Chapter 66 — The Vampire Fiend

The Vampire Fiend choked on his words, and fury rose in his heart. On any other day he would have loosed a spell at once and drained this fellow's blood dry first and asked questions later. But the thought that a Canglan disciple should carry a vampire spell of no low cultivation—this he must get to the bottom of, no matter what.

So he forced down his wrath, though his voice now sounded like a ghost's wail and a wolf's howl: "The one you killed with the Vampire ** in the Ten Thousand Bats Ancient Cave on Mount Kongsang!"

Zhang Qingyue's heart jolted. At the words "vampire," he remembered at once, and that dreadful scene rose before his mind's eye. He could not help tensing, and unconsciously his hand crept toward the dark iron staff at his waist.

The dark iron staff rested quietly at his waist, like a demon sunk in slumber.

Seeing him silent for so long, as if lost in thought, the Vampire Fiend felt this was the very height of contempt—ten times more "insolent" than those Canglan masters who had hunted him in years past.

His temper had always been savage. Had some doubt not still lingered in his heart, he would never have endured so long. This rage was no small thing: with a great roar he cried, "Little wretch of the Canglan Sect, give me back my disciple's life!"

Zhang Qingyue started in alarm and stepped back. All around him rose a cacophony of ghostly wails, and a bitter yin wind blew, chilling to the bone. Even the back of his neck felt cold, and every hair on his body seemed to stand on end.

The red skull in midair suddenly opened its grim, shadowy mouth, and in an instant five black rays flashed out from it and fell before Zhang Qingyue. After a moment, they actually staggered and trembling to their feet.

Zhang Qingyue gathered himself on guard, knowing that this demon cult fiend's sorcery was strange and sinister. But when he looked closely, he could not help his scalp prickling. Those five figures, growing steadily larger, were five ghosts of differing shapes but equally hideous faces—one with a bloody maw, another with fangs and jagged teeth—and a stench of foulness and filth came rushing at his nose.

In less than a moment these five ghosts had grown into giants half a body taller than Zhang Qingyue. Behind them, the Vampire Fiend formed strange seals with both hands, tapping and patting the red skull, swaying now and then, and the ghosts moved in response—clearly they were being controlled by this old devil.

Now, as if set off by the red light the skull gave forth, even the Vampire Fiend's eyes seemed tinged with red. He gave a cold laugh, and his ten fingers suddenly clenched tight with a "hiss," clamping hard upon the red skull.

Almost in time with his movement, the eyes of those five giant ghouls suddenly blazed red, casting deep, ferocious looks, and together they threw back their heads and howled at the sky.

"Woo-ah..."

Zhang Qingyue's body shook violently, his senses all but overwhelmed. He felt only ghostly shadows flickering all around, and the wailing of ghosts was like an awl driven through his ears straight into his skull, a torment past bearing.

The five ghouls howled at the sky, and a moment later they all lunged at once, the wind screaming. Zhang Qingyue strove to dodge backward and only barely escaped the blow. But before he could steady himself, the five ghouls struck together, and amid their howls they drove their ghost claws all at once into the ground.

Zhang Qingyue was in midair, the dark iron staff gripped tight in his hand, and his heart grew a little easier. The staff seemed to sense something as well; it kindled with a pale blue-green light and slowly began to glow.

But before he could think further, the ghost claws of the five ghouls, buried deep in the earth, seemed to seize hold of the very skin of the ground. Amid long howls a yin wind rose abruptly, and the whole patch of earth was torn up. Yet more terrible still: from beneath the ground, with a "susu-su," countless yin spirits, great and small, flew out and rushed at Zhang Qingyue, surrounding him in the blink of an eye.

A cold smile touched the Vampire Fiend's lips, but then he frowned again. Because he feared this youth might harbor some strange power, he had not begun with his own prized skill, the Vampire **, but with another art he had cultivated in recent years—the "Five Ghosts Commanding Spirits." Using five "life ghosts" refined from his own essence as mediums, he forcibly bound all the dead souls and wandering spirits within ten li and refined them with fierce-ghost sorcery into yin spirits greedy for the flesh and blood of the living, then sent them against Zhang Qingyue.

But though this Qingyun disciple's cultivation was not low, he seemed not to practice any vampire art at all. Had he misjudged? Or had that dog Wild Wolf, to save his own life, simply pointed to some scapegoat?

As the Vampire Fiend pondered this, he suddenly sensed something and his body gave a start. He raised his head and looked forward. There, where Zhang Qingyue was so completely surrounded by countless white wandering souls and yin spirits that his figure could not be seen, a faint, dark blue-green light suddenly pierced through the countless yin spirits and shone out from amid that thick press of white shadows and ghostly eyes.

That sound was like something being torn apart—clear and ringing.

The night on Mount Liubo grew darker still; by now even the faint light of the moon was gradually lost to sight.

In the lonely, somewhat desolate night, a long cry was faintly heard.

Even the waves on the distant sea seemed to swell.

That icy feeling stole quietly across the heart...

The dark iron staff blazed brilliantly. Its once dark, gloomy shaft seemed like a demon suddenly startled awake, opening both eyes. In an instant, an icy, savage aura spread out from Zhang Qingyue, and the countless yin spirits started up in terror, wheeling and darting in panic.

In the distance the Vampire Fiend's brows drew tight, his face growing grave, and he muttered low to himself: "What a heavy reek of malevolence..."

The five giant life ghosts howled in unison. Their forms flickered, and with a "susu" they leaped into the air and came down around Zhang Qingyue, encircling him. At the same time their ghost claws tore at the empty air, and a shrill noise rose at once.

The yin spirits, which a moment ago had been thrown into panic by the mysterious malevolence of the dark iron staff, now suddenly paused in midair. Zhang Qingyue clearly saw that on many of the faces that had taken human form there was an expression of agony—but in an instant it turned ferocious again.

"Ya!"

A shrill, desolate ghost shriek burst through the air, and countless yin spirits turned and swooped down upon the one body of living flesh in that place.

Zhang Qingyue drew a sharp breath. Before, behind, left, and right—nothing but white ghost shadows coming in a flood, too many to fend off. Before he could even parry a few blows, he saw the whole sky of ghost shadows press down like thick dark clouds, forcing him back to the ground. Zhang Qingyue gritted his teeth and held on, but before he had parried many blows, he suddenly tripped; a sharp pain shot through his feet, and he nearly fell to the ground.

Zhang Qingyue was greatly alarmed. He looked down and saw, thrust up from the soil beneath his feet, two enormous ghost hands gripping his ankles fast. The ghost claws were sharp and had nearly pierced into his veins. And around him, of the five life ghosts that had been there a moment ago, only four remained.

In midair countless yin spirits cheered in unison, shrieking as they swarmed down, their greedy gaping mouths seeming to loom right before his eyes.