Chapter Seventy-Five: The Taoist’s Treacherous Scheme

Seeing this, the bald man hurried off with his crew. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the fake priest—almost wanted to let him go. But when I remembered what he had done, I knew he deserved a lesson.

The fellow was surprisingly capable. In half an hour, he had cleaned up the entrance to my house until it was spotless, even scrubbing away some slogans from before.

"Young man, can I go now?" the fake priest asked pitifully.

"Friend, you should learn some real skills instead of cheating and swindling everywhere. If you ever run into a real master, you'll be in real trouble," I couldn't help but admonish him.

The fake priest nodded repeatedly and slunk away.

He'd barely left when there was a sudden bang outside. It wasn't a holiday, so who was setting off firecrackers? At the same moment, the soul urn in my pocket trembled. My heart skipped—could it be…?

I quickly pulled out the soul urn and asked softly, "Wan'er, are you alright?"

"What a powerful soul-chasing firework! My head is still ringing. Fortunately, I was with you—otherwise, my soul would have scattered," Shangguan Wan'er replied.

I hurried to cover the urn. "Don't be afraid, as long as I'm here, nothing will happen to you."

After a few more explosions, quiet finally returned. I glanced out the window and saw a Daoist in black standing below, holding a horsetail whisk, his whole demeanor tinged with the hardships of life.

Not just any Daoist could set off a soul-chasing firework. These were specifically meant to intimidate ghosts—within fifty meters, any unprotected spirit would be dispersed instantly. Luckily, Shangguan Wan'er and the other three little ghosts were with me, protected by my yin energy; otherwise, at this distance, they'd have been in trouble.

A soul-chasing firework may look like an oversized firecracker, but inside it's filled with ashes mixed with gold powder, cinnabar, talisman dust, and incense ash, making it incredibly effective against spirits.

Realizing a true master had arrived, I bit my finger, stained a piece of white cloth red, wrapped up the soul urn, and handed it to Wang Ying. "No matter what, you must not go downstairs. Wait for me to come back."

Wang Ying clung to me. "Husband, I'm human now—why can't I go with you?"

"You need to protect the soul urn and the three inside. What if something goes wrong?" In truth, I was just making excuses. The Daoist downstairs clearly possessed profound skills; there was no way I could let Wang Ying go down. Although she's human for these seven days, her body still carries heavy yin energy, which any skilled Daoist would notice at a glance.

After much coaxing, Wang Ying reluctantly agreed to let me go alone.

Heading down, I faced the black-robed Daoist standing at the door. An overwhelming aura radiated from him.

"Benefactor, there's a heavy presence of yin energy about you. Has something happened at your home?" He gave me a polite glance.

"So, Master Daoist, have you come here to avenge someone?" I didn't have time for pleasantries; every moment was precious with Wang Ying.

"In a manner of speaking. Are you the one using spirits to bully the living?" The Daoist's gaze cut like a blade.

His words were sharp. If it had been the fake priest earlier, I would have started cursing, but this was a genuine Daoist, and he didn't seem like a petty villain. I didn't want to escalate things unnecessarily. "Do you believe just one side of the story? If you're a friend, come in for tea. If not, please leave."

The Daoist frowned, clearly not expecting such a response. "Young man, consorting with ghosts will wear away your lifespan," he said, a confident smile flickering on his face.

"That's none of your concern. If you have nothing else, I'm leaving. But let me warn you: don't set off soul-chasing fireworks at my door. I have special guests at home." I said this in hopes he would leave quickly and not waste my time.

"Benefactor, I know all about your special guests. Don't blame me for being rude today—catching ghosts is my duty. I'm the foremost ghost-catcher of Northern Jiangsu." With that, he tried to push past me and head upstairs.

Damn, that bald guy really pulled out all the stops—he actually hired the top ghost-catcher in Northern Jiangsu! Then again, with a potential payout of a million, spending some money on a Daoist was worth it.

I grabbed the Daoist's arm. "Master, you don't need to get involved in this. To be honest, those ghosts are under my care. I'm a walker between worlds from Ju County, Shandong."

He looked me up and down, frowning. "A walker between worlds? No wonder you carry such heavy yin energy. I don't care who you are—today, I'm catching that ghost no matter what." Clearly, he had been paid and wouldn't leave empty-handed.

His words infuriated me. I'd thought he was a man of virtue, but it turned out he was just another mercenary. Why did he want to capture my spirits without cause? I grabbed his robe. "You want to catch them? On what grounds? And do you even have the ability?"

Friends should be treated as friends, but there's no need to be polite to a petty, profit-driven man.

The Daoist shot me a piercing look. "Young man, you have quite the attitude! How about this: I'll give you a chance. Let's compete—if I win, I take the little ghosts upstairs; if I lose, I'll leave immediately."

I hesitated. My palm thunder technique would be more than enough to handle him, but I didn't want to use it. Even if I won, it wouldn't be honorable. More importantly, it's my last line of defense—I can't use it unless absolutely necessary.

I did have the Three-foot Longyuan sword, but it's meant for catching ghosts, not fighting people. What should I do?

"Young man, are you afraid?" the Daoist pressed.

"Fine, just don't say I bullied you for being older. How do you want to compete? I'm not afraid of you, whether it's in a fight or a wrestling match," I agreed, determined not to use my palm thunder unless there was no other choice.

"Aren't you a walker between worlds? Let's have a contest of skills. I'll take you to Ghost Valley to catch ghosts. Whoever catches more in an hour wins. Do you dare?" The Daoist took another step forward.

I didn't have time for his nonsense; I'd rather spend those hours with Wang Ying. "Sorry, I can't accompany you. Please leave."

"It's not that easy. If you won't compete, I'll just go upstairs and catch the ghosts myself."

Damn! I really wanted to let loose with a palm thunder strike, but with so many people around, if I did, we'd be on the news and neither Wang Ying nor I would ever have peace. I had no choice but to compromise. "How long?"

"One hour."

I thought for a moment. One hour, then. I had faith in my Three-foot Longyuan and palm thunder, not to mention my blood of extreme yin—how could I lose to him?

Seeing me agree, the Daoist gestured for me to get in his car. Despite his shabby clothes and unremarkable appearance, he drove a BMW 7 Series. Clearly, he was well-off.

I told him to wait while I went upstairs to fetch my tools—without them, I couldn't catch anything. Upstairs, I told Wang Ying to keep watch, reminded Shangguan Wan'er and the others to look after each other, and promised I'd be back soon.

Shangguan Wan'er wanted to come with me, but I refused. Wang Ying also wanted to accompany me, but I turned her down as well—she was human now, and that was no place for her.

With the Three-foot Longyuan in hand, I headed down. The Daoist glanced at it, pausing for a moment in surprise. From Wei Qi, I knew that this sword was no ordinary tool—a true treasure among swords. Clearly, the Daoist was impressed.

We drove out to a mountain ravine and stopped. It was midsummer, the vegetation lush and vibrant. With such strong sunlight, how could there be ghosts in the valley? The yang energy was overwhelming. Behind us, a van followed—baldy and his men. What was going on? Why were they coming to Ghost Valley too? But at least I didn't have to worry about them bothering Wang Ying at home anymore.

"Young man, what's your name?" The Daoist glanced at me, motioning for me to head into the ravine.

"That's not important. Just tell me where Ghost Valley is. Don't tell me it's in a place like this?" I sneered.

"Fine, keep your secrets. Not that I care. Ghost Valley is just ahead in the ravine—there's a cave below. Back in the day, the Japanese killed many villagers here, and the vengeful spirits became Ghost Valley," he said, pointing to a dark cave.

We walked for a while, crawling into what he called Ghost Valley. Strangely, I sensed no ghosts—if there were, there would have been the chill of yin energy. When I turned to ask for clarification, I saw baldy and his men blocking the cave entrance, each armed with knives, sticks, or cleavers, and the Daoist standing to the side with a cold smirk.

Damn! I'd fallen into their trap—they'd lured me here to deal with me!

"Go on, finish him off. No one will know if he dies here. I just want that sword in his hand," the Daoist said, his tone turning sinister.