The thin Daoist watched as the talisman arrow landed on a small island nearby.
He immediately knew that the person he was after was hiding there.
"Who dares to take advantage of your grandpa!" the thin Daoist fumed.
His decision to head north had been a spur-of-the-moment one.
Poyang Lake was vast, and it was impossible for someone to have set up an ambush in advance.
It must have been someone who happened to be there by chance.
However, this person was no ordinary individual.
The two spells they had cast were both single-word incantations, indicating a high level of skill.
The young hero from the Golden Phase Sect remained silent as usual.
Earlier, when they were far apart, it had been difficult to take action.
But now, with the thin Daoist being delayed, the distance between them had closed, and the young hero had more techniques at his disposal.
Both sides had tested each other, using talismans and spells as needed.
Now, it was time to determine the victor.
The young hero cradled his pipa, his slender, pale fingers dancing across the six phases and twenty-four frets.
This time, the notes were no longer disjointed but flowed into a continuous melody.
His right hand, in particular, seemed to transform into a beam of white moonlight.
As the intense melody played, ripples began to form on the lake's surface beneath the young hero.
At first, they were just small ripples, but they quickly grew in speed and height, forming concentric circles that eventually burst into countless tiny water droplets.
Within a fifty-step radius of the young hero, the lake's surface boiled like water in a pot!
This was merely the external manifestation of the pipa's sound.
The true power of the melody was directed entirely at the thin Daoist.
The pipa's notes seemed to materialize, and a faint, majestic white eagle emerged from the instrument, charging straight at the thin Daoist.
The thin Daoist could no longer care about the talisman arrow.
He stared at the faintly visible white eagle, his eyes filled with doubt and suspicion.
He had initially thought that the young hero was just a random disciple from the Golden Phase Sect passing by.
He had pretended to flee, intending to lure the young hero to the edge of the lake to kill him and steal his treasures.
But now, it seemed that things were not going as planned.
The young hero had been chasing him for so long, yet his spiritual energy was still abundant.
That pipa was no ordinary instrument, and the young hero was clearly no ordinary disciple.
And then there was the spellcaster hiding in the grass.
Could it be that the Zhou family's procurement manager was just bait, and this was all a trap to kill him?
Was it really worth it?
Regardless, the thin Daoist abandoned his playful attitude and got serious.
He pulled out a banner with a gray surface, on which was painted a black beast's head.
The design was abstract and crude: two large eyes, a nose below them, and curled horns above.
It somewhat resembled an ox's head, but it lacked a lower lip, or rather, its mouth seemed to merge with the banner itself.
Staring at the beast's head, one felt as if their mind was being drawn into it.
It exuded an aura of evil and misfortune, yet there was a strange, fierce beauty to it.
The white eagle, formed from the pipa's sound, arrived with a roar, shattering the lake's surface in its wake.
The thin Daoist waved the beast-head banner, and small ghostly figures began to emerge from it.
These ghosts took the forms of various beasts—tigers, leopards, snakes, and oxen.
A dozen of them appeared, growing to their full size as they charged at the white eagle.
Form against form, intangible against intangible.
The white eagle was fierce, instantly shattering the tigers and leopards in its path, but its form also began to weaken.
"Screech!"
The cry of the white eagle came not from the eagle itself but from the pipa in the young hero's hands.
The sound was eerily lifelike.
The young hero's right hand plucked and twisted the strings, while his left hand applied pressure to create sliding notes.
The white eagle regained its vigor, spreading its wings and soaring high.
Its talons, sharp as hooks, struck at the beast spirits' heads.
Like a dragonfly skimming the water, the beast spirits were no match for the white eagle's claws.
In the blink of an eye, they were torn to shreds.
The young hero's right hand rolled and twisted the strings, while his left hand added subtle vibrato.
The pipa's notes sounded like the triumphant cry of the white eagle after a successful hunt.
The white eagle shook its head and charged straight at the thin Daoist.
The thin Daoist, furious, laughed instead.
"You're good, but let's see just how good you are!"
He vigorously shook the banner, and a black smoke seemed to rise from it.
The smoke spread, but upon closer inspection, it wasn't smoke at all—it was countless small ghosts!
The ghosts swarmed the white eagle like a dark cloud.
No matter how the young hero played, the white eagle couldn't break free from the cloud.
The cloud of ghosts still had energy to spare, and some of them broke off, flying toward the young hero.
Upon closer inspection, these ghosts weren't beast spirits—they were human spirits!
The human spirits had heads but no bodies, and they let out eerie, mournful cries.
At this point, the young hero's face turned pale.
He finally understood how a small-time demon like the thin Daoist had gained such notoriety in the Jiangnan region.
The young hero forced himself to remain calm and played another melody, summoning another white eagle.
However, this white eagle was much more transparent than the previous one, almost invisible to the naked eye.
This was a clear sign to the thin Daoist that the young hero's spiritual energy was running low.
Sure enough, the thin Daoist let out a strange laugh, eerily similar to the cries of the human-headed ghosts.
It was a grating, unpleasant sound.
Seven or eight human-headed ghosts, with disheveled hair and bared teeth, lunged at the white eagle.
The poor eagle was bitten and clawed at from all sides, unable to maintain its form.
It shattered into several sound blades, falling into the lake and creating a spray of water.
As one thing led to another, the second white eagle fell, and the young hero's spiritual energy was nearly depleted.
The first white eagle, too, was gradually consumed by the ghosts.
However, the thin Daoist didn't look too pleased either.
That pipa was no ordinary instrument, and the young hero's pipa skills and metal-element spiritual energy were formidable.
The thin Daoist had lost many of the ghosts he had painstakingly accumulated.
Not wanting any more surprises, he waved the banner, commanding the remaining ghosts to swarm the Golden Phase Sect disciple.
As for the spellcaster hiding in the grass, they seemed timid and insignificant.
He could deal with them later.
But the young hero from the Golden Phase Sect wasn't about to give up.
Suddenly, he struck his chest six times in quick succession, until he coughed up blood.
The thin Daoist didn't know what this madman was up to, but it couldn't be good.
He shook the banner even faster.
"Drown!"
Another incantation rang out.
A massive wave suddenly rose between the thin Daoist and the young hero.
It was as if the lake's surface was a piece of cloth, and a hand had grabbed a corner, lifting it up!
The wave formed a curtain of water, blocking the ghosts and then crashing down on them and the thin Daoist.
The wave rose so quickly that no one had time to react.
The water was tangible, but the ghosts were intangible.
Apart from briefly obscuring vision, the water didn't do much.
However, the thin Daoist was thoroughly soaked.
But the brief obstruction gave the young hero some time.
As the water curtain fell and splashed, a blinding golden light filled everyone's vision, as if a small sun had risen on the southern shore of Poyang Lake.
The thin Daoist screamed in agony.
The ghosts, like snow meeting the spring sun, melted away.
The young hero, however, wasn't faring much better.
The source of the golden light was cradled in his hands.
The light was so intense that it was impossible to see what it was, but it was clear that it was stained with fresh blood.
The young hero's spiritual energy was depleted, and he had lost a significant amount of vital energy.
His once fair and handsome face now looked as pale as gold paper.
Soon after, the young hero could no longer maintain his flying artifact.
He fell into the lake, but fortunately, his artifact was shaped like a large feather rather than a sword or something else.
It still kept him afloat on the water.
The thin Daoist, having lost all the ghosts he had spent years accumulating, was filled with rage.
He muttered incantations and waved the banner again.
This time, the beast's head on the banner seemed to come alive.
"Demon, you're asking for death!"
Shouts suddenly came from the distance.
Hearing this, the young hero, sitting on the feather, breathed a sigh of relief.
The thin Daoist's expression darkened.
Should he fight or flee?
Forget it!
Even a ten-generation-old grudge could be avenged.
If he continued fighting today, he might damage the banner's foundation, which wouldn't be worth it.
And the ridiculous thing was that this whole mess had started because he killed some insignificant manager from a remote corner and stole a bit of money.
He hadn't even collected the manager's soul, yet this lunatic from the Golden Phase Sect was so determined to kill him.
The young hero had gone mad, coughing up blood to summon that treasure, but the thin Daoist wasn't insane.
The best strategy was to flee.
If he stayed and fought, he might end up facing the sect's elders, and that would be a disaster.
And then there was that spellcaster lurking nearby...
The thin Daoist decided to leave, but he was still seething with anger.
The Golden Phase Sect disciple was crazy, but the spellcaster hiding nearby was truly despicable, always causing trouble!
He hated that he hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the spellcaster's face!
The thin Daoist turned around, and a gray mist began to swirl around him as he prepared to leave.
"Burn!"
Another incantation rang out.
The thin Daoist was furious.
This time, he didn't care.
He was determined to find the spellcaster in the grass and fight them!
Huh?
Wait?
Nothing seemed to happen?
The thin Daoist didn't feel any magical energy targeting him.
"Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!"
Something fell into the water.
The thin Daoist realized too late.
He raised his right hand and saw that the dew-collecting pouch beneath it had a large hole and was still burning!
The bastard had burned the dew-collecting pouch!
"Ghost fire!"
The thin Daoist cursed again, but the reinforcements from the south were getting closer...
"Ah!"
The thin Daoist let out a long howl and rode the mist away.
First, let me explain the update schedule:
1. On weekdays, there will be two chapters per day, each over 2,000 words.
The first chapter is planned to be released between 5 PM and 10 PM, depending on when it's finished and checked.
The second chapter is planned to be released between 11 PM and 12 AM.
If the second chapter isn't ready for review by 12 AM, it will be posted first and then polished afterward.
Readers can choose to read it the next day.
2. If the plot is continuous and not suitable for splitting into shorter chapters, a single chapter of over 4,000 words will be posted before 12 AM.
If it's not ready for review by then, the same process as above will apply.
3. On weekends and holidays, the plan is to release over 6,000 words per day, divided into chapters as appropriate.
Other notes:
4. Since I have a job, I can't devote myself entirely to writing.
Please understand.
5. I welcome and appreciate all comments and feedback.
I read every one, and they are very encouraging and helpful for my writing.
6. Special thanks to the reader Findmys3lf for their active comments, reviews, votes, and support.
7. Finally, I continue to ask for votes, recommendations, and collections.
(End of Chapter)