my head!”

Sparse starlight filtered through the black clouds, weak and faint; the will-o’-the-wisps drifted eerily among the graves, while chilling howls echoed from the valleys, one after another, setting nerves on edge.

This bleak graveyard was terrifying enough by night—now, with ghost lights and dreadful cries, the atmosphere grew ever more sinister and forbidding.

The scholar’s hearty laughter seemed to bolster the group, dispelling some of their fear and rousing their spirits.

Baihua Girl, encouraged by her godfather’s laugh, quickly asked, “Godfather, what have you discovered?”

He replied, “Zhu’er, count the green fireballs in this deserted graveyard—are there not eighty-one of them?”

She widened her eyes and quickly counted, then nodded, “That’s right, exactly eighty-one.”

The scholar immediately reached into his robe and pulled out four secret pouches given to him by his elder brother. He selected the ‘Heaven’ pouch, tucked the others away, and opened it. Inside was a piece of white silk, inscribed with several lines of tiny characters:

“One house with tight traps,
Two courts shrouded in miasma,
Three manors haunted by demons,
Four great halls with remarkable men.
Good and evil hidden, be wary of all.
Many deaths are less effective than compassion;
Heaven’s heart and kind words know no bounds.”

The scholar read it, then laughed, “Ah, elder brother! Why not just tell me directly to rid the world of evil? Why must you urge me to spare lives and speak in riddles? Is that really necessary?”

The group gathered to read the silk’s message. Apart from Jie Zhenzi, his sister, Baihua Girl, and Mo Dao, who did not know what the ‘one house, two courts, three manors, four great halls’ referred to, the others had all heard of these places. Yet they’d never paid them much mind—now, seeing even Qiao Yin, one of the Eight Hermits, dared not look down on them, the sect leaders all grew uneasy.

Abbot Tianhong sighed inwardly, thinking, “It seems the masked man’s reproach was not without reason. My sect claims leadership of the martial world, yet we have neglected our duty to defend the innocent, letting these villains grow ever bolder. I am truly ashamed.”

Suddenly, another spine-chilling scream echoed from the graveyard below.

The cry was strikingly familiar to Jie Zhenzi; his heart trembled. “Could she be in danger…?” Without further thought for hidden dangers, he leapt toward the source.

Miss Jie quickly grabbed his arm. “Brother, where are you going?”

He shook her off and replied, “That scream—it sounded like my cousin is in trouble!”

At that, Miss Jie felt a sudden surge of inexplicable jealousy. She sneered, “Ah, I’d forgotten about your cousin. Go, then! If she comes to harm, I won’t take responsibility.” With that, she turned away in a huff.

Seeing his junior sister so unreasonable, Jie Zhenzi grew exasperated and immediately dashed into the deserted graveyard.

The destitute scholar clasped his hands in salute. “Please, everyone, go as you wish. Tonight, I intend to see for myself what fiends haunt this graveyard.”

Master Tianhong pressed his palms together in return. “Since this is a den of evil, it is our duty to uphold justice. How could we stand idly by?”

Priest Chunming and the others voiced their agreement.

The scholar turned to Mo Dao, “Give me the Sword of Form and Intent. I’d like to test its power.”

Mo Dao unfastened the sword and presented it with both hands.

The scholar accepted the treasured sword and thrust it into the air. In a flash of cold light, a human silhouette flickered and vanished.

Having confirmed the sword’s potency, his spirits soared. Leading the way, he charged into the graveyard.

As he neared the graves, four ghastly figures emerged from the jumble of tombs, barring their path.

The scholar halted and looked them over. The four were dressed in long gowns and mandarin jackets, with red-topped white hats and white cloth shoes. Their eyes were sunken, cheekbones high, faces deathly pale, tongues lolling six inches long, and fingers tipped with razor-sharp claws, each nail half a foot in length. They looked every bit the wraiths clawed from the earth—truly terrifying.

But the scholar, sharp-eyed and unafraid, saw through their disguise at once. He snorted, “Such theatrics won’t scare me.” With a flick of his sword, a flash of icy light severed all four fake tongues at once.

The four ghostly fiends, their tongues gone, realized the scholar was a formidable opponent wielding a peerless blade. Instantly, they retreated five steps, and one of them snarled, “Friend, such arrogance in the domain of the Yin Residence—are you not afraid—”

The scholar cut him off with a cold laugh. “We only cut your tongues, not your heads. I’d say we’re being quite polite.”

As he spoke, he executed another move, “Wind-Swift Leaf Whirl.” In a flash, the red-topped hats of all four fiends were sliced clean off.

Startled, the four drew back further, surveying the group. Seeing each person’s eyes sharp as lightning and bearing fierce, they realized these were no ordinary martial artists and quickly changed their tone.

“These are the forbidden rear grounds of our sect. Strangers must not pass. If you have no quarrel with the Sacred Land of the Yin-Yang Sect, please go around.”

The scholar sneered, “If even the capital allows horse races, why should I be barred from this wild graveyard? Outrageous! I insist on going through!”

The one who spoke before also sneered, “Since you ignore our warning, you’ll get a taste of the Ghost Fire Formation!”

The four sect leaders knew only that the Yin-Yang Sect’s master, Old Monster Lu Pingtao, was infamous for his sinister martial arts and was best avoided, but they did not know he also excelled at formations. At the mention of the ‘Ghost Fire Formation,’ they exchanged uneasy glances, each secretly alarmed.