Chapter 157 — The Secret

Facing Ming Li, though Master Ghost still had not emerged from that coffin, he was plainly far more cautious now. That mote of ghost-fire in midair burned in silence, slowly brightening and swelling, until the faces of everyone around were cast in a green glow.

Ming Li gazed at the ghostly green orb, his face expressionless, then suddenly took a step forward. Almost at the very instant Ming Li's figure moved, the ghost-fire seemed to be provoked by something; its radiance flared violently—yet this time it did not split into five parts to form the five-star array, but instead the whole green mass abruptly surged upward, rousing a gale that sent dust sifting down from the rafters of the gloomy house. Zhou Yixuan and the other two, caught off guard behind him, rubbed at their eyes.

In this moment of mounting tension, the air was thick with spectral menace, and it looked as though some mysterious and uncanny art was about to be unleashed. Facing this ever-enigmatic Master Ghost, Ming Li dared not be careless either, and stood wholly on guard—when suddenly his brows lifted, and his whole body shot up into the air. Almost at the same instant, a tremendous crash came from deep beneath the floor of the house; the entire room shook violently, as though the earth itself were quaking.

A gigantic, ghastly white skeletal arm burst through the flagstones with a thunderous roar, smashing down heavily where Ming Li had stood but a moment before. The blue bricks and flagstones that had paved the floor were pulverized in an instant, shards flying everywhere. The whole room was suddenly steeped in a cacophony of ghostly howls. Ming Li hovered in midair, and the skeletal arm, as if driven by some mysterious power, surged upward and lunged straight at him.

Ming Li's brows knitted tightly, but there was no panic in his face. The white shadow of the onrushing skeletal arm was mirrored in his eyes; just as it seemed about to smash into him, his body swayed in midair and drifted to the right, slipping past in the barest fraction of a heartbeat. The arm crashed down upon the ground, and once more sand flew and stones scattered.

By now the house was thick with ghostly vapors and a biting gale. Zhou Yixuan and his two companions pressed their backs hard against the wall, wanting to flee yet not daring to move carelessly, lest in the chaos they be struck by the white bones by mistake. Fortunately, Master Ghost's attention seemed fixed wholly on Ming Li, and where the three of them huddled in the corner by the altar table, the bones did not come to harm them. It was only that, through the swirling sand and flying stones, they watched that room—never spacious to begin with—now suddenly crowded with a giant skeletal arm pursuing Ming Li's shadow, and it seemed already rather cramped.

But this, it seemed, was not enough. Just as Zhou Yixuan was muttering to himself, another muffled roar came from deep underground, a sound tinged faintly with irritation and ferocity, like a savage soul long imprisoned that had finally found a chance to breathe and vent its pent-up fury.

The house shook violently; earth heaved and stone split. In a flash of white bone, another equally gigantic skeletal arm thrust up from the ground and hurtled savagely at Ming Li. Ming Li's figure wove and dodged between the two arms, his eyes fixed and intent—but to this point he had not struck back once.

Within the room, in but a moment, it grew even more impossibly crowded.

White bones gleamed and danced wildly through the air; a spectacle eerie, unpredictable, and terrifying played itself out quietly within that gloomy house. Though Master Ghost and Ming Li fought fiercely, the two seemed to share a tacit understanding: the reach of their arts was confined to the house. Master Ghost's uncanny ghost-path techniques did not spill beyond the walls, and Ming Li likewise kept his maneuvers within the room.

Above the house, that mote of ghost-fire burned coldly, its green light shining faintly down. Amid the dancing white bones, Ming Li's figure too seemed to take on a steadily stranger, more sinister air—but be that as it may, to this moment Master Ghost still had no way to deal with him. From within the coffin came a cold snort from Master Ghost.

Suddenly the ghost-fire in midair blazed bright. The two giant skeletal arms, which had been dancing and pursuing, jerked to a halt—then came what seemed a mournful cry, and with a piercing crack-crack-crack-crack, countless fissures appeared over both arms from top to bottom. In an instant they crumbled into numberless fragments, their edges razor-sharp, like a rain of bone from the heavens, or a swarm of man-eating bees, sweeping down upon Ming Li in a dense onslaught.

Zhou Yixuan and the other two went pale; Xiaowan even cried out in alarm. In that tiny house, dodging two giant arms had already been hard enough—now that they had become a heaven-filling rain of bone shards, thick beyond counting, how could anyone escape?

Ming Li's face was cold as frost. Watching that sky full of bone fragments, just as they were about to reach him, he suddenly plummeted from midair straight for the ground, swift as lightning. The countless bone shards checked themselves in midair, as if sentient, emitting a shrill sound, abruptly halting their momentum, wheeling about in the air, and diving after him.

In the blink of an eye Ming Li struck the ground, but before his body could steady, he slapped a palm against the floor and shot away skimming along the ground—and the direction he flew was precisely toward the coffin where Master Ghost was.

The ghost-fire in midair shuddered, then came smashing down like lightning, while behind him the countless bone shards came howling in pursuit like the wind. The gale set the whole house shuddering. Ming Li's robes flapped and cracked in the wind—but at this moment, with a blocker ahead and pursuers behind, he suddenly hurled the treasure in his hand, the Soul-devouring Black Staff. The force was immense, and uncanny power drove it on; the Blood-devouring Bead at the staff's tip swirled a dark red, every thread and trace of blood-light kindling one by one—the very picture of demonic power at its height.

Only, the direction the Soul-devourer flew was toward the corner where Zhou Yixuan and the other two were. Zhou Yixuan, Xiaowan, and the Wild Wolf Daoist had not yet reacted when they saw a streak of black light come rushing at them. Before it even drew near, the air around them was filled with an utterly bizarre chill, and a nameless demonic force seemed to tug at the vital blood in their bodies like a fiend, as though it would burst out of them.

In an instant the Soul-devourer was upon them—thunk—and buried itself in the wall right beside Zhou Yixuan's head, sinking in almost completely.

Zhou Yixuan turned ashen with fright, forgetting even to curse Ming Li. In a flash he felt a chill run from his head down to his feet; the black staff by his ear seemed to have invisible hands, trying to drag him toward it. Terrified, he wrenched his body aside with all his strength, and only then did he gasp for breath.

And at that moment, the bone shards that had filled the air and that mote of ghost-fire, which had been sweeping down like a landslide and a tidal wave, suddenly stopped dead, frozen in midair. A moment later, from within the wall came a faint, pained grunt, and a human-shaped clod of earth flew whole out of the wall and lunged at Ming Li. The countless bone shards, as though drained of their spiritual power, pattered to the ground—only the ghost-fire, which seemed instead to burn a shade brighter, flew back to hover above the clod of earth.