Chapter 39: Entangled by Spirits and Demons

However, recalling the pleasures of the previous night, Chu Feng found that he was not entirely averse to this Lady Yun. Yet he could not help but wonder whether the ferocious battle had left any hidden effects on him. If nothing had changed, all would be well. The crucial matter, however, was that she was a spirit—one who fed on human souls. Would she, after tiring of him, devour his very essence?

No, he must find a way to deal with this spirit.

Chu Feng immediately rose and made his way to the library, hoping to find in the ancient tomes some method to counter a spirit’s power. Unfortunately, after a fruitless search, he came away empty-handed.

As night fell, the prospect of Lady Yun’s return unsettled Chu Feng’s heart. Though he had yet to discover what exactly he might have lost, for the first time in a long while, he felt a wave of fatigue. Ever since his cultivation had broken through, propelling him into the Nascent Soul realm, granting him a three-thousand-year lifespan and restoring his energy, body, and spirit to their peak, he should not—neither as a cultivator nor even as an ordinary man—have felt such exhaustion.

A thought struck him. His mind turned to Chen Wanwan.

As the Holy Land of Heavenly Demons was the greatest power in the Eastern Wasteland, perhaps it held knowledge about souls and spirits. He sought out Chen Wanwan.

To his surprise, Chen Wanwan did not seize the opportunity to draw him into cultivation practice, but instead looked at him with a grave expression and asked, “Have you met with a spirit recently?”

“And did she sleep with you?”

Chu Feng was instantly ill at ease. “How did you know?”

Chen Wanwan replied, “Today, haven’t you felt sore in the waist and back, weak all over, and overcome with sleepiness?”

Chu Feng nodded. “That’s right.”

Chen Wanwan said, “Then that’s it.”

Since Chu Feng had come seeking advice on how to deal with a spirit, he saw no reason to hide anything. He told Chen Wanwan about the existence of the ancient Blood Niche, the beautiful woman in the painting, and Lady Yun in detail.

Chen Wanwan was astonished. “I never imagined your Supreme Mystery Sect had a Blood Niche entrance. The ancient Blood Niche—tainted blood of the Heavenly Dao transformed—stands as the most evil thing in the world, breeding endless wickedness. For someone to place themselves within it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, the Blood Niche in your sect is but a branch, not the main body, so it should not pose too great a threat.”

“Now, you face two problems.”

“Two? What’s the other one?” Other than Lady Yun, what else could there be?

Chen Wanwan’s face was severe. “Fang Yun.”

“In the Blood Niche, being killed does not mean true death; instead, one is resurrected by the Niche, becoming a creature of the Blood Sea, and one’s strength even increases.”

Chu Feng was speechless. The man was truly as hard to kill as a cockroach.

“System, tell me: is Fang Yun really not dead?” When in doubt, consult the system.

[Host, strictly speaking, Fang Yun has indeed died, but also has not.]

“Nonsense! Dead is dead, alive is alive. Be clear,” Chu Feng said impatiently.

[Very well, Host. Fang Yun is not dead. He has been reborn, revived by the Blood Niche as a creature of the Blood Sea. He remains a child of fate, but now as a new one. In his rebirth, most of his past memories are lost, yet his hatred for you persists.]

Impressive.

Chu Feng narrowed his eyes. This Fang Yun was not merely a child of fortune, but truly the Son of Destiny. Even after being killed, he survived. Never mind; if he must, he’ll kill him again—for more fortune points and another system reward. That suited Chu Feng just fine.

Chen Wanwan looked at him in surprise. Some people, even after being warned of two looming troubles, could still smile. Clearly, the spirit had served him well last night. At this thought, her heart flared with anger, and she snorted coldly. “Some men really are slaves to their desires, risking life and limb for a woman. When night falls and the spirit comes again, tomorrow you won’t merely feel sore and weak—you’ll probably be bedridden.”

Chu Feng realized she misunderstood. He hastily explained, “Don’t get the wrong idea; that’s not why I was laughing. It has nothing to do with Lady Yun. Wanwan, do you know how to deal with her—the spirit?”

“I don’t,” Chen Wanwan replied flatly. “Some people just don’t value their lives.”

Chu Feng forced a bitter smile. “I truly have no other way.”

Chen Wanwan said, “The only method is to use powerful spiritual strength to resist the spirit’s invasion. As you mentioned, this spirit’s true form is a painting. The best way is to destroy the painting, but that will be difficult. Since the spirit is parasitic upon it, the artwork itself possesses her power. If you approach, she will certainly attack you. Since you were so easily drawn into her illusions before, she must be at least at the Great Ascension stage. You can’t possibly be her match, let alone destroy the painting.”

“The second method is merely a stopgap: increase your soul’s strength. The best way is to cultivate a powerful soul technique—then she won’t be able to drag you into illusions, and you can free yourself from her entanglement.”

A soul technique—exactly what Chu Feng lacked. Though the Yin-Yang Lamentation Sutra could slowly strengthen his soul, the progress was too slow to solve his immediate problem. However, the complete version of the Supreme Celestial Scripture could enhance his soul cultivation.

But at present, he possessed only a thousand characters of it.

He asked, “Do you know any powerful soul techniques?”

Chen Wanwan shook her head. “I don’t.”

Chu Feng’s face fell.

She continued, “For now, all you can do is eat well, nourish yourself, and hope to hold out a few more days.”

...

While Chu Feng dreaded the coming of night, within the Blood Niche, Fang Yun had indeed revived. Shaking his head in confusion, he muttered, “Didn’t I die? How am I alive again?”

“How did I die? Who killed me?”

He recalled, “It was Chu Feng who killed me, and he even cut off my root of vexation.”

“Huh, it’s grown back again!”

“Doesn’t this mean I can cultivate the Evil Dragon Art again without drinking blood?”

“I, Fang Yun, am truly a peerless genius. Destiny favors me!”

“Chu Feng, just you wait—I’ll have your life.”

“What’s more, my cultivation seems to have advanced again.”

Late Foundation Establishment stage.

And that wasn’t all—Fang Yun had not yet noticed that his gains extended beyond this. The soul, once battered and torn by the Soul-Extracting Whip, had been restored. Of course, though his soul had been repaired, something else had been added as well. He was no longer who he once was.

But the most important thing now was escaping this place.

With that thought, Fang Yun turned and left.

...

As night descended, Chu Feng was so tense that he dared not even close his eyes, fearing that falling into a dream would give Lady Yun an opportunity.

But how could he resist sleep?

When the moon climbed high among the branches, Chu Feng’s head drooped, and he once again drifted off.