UCS Chapter 150

Chapter 150

Gao Shi strode toward Gao Gusheng, pulled him away from Zhang Wenxuan, and checked his for injuries.

In passing, he stomped on Zhang Wenxuan’s hand, ruining the talisman the man had been drawing in his own blood; the hard heel of his leather shoe crushed down on the fingers, producing the crisp, sickening sound of breaking bone. Ying Bujie studied Zhang Wenxuan’s contorted face. A chill ran through Zhang Wenxuan; for some reason, this Daoist priest—who seemed so otherworldly and detached from the mundane—evoked a sense of dread in him that surpassed even his fear of the Heavenly Dao itself.

Ying Bujie held out a hand toward Gao Gusheng. “Lele, give it to me.”

Gao Gusheng, who was currently being hoisted up and inspected like a chick by Gao Shi, paused in surprise before handing the dagger—which he had used to stab multiple holes in Zhang Wenxuan—to Ying Bujie.

A faint silver spiritual aura coated the blade. Under Ying Bujie’s control, the dagger sliced open Zhang Wenxuan’s clothes; the wounds on the limbs Gao Gusheng had crippled began to writhe as they rapidly healed.

Ying Bujie spoke calmly: “The technique he cultivates involves manipulating ghosts to steal a person’s fortune. It drains not just fortune, but also lifespan, vital spirit, and even life force itself. As for the backlash—that falls entirely upon the ghosts, leaving him completely unscathed.”

“What you did earlier wouldn’t have crippled him.”

His voice was slow, almost gentle, yet it made Zhang Wenxuan break out in a cold sweat. The man before him appeared utterly unconcerned with anything, yet he was far more chilling than the frenzied, red-eyed Gao Gusheng had been just moments ago.

“Watch closely; this is how you truly subdue him.”

As Ying Bujie spoke, the dagger plunged violently into Zhang Wenxuan’s *Guanyuan* acupoint!

“This is the Lower Dantian.”

“Aaaargh!” Zhang Wenxuan let out a blood-curdling scream that sounded barely human. The moment that seemingly tranquil spiritual aura entered his body, it turned wildly violent, shattering his Dantian and surging upward along his meridians, destroying them one by one in its wake. Ying Bujie did not bother to seal his mouth with spiritual energy, leaving him to turn crimson in the face with veins bulging on his forehead.

“The locations of the Upper and Middle Dantian are tricky to pinpoint; if you wish to subdue him without taking his life, simply shatter this spot.”

Once the Dantian was shattered, Zhang Wenxuan’s connection to the blood jade was severed. He lost control over the malevolent spirits; those ghosts that had survived under the gaze of the Buddha turned upon their master, swarming Zhang Wenxuan and tearing at his flesh.

Those who control ghosts to commit evil are destined to be controlled by ghosts themselves.

Zhang Wenxuan’s flesh began to slough off.

He wailed silently in agony, repeatedly losing consciousness only to be jolted awake by the excruciating pain.

Gao Shi gazed at his hideous, contorted face; he felt no horror, only a sense of vindication.

This was the very same agony that Mo Hua had endured while being devoured alive.

Zhang Wenxuan’s suffering was not even a tenth of what was owed to those vengeful spirits and children.

He looked at Gao Gusheng and patted his head. “Lele, you did a great job.”

Gao Gusheng instinctively puffed out his chest. “Of course. Just look at whose son I am.”

Even as he spoke, and before the smile could fade from his face, large tears began to roll down his cheeks. The shock he had endured, along with the anguish and rage of watching his friend suffer because of him—all of it came flooding out the moment Gao Shi praised him. “Dad… Xiaohong and Xiaohei… they’re dead…” Choked with sobs, he trembled as he held out the body of the red-furred squirrel; Zhang Wenxuan had nearly crushed the little creature to death—its bones shattered and flesh mangled, leaving it little more than a pulp of gore. As for the black mist, not even a “corpse” remained; it had been entirely devoured by the swarm of ghosts.

“And then there’s Hua-zi…”

Mo Hua’s legs were gone from the knees down; only half of each hand remained; and his back was a mass of festering wounds, with bone faintly visible beneath the ruined flesh.

True, the Gao family had the means to care for Gao Gusheng’s benefactor. They could hire the world’s best doctors and fit him with the family’s most advanced mechanical prosthetics, allowing him to live a life no different from anyone else’s.

But they could not repair Mo Hua’s dreams or his future.

Had Mo Hua become an athlete, he would have been the most gifted—yet also the most diligent and hardworking—competitor; even his coaches had said that such a promising talent belonged on the national team.

Had Mo Hua become a Spirit Officer, he would have been the most humble yet decisive of them all—destined to be one of the very best.

Mo Hua was a man of clear goals who strove ceaselessly toward them. He had once aimed to be a national-level athlete, and he had secured his ticket to the Olympics. Now, he had set his sights on becoming a Spirit Officer, and he would have made a fine one.

But now, it was all gone.

His abilities were “God-speed” and “Aim.”

Without legs or hands, how could he run? How could he hold a gun?

Gao Gusheng was at a loss. No matter how much he offered, he could not make it up to Mo Hua, nor could he bring him even a shred of happiness.

Gao Gusheng looked at Mo Hua—at those empty spaces where his legs should have been. The sight was so painful it made him want to instinctively shut his eyes, yet he forced himself to keep looking. Mo Hua, whose wounds were currently being bandaged, saw Gao Gusheng’s expression and realized he was likely talking about him. “Gusheng, actually, I…”

He was too far away, and a “brilliant” idea had suddenly flashed through Gao Gusheng’s mind, so he didn’t hear a word Mo Hua said. His eyes held a look of pleading mixed with a glimmer of hope. “Dad, I’m a Spirit Flower, right? Since I’m a plant, I should be able to regenerate. If I graft my leg onto his… that should work, shouldn’t it?”

But as he spoke, tears welled up in his eyes again. “I’m just a skinny runt; if my lower leg gets attached to Hua-zi’s, it’ll look like a giant chicken drumstick. Mo Hua would have to go through life carrying around two giant chicken drumsticks…”

Gao Shi had initially been touched by his son’s pure heart and was hesitating—wondering if he should let the boy cry out his pent-up distress, lest keeping it bottled up lead to trouble later—and was considering whether to interrupt. However, upon hearing the bit about “giant chicken drumsticks,” he found himself torn between laughter and exasperation, and finally couldn’t help but rap his son on the head.

“Alright, enough with the chicken and duck drumsticks.”

Gao Gusheng looked up through teary eyes and blinked; a single tear slid down, but instead of falling to the ground, it floated up into mid-air.

He turned his head and saw a transparent sphere of water hovering there, catching his falling tear.

Turning back, he saw Kong Miao wearing a peculiar expression, looking as if he were struggling to hold back laughter.

Gao Shi let out a long sigh and said, with a mix of exasperation and fondness, “So, you *do* know you’re a Spirit Flower.”

A Spirit Flower—a being that takes a million years to develop sentience, whose mere aura causes vegetation to flourish for a hundred miles around. Grafting a leg for someone? There was absolutely no need to hack off his own legs to attach them; even a “rock-bottom clearance sale” wouldn’t slash prices that drastically. Ying Bujie nodded. “When you awakened, the greater part of the overflowing vitality surged into his body; his severed limbs should regenerate before long.”

Gao Gusheng, still with teardrops clinging to his eyelashes, was taken aback. He turned his head in a daze just as Mo Hua—who had been rushed over by a medical team—met his gaze and nodded. Seeming both moved and unable to bear the sight of his close friend’s embarrassment, Mo Hua spoke with difficulty: “Right… actually, I can feel my legs itching a bit, and the bones have grown back somewhat.”

Gao Gusheng looked and saw that, sure enough, the kneecaps had fully reformed; at this rate, Mo Hua would likely be completely healed within a week.

Seeing the stunned look on Gao Gusheng’s face, Mo Hua offered a comforting remark: “You aren’t a ‘scrawny dog’—your legs aren’t thin.”

Mo Hua was then carried away.

Gao Gusheng watched the receding stretcher in a daze, then turned to Gao Shi and pointed at himself. “So… so I was planning to sacrifice my own leg for nothing?”

Gao Shi finally couldn’t help but laugh. Gao Gusheng squeezed his eyes shut, stiff with mortification; recalling the anxiety he had felt in the heat of the moment, he looked as though he wanted to die of embarrassment.

Ying Bujie called out to him, “Lele.”

Gao Gusheng looked over and saw Ying Bujie extract a single teardrop from that small sphere of water and split it in two. One half floated toward Zhang Wenxuan, while the other half was split again—the larger portion drifting toward Mo Hua, and the smaller toward Yun Zhiyi.

Zhang Wenxuan had been torn apart and devoured by malevolent spirits; his entire skeleton was exposed, and his internal organs could be seen pulsing as he lay there, hovering on the brink of death. But once that single teardrop entered his body, flesh began to knit itself onto his bare bones; he rapidly regained his physical form. It felt like ascending from hell to heaven—a sensation of comfort akin to soaking in warm water—so blissful it made him want to groan aloud.

*Could I be saved?*

He opened his eyes, only to see the malevolent spirit’s face, twisted in a mix of delight and malice.

“Aaaah—”

With that scream, the feast began all over again.

His flesh was devoured by the spirits, only to regenerate instantly—much like a living donkey whose meat was inexhaustible.

A single meal was never going to be enough.

He had preyed upon children and police officers alike, and commanded spirits to attack the public, stealing their fortune and lifespans; countless people had died at his hands. He intercepted souls meant for reincarnation, forcing them to harm others and transform into vengeful spirits, making their rebirth nearly impossible—or even causing their souls to shatter and vanish, forever denied the chance at salvation.

If Hell still existed, he would have been condemned to suffer in the Hell of Knives for a hundred thousand years.

Gao Gusheng turned his gaze away in disgust and looked at Yun Zhiyi. After the teardrop entered her body, the color had rapidly returned to her face; she sat up on the stretcher, saying, “I think I feel…”

“Feel what? Get a check-up first!”

Just as she was about to pull a dramatic “bolt upright from a deathbed” move, the doctor firmly pressed her back down.

Who would have thought Sister Yun would ever face a moment like this? Gao Gusheng grinned, flashing a look that practically begged for a punch; Yun Zhiyi responded by brandishing her fist at him.

Since Sister Yun was recovering so quickly, what about Hua-zi…

Gao Gusheng glanced into the distance and heard the doctors carrying Mo Hua—who had apparently seen something—suddenly quicken their pace, breaking into a near-run.

“Hurry, hurry! If we don’t get it over there soon, his leg will have already healed!”

Gao Gusheng finally relaxed completely and burst into laughter.

Ying Bujie flicked a droplet of water; it shot into the sky, transformed into a fine mist, and drifted toward the people who had been injured in the recent battle.

…

Zhou Jing, surrounded by elderly professors, suddenly sat up. “Professor, I think I’m feeling…”

“Lie down!”

The professors and nurses hurriedly pressed him back down.

…

Wu Qin sat by Sun Jun’s bedside, peeling an apple. He offered a forced smile of comfort. “It’s just a broken arm; it’s not like it can’t be reattached. Even if you can’t hold a paintbrush anymore, you still have your feet, don’t you?”

Old Master Wu, who had worn a stern expression his entire life, simply never learned how to comfort others; even his attempts at consolation came out stiff and awkward.

“Here, have some apple.”

“Mm. I’m fine, Professor. Thank you.”

Sun Jun naturally reached out to take the apple, then suddenly froze, locking eyes with Wu Qin in astonishment.

…

Chang Yang’s hands were wrapped in bandages so thick they looked like *zongzi* (sticky rice dumplings). He waved them about. “Big Bear, I still think a *luosifen* (river snail rice noodle) *zongzi* is worth a try. You’ve got to try new things in life, right?”

Xiong Xiong’s back was covered in lacerations, forcing him to lie face-down on the bed—his backside sticking up prominently. He grumbled, “Finish your stinky tofu steamed bun first.”

“Fine, I’ll eat it, but it’s a deal… Huh?”

Chang Yang and Xiong Xiong froze simultaneously, then quickly unwrapped the bandages from their bodies. Chang Yang glanced at the sky, smiled, and pointed toward the doorway. “Let’s go—how about some *luosifen*?”

Xiong Xiong pulled his jacket over his head. “Let’s go!”

…

The Spirit Flower was born of the world’s spiritual essence and endowed with spirit by the Heavenly Dao; its every smile and frown stirred the very pulse of life.

Upon the Spirit Flower’s emergence, heaven and earth rejoiced, as if the cosmos itself celebrated this new beginning.

The sky was washed clean and cloudless; vegetation surged with wild growth, bees and butterflies danced, and a world once scarred and desolate regained its vitality.

The Great National Defense Array was withdrawn.

Gao Shi and Ying Bujie exchanged glances and laughed in unison.

Gao Gusheng could finally live the life he desired, free from control.

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