My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 57 - 43 Begging Me_2

The young Taoist, whose Money Sword had been tainted by the old village chief’s dark blood, suddenly raised his blade and smashed it fiercely onto the forehead of Xuan Zhen Daoist!

Xuan Zhen Daoist’s face changed drastically. He hurriedly sidestepped, but it was too late. His head caved in instantly. Ignoring the intense pain, Xuan Zhen prepared to form a thunder incantation with his hands. However, at that moment, the young Taoist seemed to snap out of his trance, his expression clearing up, causing Xuan Zhen to halt his thunder spell immediately.

The young Taoist then let out a sinister grin and swung his Money Sword downward once more.

A bloody gash split open on Xuan Zhen Daoist’s forehead.

In the blink of an eye, the other Taoists reacted, rushing forward in panic to restrain the young man as he struggled wildly.

Yin Weiyin raised his hand, reciting an incantation as he formed seals with his fingers, then delivered a virtual palm strike to the crown of the young Taoist’s head.

It seemed as though something flew out of the young Taoist’s skull. Moments later, black blood began pouring from all five of the young man’s orifices, and within the black blood, the shadowy form of a water ghost emerged faintly.

Water ghosts were born from the drowned souls of rivers and streams. Travelers walking along desolate riverbanks at night might hear their haunting cries. Should one unwittingly tread too close to a puddle, they would be seized by these entities. Once possessed by a water ghost, nothing seemed amiss at first—family members would notice no immediate changes. Yet over time, the possessed would begin to deviate from their former self, their habits and temperament gradually warping. One day, they might awaken to discover themselves trapped in a watery abyss. Alternatively, the ghost could temporarily occupy their body, waiting for seven days until the balance of Yin and Yang tipped, at which point they would be expelled, the body returning to its rightful owner.

Unbeknownst to them all, this particular spirit had somehow mingled with the black blood spat out by the old village chief and infiltrated the young Taoist’s body!

Xuan Zhen Daoist fell backward, blood pouring endlessly from the wound on his forehead. It seemed as if his brain matter could be seen faintly writhing within. The other Taoists recoiled in shock. They tore strips of cloth to staunch the bleeding and chanted sutras as they applied medicinal salve.

Yet despite their efforts, Xuan Zhen Daoist’s life was still hanging by a thread, his unconscious state betraying his grave condition. Among the Upper Purity Daoists, he was the most gifted and experienced. Losing him was akin to losing an arm for the group.

Just then,

tap, tap...

The sound of armor scraping together echoed from outside the house.

The Taoists froze, their necks stiffening as chills raced down their spines. Faces ashen, they turned toward the ancestral hall’s entrance.

There, a figure emerged—a hulking silhouette clad in bloodstained, tattered armor. Its complexion was deathly pale, its stature mountainous and imposing. In its hand, it gripped a massive spear, and wrapped around its body was cloth marked with bloody characters, which spelled out the character "Deng," seemingly declaring its identity.

A crushing sense of oppression descended, accompanied by a bone-chilling aura.

Even Taichua Goddess Yin Weiyin’s complexion turned pale under the suffocating presence.

But as she slightly turned her gaze,

she noticed...

Chen Yi, who leaned against a pillar, indifferent and detached, the faintest trace of a smirk playing at his lips.

As if...

this was a scene he was all too familiar with.

The moment Deng Ghost General appeared, the Upper Purity Taoists trembled collectively, their foreheads breaking out in cold sweat.

Xuan Zhen Daoist was barely clinging to life, his fate uncertain, leaving the Taoists without their strongest combatant. The only one with any hope of turning the tide was Yin Weiyin, the Taichua Goddess.

Yin Weiyin produced a paper doll. With a breath, she scattered it onto the ground.

The paper doll transformed into two sword-wielding maidservants, their lifeless gazes fixed on the Ghost General outside the ancestral hall.

The Taoists raised their swords with trembling hands, their eyes locked on the spear-wielding Ghost General at the doorway. They did not dare to breathe.

Winds howled, and grains of sand swirled furiously.

The Deng Ghost General raised its spear, but instead of stepping over the threshold, it performed an incredibly slow horizontal sweep.

A powerful surge of energy burst forth. The two sword-wielding maidservants in its path were split cleanly in two, their shredded forms scattering like four pieces of torn paper. The paper scraps were caught in the spear’s wind, pulverized to dust. The Taoists wielding Money Swords fared no better—their blades shattered inch by inch, their once-bright Copper Coins turning pitch black like charcoal and crumbling to pieces upon falling to the ground.

The cloth wrapped around the Ghost General’s body, bearing the bloodied "Deng" character, fluttered in the wind. The killing intent of a battlefield where thousands of soldiers had perished swept across the hall, causing the entire ancestral shrine to tremble. All thirty-seven ancestral tablets in Huaisui Village toppled to the ground.

The towering figure gazed down at the Taoists within the ancestral hall.

Each and every face was deathly pale. Though they had all trained in Taoist skills for years, not one dared to act recklessly for fear of dooming everyone present.

Cold sweat dripped from Yin Weiyin’s brow.

The Deng Ghost General stood as immovable as a mountain at the threshold, showing no urgency to step inside.

The oppressive Yin aura blanketed the scene. Some Taoists already showed signs of nausea and vomiting, overwhelmed by the stifling energy. As for the young Taoist who had injured Xuan Zhen Daoist earlier, black blood continued to stream profusely from his seven orifices.

Min Ning gripped her blade tightly as she stared at the Ghost General outside the doorway. Her anxiety was palpable, yet amidst the tension, a strange urge to draw her blade stirred within her.

This was because the Ghost General... Besides emanating an overwhelming Yin aura, also possessed the unique, unyielding battle spirit of a Martial Artist.

The standoff persisted, the Ghost General refraining from crossing the threshold for reasons unknown, and the Taoists inside paralyzed with fear, unable to make the first move.

Beads of sweat dripped down Yin Weiyin’s face, the Yin aura growing so dense it seemed on the verge of condensing into droplets. Even the walls of the shrine began to blacken and flake away. If this continued, the situation would become increasingly dire. Before long, they would perish without a fight, transforming into Ghost Soldiers under the Ghost General’s command.

Cold sweat trickled along her neck as the panicked breaths of the Upper Purity Taoists filled the shrine.

"This Ghost General does not enter... It must harbor some fear."

Yin Weiyin spoke in a steady voice, trying to calm the group.

"Sister Yin, what should we do now?"

A young female crown’s voice trembled faintly.

At her question, the Upper Purity Taoists turned their anxious gazes toward Yin Weiyin, one after another pleading desperately:

"Fellow Taoist, do you... have a means to vanquish this evil?"freeweɓnovēl.coɱ