Chapter 110 – Return

The night sky was still covered in thick clouds, the crescent moon completely obscured, not a single ray of light breaking through. The stars that had been shining brightly moments ago now seemed to waver, on the verge of disappearing. The Celestial Star Formation was indeed one of the most powerful formations in Longhu Mountain, but even it had its limits. Once the three short incense sticks burned out, the formation would immediately lose its power.

And now, the three incense sticks were nearly at their end.

A thin layer of sweat had formed on Zeng Jingxuan’s forehead. The talismans by his side had long been exhausted. He had just used the compass needle to shoot a heart-piercing arrow, but it hadn’t damaged the opposing formation’s vital energy. Instead, he had been harmed by the surging malevolent energy, and his injured internal organs began to ache intensely. If he were at his peak, he might have had a chance to fight back, but now, survival itself was in question. Yet, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he flipped his hand and pulled out two chicken bones from his pocket. The sharp bones were reversed, not aimed at the ground or the windowsill, but at the seven key acupoints on his own body.

This was a side method he had learned elsewhere. By stimulating the seven acupoints with the extremely yang chicken bones, one could temporarily boost the yang energy in the body, thereby increasing the power of their spells. This was called “Burning Yang.” However, despite its immense power, the side effects were equally severe. Even for someone in perfect health, using the Burning Yang method would damage tendons and bones, greatly depleting one’s vitality, let alone in his current state. But with the situation at hand and Xiao Qi’s life at stake, hesitation was no longer an option.

With a firm grip, he prepared to insert the chicken bones into his upper yang acupoint. But just then, an explosion sounded from downstairs. The noise wasn’t as loud as a Heaven-Breaking Sound, but it was more muffled. Yet, as the explosion rang out, the malevolent energy in the room trembled, instantly showing signs of collapse. Zeng Jingxuan was momentarily stunned but quickly realized that Xiao Qi and Wei Yang must have dealt with the main caster of the formation, even eliminating the malevolent ghost. As long as the evil formation was destroyed, the chain formation would no longer be a threat.

The chicken bone in his hand had already pierced his skin, but without hesitation, he threw the blood-stained bone downward. The seven chicken bones landed precisely on the small seven acupoints previously marked by copper coins. With the sudden surge of yang energy, the yin and malevolent energy in the small garden immediately became chaotic. Zeng Jingxuan bit the tip of his tongue and spat out a mouthful of true saliva. With a crisp crack, the Heaven-Breaking Sound rang out.

The formation was broken! Zeng Jingxuan’s heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled. Without missing a beat, he headed for the door. He needed to find Xiao Qi and Wei Yang to check on the two boys. The hallway was littered with shattered glass shards, all the light bulbs had exploded, and even the glass covers outside were mostly cracked. The entire hallway was pitch black. Zeng Jingxuan stumbled along but didn’t stop, quickly rushing down to the ninth floor. In the staircase on the eighth floor, he saw three figures.

Zhang Xiuqi was kneeling on the ground, already unconscious. Wei Yang was lying not far from him, and beside them was a stranger he had never seen before, his eyes rolled back, limbs twitching, clearly in bad shape. Was this the Jiangtou Master who had cast the formation? Zeng Jingxuan ignored the man and rushed forward, grabbing Zhang Xiuqi’s wrist first. The arm was ice-cold, the pulse barely detectable. Even more alarming was the scattered pulse pattern. Just by feeling it, Zeng Jingxuan’s expression changed.

Most of Zhang Xiuqi’s two souls and seven spirits had dissipated. Now, not only was he unconscious, but he was also on the verge of soul dispersion. Zeng Jingxuan felt his vision darken. He immediately bit his tongue, using the pain to regain his composure. He quickly reached out and grabbed Wei Yang’s wrist. Upon checking, he found that Wei Yang was merely physically exhausted and had fainted. He immediately pulled out two silver needles from his pocket and inserted them into the back of Wei Yang’s neck. This was a technique of acupuncture to stimulate acupoints, which could instantly boost a person’s vitality. Though not as powerful as the Burning Yang method, it could temporarily enhance physical functions and restore consciousness.

After the two needles were inserted, Wei Yang’s shoulders twitched, and he immediately woke up. Since he had only fainted from exhaustion, his eyes hadn’t fully focused yet, but his body had already moved, shifting toward the side: “Brother Qi, your soul…”

“Ah Yang, what exactly happened here!” Zeng Jingxuan didn’t have time to wait for Wei Yang to fully regain his senses and directly grabbed his shoulder.

Only then did Wei Yang realize there was someone else beside him. The stagnant blood in his chest could no longer be suppressed, and he vomited it out. However, he didn’t care about the splattered blood and immediately grabbed Zeng Jingxuan’s arm: “Master Zeng, Brother Qi, his soul was captured by that person using this bone formation…”

A blood-stained bone joint appeared in his hand. Zeng Jingxuan’s pupils contracted sharply—another bone formation? But his reaction was quick, and he immediately understood what Wei Yang meant: “His soul was locked? Quickly take him upstairs, there’s still Soul Guiding Incense in the ward!”

As he spoke, Zeng Jingxuan had already propped up Zhang Xiuqi’s shoulders. On the other side, Wei Yang also struggled to his feet, supporting the limp body. Both of them, though severely weakened, still managed to carry Zhang Xiuqi together, stumbling back to the ward.

Carefully laying the Little Celestial Master on the bed, Wei Yang collapsed into a chair beside him. He hadn’t recovered at all and was only sustained by the two silver needles in the back of his neck. He could barely move, let alone carry someone. It was only through sheer willpower that he had managed to do so earlier. Now, he couldn’t even lift a finger. Zeng Jingxuan took a moment to catch his breath, then pulled out three sticks of incense from his tool bag, lit them with a match, and placed them in front of Zhang Xiuqi. This was called “Soul Guiding Incense,” and the direction of the smoke indicated the location of the soul, capable of summoning and guiding spirits. However, this method had its limitations—it could only be used nearby, and the lost souls couldn’t be obstructed by anything.

As soon as the incense was lit, the smoke immediately drifted toward the bone formation in Wei Yang’s hand. The smoke swayed back and forth between the bone formation and Zhang Xiuqi’s nose and mouth, as if trying to ferry the soul back into his body. Yet, no matter how much the smoke tried, Zhang Xiuqi’s eyes remained tightly shut, his breathing barely detectable, with no signs of his soul returning.

Zeng Jingxuan clenched his teeth and said in a deep voice, “The bone formation isn’t like Dead Jade. I’m afraid the Soul Guiding Incense won’t work on it. Witch Bones are different from ordinary Taoist techniques. How did that Jiangtou Master lose his soul?”

The stranger who had been lying on the ground earlier—Zeng Jingxuan hadn’t even bothered to look closely—clearly showed symptoms of soul loss. The destruction of the evil formation was likely related to this. Since Zhang Xiuqi had already lost his soul, the only one who could have done this was Wei Yang.

Wei Yang’s gaze had been fixed on the drifting smoke, his eyes almost burning with intensity. But when Zeng Jingxuan said the Soul Guiding Incense wouldn’t work, he immediately stood up, speaking incoherently: “I don’t know, is his soul really in this bone formation? I don’t know how to bring him back… Master Zeng, I touched that person, and he passed out. If I use the bone formation on Brother Qi, will he lose the rest of his soul too…”

This was why he hadn’t dared to touch the Little Celestial Master earlier. He was afraid he couldn’t control the bone formation, worried that the sinister thing would suck away the last remnants of Brother Qi’s soul. Zeng Jingxuan remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed: “I’m not sure either, but the Wu Family’s artifacts must be controllable. However, the cost would likely be significant, possibly even causing some harm to the body, like the backlash you experienced when you fainted earlier.”

In the path of Taoist arts, one couldn’t escape the true “Heavenly Punishment.” The backlash from defying fate wasn’t something easily avoided. At most, one could use some methods to transfer or mitigate it, but the backlash itself wouldn’t simply disappear. Therefore, it was likely that witchcraft also had its flaws, though the nature of the backlash might differ. The two silver needles still inserted in Wei Yang’s neck were the most direct evidence.

However, upon hearing this answer, Wei Yang’s expression relaxed slightly. He gripped the bone formation in his palm and without hesitation reached out to take Zhang Xiuqi’s hand, softly saying, “As long as I can save Brother Qi…”

A look of determination flashed in his eyes. He held on so tightly, their palms pressed together, as if the bone formation itself was being pressed into their flesh. He lowered his head, kissing Zhang Xiuqi’s blood-stained hand with his own bloodied lips, and closed his eyes.

What exactly was needed to activate the bone formation? Wei Yang wasn’t sure, but he knew that every time he was in danger, the bone formation would activate. Did it feed on his emotional fluctuations, or the desperate longing that came with his all-or-nothing resolve? But it didn’t matter. Even if it demanded his life, he wouldn’t hesitate to give it!

A trickle of crimson blood seeped from the corner of his lips, from his tongue, from the depths of his heart. The warm blood flowed down Wei Yang’s chin, dripping into their tightly clasped hands. His palm began to heat up, as if scorched by the boiling blood. A faint red light appeared between their intertwined hands. Wei Yang didn’t open his eyes, so he didn’t see the strange glow, but in his palm, the cold, lifeless hand was warming up, becoming warm, alive, and a heartbeat began to thud—whether it was from the other’s palm or his own aching chest, he couldn’t tell.

“Brother Qi, take them back… Take your soul, all of it, back…”

As he murmured these words, a faint sound echoed in the quiet room. The two silver needles in his neck fell to the ground, as if they could no longer hold his spirit and energy. Zeng Jingxuan’s lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t speak, only clenched his fist, watching the two young men pressed tightly together.

The heartbeat returned, the breathing returned, and even the pale complexion began to show a hint of color. Zhang Xiuqi’s fingers twitched slightly, reflexively gripping the back of Wei Yang’s hand, his fingertips digging into the skin. Zeng Jingxuan quickly took two steps forward, reaching the bedside and placing his fingers on Zhang Xiuqi’s wrist. With just a light touch, his eyes widened.

The soul had returned—not just the two souls and seven spirits, but… all three souls!

In that instant, Zeng Jingxuan almost cried out. He clenched his teeth, carefully checking the pulse again, even reaching out to feel Zhang Xiuqi’s carotid artery. But everything was the same as the first time—his soul had returned, all three souls intact! For twenty years, no matter what had happened, Zeng Jingxuan had never lost his composure. He might have been injured, he might have fainted, but that gentle, refined demeanor had never been lost. Yet today, his eyes reddened, and even his fingers trembled slightly, almost unable to hold the other’s wrist. He hadn’t expected the Heavenly Soul to return so suddenly.

But after trembling for a moment, he suddenly came to his senses and looked down. The red light that had appeared in their palms had disappeared, replaced by Wei Yang’s pale face. At some point, he had fainted again, losing consciousness.

“Wei Yang!” Zeng Jingxuan immediately understood—this was another sign of exhaustion. Whatever the bone formation required, Wei Yang had provided it. And he had just been exhausted moments ago!

Without hesitation, Zeng Jingxuan reached out to pull the two apart, to free them from the bone formation’s control. He used considerable force, and the bone formation slipped from their palms without resistance. However, even as the bone formation fell to the ground, their hands didn’t separate. Even though Wei Yang was unconscious, even though Zhang Xiuqi hadn’t yet awakened. Looking at the two unconscious young men, Zeng Jingxuan gently closed his eyes, picked up the fallen bone formation, and silently sat down on the nearby sofa.

&&&

The sky was dark, and the mountain forest was bitterly cold. Standing in the dense woods, Zhang Xiuqi froze for a moment, shivering in confusion. Then, a warm hand took his, and a voice came: “Xiao Qi, opening the forbidden area is dangerous, but all disciples of Longhu Mountain must go through this. Don’t be afraid, I’m here…”

It was his father’s voice. Feeling the warmth of the hand, Zhang Xiuqi’s confusion instantly faded. He stood up straight like a little adult, straightened his back, and answered firmly: “Dad, I’m not afraid. Will we really see the Yellow Springs Path during the trial?”

The hand holding his tightened slightly: “The forbidden area does lead to the Yellow Springs Path. After three years, we can see your mother…”

As this exchange took place, Zhang Xiuqi suddenly remembered—this was in front of the forbidden area of Heming Mountain. It was said that Zhang Daoling, the founder of the Celestial Master Path and the ancestor of their Zhang family, had built a Taoist site on Heming Mountain. All Zhang family descendants of the Celestial Master Path had to undergo a trial in the forbidden area when they turned nine years old. Only after passing the trial would they be qualified to truly study the Celestial Master Path and become descendants of the Longhu Mountain lineage. That year, he was only eight years old, but his father had insisted on bringing him to attempt the trial, hoping to start his Taoist studies early.

That year? Zhang Xiuqi suddenly frowned. Why “that year”?

But before he could figure it out, a hand took his and led him deeper into the woods. Right, Zhang Xiuqi remembered, the Taoist site was in the mountain hollow ahead, said to be a path to the Yellow Springs. The Celestial Master Path wasn’t as purely heavenly or immortal as ordinary people imagined. When the founder established the sect, the Celestial Master Path was also called the “Way of the Five Pecks of Rice,” a standard “ghost path.” Because humans were born with yang energy, no one could possess the power to transcend life and death and command yin ghosts. But their ancestor, Zhang Daoling, had penetrated the mysteries of life and death, entering the ghost path with a yang body, naturally able to balance yin and yang and practice countless terrifying Taoist arts.

This was the secret of the Celestial Master Path, a necessary step for every Celestial Master of Longhu Mountain. Zhang Xiuqi wasn’t particularly afraid; he shouldn’t have been… But for some reason, his heart was racing, and he stumbled along behind his father, his gaze shifting between the tall figure and the dense woods. Something was wrong!

With this thought, his steps suddenly halted, and he stood still. But unexpectedly, in front of him, there was still a father and son, the father walking steadily, the son lightly, as if they didn’t care about the eerie, ghostly woods at all. Zhang Xiuqi froze. He knew that was his father and himself. So who was the one standing here?

Zhang Xiuqi looked down. In his vision, there was only a patch of dark green grass, and he couldn’t see his own body, like a shadowless ghost… He also remembered why he was so afraid. He knew the outcome of this trial. He had experienced it before…

An indescribable pain struck, and Zhang Xiuqi’s vision darkened. He found himself walking a different path, a true path of the underworld. One wrong step, and he would fall into an endless abyss, never to return to the world of the living. He saw his younger self, carefully stepping through the desolate canyon, the yin wind brushing his arms. It should have been terrifying, but his face showed no fear, only a hint of barely concealed longing. He remembered—he had seen the spectacle of ghosts wandering, seen the towering gate in front of the unfathomable River of Forgetfulness.

He had never forgotten his father’s words—three years was a special time, the day when the dead returned. It was the third anniversary of his mother’s death, so his father had brought him here, had him walk the ghost path. They might see his mother’s soul, might reunite with her in the Yellow Springs. But… Zhang Xiuqi closed his eyes. The familiar pain tore through his body. In this supposedly safe Taoist site, he had fallen, tumbling into the depths of the abyss. Someone was calling his name from behind, but the sensation of falling was endless, almost suffocating. Until someone tightly grabbed him, calling him, pulling him away from the chaotic ghosts, leading him back to the world of the living.

The voice echoed in his ears, drowning out the pain. He finally opened his eyes. Blood gushed from his chest, and he lay on the ground, unable to move. Through the haze of blood, he saw his father’s back. That figure was still so tall, so resolute, like an unshakable mountain, steadfastly guarding him.

Someone had sabotaged their trial, disrupted the Yellow Springs Path. At eight years old, he hadn’t understood what had happened, only feeling pain and fear. But now, he understood—they had been ambushed. Someone had used the forbidden area as a center to draw ghostly power, setting up a grand formation to reverse fate. That person had wanted to kill him and his father.

And that person had almost succeeded.

In the midst of the pain, Zhang Xiuqi also remembered what happened afterward. He remembered his father carrying him for a long distance, remembered the formation talisman drawn with his life, remembered the Soul Binding Formation starting to draw away his spiritual power. He shouldn’t have survived, but at the brink of death, he saw a slender figure step in front of him—a woman in white, with long black hair, glowing faintly like moonlight. She had blocked the fatal blow for him.

A soul flew out of his chest, but it didn’t dissipate. Instead, it followed his mother’s figure and fell into a bone joint.

After that, everything became chaotic. His parents’ figures faded, replaced by other bizarre images. Zhang Xiuqi began to struggle. The pain hadn’t subsided, but hatred and anger had taken over everything! Why had this happened? Who had tried to kill them? He needed to find the person who had set up the formation, needed to kill that person with his own hands, to avenge his parents!

Amid the anger, a small voice whispered—why had he been left behind? He shouldn’t have survived, shouldn’t have survived alone…

The pain surged, and Zhang Xiuqi’s throat emitted a hoarse sound as he trembled violently.

&&&

The sunlight outside the window filtered through the curtains, dispelling the darkness and gloom in the room. Zeng Jingxuan rubbed his tired eyes. The two Jiangtou Masters downstairs had already been dealt with—one had died from the formation’s backlash, and the other had completely lost his soul, becoming a vegetable who likely wouldn’t survive for long. It was a great victory, but he felt no joy, only exhaustion.

A night had passed, and the two sleeping figures still hadn’t woken up. Zhang Xiuqi’s physical condition had stabilized. Even if his soul had been separated for too long, he should have regained consciousness by now. But he remained lying there quietly, and even the Soul Stabilizing Talisman or the Clear Mind Talisman couldn’t open his eyes. On the other side, Wei Yang was also unconscious. The excessive depletion of his vitality wasn’t something that could be recovered in just a few hours. It seemed the Witch Bone was even more formidable than imagined, which was why the bone formation had always been a legend, with no one knowing how to use it.

But the two of them couldn’t just lie there like this. Throughout the night, he had tried every possible method but couldn’t rouse them. Could they only wait like this?

Wiping his face and suppressing the pain in his chest, he was about to get up to fetch more incense when Zhang Xiuqi suddenly began to tremble violently. The shaking was so intense that even the thin hospital bed began to creak. Zeng Jingxuan immediately rushed forward, grabbing his arm: “Xiao Qi, Xiao Qi, what’s wrong?”

Before his words even finished, Wei Yang, lying beside him, twitched and grabbed their still-connected hands. His fingers were weak, barely able to hold the other’s palm, and the violent trembling didn’t open his eyes. But under the comfort of this hand, Zhang Xiuqi’s endless shaking gradually subsided. Zeng Jingxuan’s eyes widened, and he gripped his arm even tighter: “Xiao Qi, wake up! Your Heavenly Soul has returned! Wake up!”

This call tore through the fog of consciousness, and Zhang Xiuqi’s closed eyelids fluttered before slowly opening. His gaze was still somewhat dazed, but soon, the confusion faded, and his eyes locked onto Zeng Jingxuan, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After a long while, he finally spoke softly: “Uncle?”

He seemed not to recognize him. But Zeng Jingxuan didn’t mind—this was a sign of the Heavenly Soul’s return. For twenty years, Xiao Qi had been alive, but his consciousness hadn’t been clear, and the memories he retained weren’t complete. He still needed time to piece everything back together. A reassuring smile appeared on Zeng Jingxuan’s lips as he nodded: “It’s me, Xiao Qi, it’s me.”

In an instant, Zhang Xiuqi’s eyes filled with indescribable grief and pain. He struggled to sit up, wanting to ask questions, to tell him something, but something was holding him back—an arm. Someone was tightly holding his hand. Following that arm, Zhang Xiuqi froze. A young man was lying there, eyes closed, breath ragged, unconscious beside him.

Who was this?

In his fragmented memories, he couldn’t piece together this figure, yet he looked so familiar. Zhang Xiuqi unconsciously let go of the hand, retreating slightly, but he couldn’t escape. The young man grabbed his wrist again, like a weak yet persistent vine, loosely yet firmly entwined around him.

His hand trembled, just once, and he closed his eyes. A flood of memories surged up—chaotic, overwhelming, threatening to tear him apart. Zhang Xiuqi hunched over, countless images crashing and shattering in his mind, as if trying to rip his body apart.

The arm holding him never let go. Warmth spread from the palm, comforting his spirit. On the verge of collapse, Zhang Xiuqi tightened his grip on that hand. He remembered something, something very important.

Before losing consciousness again, he remembered a name: “Wei Yang.”