The origin of this phantom was entirely unknown, only that the sheer force of its resentment was something Zhou Huan had never encountered. This magnitude of malevolence rivaled the Vermilion Moon itself; it felt as if the magic of the Vermilion Moon Curse might not even suffice to resist such a profound hatred.

"Damn it, what in the hell is this?" Zhou Huan muttered under his breath. Suddenly, two dark shadows darted out from behind him, each wielding something resembling bamboo strips. The movements of these two figures were incredibly agile, weaving back and forth right before Zhou Huan and Old Man Wang.

Old Man Wang’s hand slowly reached toward the small of his back, his front hand pulling out a ring-like object and quietly slipping it onto his fingers. He then warned Zhou Huan, "Master Zhou, be careful. These fellows mean serious business. It seems today we truly have to risk our lives fighting them off."

"No matter. Whether spirit or ghost, we face it head-on. Today, we finish this with them. Come on!" As soon as Zhou Huan finished speaking, he heard two whisper-light sounds brush past his ears from behind. Zhou Huan instantly felt his legs go numb. Realizing something was terribly wrong, he spun and threw a punch.

Whether by luck or design, the punch came suddenly and smashed brutally into the ear base of the assassin striking from below. The figure instantly pitched backward and collapsed. Zhou Huan tried to shift his stance, but his legs felt useless. He glanced back at the downed figure, and in his periphery, he spotted another flash of white light hurtling toward him.

Gritting his teeth, Zhou Huan used the power in his waist to leap high into the air, clamping his legs tightly around the neck of the attacking thief. With a smooth motion, Zhou Huan gently twisted the carotid artery. A faint crack echoed, and the person immediately lost consciousness; left untreated, this individual would likely be permanently crippled after a night.

"Master Zhou, watch out! There are more behind you!" Old Man Wang was deeply perplexed; despite holding his weapon, no one approached him. He wanted to intervene, but his movements were too slow, forcing him to watch helplessly as four dark-clad figures converged on Zhou Huan.

Zhou Huan relied on his core strength to forcefully stretch the meridians running along both legs. Then, displaying his sword-finger posture, he sharply tapped several vital leg acupoints, including Zusanli. Finally, his legs regained full function, and the preceding numbness vanished.

"Old Man Wang, take care of yourself. Zhou Huan might not be able to cover you for a while." Before he finished speaking, the two shadows before him were upon him, descending with twin strikes from curved warrior swords.

Zhou Huan remained unfazed; now fully mobile, he saw the twin blades coming. He simply bent low at the waist, sweeping one hand out to knock one shadow aside, then followed up with a swift kick to topple the second. Just as he regained his footing, he heard the sounds of the four figures behind him springing up from the ground, only to immediately burrow down again, vanishing without a trace or sound.

"These guys, they even know the legendary Earth Evasion technique. They really are Japanese ninjas," Zhou Huan murmured to Old Man Wang.

Then, a group of three or four figures shambled into view ahead of them. As Zhou Huan adjusted his vision to the crimson moonlight, the four had closed the distance to less than three meters. When Zhou Huan finally focused, two Japanese morticians and two American pastors stood before him.

"Master Zhou, you didn't expect this, did you? Since you chased us this far, we don't mind telling you: I am Yamamura, from the Japanese Embalmer Guild. Our purpose here was precisely that ring. We truly must thank you; without you, we never would have located it. I've already dispatched someone by overnight flight to carry the ring away. We have no desire to tangle with you further. This visit is merely to offer our gratitude. Should you ever have cause to visit Japan, we will certainly host a banquet for you." Having spoken, the group bowed in unison.

Hearing their words, Zhou Huan’s eyes burned with fury. What? They took the ring? Then why were they still here? Zhou Huan was confident his instincts were correct—the ring must still be nearby, perhaps even on one of the figures who just fled. He believed these people were merely stalling for time.

"Heh heh, if that’s how you see it, then I have no recourse. But I must clarify one thing: that ring belongs to us, and it is the key to resolving this long-standing matter. Your desire for the ring is nothing more than a craving for wealth," Zhou Huan stated, already affixing a talisman to the purple jade gourd at his waist. He lightly rubbed the gourd, and its stopper opened slowly, releasing a plume of crimson smoke.

Then Zhou Huan shouted to Xiao Shan, "Xiao Shan, take this gourd and go find what you need. I'll handle things here!" As he finished speaking, Zhou Huan tossed the purple jade gourd toward the sky. Strangely, the gourd flew directly toward Xiao Shan, carrying her as it pierced into the dense woods.

The four adversaries immediately recognized the danger and quickly dispatched one pastor and one Japanese mortician to pursue.

A slight curve touched Zhou Huan’s lips. He leaned close to Old Man Wang’s ear and whispered, "Watch my back. Just focus on protecting yourself, and if the chance arises, handle Billy and Dongzi."

"Understood. You be careful. But what about Xiao Shan?"

"Don't worry. She has my gourd, and the Vermilion Moon is above. If something happens to her now, it would truly be a joke," Zhou Huan replied casually, slowly stepping forward toward the two figures in front of him.

"Master Zhou, what are you doing? What use is fighting us? I think we’ll skip the games. We brought you an old friend to keep you entertained," said the Japanese man, hopping back and forth in his broken wooden clogs. He finally pulled out a tattered fan painted with an unrecognizable creature—perhaps a dog, perhaps a cat—and slapped it against the ground.

Pfft! A burst of black smoke erupted from the earth. It felt as if the sky had suddenly darkened, though there was no earth-shattering tremor. Strangely, Zhou Huan’s compass instantly shattered, its needle flying out and embedding itself deep into a tree trunk.

Zhou Huan staggered two steps back. He swiftly pulled out his Celestial Silkworm Gauntlets and his Seven Star Copper Coin Sword. Having learned his lesson, he secretly slipped on the blessed prayer beads from the monastery and smeared cinnabar and gold powder onto his hands.

When Zhou Huan finished arming himself, he saw Old Man Wang dragging Billy and Dongzi aside, splashing them with water, poking them, and pressing pressure points. The two still hadn't woken, but their breathing was noticeably strengthening.

When Zhou Huan turned back, a figure dressed in the black night attire of a Japanese ninja stood before the Japanese mortician. The figure’s hands were empty, but a long sword was strapped across its back, and it wore a pouch at its waist.

"Zhou Huan, let this one have a good time playing with you today. We don't have time to waste. I still need to get back to Japan. Farewell, Zhou Huan!" the Japanese man sneered wickedly. The American pastor joined in with a chuckle before whispering a few words into the ears of the newly arrived ninja. Then, the pastor and the mortician swaggered away.

Zhou Huan carefully studied the ninja-attired phantom. He knew absolutely that this being was not human but a spirit, meaning he first needed to establish communication to stand any chance of subduing it.

"You... what should I call you?" Zhou Huan asked. The spirit offered no reaction. Zhou Huan immediately drew another talisman, the "Sound-Opening Talisman." This charm ensured that no matter the spirit’s nature, it would hear Zhou Huan’s words, even if deaf.

Immediately after, Zhou Huan ignited the talisman. With a whoosh, the paper flew horizontally, striking the spirit’s forehead. The eyes of the ninja spirit flashed, and its brows furrowed deeply.

Zhou Huan tried again, "Esteemed Ninja Brother, what... is your name?" Still, there was no verbal response. However, the previously agitated ninja spirit closed its eyes, seemingly savoring something. Had Zhou Huan truly failed? Zhou Huan suddenly recalled the pastor whispering directly into the ninja’s ear; the ninja had nodded then, indicating understanding.

Zhou Huan cautiously began to approach the ninja spirit, step by deliberate step.

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