Chapter Seventy-One: The Ambush

Page 1

Watching as the Painted-Skin Old Ghost advanced step by step, Cui Yue's heart was in chaos; he wanted nothing more than to turn and flee. Unfortunately, at this moment, even getting up was a struggle—he could only muster his strength to crawl backwards. Before he could move far, the Painted-Skin Old Ghost was already upon him. With a cold snort, a large foot came crashing down toward Cui Yue’s back.

The ghost could already imagine the sight of Cui Yue’s belly split open and his intestines spilling out. That single eye glowed green with excitement. Cui Yue stared in terror at the massive foot descending upon him—over two feet wide. He was horrified; if that foot landed, he’d be crushed into pulp.

In desperation, Cui Yue rolled aside just in time. The Painted-Skin Old Ghost stomped several more times, but Cui Yue dodged like a nimble mole, rolling this way and that, narrowly avoiding being trampled.

The Painted-Skin Old Ghost was dumbfounded. This boy must be part cockroach—half-paralyzed and still so lively, clinging to life with such fierce determination. The ghost stretched out his clawed hand toward the ground, intent on seizing Cui Yue. “Let’s see if you can keep wriggling after I tear you to shreds!”

Cui Yue was cornered, nowhere left to go. Suddenly, his body felt unnaturally light—he’d been snatched up into the air by the ghost’s claws. As the claws swept across him, he instinctively shrank back, and his entire shirt was shredded into rags, fluttering to the ground.

Now, Cui Yue was stripped to the waist, arms flailing weakly, helpless as the Painted-Skin Old Ghost prepared to carve out his heart.

"Though your blood isn’t as nourishing as a Celestial Master’s, you’ve got guts—daring to destroy my left eye. I’ll only be satisfied after I chew you to pieces!"

If I’d known I’d end up in your maw, I would’ve swallowed poison beforehand, Cui Yue thought bitterly. Though he couldn’t be sure if the poisons of the living would harm such an evil spirit of the underworld, he was filled with resentment and anger.

The Painted-Skin Old Ghost sneered, not bothering with further words. His bloody maw opened wide, intending to swallow Cui Yue whole.

Seeing that gaping, black-toothed mouth, reeking of rot, Cui Yue’s body went limp with terror—he squeezed his eyes shut.

Buzz!

A crisp sound rang out.

Suddenly, Cui Yue’s skin began to change. Heat spread over him, his skin flushing red as though scalded by boiling water. Crimson lines appeared across his chest and back, rapidly weaving and coalescing. Mysterious script emerged, and a blood-red talisman blazed into existence, marked with a large crimson character—“Array”—at the center of his belly.

The Painted-Skin Old Ghost hadn’t anticipated this hidden power. His single eye fixed on the blood-red talisman, momentarily stunned.

Cui Yue waited a second, confused by the searing pain coursing through his skin. Was the ghost tired of raw flesh—was he roasting me alive? He glanced down and saw the red glow swirling around him, the talisman erupting in power. Only then did he remember the bespectacled freak had inscribed something on his chest and back earlier. He hadn’t expected, in this life-or-death moment, that it would actually save him.

Neither Cui Yue nor the ghost had time to react before the talisman burst into brilliant light. The “Array” character spun rapidly, then—whoosh!

In a flash, the Painted-Skin Old Ghost was caught off guard.

The “Array” vanished, and a translucent human figure shot out from Cui Yue’s belly, brandishing a streak of blood-red light that pierced straight toward the ghost’s heart. It was so fast that in the blink of an eye, the blood light had already struck.

Page 2

With a wet rush, the Painted-Skin Old Ghost’s arms went slack and Cui Yue plummeted to the ground unexpectedly. The ghost’s face froze in shock. He glanced down and saw, buried deep in his chest, a small peachwood sword.

What was this? Substitution? Transposition?

The peachwood sword was driven so deep that only half the hilt remained visible. The Painted-Skin Old Ghost stared in disbelief at the hilt, terror and agony in his eye, and let out a hideous shriek.

Howls echoed…

Against Cui Yue, the Painted-Skin Old Ghost had been overwhelmingly dominant. Cui Yue, paralyzed and helpless, had been an easy morsel. Who could have foreseen the sudden intervention—a spring of fresh water in the desert—a surprise attack that left the ghost grievously wounded?

Cui Yue was just as stunned. He’d thought he was doomed to a grisly death, his heart and guts torn out, and now he’d escaped from the very jaws of death. From his own belly, a human figure had leapt forth and struck down the evil spirit! Dumbfounded, he patted his abdomen—heaven help him, how had someone emerged from inside him?

That figure, wreathed in blood-red light, landed a few meters away and dropped to one knee, shoulders heaving with ragged breaths.

Cui Yue looked closely—his eyes brightening with recognition. He blurted out, “Glasses!”

It was him—the one who had betrayed his trust, the one who had fled and abandoned them—Glasses!

Clear Spring’s face was pale as death, exhaustion etched in every line. His chest heaved as he turned to Cui Yue, forcing a faint smile.

That smile was like warmth in the depths of winter, melting the ice in Cui Yue’s heart and rekindling hope.

“Trust me—absolutely. I will see you safely out of this trap!” Clear Spring’s voice echoed in Cui Yue’s ears. His spirits soared, and a hot tear nearly slid from the corner of his eye.

If you do not fear, and risk life and death for me,

How could I, in turn, abandon you?

Today, we can smile on the road to the underworld.

Tomorrow, we’ll drink the Lady Meng’s soup together!

The Painted-Skin Old Ghost shrieked in agony, clutching the sword’s hilt with his ghostly right claw. The red glow burned like a branding iron, sending up black smoke and the stench of scorched flesh.

Clang!

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The Painted-Skin Old Ghost finally wrenched the peachwood sword from his chest. A spray of greenish-black, viscous fluid gushed out, which he tried to stem with his hand, but it continued to spurt between his fingers. At this moment, he no longer cared about Cui and Qing; stumbling and staggering, he rushed toward the giant screen, leaving a trail of green ooze behind him.

Clear Spring, too, was at the end of his strength. Though the ghost was gravely wounded and his evil energy greatly diminished—now was the perfect chance to finish him off—he himself was badly injured. That desperate attack had depleted all his power, and he was helpless now.

The Painted-Skin Old Ghost’s form wavered, the green light in his single eye fading. He slashed a claw at the screen, tearing open a black fissure, and leapt inside. The image went dark—he was gone.

He escaped?

Cui Yue could hardly believe what had just transpired. The Painted-Skin Old Ghost, who had been about to devour him, had actually fled?

Clear Spring and Cui Yue collapsed almost simultaneously, exhaling long, ragged breaths. After skirting the edge of death, their hearts finally relaxed, and everything felt as though it belonged to another world.

It felt so good to be alive!

“Glasses, thank you.”

“Hm? Likewise.”

After he spoke, Clear Spring furrowed his brow—Glasses? Did this guy just call me Glasses?

Cui Yue’s expression said plainly, “If you don’t deny it, I’ll take it as consent.”

Clear Spring glanced at Cui Yue. Having just survived death together, neither felt like saying much more.

Suddenly, a thought struck Cui Yue—his eyes widened.

That old ghost escaped, gravely wounded. What if he comes back for revenge?

Clear Spring adjusted his glasses and hesitated. “The ghost’s strength is greatly diminished. He won’t emerge again for some time. But once he recovers, he’ll certainly commit evil again—he’s a lingering menace.”