UCS Chapter 147

Chapter 147

Zhang Wenxuan admired Gao Gusheng’s beautiful, glistening eyes as he pressed the talisman against him.

Just then, a fierce gust of wind surged straight toward Zhang Wenxuan. His eyes sharpened. “Kunpeng!”

His flying feathers, acting like controlled puppets, rushed toward the attacker. Just as Zhang Wenxuan prepared to chant a spell, another blast of wind struck from behind; forced to dodge sideways, he was driven away from Gao Gusheng’s side.

Yet, the gust was relentless, thrusting directly at his wrist.

With a shift of his will, a myriad of malevolent spirits swarmed toward the attacker, but that wind—agile as a hummingbird—darted straight for his heart!

In a heartbeat, the hummingbird-like wind would be devoured by the ghosts, but he, too, would be pierced through!

Left with no choice, Zhang Wenxuan had to dodge again.

But the wind shifted course; the move aimed at his heart had been merely a feint—the true target was the talisman paper in his hand.

A sharp blade flew from the attacker’s hand, piercing the talisman. The immense force carried the talisman straight outside the dilapidated temple’s protective barrier, where, in the blink of an eye, both the longsword and the talisman were shattered by a lightning strike.

Furious, Zhang Wenxuan glared at the intruder.

The person who had attacked him turned out to be a young girl.

He recalled that she had once been the student council president before being supplanted by the “Heavenly Dao”—a rare talent for leadership.

Later, after she had been possessed by the Heavenly Dao, he had seized a moment of her distraction to plant a “transference ghost” inside her, siphoning off her yang energy and fortune for his own use. He did not know what miraculous encounter had allowed her to purge the spirit; had he succeeded in draining her luck completely, it would have brought him immense benefits. She was currently enveloped by malevolent spirits, yet a soft, luminous white glow radiated from her body, shielding her and minimizing the damage she sustained.

The oppressive yin energy had turned her face pale, but her eyes remained as blazing and intense as the sun.

The first to attack him was a man who had awakened his spiritual powers; he was incredibly fast—managing to avoid being instantly subdued by the Kunpeng and even finding opportunities to counterattack.

He remembered this man: Mo Hua. He had constantly been by Gao Gusheng’s side, and his immense physical stamina and intuitive instincts had made him a difficult target to pin down.

Excellent—the two who had repeatedly thwarted his plans were both here.

Zhang Wenxuan ignored Yun Zhiyi, who was trapped amidst the swarm of malevolent spirits, and turned his gaze toward Mo Hua. “Kunpeng, finish this quickly; don’t drag it out.”

At these words, Feiyu’s offensive became even more ferocious. A veteran Spirit Officer with years of combat experience was no match for a newcomer like Mo Hua—who had only recently awakened his powers—let alone the fact that Zhang Wenxuan had somehow fully awakened Feiyu’s Kunpeng bloodline.

Mo Hua was left with almost no power to resist; he faced constant peril, brushing shoulders with death time and again.

He no longer had any chance to attack; the Kunpeng’s speed was the perfect counter to his own, and he was already exerting every ounce of strength just to dodge the onslaught.

Gao Gusheng watched with a sinking heart, desperate for them to flee, yet he was currently unable to move a muscle—he couldn’t even blink.

Seizing the moment while Zhang Wenxuan remained stationary, Yun Zhiyi pushed forward against the press of ghosts; with every step she took, the white light protecting her grew a fraction dimmer.

Gao Gusheng noticed her and recognized the white glow as a protective ward left by Ying Bujie; within it, he sensed a familiar aura—one that seemed to have originated from himself. Back when Gao Gusheng gave his friends the hand-carved wooden safety talismans, Ying Bujie had just extracted a ghost from Yun Zhiyi. Knowing she was weakened from having her yang energy drained for so long—and wanting to shield her from lingering yin energy—he had infused the talisman with a burst of spiritual energy designed to dispel such malevolent forces.

That spiritual energy was meant to protect her from intrusion for a full year.

Gao Gusheng screamed internally, ‘Sister Yun, run! Sister Yun, you’re no match for that bastard Taoist!’

But Yun Zhiyi showed no reaction; she simply walked up to Gao Gusheng and began untying his ropes.

Gao Gusheng’s heart tightened—he wanted to warn her not to touch them—but her fingers had already made contact with the rope.

The moment she touched it, the white protective aura shielding her shattered instantly.

Yun Zhiyi immediately spat out a mouthful of blood.

The surrounding malevolent spirits swarmed forward. Gao Gusheng was frantic with anxiety; unbeknownst to him, the seal Ying Bujie had placed on him loosened, and the floral scent he carried erupted uncontrollably.

The nearby spirits instinctively recoiled a step, but then—like a pack of starving dogs spotting a defenseless lamb—they lunged at him.

Things were spiraling out of control.

Even Zhang Wenxuan could no longer fully contain the situation; he even began to worry that Gao Gusheng might be torn to shreds.

“So fragrant…”

The space around Yun Zhiyi cleared in the blink of an eye. Her pupils lost focus as the fragrance gently enveloped her; it felt like returning to her mother’s womb—warm, comforting, and lulling her into a state where she never wanted to wake up. The strange sensation she had felt earlier intensified. In truth, she should have been captured the moment Zhang Wenxuan summoned the myriad ghosts, yet—as if by some inexplicable stroke of divine providence—she had managed to evade the swarm.

It was as though the gods themselves were aiding her.

Her body stretched, and every bone seemed to emit a contented groan, like the satisfied sigh following a long slumber; though her physique was incredibly frail from the erosion of yin energy, her spirit was extraordinarily vibrant.

She opened her eyes, and the world before her seemed transformed—at once alien and familiar.

She saw it—

The world’s weak point.

Her pupils contracted; she drew the dagger strapped to her leg and charged at Feiyu.

Mo Hua had been struck by Feiyu, suffering broken ribs and coughing up blood; just as the razor-sharp feathers were about to pierce him, Yun Zhiyi thrust her blade toward the back of Feiyu’s neck, forcing the creature to dodge.

That single dash exhausted every ounce of her strength.

Weak points varied in nature; the more powerful an entity, the harder it was to breach. Take that rope, for instance—it constantly absorbed ghostly and yin energies to repair itself; even though she could perceive its weak point, she could not sever it.

Yet, she could disrupt Feiyu’s attack—even if only for a single moment.

Mo Hua wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, staggered to his feet, and stood his ground against Feiyu.

At that moment, a brilliant golden light erupted from the outside world. Zhang Wenxuan, whose eyes held a faint reddish hue, looked up at the sky; it felt as though needles were piercing his vision, and he clutched his eyes in agony.

Tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes; the pain was so excruciating that he felt a desperate urge to simply gouge them out.

The moment he closed his eyes, he saw massive golden chains.

An ominous premonition rose within him; he knew he could not delay any longer.

“Hear my command!”

He bit his fingertip and traced a talisman in the air; the restless, ferocious ghosts instantly transformed into docile puppets under his control.

“Go!”

Ten thousand ghosts turned in unison, fixing their gaze upon Gao Gusheng.

The swarming ghostly figures were reflected in Gao Gusheng’s pupils.

Mo Hua tore through the dense throng of ghosts and positioned himself in front of him.

Moving at a “God-speed” pushed to its absolute limit—swift as a shooting star—he used his own flesh and blood to shield Gao Gusheng securely.

If the ghosts were to devour anyone, he would not be the first to be consumed.

Gao Gusheng watched as Mo Hua was reduced to white bone, starting from his extremities.

Time seemed to slow; he could almost hear the sound of the ghosts gnawing at Mo Hua’s flesh.

Yun Zhiyi would never know that within the illusion, she had been the leader of the fan club for the minor celebrity Gao Gusheng. The very same Yun Zhiyi who, in reality, would say, “If I were a fan of yours, you’d drive me to an early grave,” had—within the illusion—sent daily messages of encouragement to her idol; those messages were one of the driving forces that kept him going.

When Gao Gusheng’s video was exposed and he faced the scorn of the entire internet, she had spotted the anomalies in the footage. She had rushed about tirelessly to clear his name and investigate the mastermind who had coerced him, believing in him right up until the moment he died.

Mo Hua would never know that within the illusion, he was the best friend of the orphan Gao Gusheng—the very definition of “friendship” to him, and a beacon of hope that kept him alive.

Even as he was being devoured by ten thousand ghosts before his death, his thoughts remained fixed on Gao Gusheng’s fate. I will always shield you without a moment’s hesitation.

This time, every time—always.

Gao Gusheng’s head throbbed as if it were about to explode; tears streamed from his eyes, yet he remained oblivious to them.

A force born of rage swelled wildly within him. Flashes of memory raced through his mind: his first babbling attempts at speech as Gao Gusheng; his days as a Spirit Flower, listening to the zither and gazing at the moon; and the desperate, hopeful struggle to grow when he was but a Seed of Heaven and Earth.

Upward! Upward! Upward!

Break through the shell that both protected and confined me; break through the soil and boulders weighing me down; break through everything!

It was as if he had transformed back into a seed, ravenously absorbing nutrients, poised to burst through the earth.

The surrounding spiritual energy was churned into motion. He absorbed it—so fast, so voraciously—creating a vortex that scattered the horde of ghosts.

No, it wasn’t just spiritual energy.

The ghosts fled in terror, but to no avail; the yin energy and ghostly aura clinging to them were also swept into the vortex.

The Spirit Flower: born of the purest spiritual energy of heaven and earth, it feeds on all the world’s energies and returns spiritual essence to the cosmos.

The binding ropes, their energy spent, snapped apart.

From the withered grass beneath his feet, tender shoots emerged, slowly rising until they bloomed into a small flower.

As one blade of grass sprang to life, countless others responded; radiating outward from Gao Gusheng, a multitude of plants pierced the soil—even the ground outside, scorched black by heavenly lightning and earthly fires, sprouted fresh, tender green shoots. “To think it’s a fully awakened Spirit Flower!”

“If I devour you, the path to the Heavenly Dao lies within reach!”

Greed flashed in Zhang Wenxuan’s eyes. Suppressing the unease in his heart, he plunged a blood-red dagger into his chest; the blade drank deep of his heart’s blood, glowing with an ominous crimson light.

Gao Gusheng gently laid the unconscious Mo Hua on the ground and turned his gaze toward Zhang Wenxuan.

Zhang Wenxuan barked a low command: “Attack!”

The scattered, panicked horde of ghosts regrouped and charged at Gao Gusheng, throwing themselves at him with a suicidal frenzy, intent on drowning him in their sheer numbers.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Wenxuan used his blood as ink and began to draw a talisman.

“Your spiritual energy is finite. You might be able to eliminate a hundred or a thousand malevolent spirits, but how can you possibly withstand a horde of ten thousand?”

Gao Gusheng sneered; though tear tracks still stained his face, his expression was as fierce as a young leopard’s.

He pulled out the “Buddha-Head Gatling Gun” his dad had equipped him with.

“You bastard Taoist priest—times have changed.”

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