Chapter Nine: Fleeing Separately

Wang Ling explained, "Do not underestimate the art of weapon combat. It's effective enough against peasants and villagers, but things change once you face officials or soldiers. Those people are protected by the law, and some even possess magical artifacts. Against them, spells lose their efficacy; it comes down to desperate fighting. But if you run into regular soldiers clad in armor, your close-quarter techniques won’t work so well."

The two pressed forward as they spoke, not daring to pause. Some villagers had fled, and would soon report to the authorities—then the danger would truly begin.

Zhenyunzi felt increasingly oppressed by Wang Ling’s words. He hadn’t expected that, in this world, the power of Man would so thoroughly suppress cultivators. It was suffocating. In his own world, the laws had transformed, making cultivation nearly impossible. He had managed to cross over, only to arrive somewhere just as stifling. How could he not be frustrated?

He swore to himself, "I must become the founder of this world, overturn the suppression of Man, bring forth the prosperity of Immortal Dao, and expand the gates of my Celestial Pavilion!"

Yet, despite these ambitions, their steps did not falter. They had to reach the Mountain of Boundless Vastness before nightfall, or risk grave danger.

Their actions—first killing two officials, then some villagers—would be a monstrous crime in his own world. Killing villagers was serious enough, but murdering law enforcers was a trigger for violent retribution in any realm. Given the ruthless attitudes of officials here, they wouldn’t even wait for a formal execution; they’d kill on sight.

So, Zhenyunzi only wished to hide in the Mountain of Boundless Vastness and deal with everything else later.

They hadn’t reached the mountain before darkness fell.

“Hurry, quicken your pace—we must get there before the pursuers arrive—”

Wang Ling hadn’t finished his sentence when suddenly, fierce winds arose all around them. Sand and stones swept through the air; in the dim shifting shadows, green lanterns appeared from every direction, surrounding them completely.

Both felt a chill of dread. Peering through the shadows, they saw several squads of ghost soldiers, armed with blades and pitchforks, slowly closing in. Each squad numbered five—four squads in total, each bearing a ghostly green lantern.

At first glance, these ghost soldiers looked no different from ordinary folk. But upon closer inspection, their faces were deathly pale, their feet hovered above the ground, and their forms flickered, shrouded in thin streams of black mist—making them appear especially fierce.

Two squads blocked their path ahead; two more cut off their escape.

The lead ghost official was tall and clad not in simple robes, but in leather armor, his black aura so dense it was nearly tangible. He held a long blade in his hand and regarded Wang Ling and Zhenyunzi with arrogant disdain.

"The patrol officer foresaw it perfectly," he sneered. "He predicted you two monsters would flee toward the Mountain of Boundless Vastness. And he was right!"

Zhenyunzi cursed inwardly and looked at Wang Ling.

He was certain these ghost soldiers, with their heavy aura of death, were exceptionally formidable. This was trouble!

It was bizarre—shouldn’t the business of commanding spirits and subduing ghosts fall to Daoists and cultivators? Why did the authorities here take on the task themselves?

He grumbled internally, but his mind raced, searching for a way to escape.

Wang Ling, more familiar with the powers of this world, was filled with despair. There seemed no way out!

Just then, Zhenyunzi’s expression hardened. He shouted coldly, "Mere ghosts dare act so brazenly? Taste the power of my Divine Blade of Yin and Yang!"

He rubbed his palms together—left hand Yin, right hand Yang; left for sun, right for moon. Yin and Yang fused, sun and moon combined, and instantly a stream of palm energy lashed out like a blade, cleaving through the air toward the ghost official.

The ghost leader’s face changed, his aura swirling, forming a shield before him. But it was useless—the blade strike shattered the shield and struck the ghost leader, exploding his spectral body into fragments.

The other ghost soldiers were stunned by the power of the blow and retreated in alarm.

Zhenyunzi shouted, "Go! We split up and flee!"

He thrust an object into Wang Ling’s arms.

Wang Ling was shocked—he hadn’t realized Zhenyunzi possessed such ability, far exceeding his expectations! He wondered what had been handed to him, but now was not the time to think. He followed Zhenyunzi in a desperate dash for escape.

Ordinary ghosts were not so easily slain, let alone these ghost soldiers of the authorities, whose souls were bound by talismans—making them even harder to destroy.

After the ghost leader’s body scattered into mist, it slowly reformed, regaining human shape, though its aura was diminished, clearly weakened.

Barely restored, the ghost leader shouted, "Catch them—don’t let them escape!"

Wang Ling was not without his own tricks. He threw a pearl onto the ground.

With a thunderous crack, acrid smoke billowed out, shrouding the surroundings.

Zhenyunzi immediately realized this was their chance for escape. He held his breath and charged through the smoke.

The ghost soldiers seemed fearful of the smoke, recoiling and avoiding it.

Soon, another ghost soldier blocked their path. Zhenyunzi repeated his earlier technique, channeling his internal energy, shaping his palm into a blade, and struck.

In an instant, an invisible gust of blade wind hit the ghost soldier a meter ahead. The ghost shrieked, its aura convulsing, bursting into a cloud of black mist. It took a long moment to reform, its spirit grievously injured; it no longer dared advance and retreated.

Almost simultaneously, the ghosts summoned winds to disperse the smoke, thick with the scent of cinnabar and realgar.

But Wang Ling and Zhenyunzi were nowhere to be seen.

“There’s movement here—after them!” the ghost leader shouted, leading his four squads into the woods where the commotion had arisen.

Wang Ling and the man in black had used the cover of smoke to split up and escape.

Wang Ling possessed the arts of concealment and survival. Using the smoke, he dove into a nearby thicket, holding his breath and slowing his heartbeat, reducing his vital signs to near nothingness.

Having lived in this world for nearly twenty years, Wang Ling was essentially a native. He knew well the strength of these ghost soldiers, and naturally had the means to avoid them.

Without some skill, how could Wang Ling dare meddle in others’ affairs?