Seeking Immortality 015

As his vision cleared, the others on the stage also noticed something was wrong.

Fear was etched on every face, but no one dared to stop. Who knew what might enrage that thing?

The scene grew even more eerie. The performers on stage threw themselves into their acts with desperate intensity, while the audience below remained frozen in the same postures. After each aria ended, a gold ingot would be tossed onto the stage.

As time dragged on, the offerings changed. Instead of gold ingots, bones began to fly up onto the stage.

The troupe leader kept beating his cracked drum, but his expression had turned strange. The rhythm of his drumming grew faster and more oppressive, quickening the pulse of everyone present. The performers on stage moved with increasing speed.

The little boy, who had been squatting on a small stool, slowly stood up. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the stage, his tongue sliding out of his mouth and flicking left and right, as if he were selecting his prey.

Then, suddenly, a man’s arrival shattered the bizarre atmosphere.

He wore expensive but ill-fitting clothes. In his hand, he carried a broken wooden stick with a ragged cloth draped over it. Without a care in the world, he walked to the very front of the audience, kicked a villager off his seat, and sat down himself.

For a moment, the performers on stage froze, and the audience turned to stare at him.

The man frowned. “Don’t mind me. Keep going.”

But both groups kept staring at him.

He didn’t seem to care. He hummed a tune to himself, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wooden stick in his hand.

The villager he had kicked seemed to snap back to reality. His head twisted a full one hundred and eighty degrees to look at Fang Zhiyi as he pushed himself off the ground and stood up.

“Hehe.”

The little boy suddenly laughed. The drumbeat on stage resumed.

Fang Zhiyi watched the villager, who stood facing him with his back turned but his head twisted around, and grew visibly irritated. He kicked him to the ground again. “Got no sense of public decency? You’re blocking my view, you idiot!”

That kick was like a signal. The performers carrying long knives on stage lunged toward the audience, while the villagers who had been staring at Fang Zhiyi turned and rushed to meet them.

There were no screams or spurting blood. The two sides simply clashed.

The troupe leader stumbled to the front of the stage clutching a small box, his eyes locked on the pale-faced little boy.

Their gazes met. Suddenly, the little boy launched himself like a cannonball toward the troupe leader. The troupe leader’s face turned sallow, and his body went limp as he fell backward. But then, just as abruptly, he jerked upright again, his pupils glowing red.

The two unknown entities became entangled. The little boy’s tongue wrapped around the troupe leader’s neck, while the troupe leader’s bony hand pressed against the little boy’s face, veins bulging. The voice that came out of his mouth changed.

“The moth laughs in grievance, plays to the mortal world, leads to the Yellow Springs…”

It was clearly a woman’s voice.

Seeing that he couldn’t land a killing blow, the little boy quickly leaped back. The troupe leader’s body twisted a few times, taking on the shape of a woman, though his face was anything but pleasant to look at.

“First time in this blessed land, borrowing a soul, if you please~”

The little boy bared his teeth, revealing a mouth full of sharp fangs.

“Man, with this high assimilation rate, even running into ghosts feels easier,” Fang Zhiyi muttered, shaking his head.

Xiaoxiaohei warned him to leave immediately.

“Shut it. I haven’t seen two monsters fight it out before!” Fang Zhiyi waved his hand. “What the hell are these two things?”

Seeing that his warning was futile, Xiaoxiaohei tried to analyze the situation.

“Those villagers told me that so-called village guardian is that little brat. Some guardian—demanding two live sacrifices a year. That’s just extortion… And what’s with that opera troupe?”

“Host, that’s likely an opera ghost, also known as a folk opera spirit. It’s usually created from the lingering resentment of a dead performer, refined by a troupe to drive away other evil spirits. Any troupe that uses such methods is no good… Host, you’d better leave—” Xiaoxiaohei didn’t finish.

“Now’s my chance!” Fang Zhiyi suddenly stood up and swung the banner in his hand.

As he waved it, streams of black mist surged out from the banner. Dozens of howling black souls rampaged across the field without restraint.

At that moment, the opera ghost possessing the troupe leader had its arm bitten off by the little boy. The little boy wasn’t faring much better either—his head was crushed flat.

When Fang Zhiyi released the souls from the banner, they all stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. They had thought he was just a madman, but it turned out he was one of their own?

The village guardian’s clay puppet shattered as the black souls pierced through its chest. The dirt scattered everywhere, revealing the white bones wrapped inside. The trapped vengeful spirit inside was seized by the banner’s souls and dragged back into the flag.

The opera troupe members, who had been under some spell, collapsed to the ground one by one.

“Stop!” the village guardian and the opera ghost roared simultaneously.

Fang Zhiyi picked his ear. “Huh?”

“Warning, danger level rising. Host…” Xiaoxiaohei started blaring again.

But the situation was worse than it thought. The village guardian, as if boneless, wrapped itself around Fang Zhiyi, while the opera ghost drifted down and slowly pressed its palm against the top of his head.

“Detecting host in danger… Initiating…” Before Xiaoxiaohei could finish, the scene changed.

The scattered black souls suddenly surged toward Fang Zhiyi. Several of them pierced through the village guardian’s body. It sensed something wrong, but it was too late. Its soul was being torn away strand by strand, and cracks began to appear on its soft outer surface.

The opera ghost wasn’t in much better shape. Before it could crush the human’s skull, something slammed into it violently. Before it could recover, it was hit several more times. The troupe leader’s body remained unharmed, but the opera ghost was forcibly knocked out of him. It tried to return, but the black souls refused to let it. They piled onto it, grabbing its spirit and dragging it outward with all their might.

“Heh heh heh. Know what a Ten Thousand Souls Banner is? As long as you have a soul, I’ll take it!” Fang Zhiyi laughed.

“Host, you’re bleeding,” Xiaoxiaohei reminded him.

The village guardian released Fang Zhiyi and tried to flee in panic, but something caught it. It turned back in horror and saw a huge hand reaching out from the ragged cloth on Fang Zhiyi’s banner, gripping its tail tightly.

As for the opera ghost, it was already being forced into the banner by dozens of black souls.

Fang Zhiyi coughed up blood, wiping his mouth casually with his sleeve.

“Tch… Damn thing’s a snake demon or something. Almost choked me to death.” He rubbed his chest, wincing at the sharp pain. Some ribs were definitely broken.

The village guardian suddenly let out a shrill cry. Its body shattered piece by piece, transforming from a humanoid figure into a three-legged giant toad. With a few leaps, it disappeared from Fang Zhiyi’s sight.