Everything being in order, and knowing the location of the Hanba now, the rescue operation naturally commenced.

Young Master Liu and Tian Guoqiang each carried a bucket of black dog blood, having slaughtered the remaining two black dogs before departing. Ma Xiaoyan held a bundle for Zhang Enpu, who said it contained the implements needed for the ritual to subdue the zombie. Zhang Enpu himself walked ahead, hands empty.

The village neighboring Xiushui Village was named Xiushan Village. The name was pleasant enough—picturesque with clear waters and lush mountains—but in reality, it was a desolate backwater. Besides the simple local customs, there was nothing to recommend it. The location of Alan's grave was on an abandoned meadow near the dam, overgrown with weeds, littered with dead branches and fallen leaves, a place untouched by human traffic. Knowing the site, the group of four headed straight there.

Ma Xiaoyan was strikingly beautiful, Young Master Liu handsome and refined, and Tian Guoqiang possessed a noble bearing. The three, each carrying heavy bags, trailed behind the disheveled old man, Zhang Enpu, yet their presence was not diminished. Those who saw them stopped in their tracks, pointing and murmuring.

“Ahem, ahem, ahem, ahem.”

Zhang Enpu, leading the way, coughed softly, signaling the group to hurry along. Tian Guoqiang observed that the old man was likely no less than eighty years old and perhaps suffering from dementia, making questioning pointless, so he turned and left.

The four arrived at the foot of the mountain where Alan was buried. Zhang Enpu motioned for them to halt, then took the bundle from Ma Xiaoyan and retrieved several items: a Taoist robe, a square hat, a ceremonial sword, talisman papers... the specialized gear of a Taoist master.

Once clad in the robe and the square hat, sword in hand, Zhang Enpu exuded an air of imposing elegance. The yellow robe was adorned with a Bagua symbol on both the front and back; the front of the square hat featured a design of an old man dancing with a peach-wood sword. The peach-wood sword held a faint yellow hue, radiating an aura of chilling intent.

Fully equipped, Zhang Enpu brandished his sword and strode directly into the woods.

Normally, Young Master Liu would certainly tease the old eccentric, but now, concerned for his cousin's safety, he had no mood for jokes. Thus, he, Ma Xiaoyan, and Tian Guoqiang followed Zhang Enpu obediently.

The small hill wasn't without paths, but they were long buried under years of overgrown weeds. Zhang Enpu led the trio, skillfully parting the brush and cutting through thorns, and they soon reached a spot near Alan's grave. Alan's resting place was merely a mound of earth, lacking even a simple headstone, which caused Young Master Liu and the others following Zhang Enpu to shudder internally.

Giant trees surrounded them; the path was almost completely swallowed by weeds. The only jarring sight was a cluster of upturned soil nearby.

Using the Yuanguang Shu (Mystic Light Technique), the group perceived the small mound where the Hanba lay. However, the current dam site—apart from the weeds—showed no trace of a graveyard at all. Moreover, they were astonished to find that the environment visible through the Yuanguang Shu was ringed with small saplings, lacking the towering, mature trees surrounding them now. Confusion instantly arose: perhaps Zhang Enpu's Yuanguang Shu wasn't mastered, and he had misread the scene?

As amazement gripped them, Zhang Enpu let out a cold snort: “A paltry trick.” He then spun the sheathed sword in his right hand, formed a mudra with his left, charted constellations underfoot, and began chanting unintelligibly.

Zhang Enpu’s movements were utterly dance-like, but Young Master Liu and the others lacked the spirit to mock him, watching their surroundings with tension.

“By the order of the Supreme Lord, hasten, as the law commands!” After a round of motion, Zhang Enpu pulled a packet of white powder from his robes and scattered it into the air, shouting, “Break!”

“Ah…”

With Zhang Enpu’s shout, a mournful cry echoed from the grave mound. Simultaneously, the surrounding scenery shifted. The dense, sky-obscuring trees transformed into unevenly spaced, scattered saplings; even the weeds were not as rampant as before. Within the newly turned soil, a small mound stood starkly visible—undoubtedly the Hanba’s lair.

“It’s here, I see it,” Young Master Liu’s eyes lit up, and he immediately started forward.

“Stop,” Zhang Enpu intercepted him after only two steps. “Do you wish to die?”

“I…”

“Not good!” Zhang Enpu roared suddenly. Indeed, just as he warned, the sunny, fair weather overhead instantly became overcast, signaling rain. The sky had changed too fast. Young Master Liu pulled Ma Xiaoyan protectively behind him, while Tian Guoqiang nervously huddled close to Zhang Enpu.

“It’s a glamour cast by a malevolent spirit; everyone concentrate and do not be deceived by appearances,” Zhang Enpu warned loudly. He then produced a talisman paper from his pocket, flicked it with his left hand, and the paper instantly burst into flames. Seeing it ignite, Zhang Enpu tossed the burning paper into the air. Immediately, the burning talisman blazed with golden light, illuminating the entire horizon. When the paper finally consumed itself, the sky cleared again, becoming fair and bright, cloudless for miles around.

With preparations complete, Zhang Enpu erected the altar. He retrieved an incense stick from under the table, lit it, and inserted it into the offering rice, instructing Young Master Liu to watch it closely—it must not be extinguished, or they would all perish that night. Young Master Liu, daring not disobey, nodded repeatedly in agreement. Zhang Enpu surveyed the items on the table: offering rice, yellow talisman paper, the image of the Celestial Master, bronze coins for corpse suppression, and two red candles—everything was accounted for.

Zhang Enpu squinted, performed some finger manipulations, and murmured, “You must remember what I told you: the incense must not go out, the image must not fall, the candles must not be extinguished, the talismans must not activate, the bell must not ring, and the rice must not scatter. This concerns your very lives; do not be careless!”

Hearing this, Young Master Liu wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded his assent.

“We begin the ritual now. If I do not regain consciousness within fifteen minutes, you three must quickly gather your things and flee. Otherwise, our lives cannot be guaranteed. But during this quarter hour, none of you three may leave your current positions. If the Five Elements shift, we won’t even be able to escape.”

Young Master Liu quickly responded, “Good… good… good, I’ll listen to you, absolutely listen to you.”

Satisfied with Young Master Liu’s guarantee, Zhang Enpu truly began the corpse suppression. Young Master Liu’s Yin-Yang Eyes perceived streams of black airflow slowly coalescing into bundles, forming countless giant ghostly hands that lunged toward their position. But upon contacting the magic array, they snapped back with a pop, exploding into spiderweb cracks radiating outward from the inside. This cycle repeated, and in moments, the light barrier at the edge of the array was shaking violently.

Several minutes passed, yet it felt like an age to Young Master Liu and the others. Zhang Enpu’s eyes remained tightly shut, motionless. Young Master Liu dared not stir, staring intently at the incense and candles, fearful that a single misstep would doom Zhang Enpu.

Approximately ten minutes later!

Zhang Enpu’s complexion finally changed. His brow was deeply furrowed, and the muscles in his face twitched, suggesting profound pain and causing worry.

As for Young Master Liu and the others, the sheer force of the baleful energy made their breathing rapid, and their faces began to flush again!

Perhaps due to the agony, his half-closed eyes suddenly snapped open. Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet: “Having wandered the great rivers and mountains for years, I was confident I understood ninety percent of the world’s spectral affairs. Yet I never imagined such an intensely tyrannical Sha Qi (baleful energy) would arise in a mere mountain village!”

As he spoke, Zhang Enpu curved his thumb to trap a small flame, flicking it repeatedly to ignite seven small lamps in succession—these were the Seven Star Lamps. Next, his hand moved swiftly, taking a piece of yellow paper and skillfully cutting out the shape of a small man. Then, Zhang Enpu dipped his brush in cinnabar and painted a talisman on the paper figure, stamping it with the official seal of the Heavenly Master's Mansion of Mount Longhu.

After completing this, Zhang Enpu retrieved another square sheet of yellow talisman paper from the side, about half a meter wide and half a meter long.

Taking out the paper, Zhang Enpu dipped his brush in cinnabar again and began to draw. This time, he depicted a Bagua pattern, but the eight cardinal directions were each replaced with a separate invocation. Around the perimeter, he inscribed numerous characters that seemed indecipherable. Zhang Enpu spent a full three minutes drawing this diagram, testifying to its complexity.

What Zhang Enpu was drawing was momentous: a talisman, a diagram capable of linking the Yin and Yang realms.

The left side of the Bagua clearly bore a large character for ‘Yang’ (). Next to the Yang character were inscriptions like, 'By the command of the Patriarch of the Orthodox First Sect, proceed to the Yin Realm.'

The right side of the Bagua clearly bore a large character for ‘Yin’ (). Next to the Yin character were similar invocations, such as, 'By the decree of the Ten Yama Kings, proceed to the Yang Realm.'

Upon finishing the drawing, Zhang Enpu inscribed the names of deities presiding over the Yin and Yang realms around the Bagua.

Finally, Zhang Enpu affixed several seals around the edges: the 'Dragon-Tiger Heavenly Master Seal,' the 'Yin Court Barrier-Lifting Seal,' the 'Primal Talisman Mandate Seal,' and the 'Earth Emperor Seal.' Of course, Zhang Enpu couldn't possess every single seal, but missing seals could be substituted with written text serving as the seal—a common practice.

Having completed this, Zhang Enpu placed two small bowls filled with incense ash on either side of the Bagua diagram, spaced about ten centimeters apart.

“Bridge!” A bridge connecting the Yin and Yang realms!

Looking at Zhang Enpu now, after setting down the two bowls, he picked up two chopsticks and inserted them into the respective bowls, aiming for them to touch in the middle. If the two chopsticks stood upright, touching without falling, it signified a successful bridge; if they fell upon meeting, it meant failure—the corpse suppression was not consented to. There was only one attempt; a second try would not work.

As for whether Zhang Enpu could succeed in building the bridge, the answer was obvious.

When the two chopsticks stood upright against each other without falling, Zhang Enpu’s expression betrayed a clear surge of excitement. Though pleased, Zhang Enpu’s hands did not rest.

Observing his successful bridge-building, Zhang Enpu casually placed the small paper figure he had cut earlier between the two chopsticks. He then positioned the Seven Star Lamps beside the Bagua.

This done, Zhang Enpu formed a Daoist ritual hand sign with both hands, chanting: “Heaven clear, earth spiritually potent, soldiers and generals follow the command, soldiers follow the seal’s turn, generals follow the order’s march. I, under the direct command of Patriarch Zhang Daoling, swiftly summon the spectral soldiers to this place to suppress the demons and monsters—hasten, as the law commands!” Zhang Enpu had recited this passage several times already and continued to chant. His objective was to summon spectral soldiers and generals to act as his enforcers, specifically, to subdue the Hanba with a flurry of fierce attacks before it could fully rise.

Movement takes time, let alone summoning spectral soldiers and generals from the Underworld. But as long as the incantations continued, there would be enough time for them to arrive, at which point everything would be easily resolved. No matter how formidable the Hanba might be, it would face utter defeat.

But could Zhang Enpu truly wait for the spectral soldiers and generals to arrive?

Let us wait and see!

At this moment, Zhang Enpu continued his unrelenting recitation of suppressive incantations. However, the increasingly dense malevolent aura was turning his face crimson, and his breathing grew rapid, like that of a severe asthmatic.

“Urgh…”

Perhaps due to the Sha Qi assaulting his heart, Zhang Enpu’s body began to tremble, yet his hands remained sealed in invocation. Seeing him in this state, Young Master Liu and Tian Guoqiang grew genuinely frantic. After all, they were all grasshoppers tied to the same rope; if Zhang Enpu died, they would all be doomed.

“Uncle Zhang!”

Thinking this, Young Master Liu shouted out and hurried over.

But the impatient Young Master Liu, in his anxiety, ended up causing more trouble than intended—a blunder more ridiculous than an own goal.

Because he rushed forward too quickly, the movement of his body created a small gust of wind. Though minor, this breeze blew out the wick of one of the Seven Star Lamps.

The moment one wick in the Seven Star Lamps extinguished, Zhang Enpu’s entire body convulsed. He then suddenly opened his eyes, stared at the Seven Star Lamps before him, and his face turned deathly pale. The extinguishing of one lamp meant the entire corpse-suppressing altar had been breached. Immediately following this, the two chopsticks crashed down.

“You two young men, quickly fetch the black dog blood and splash it—pour it all over this grave mound!” Seeing the situation drastically change, Zhang Enpu urgently commanded, before quickly regaining his focus, apparently struggling to suppress the Hanba resting in the coffin.

“Old man, should we pour it all out or save some for defense?” Young Master Liu remained cautious.

“Blast it! At a time like this, who cares about how much! If this Hanba rises now, disaster will be upon us!” Zhang Enpu gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist, the veins on his neck bulging: “Hurry! The more, the better! Saturate every speck of soil in this area! If there’s delay, disaster strikes! If there’s delay, disaster strikes!”

Near the graves on the mountainside, white flags fluttered. Throughout the mass grave, patches of bluish-green ghostly fire drifted erratically, rising and falling, flitting about like fireflies. At this moment, the bullfrogs and crickets ceased their suggestive duet. Silence descended, broken only by the sound of wind rustling the grass—a scene bizarre and terrifying, sending chills down the spine.

“Sshhh…” Just then, a sound of earth tearing apart erupted from the newly dug soil. In the environment dominated only by the wind and rustling grass, it sounded extraordinarily jarring. The freshly replaced earth suddenly shuddered and churned violently upwards, as if something was about to burst through.

Slowly, this eerie “sshhrr” sound grew more frequent, and the patch of earth began to pulse fiercely, like a human heart.

Zhang Enpu’s face drained of color, as if witnessing the most dreadful sight of his life. He flicked his sleeve, swiftly drawing the Celestial Master Sword that had remained sheathed, executed a sharp flourish, and began reciting rapidly: “The Supreme Lord has commanded, proclaiming to all spirits. The Heavenly General commands the world below, beating the celestial drums, unfurling the heavenly banners, wielding the golden star, casting the fire bell, capturing the unseen, searching the silent!”

“Swish!” The long, tempered steel sword sliced through the air with a slight breeze, brushing past a candle. The flame was burning strongly, and with a peng, a talisman affixed to the tip of the sword ignited instantly. The talisman was drawn on yellow paper, flammable by nature, and soaked in strong liquor, it burned upon contact with fire. But a thin sheet burns only briefly; the tongue of flame shot out several feet long before immediately dying out. The flash of fire illuminated the talisman drawn in cinnabar on the sword body, making it appear momentarily embossed.

The sword was withdrawn. Zhang Enpu, before the altar, bent his left fingers into a sword shape, pressed them against the center of his brow, and then touched the sword tip. Instantly, the paper ash clinging to the tip dissolved into countless fine particles. In the span of a single breath, these particles re-coalesced, forming a small black sphere at the sword's point. Because some embers remained, fine threads of fire crawled within this small black sphere. He pointed the sword toward the rising earth before him, and the paper ash condensed into a line, shooting straight into the meadow.

Upon entering the grassy area, that clump of black soil immediately began to boil as if in a cauldron. Some half-withered foxtail grass remained in the soil; as it flipped over, the dead branches and leaves were instantly tossed aside, creating a large splash in the center of the earth—it looked as if a spring had opened right in the middle of the grave, constantly bubbling up water. Zhang Enpu picked up the bowl of wine that had been used to soak the talisman, took a sip, and then sharply sprayed it onto the sword. The long sword immediately ignited like a giant candle. He gripped the blade with his left hand, sliding from the hilt to the tip, and the fire vanished as quickly as it appeared. The cinnabar characters on the sword all lit up, and he shouted, “Hasten, as the law commands!”

Before his words faded, a muffled sound, neither loud nor soft, overwhelmed the noise of the rustling weeds. In their sight, a pitch-black coffin broke through the soil. Looking closely, the coffin was about two meters long and one meter wide, covered entirely in bumps the size of ping-pong balls, appearing semi-translucent. Under the sunlight, they showed mottled colors of red and green, intensely vibrant, resembling the pustules of smallpox on a body. The coffin lid was already half-open, and the large coffin nails, thick as a little finger, had all been pried loose by external force, clattering like a troop of withered old men swaying in the wind, ready to fall at any moment. It was strange: this Hanba, the culprit behind the drought in Xiushui Village—which had caused the land for miles around to crack like tortoise shells and all trees and plants to wither and die—had its resting place situated like this? Why? Because in the deep pit that held the coffin, a small pool of water had formed, and the entire coffin looked sodden, as if it had just been pulled from water.

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