Chapter 83: Three Poisons Invade the Body, Master Baofu the Daoist

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Facing seven fiendish ghosts whose power had surged to rival that of a Wraith Commander, Han Chong felt the pressure mount. He swung his sword, sending out waves of sword energy as he darted among them, each moment fraught with peril.

Just then, a burst of formidable energy erupted from the manor within the island. An elderly man, his hair and beard entirely white, walked upon the air, covering ten miles in mere moments. His lips were pale and bloodless, yet his eyes glowed with a bright white light. With his right hand forming a sword gesture, he spun and danced through the air, scattering a hundred brilliant sword beams that rained down upon the seven fiendish ghosts like raindrops upon banana leaves.

The ghosts’ eyes flashed with shock as they stirred up waves on the lake in a desperate attempt to defend themselves. Hemmed in by Han Chong and the elder, they fled in disarray, diving beneath the lake’s surface.

The elder raised his hand to stop Han Chong, who still wished to pursue.

“Grandfather!” From the distant prow of a boat, Mi Ling called joyfully. Four swordsmen worked furiously at the oars, propelling the skiff rapidly toward them.

“Mi Ling! My good granddaughter, seeing you safe and unharmed, I am relieved. And this master—who might he be?” The elder’s expression was moved and gratified as he inquired.

“Grandfather, this is Senior Han, who rescued me and slew hundreds of river bandits in the Southern Border County. Hearing the manor was in peril, I invited him to come and lend his aid.”

“Excellent, excellent! Young Master Han, thank you for saving my granddaughter Mi Ling.”

“No need for thanks, Elder Mi. Your virtue is renowned, and I am honored to be of service,” Han Chong replied with a smile and a respectful salute. This master of the Celestial Transformation Realm truly lived up to his reputation, seeming to possess mastery over some mysterious sword technique.

To use one’s fingers as a sword, to triumph without a blade—such power was no less than the sword energy he himself wielded to slay monsters.

“This place is unsafe. Please, Young Master Han, come inside the manor for a discussion.”

“Very well.” Han Chong joined the elder at the boat’s prow. In less than half an incense stick’s time, the swift boat reached the island’s shore. There, atop the manor’s high walls, were stationed countless archers and crossbowmen. Bright yellow talismans were affixed in neat order upon the walls.

The grounds of the manor were crisscrossed with trenches, each bristling with iron spikes. Countless monster corpses lay buried within, most of them water demons in the form of shrimp soldiers and crab guards.

A cloud ladder descended obliquely from the gate tower of the manor. The elder ascended first, followed closely by the others. Once all had climbed, the ladder was withdrawn.

Upon reaching the tower, Han Chong could not help but marvel. This manor was truly fortified to the extreme; from what he could see, traps and hidden mechanisms abounded, their true number unknown. No wonder neither demons nor ghosts could breach it— even a Wraith Commander would likely suffer grievously upon entry.

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The elder nodded slightly to the assembled swordsmen, who, having witnessed his display of power from afar, now had firm resolve and looked upon him with reverence. Their gazes toward Han Chong were likewise filled with admiration.

“Young Master Han, follow closely behind me. Since the manor has been besieged by monsters, many traps and mechanisms have been laid—be careful.”

“Thank you, Master of the Manor, for leading the way.” Han Chong brought up the rear. Mi Ling, Mingzhen, and Leng Yue went ahead, copying the elder’s steps—sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating, at times leaping or winding around obstacles—as they made their way toward the inner manor.

By the time they reached the rear hall, everyone’s foreheads were lightly damp with sweat.

Han Chong wondered silently: with such a tightly guarded Sword Manor, could there be some hidden secret? Why else would the fiendish ghosts muster such an array in their attempt to breach it?

However, once the elder reached the hall, he swiftly seated himself cross-legged upon the main couch in the inner chamber. His face grew paler, and his shoulders trembled.

“Grandfather, you’re injured!” Mi Ling cried in alarm, hurrying to wipe the sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief.

“Cough, cough, cough. Last month’s battle against the fiendish ghosts left me gravely wounded. Now, having expended my true energy again, my breath is unstable.” The elder coughed blood onto the handkerchief, his vitality waning.

“Elder Mi, I have some knowledge of medicine. Allow me to examine your injuries.”

“Yes, Grandfather! When I suffered torture before, it was Senior Han who healed me with his immortal arts.”

“Oh? Young Master Han is versed in medicine as well? Then I must trouble you.”

Han Chong felt the elder’s pulse, carefully examining his condition, his brow furrowing more deeply.

“Senior Han, what is it? Is my grandfather’s injury difficult to treat?”

“Elder Mi, your body contains a chaotic flow of three energies: ghostly, demonic, and devilish. Moreover, your vital energy is depleted, and you have forcibly stirred up your true energy. You are in grave danger!”

“What!” Mi Ling was stunned, while the elder’s eyes shone with a faint brightness.

“Indeed, Young Master Han’s medical skill is extraordinary, to perceive so clearly. Last month’s battle saw me clashing head-on with fiendish creatures, resulting in these three energies invading my body. Now, I can barely suppress them; I am at the end of my strength.”

Han Chong remained puzzled. He could clearly sense that the combined ghost and demon energies were less than a third of the devilish energy, which seemed deeply entrenched—not a recent intrusion.

Yet this was not the time to dwell on such matters. Han Chong seated himself behind the elder, both hands channeling his medical arts, emanating a blazing white light as he pressed upon the elder’s back.

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The elder felt a cool stream flow gently through his meridians, bringing immense comfort. Many hidden injuries were miraculously repaired, and his vital energy and true energy grew stronger, gradually regaining dominance within his body.

Three hours passed before Han Chong withdrew his healing arts. Though he could restore the elder’s injuries and bolster his true energy, he was powerless against the three invading energies of ghost, demon, and devil.

If he were to use the Divine Eye of Merit to infuse the power of merit and drive them out, the ensuing clash might well destroy the elder’s meridians and flesh.

“Mingzhen, little master, the elder’s body still harbors evil energies. Please use your Buddhist arts to purify them.”

“Amitabha, venerable benefactor, I have here a scroll of the Great Prajna Heart Sutra. Recite it with me, and it will surely help to dispel the evil within.”

Mingzhen took a parchment scroll from his bosom and handed it to the elder, sitting beside him to teach the recitation. Han Chong and the others closed the doors of the inner chamber and retired to the main hall to rest.

Not long after, a refined yet resolute man, accompanied by seven or eight male and female swordsmen, entered the main hall.

“Father, mother, uncle, aunt!” Mi Ling rose to greet them, and the family was reunited in lively celebration.

“Hush, keep quiet. The old manor master is reciting sutras and must not be disturbed,” Han Chong said, rising and saluting.

The swordsmen were startled, lowering their voices as they asked Mi Ling about Han Chong’s origins and the events that had transpired. All were full of admiration and gratitude, saluting Han Chong in thanks.

Han Chong observed them closely. By his estimation, at least seven of the nine were innate martial experts, with three more at the Celestial Realm—Mi Ling’s father being the most formidable.

After the evening banquet, the old manor master led Han Chong, Mi Ling’s father and uncles to a secluded chamber.

The elder went first to a side room, lightly knocking on the door.

“Master Bao Fu, I am Mi Tianjian. Do you happen to have a moment?”

The stone door opened, and an old Taoist with a bull-nose, kindly countenance, gray robe, and whisk emerged.

“Benefactor Mi, I am free and was just about to seek you out for a discussion. Hm, your complexion seems much improved—delightful!”

“Haha, all thanks to Young Master Han and the little monk, who helped heal my hidden wounds and dispel the evil energies.”

Han Chong saluted, thinking to himself that this Taoist truly had an immortal air. To be on equal terms with Mi Tianjian and to discern the truth at a glance, his strength must be considerable.