Chapter 275: He Passed Away Peacefully
Tần Mục immediately sat up and looked out the window. Bá Sơn Tế Tửu's snoring was thunderous; the yin wind blew into the room, but he still hadn't woken.
Outside the window came a strange chanting sound, its tone rising and falling without clear distinction. Tần Mục made a prompt decision—he immediately used Tạo Hóa Thiên Ma Công to seal his own soul, then urged his nguyên khí. The Thiếu Bảo Kiếm hanging at the head of the bed let out a *keng* as it left its sheath, silver sword light illuminating the room.
Outside the window, white shadows drifted, flickering back and forth. The Thiếu Bảo Kiếm hummed and vibrated, bolts of sword light shooting out like lightning. In an instant, several heads fell to the ground outside the window.
Witchcraft that harms people sounds quite eerie, but in essence it targets either the soul or the physical body.
Though Tần Mục was young, he understood the principles involved. Targeting the physical body meant using secret arts to enter the room and kill, slaying the opponent directly.
Targeting the soul involved far more bizarre methods—such as witch poison, poisoning the enemy's soul. This poison was colorless, odorless, formless, and traceless, making it impossible to guard against.
There was also the method of straw effigies to worship the soul—writing the target's name and birth date, then worshipping for ten consecutive days. Each day would worship away one of the seven corporeal souls, and after seven days all seven would be gone, then the three spiritual souls would be worshipped away as well.
There was also Yếm Thắng Công, which harmed the body by harming the soul—using needles or sharp blades to wound the opponent's soul, exploiting the connection between soul and body. Wounding the soul would wound the body. For example, piercing the soul's hands or feet with needles would cause piercing wounds to appear on the enemy's physical hands and feet. Piercing the brow center would disrupt their mind, and so on.
Knowing a name was enough to kill—it was indeed somewhat inconceivable, but it should still fall within these two categories of methods.
Tần Mục sealed his own soul and hung the Thiếu Bảo Kiếm at the head of his bed precisely to guard against these two methods.
Suddenly, strange laughter came from outside. Tần Mục quickly looked over and saw many peculiar little figures climbing in through the window, jumping to the ground one by one. They held knives, axes, and steel forks, rode small horses, and arranged themselves in formation—like an army of several hundred.
This little army swarmed in noisily and stood on Bá Sơn Tế Tửu's chest. Bá Sơn Tế Tửu still hadn't woken, his snoring like thunder.
The leader of the little figures held a long spear astride a fine horse, standing on Bá Sơn Tế Tửu's nose. He raised his spear, pointing it at Tần Mục who had already sat up on the bed. Excitement gleamed in his eyes, and he let out a shout of unclear meaning. The other little figures immediately surged toward Tần Mục like a tide!
These little figures were extremely excited, crying out with various unintelligible shouts, brandishing swords, knives, and steel forks as they charged ferociously. Despite being several hundred strong, Tần Mục felt he could squash them flat with just two or three stomps.
He found it both amusing and exasperating—was this the reason Từ Phu had been so wary, not daring to use his real name?
Tần Mục drew his sword and gave it a shake, sword light bursting forth. He was about to sweep these little figures away when, at that moment, he suddenly heard someone calling his name.
The voice came from the yin wind, drawn out long as if it were very far away. Tần Mục said nothing, but the voice was rapidly approaching.
When someone calls your name, even if you don't answer, your heart will involuntarily resonate. This voice should be locating him through that very principle!
The sword light in Tần Mục's hand was about to slaughter the surging little army when he suddenly felt a chill invading his brow center. He tried to reach for his sword, but his soul had already frozen stiff.
His soul froze, his body froze as well, and the sword light died out on its own.
Those little figures rejoiced, climbing onto his body one after another, crawling into him through his mouth, ears, and nostrils.
The next moment, Tần Mục "saw" these little figures carrying "himself" at a sprint. What they carried wasn't his physical body—they had crawled inside him and were carrying his soul!
These little figures had actually run into his body, bound his soul tightly, hoisted it above their heads, chattering incomprehensibly as they ran off at full speed.
Tần Mục found himself unable to move. The scenery before his eyes blurred past at tremendous speed, then suddenly went pitch black. All light around him vanished, leaving only darkness.
In the darkness, he saw light rising beneath him. It was an altar, and he was lying on it.
Those little figures set him down and looked up at the sky one by one. The leader chattered something into the darkness, then the altar suddenly rose. Looking around, he saw enormous faces—faces like puppets—blocking all four sides. These puppet-like faces were immense, wearing expressions that seemed both smiling and crying, both laughing and weeping.
The altar shook again and rose higher. A giant hand lifted the four-sided puppets and the altar together. Tần Mục immediately saw blazing flames in the darkness—it was a massive single eye, appearing behind the four-sided puppets. The eye alone was even larger than the faces of those puppets.
Then more giant single eyes lit up the darkness, floating in the sky—an extremely eerie sight.
"Yếm Thắng Pháp?"
Seeing this scene, Tần Mục's heart trembled. Ban Công Thác was likely using Yếm Thắng Pháp—using these little figures to invade his body, trapping the soul sealed within his body on such an altar!
This method was extremely bizarre. Even if you didn't answer the voice, it would still find you, forming an altar within your body. Even sealing your soul inside your body couldn't defend against it!
However, his soul should still be within his body. As long as he was inside his own body, Tần Mục had hope of turning things around.
"No matter what witchcraft you use, you need to rely on your own power. Inside my body, if your power can't overcome mine, then you can't kill me!"
Tần Mục turned over and stood up, shouting: "Sword, come!"
Suddenly, a sword pellet came whistling through the darkness and stopped in front of him with a *shua*. This sword pellet was the one the mute had given him when he returned to the village for New Year. Tần Mục had once used it to channel the residual divine power of the god inside the National Preceptor's body, which had worn away much of the sword pellet, making it considerably smaller.
With the sword pellet in hand, sword energy burst forth from it, sweeping the little figures in all directions into chaos.
He disemboweled those little figures, yet they still didn't die. Their severed limbs crawled around, pieced themselves back together, and continued attacking Tần Mục. Meanwhile, the puppet faces around the altar wore sinister smiles, stiffly raising their arms to smash down at Tần Mục on the altar. *Bang bang bang*—sparks flew everywhere from the impacts.
Tần Mục drove the sword pellet to resist these strange puppets, feeling their strength was tremendous—each blow nearly overwhelmed him.
Some of the little figures were crushed by the puppets, flattened like paper, but the next moment they puffed back up like inflating balloons and continued brandishing swords at Tần Mục.
At the same time, those strange eyes in the darkness blazed fiercely, beams of fire shooting in from all directions.
Tần Mục gritted his teeth and endured, nearly beaten to the point of his soul scattering. These little figures, puppets, and strange eyes seemed able to resurrect endlessly—inexhaustible, unkillable, unceasing in their attacks, never knowing fatigue.
But Tần Mục was exhausted to the point of near despair, and fury rose in his heart: "Is Bá Sơn senior brother still sleeping?"
Without his noticing, a rooster's crow suddenly came, and then he vaguely heard the night watchman striking the hour—the fifth watch.
Then Tần Mục heard Bá Sơn Tế Tửu's yawn, seeming to come from a distant place: "Waited all night, and Ban Công Thác still hasn't come in person. Disappointing. This kid is very cautious—he didn't perform the ritual himself to kill junior brother Tần, but had another great shaman do it."
Tần Mục was momentarily stunned: "Bá Sơn senior brother knows I'm trapped?"
"Pity I only caught a great shaman at the Thất Tinh cảnh giới."
Tần Mục heard the sound of Bá Sơn Tế Tửu drawing his blade—the Bá Đao leaving its sheath.
"Hoàng kim thác đao bạch ngọc trang, dạ xuyên song phi xuất quang mang. Trượng phu ngũ thập công vị lập, đề đao độc lập cố bát hoang!"
In the midst of the song, a magnificent light suddenly split the darkness, descending from beyond the heavens. A single blade stroke fell, slashing fiercely into the altar. In an instant, heaven and earth rumbled, shook, collapsed, and disintegrated!
This blade stroke seemed to cut along two lines, and the two lines slowly parted left and right. Those were Tần Mục's eyes, slowly opening—but strangely, he felt that when he opened his eyes, his eyelids were parting sideways.
"This is the Yếm Thắng Pháp of Lâu Lan Hoàng Kim Cung. I just helped you undo it. This Yếm Thắng Pháp flipped half of your eyeballs, so what you see is laid out left and right."
Bá Sơn Tế Tửu seemed to be standing on the wall, appearing before Tần Mục, and said: "First, move your eye muscles and slowly rotate your eyeballs back into place."
Tần Mục did as instructed, slowly rotating his eyeballs. After a moment, his eyes returned to normal, and he hastily said: "Senior brother, I've been hit!"
Bá Sơn Tế Tửu nodded, pointing ahead of him, and said: "This is what got you."
Tần Mục looked down and was momentarily startled. The "altar" that had trapped him wasn't a real altar at all—it was a silver plate. Around the plate were four palm-sized puppets. The little figures that had carried him here were soybeans, and the horses they rode were bean sprouts.
And the single eyes floating in midair were the eyes of a giant spider—strange eyes growing side by side. Beneath the plate was also a weasel.
Both the spider and the weasel had been cut in two by a single blade stroke, dead beyond doubt.
"I thought it would be Ban Công Thác making his move, but unexpectedly it was a great shaman at the Thất Tinh cảnh giới."
Bá Sơn Tế Tửu shook his head: "Ban Công Thác didn't act himself but had a Thất Tinh cảnh giới great shaman do it—probably worried that I was by your side. He's truly cautious."
Tần Mục stood up and leaned out the window to look. The heads he had cut off with his sword light belonged to scarecrows draped in white cloth.
Tần Mục asked: "Senior brother, what happened to that Thất Tinh cảnh giới great shaman?"
"Dead."
Bá Sơn Tế Tửu said: "He was performing the ritual in his dream, using Yếm Thắng Pháp to harm you. My blade stroke broke his spell, and the blade's intent followed his sorcery into his dream, killing him there in his sleep. He passed away very peacefully."
Tần Mục was skeptical: "Can sword technique really be cultivated to such a level?"
Bá Sơn Tế Tửu laughed: "Teacher Thiên Đao's sword technique is the true legend. He can split open the void itself—I cannot."
By morning, there was much discussion in the Thái Học Viện. Another envoy from Man Địch Quốc had died—apparently he had suddenly dropped dead at the fifth watch, blood flowing from all seven orifices, a ghastly sight. Before dying, he had screamed three times.
Tần Mục grumbled inwardly: "Didn't Bá Sơn senior brother say he passed away peacefully?"
At noon, a shaman came, bowed, and said: "The prince invites Tần Giáo Chủ to a banquet."