67: Chapter 67 Whispers of the Ancient Gods

"They ran away."

"I had that Bowl-Playing Ghost pinned in the mud!" He roared hoarsely, spittle flying mixed with rainwater. "Who knew the bowl in his arms would suddenly explode! I turned my head to dodge, and he slipped away along the base of the wall with that Begging Ghost!"

Qiu Chuanxing didn't speak. He stood with his back to the others, kneeling on one knee, his fingers tracing a fresh scratch on the ground. Rainwater dripped down from the tips of his hair, wetting the long sword on his back.

"Don't pursue them." He stood up and sheathed his sword, his voice cold as ice. "Those two ghost things are ten times more familiar with the terrain in this area than we are. If we go further in, there will be a trap every three steps and an ambush every five."

Ling Muxue leaned against a nearby pillar, boredly spinning a small knife in her hand.

The blade's light danced between her fingers, moving so fast it left only a blur. She raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I said it before, catching ghosts isn't about having hard fists." She scoffed. "Niu Fei, what use are those fists of yours if they just hit cotton? They pulled a trick, and you fell for it like a fool."

Niu Fei's face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulging. He stiffened his neck, his fists cracking as he clenched them: "I was caught off guard! If I run into them again, I'll smash them into meat paste with one punch! I'll grind their bones and Soul into dust!"

Wu Xi stood in the middle of the alley, the rain beating against his face without him blinking even once.

Jiang Jiye hurried over, pulling a neatly folded cloth from her bosom and handing it to Wu Xi. A few strands of her hair were dampened by the rain, sticking to her cheeks, her eyes full of concern.

"Big Brother Wu, wipe your face." She said softly. "The rain is so heavy, don't catch a cold. Yuehong has already gone to pursue them; she will definitely find them."

Wu Xi took the cloth and wiped the rainwater from his face. It carried a faint scent of soap locust, the same scent as Jiang Jiye. He nodded and returned the cloth to her.

Just then—

"Ah—!"

A shrill scream came from deep within the woods, piercing through the curtain of rain. The sound was as sharp as fingernails scraping against glass, filled with extreme pain and fear, making one's scalp tingle.

Qiu Chuanxing's eyes lit up, his right hand instantly gripping the sword hilt.

"Found them!" He let out a low shout and rushed out first.

Niu Fei followed closely behind like a charging wild bull, his footsteps making the bluestone slabs thud as mud splashed everywhere.

Ling Muxue put away her small knife, flashed, and followed as well. Jiang Jiye held Wu Xi's arm, and the two followed quickly behind.

The Bowl-Playing Ghost and the Begging Ghost lay sprawled in the mud, convulsing, foaming at the mouth. The blue-and-white bowl in the Bowl-Playing Ghost's hand had shattered into countless pieces, scattered on the ground, each piece gleaming with a cold light.

The broken bowl in the Begging Ghost's hand had also fallen to the side, its leftover food mixed with mud and flowing all over the ground.

And standing before them was a person.

Jiang Yuehong.

She stood with her back to the others, her shoulders trembling slightly. Her jet-black hair hung messily over her shoulders, dampened by the rain and sticking to her back in strands.

She clutched a sharp piece of broken porcelain, upon which black-brown ghost blood dripped, running down her wrist and pooling into a small puddle on the ground.

That scream just now had come from the Bowl-Playing Ghost.

One of his arms had been severed right at the shoulder. Thick black smoke rose from the stump, and black blood gushed out like a fountain.

He rolled on the ground in pain, clutching the stump with both hands, letting out a heart-wrenching wail.

"Yuehong?" Jiang Jiye called out tentatively.

Jiang Yuehong slowly turned around, her eyes changed.

Her originally clear and bright eyes had now turned blood-red, like two burning flames.

There was no trace of timidity or gentleness left, only madness and bloodlust. The corners of her lips curled up slightly, revealing an eerie smile.

She stuck out her tongue and licked the ghost blood off her lips, her eyes flashing with excitement.

"Blood..." She muttered to herself, her voice raspy like sandpaper rubbing against stone. "So much blood... so fragrant..."

The Bowl-Playing Ghost was terrified, his Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering upon seeing Jiang Yuehong. He scrambled backward, the black blood from his stump flowing even more fiercely.

"Monster! You are a monster!" He screamed, his voice filled with fear. "Don't come over! Don't come over!"

The Begging Ghost was so terrified he lost control of his bowels, paralyzed on the ground, trembling like a sieve, unable to even move. He opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound, only able to emit wheezing "he-he" gasps.

Jiang Yuehong walked toward the two ghosts step by step. She walked up to the Bowl-Playing Ghost and crouched down; the Bowl-Playing Ghost squeezed his eyes shut in terror, his body convulsing.

Jiang Yuehong raised the piece of broken porcelain.

"Stop."

Jiang Yuehong's movements came to a sudden halt.

She slowly turned her head to look at Wu Xi, the madness in her eyes slowly receding like a tide. Replacing it was a blank expression.

Then, the piece of broken porcelain in her hand clattered to the ground.

Her body went limp, and she fell straight down.

"Yuehong!" Jiang Jiye exclaimed, rushing over to catch her. She checked Jiang Yuehong's breath and felt her pulse, breathing a sigh of relief.

"It's okay, she just fainted." She said, looking up at the others.

Wu Xi nodded. He walked over to the two ghosts, looking down at them from above.

The Bowl-Playing Ghost clutched his stump, grimacing in pain, but his eyes were filled with malice. The Begging Ghost remained sprawled on the ground, his head buried low, not daring to look at anyone.

"Why run? Here, we have always believed in leniency for confessions and severity for resistance." Wu Xi's voice remained calm.

The Bowl-Playing Ghost gritted his teeth, glaring viciously at Wu Xi: "Hmph! Do whatever you want, kill or scrape us! Don't even think about making us betray our master!"

"Oh?"

Ling Muxue walked up and crouched down. The silver small knife appeared in her hand again, its tip gently lifting the Bowl-Playing Ghost's chin.

Her smile remained radiant, like a blooming peach blossom, but her eyes were cold and piercing.

"Your bones are quite hard." She said softly. "I want to see whether your bones are harder, or my knife."

Before she finished speaking, the small knife in her hand made a light swipe.

"Sss—"

The sound of flesh tearing was clearly audible.

A long gash was cut across the Bowl-Playing Ghost's face, extending from his forehead all the way to his chin, black blood gushing out and instantly covering his face.

"Ah—!"

The Bowl-Playing Ghost let out a heart-wrenching scream, rolling frantically on the ground, clutching his face with both hands, his whole body convulsing in pain.

"Will you talk or not?" Ling Muxue's smile didn't change, the small knife in her hand waving before his eyes. "I have plenty of ways to make you open your mouth. I can pull your bones out one by one; I guarantee you'll remember that feeling for eternity."

The Bowl-Playing Ghost was convulsing in pain, yet he still gritted his teeth, squeezing a few words through them: "Bah! Witch! Don't even think about it!"

"Still stubborn?" Ling Muxue's eyes turned cold, the small knife in her hand about to descend.

"Wait." Wu Xi stopped her.

Ling Muxue turned her head: "What is it?"

Wu Xi shook his head. "Torture is useless against them. They are ghosts; they have long since lost their Physical Body and no longer feel pain. Even if you chop them into pieces, they won't tell the truth."

"Then what do you suggest?" Ling Muxue put away the small knife, pouting. "We can't just let them go like this, right?"

Wu Xi crouched down, looking at the two ghosts on the ground, preparing to test a skill he had previously learned from the book of eibon, which he discovered had been activated after his recent Physical Body changes.

[Whispers of the Ancient God]: Continuously awakens the deepest emotions in a creature's heart—fear, desire, secrets!

The next second, Wu Xi's eyes changed.

His pupils turned into a bottomless black. It seemed as if countless stars were rotating within, and as if countless twisted shadows were squirming.

An ancient, vast, and endlessly mad aura emanated from him.

This aura seemed to come from the end of the Universe, from the beginning of Chaos, from before time was born.

It carried a power capable of tearing apart the Soul, making everyone present feel a chill from the marrow of their bones.

Niu Fei instinctively took a step back, clenching his fists. He felt as if his heart had been gripped by an invisible hand, making even breathing difficult.

Qiu Chuanxing also frowned tightly, his right hand gripping the sword hilt firmly. A layer of cold sweat seeped from his forehead.

Jiang Jiye covered her mouth, her eyes full of shock. Her hand holding Jiang Yuehong trembled slightly.

Ling Muxue's smile vanished completely. She looked at Wu Xi's back, her eyes filled with a trace of gravity, and a hint of imperceptible fear.

Only Wu Xi remained calm, looking at the two ghosts.

"Whispers of the Ancient God." He softly uttered the four words.

The voice was not loud, but it exploded in the two ghosts' minds like a thunderclap.

In an instant.

Countless obscure, twisted, and strange sounds flooded into the two ghosts' minds. The sounds were not human language, nor any known language. It was like countless people whispering at the same time, and like countless beasts roaring simultaneously. It carried a power capable of tearing apart the Soul, acting directly upon their spirits.

"Ah—!"

The Bowl-Playing Ghost and the Begging Ghost simultaneously let out a howl of extreme misery.

They clutched their heads, rolling frantically on the ground. Their bodies twisted into various eerie shapes, their bones making "click-clack" sounds, as if they would fall apart at any moment.

Black blood flowed from their seven orifices, gathering into hideous patterns on the ground.

"Stop! Quickly stop!"

"I can't take it anymore! Kill me! Quickly kill me!"

Their voices were filled with despair and fear. That fear, which seeped deep into the bones, was ten thousand times more terrifying than any torture.

Whispers of the Ancient God awakens the deepest emotions in a creature's heart—fear, desire, secrets!

Everything that had been suppressed erupted at this moment.

Before the Bowl-Playing Ghost's eyes appeared countless illusions.

He saw his life before death. He was a street performer who made a living by playing with bowls. One day, he offended a local bully, had his limbs broken, and was thrown on the street. He lay on the cold ground, watching the passersby, but no one was willing to help him. In the end, he starved to death on the street.

He saw himself after becoming a ghost. He was bullied by stronger evil ghosts, begging for mercy like a dog. He ate the leftovers of others and lived in dark, damp sewers. He vowed that one day, he would possess power and trample everyone who had ever bullied him under his feet.

He saw what he desired most in the depths of his heart—power. Endless power. Power that would allow him to do whatever he pleased.

Before the Begging Ghost's eyes, illusions also appeared.

He saw his wife and child. After he died, his wife was sold to a brothel and suffered endless humiliation. His son was abducted by human traffickers, had his limbs broken, and became a beggar. He could only watch from afar, yet he could do nothing.

He saw what he feared most in the depths of his heart—loneliness. Eternal loneliness. Wandering alone in the darkness, with no peace forever.

Those illusions were incredibly real, just as if they were happening right before their eyes. Their Soul, under the torture of Whispers of the Ancient God, was torn apart bit by bit, devoured bit by bit.

Wu Xi continued to watch the two ghosts calmly.

He could clearly feel the flow of Whispers of the Ancient God in the two ghosts' minds. He could control its intensity, make it more violent, or let it temporarily subside.

He could even turn it off at any time.

This was his first time completely mastering this skill.

"Will you talk or not?"

Wu Xi's voice sounded again, carrying a strange magical power.

"I'll talk! I'll talk! I'll say everything!"

The Bowl-Playing Ghost was the first to break down. Snot and tears streaming down his face, he lay on the ground, kowtowing incessantly, his forehead battered, black blood mixed with muddy water streaming all over his face.

"I beg you! Stop! Quickly stop! I won't dare again!"

The Begging Ghost also followed suit, kowtowing with a "thud-thud" sound: "I'll talk too! I'll talk too! As long as you stop, I'll do whatever you want!"

Wu Xi moved his mind.

The intensity of Whispers of the Ancient God instantly weakened.

The two ghosts let out a long sigh of relief, as if they had just been fished out of the water, their bodies soaked through with cold sweat. They sprawled on the ground, panting heavily, their eyes filled with the relief of surviving a disaster.

"Now, you can talk." Wu Xi looked at them.

The Bowl-Playing Ghost swallowed his saliva, saying tremblingly: "It's... it's the Black-Eyed Ghost, the gambling den owner of Trap Alley, who sent us. He told us to come and scout out your background, to see how your strength is."

"Trap Alley?" Wu Xi frowned. The name didn't sound like a good place at all.

"That's right!" The Bowl-Playing Ghost nodded hurriedly, fearing that if he were one step too slow, Whispers of the Ancient God would descend again. "Trap Alley is a huge trap! No one who enters can ever come out!"

"Oh?" Ling Muxue became interested. She crouched down, looking at the Bowl-Playing Ghost. "What kind of trap is it? Tell me. If it's interesting, I might consider sparing your lives."

The Bowl-Playing Ghost looked at the Begging Ghost, and the Begging Ghost looked back at him. The two exchanged a glance, both seeing a trace of hesitation in each other's eyes.

Wu Xi's eyes turned cold.

The intensity of Whispers of the Ancient God instantly increased by a notch.

"Ah—!" The two ghosts screamed again.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!" The Bowl-Playing Ghost shouted hurriedly, his voice out of tune. "The gambling den in Trap Alley is different from other gambling dens! Other gambling dens cheat to swindle money, but the gambling den in Trap Alley doesn't swindle money!"

"Doesn't swindle money?" Niu Fei was stunned for a moment, scratching his head. "Then what does it swindle?"

"What it swindles is... your life!" The Bowl-Playing Ghost's voice was filled with fear. "The rules of the Trap Alley gambling den are very simple: whatever you bet, you can win most of the time!"

"You can win whatever you bet?" Qiu Chuanxing frowned. "How can there be such a good thing in the world?"

"It's true! I'm not lying to you!" The Bowl-Playing Ghost said hurriedly. "If you bet silver, you can win silver. If you bet Medicinal Pill, you can win Medicinal Pill. If you bet Magical Artifact, you can win Magical Artifact. Even... you can bet cultivation, and win cultivation!"

"Bet cultivation?" Everyone was stunned.