Chapter 227: Escape

Chapter 227: Escape

At this moment, Zhang Yuanqing was like the poor wretch possessed by a ghost in a horror movie; under the malevolent spirit's possession, his physical structure underwent anti-human, horrifying twists.

His head wrenched backward, and with a downward roll of his eyeballs, he could see his own scapulae.

His limb joints had also been twisted one hundred and eighty degrees; save for his torso which remained unchanged, all his limbs were reversed.

Aside from the Wood Demon and the Water Ghost, had it been any other class suffering such exaggerated injuries, they would likely have died on the spot.

The Night Wanderer's formidable vitality and regenerative power kept him from perishing instantly.

"Hee hee, so fun, so fun..."

A child's clear, crisp voice rang out from within Zhang Yuanqing's body.

The next second, Zhang Yuanqing's upper body slowly leaned back, legs straight, heels unmoving, his waist bending bit by bit like a bow drawn to its limit.

His ribs protruded one by one; his spine let out a groan on the verge of snapping.

No, this won't do... Zhang Yuanqing's heart turned cold.

If his spine snapped, with a Level 3 Night Wanderer's healing capacity, it absolutely could not recover in a short time. He would lose the ability to cope with the dungeon's crises; death would be certain.

At this moment, he seemed to have returned to the scene of his first use of the Ghost Bride—limbs cold and numb, unable to exert strength, his body no longer obeying his brain's commands.

As his waist continued to bend, Zhang Yuanqing felt a faint pain in his cervical vertebrae.

In his current state where the brain lacked perception of the body, the ability to still feel faint pain signified that his spine had already begun to fracture.

Zhang Yuanqing erupted with his last dregs of strength; pitch-black, viscous power surged in his eyes, filling the sockets.

Devour Spirit!

Devour Spirit was the nemesis of all spiritual bodies, the Night Wanderer's divine technique for ruling the spiritual domain. Even if the disparity in strength was vast, it could still briefly suppress and affect a vengeful spirit.

"Ah~"

A child's slightly frightened exclamation came from within.

Immediately, Zhang Yuanqing felt the chill inside him weaken by a few degrees; his brain's control over his flesh recovered to a certain extent.

Only then did he clearly perceive the agonizing pain from his waist, a pain that made him suck in a sharp, cold breath.

Ignoring his injuries, seizing the opportunity, Zhang Yuanqing threw back his head and let out a long howl.

A ray of brilliant, clear moonlight tore through the clouds, striking Zhang Yuanqing like a searchlight.

Howling Moon!

Howling Moon was the Night Wanderer's peerless skill; it could only be cast at night, borrowing power from the Great Yin, vastly boosting the Night Wanderer's stamina and skills—a desperation technique.

But the cost was that for the following three hours, the Night Wanderer would enter a languid state.

Therefore, Zhang Yuanqing rarely used this skill.

His aura surged violently, bringing along a slight enhancement to "Devour Spirit," further suppressing the ghost doll within.

In an instant, Zhang Yuanqing reclaimed fifty percent dominance over his body; his waist snapped straight, he stood tall—*crack*—his reversed right arm snapped back into place. He grasped at the air, summoning a Yin-Yang Taoist robe, and a pair of high boots woven from yellow silk, embroidered with exquisite cloud patterns.

He intended to resolve the murderous rules of the ghost doll with the Yin-Yang Daoist Robe.

Zhang Yuanqing lifted his right foot, probing it into the Houtu Boot, but when he tried to shift his left foot, he made a grim discovery: control of that foot still rested in the ghost doll's hands.

"Hmph, bad man, you don't want to play a game with me? I'll kill you~"

The ghost doll seemed to sense his countermeasure; its childish, innocent voice leaked a bone-chilling coldness. Immediately after, the suppressed Yin energy surged back in a furious counterattack, seizing control of his body in an instant.

*Crack!*

His right arm twisted backward again, his waist arching back in a sharp bend. This time, the motion was swifter, more violent, as if intent on snapping his cervical vertebrae clean through.

At that critical moment, Corpse One—the revenant who had twisted the old man's head off—came sprinting wildly. A kick landed squarely on Zhang Yuanqing's right leg, knocking him to the ground and averting the fate of a broken neck.

Following that, Corpse One swept a low leg, kicking the other Houtu Boot toward the main body's left foot.

The boot made contact with the sole and donned itself automatically.

Finally, Corpse One snatched the Yin-Yang Daoist Robe from the ground and flung it into the sky with a flick of the wrist.

*Whoosh!*

The robe unfurled, the Taiji Fish on its back emerging, rotating like a millstone. The Yang Fish ground out blazing fire; the Yin Fish sprinkled illusory water.

A grand Water-Fire Formation enveloped a radius of thirty meters.

Zhang Yuanqing's main body vanished, replaced by two clay figurines rising from the earth.

They possessed bodies hard as stone, yet joints of uncanny flexibility, resembling the Terracotta Army, their features identical to Zhang Yuanqing's own.

The clay figurine standing amidst the flames surveyed itself and spoke:

"In... ter... est... ing... This body... is good... But I feel... strange... can't quite... put my finger on it..."

The clay figurine treading the illusory water spoke:

"How come... I feel... you've... become... even stu... pid... er..."

And Corpse One (Zhang Yuanqing), standing on the boundary between water and fire, gazed at his two avatars, unable to suppress a frown.

These two are me? Why do they seem like a pair of half-wits...

Water and Fire Avatars were expressionless to begin with, and their speech was halting, staccato, like simpletons with impaired minds.

Ugh, it's because my soul has been sliced into too many pieces... Zhang Yuanqing realized instantly. It wasn't that the avatars were dim-witted; the soul allotted to them was simply too meager.

Half his soul resided in the main body, half in the Yin Corpse. Upon activating the Yin-Yang Daoist Robe, the Water and Fire Avatars split that remaining half between them.

Hence the wooden dullness.

At that moment, that squat shadow—darker than darkness itself—ignored the searing flames, ignored the scouring waters, and darted toward Corpse One, emitting the giggle of a little girl:

"Let's play a game~"

Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing delayed no longer. Before the squat shadow could possess Corpse One, he commanded the two avatars and the one Yin Corpse to form a triangular formation.

"You clap one, I clap one, play a game before the sky is done..."

Amidst the *thud-thud* of the clay figurines' applause, the interrupted game resumed.

The ghost doll "wandered" around the trio, pacing their perimeter, whining, weeping, attempting possession time and again—each ending in failure.

Zhang Yuanqing felt no better himself; the formation within the Yin-Yang Daoist Robe lasted but ten minutes. Beyond that limit, he would never regain his human form.

Thus, within ten minutes, if the ghost doll refused to leave, his only recourse was the Demon-Subduing Pestle.

Should it come to that, all would slide into an uncontrollable abyss.

Time flowed like water until, nearing the ten-minute mark, the ghost doll "stamped its foot" and said:

"Hateful! None of you will play with me. I'll come find you tomorrow~"

Thereupon, the diminutive figure retreated swiftly, merging into the deep night, vanishing utterly.

Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing instantly dispelled the formation state, resumed human form, and sprawled flat upon the ground, gasping heavily.

Corpse Walker No. 1 stood vigil nearby.

"Thank the heavens, thank the heavens the old man corpse-transformed just as the first watch approached. Otherwise, this would've been truly dangerous. Damn it, this instance isn't a bit safer than Yin-Yang Town."

He lay in the thick night for nearly ten minutes before struggling to a sitting position.

His shattered cervical vertebrae, leg bones, and arm bones had knit well enough, yet only for ordinary movement—strenuous exertion remained impossible.

Zhang Yuanqing's physical condition was wretched: injuries on one hand, the backlash of Howling Moon on the other.

Fortunately, the Yin energy here was exceedingly dense, and it was night—a veritable feng shui treasure land for nurturing a Night Wanderer, drastically cutting his recovery time.

The night was profound, black as ink.

The mountain village was deathly silent.

Zhang Yuanqing sat in darkness so thick he could not see his fingers, a Yin corpse serving as his honor guard beside him, the decapitated old man not far off.

In such a stifling environment, he felt not a shred of fear; rather, he was like a fish returned to water, feeling an intimate kinship.

"If memory serves, the interval between the first and second watch is one double-hour—two hours. Within two hours, I am safe."

"Paper effigies appear at the second watch. By normal logic, the danger level should escalate with time. The ghost doll of the first watch was already this terrifying; what of the second watch's paper men?"

"The third watch's strangeness is unknown. Tsk. The old man's become a Yin corpse; the other villagers are surely the same. No intelligence to be gleaned."

To verify his conjecture, he summoned Little Rascal, urging the infant spirit to crawl toward the distant rammed-earth house.

Little Rascal phased through the courtyard wall and entered the dwelling.

Zhang Yuanqing's consciousness rode the infant spirit, his gaze piercing the darkness to scrutinize the interior.

Two Yin corpses stood inside, one male, one female—presumably a married couple.

Their eyeballs were webbed with blood, viscous drool oozing from the corners of their mouths; they simply stood there, dull and rigid, in the room.

"They don't seem to possess active aggression. At least, provided one doesn't enter the house, these villagers won't attack on their own..."

Zhang Yuanqing rendered judgment in his heart.

By day these villagers were normal people; come night, as Yin energy enveloped the mountain village, they transformed into Yin corpses.

Zhang Yuanqing couldn't help recalling the old man's words during his corpse-transformation:

At the fourth watch, everyone was dead!

To turn an entire village's living into corpse puppets — it had to be that Commandery Princess. I was wrong; she isn't just fierce, she's terrifying. Is a boss like this really something a Transcendent realm can handle?

Zhang Yuanqing felt something was off.

This instance's difficulty had already exceeded the A-rank category; this was clearly S-rank, no, even S-rank might not be this terrifying.

"What am I woolgathering for? Anyway, I can reference the Demon Lord's experience, right? A senior's wool goes unshorn at one's peril."

Zhang Yuanqing fished the Cat King speaker from his trouser pocket, set it before him, and gave its black metal casing a light pat, asking:

"The next stage, paper effigies — how do we pass?"

This time, the Cat King speaker was remarkably cooperative; a crackling hiss of static issued from its grille.

A few seconds later, a shrill, terror-stricken scream rang out:

"Run, run for your lives~"

The voice brimmed with fear, trembling as it echoed through the pitch-black night, bringing a bone-chilling cold.

……