Chapter 135 Let Wang Jian Keep Wrestling with It

Thus, having received orders from their master, Zhao Que and Zhao Quan both intended to take root at Jiangcheng University.

Though their sect was small, it possessed a heritage spanning hundreds of years and still held hidden cards.

The vision of Zhao Que’s master was indeed exceptionally shrewd!

He discovered that while the lumberyard was a malevolent place akin to a puppet-raising ground, condensing countless terrifying dark forces beneath its surface, anything derived from Taoist array foundations inevitably retained numerous "array vents."

To give an analogy, much like a high-pressure boiler, there always had to be a few outlets left to "release steam."

Through painstaking effort, he successfully located two secret tunnels leading from the depths beneath the lumberyard to other locations.

These secret tunnels might have been hidden passages used to access the grand underground array directly from afar back when the evil site of the lumberyard was still active, or perhaps they served some special purpose...

In short, these secret tunnels allowed for a continuous and steady extraction of dense Yin energy, malignant aura, corpse miasma, and other negative energies from the battered grand array deep beneath the lumberyard!

Even though it was only an extremely meager fraction, it was already more than enough for raising a banshee-puppet and an armored dark puppet.

Coincidentally, the exits of both secret tunnels opened within the grounds of the campus hospital...

One was located at the bottom of the abandoned lake on the hospital lawn, and the other beneath the abandoned cold-storage room of the morgue.

Consequently, infiltrating the campus hospital of Jiangda became the mutual goal of Zhao Que and Zhao Quan!

Zhao Que was originally a student at Jiangda’s School of Medicine; staying at the school to work in the campus hospital after graduation was a matter of natural course. Zhao Quan, on the other hand, applied for the position of morgue caretaker, thus initiating his covert operation of raising corpse-puppets...

Although the martial brothers harbored no deep-seated personal enmity, they had already become as incompatible as fire and water in their competition for the position of sect leader.

From time to time, they would use the campus hospital as an arena to engage in minor spell battles late at night—which also explained the origin of the hauntings in the campus hospital!

Had it not been for the sect rules restricting them to a fair competition, where the strength of the "puppets" they raised would determine the successor to the sect leadership, the two of them probably would have gone all-out in a genuine fury...

A few days ago, for reasons unknown, Zhao Quan had requested a week-long leave from the hospital.

He had secretly loaded some walking corpses into a van at night and driven them out, failing to return ever since.

As a result, Fu Yang and Master Xiong had shown up, and those two fellows clearly looked like they wanted to "make trouble" inside the morgue. Therefore, Zhao Que chose not to stop them, figuring that if they could cause some disruption for Zhao Quan, it would ultimately be to his own benefit.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not understand why Fu Yang—who was not even a First-Tier True Adept—was not only capable of eliminating the blood corpse, a relatively advanced specimen among the four walking corpses, but could also annihilate the armored dark puppet!

Not even the slightest trace of residue was left behind!

What kind of monstrous strength was this?

Either he possessed an extraordinarily formidable and taboo secret technique to pull off such a feat!

In reality, this was precisely one of the reasons why Zhao Que had consistently maintained a courteous attitude toward the two of them.

Although he had already attained the realm of a Second-Tier True Adept, a puppet-raiser was, after all, not a pure Taoist practitioner of orthodox spells. Without the assistance of puppets in combat, his combat prowess was roughly equivalent to that of a First-Tier True Adept.

Having listened to Zhao Que’s narrative, Fu Yang fell into deep contemplation.

He had never imagined that the secrets hidden within the lumberyard ran so deep!

The mere remnants of a shattered grand array were already capable of generating enough power to forge monsters like the armored dark puppet.

Just how terrifying must its complete state have been? Why was it constructed in the first place, and why was it eventually abandoned?

These secrets made his head ache with a dull throb...

"Junior Schoolmate Fu Yang, now you know the secret of this morgue, don't you?"

Zhao Que asked calmly.

Fu Yang nodded with a blank expression: "Yes. At the same time, I also know what that ghost entity in the abandoned garden pond was—the one that dragged me toward the waterbed with hair like a woman's..."

Zhao Que was taken aback, then gave a bitter smile and nodded.

"That's right. The ghost-puppet banshee I raised dwells in that pond. Strictly speaking, my saving of your life was somewhat adulterated, so Junior Schoolmate Fu Yang needn't take it too much to heart."

"A debt is a debt! Of course I remember Doctor Zhao saving my life, and I will definitely repay it given the chance. But you and your senior martial brother turned a hospital where ordinary people seek medical treatment into an arena for spell battles, and even created such terrifying ghosts and monsters—isn't that a bit too lawless and reckless?"

Fu Yang frowned, seemingly disapproving of Zhao Que's methods.

Zhao Que was momentarily stunned, then smiled faintly. He fixed his gaze on Fu Yang, as if finding the latter's words utterly incomprehensible.

"Junior Schoolmate Fu Yang, you and I are practitioners of the Tao, wielding supernatural arts and spells that ordinary mortals look upon with awe. If this were ancient times, we could easily have secured high-ranking official positions at court. As for the life and death of ordinary people, doing our best to exercise caution is already the utmost benevolence; expecting us to sacrifice our supreme interests for their sake is simply out of the question. Don't you agree?"

Fu Yang wanted to refute, but found himself powerless to do so, for what Zhao Que said made a certain twisted sense.

Since ancient times, the lives of the weak had always been regarded as mere grass by the strong.

To say nothing of Taoists who cultivated magic, even ruling classes of ordinary mortals holding high positions of power rarely cared about the lives and feelings of the common folk.

Therefore, theoretically speaking, Fu Yang found it exceedingly difficult to come up with a reason for rebuttal.

Yet, having become a cultivator for merely three months, his psychological framework still struggled to accept Zhao Que's perspective.

So he chose silence.

The atmosphere in the office grew somewhat oppressive.

Master Xiong wiggled its little rump, shifting its roly-poly body on the desk with great dissatisfaction, and protested that Fu Boy should leave already—it was time to go back and look after his roommate.

"Junior Schoolmate Fu Yang, I am your roommate's attending physician; you can rest assured regarding his injuries. In truth, had you not pressed me with questions today, I would not have wished to tell you any of this. But I still want to say one thing: from now on, you may continue to treat me as an ordinary doctor and needn't obsess over my identity in the supernatural realm. Because all I want is to peacefully raise that ghost-puppet banshee here in peace and tranquility, and I have no desire to stir up trouble..."

"Alright, I understand. Take care of yourself, Doctor Zhao."

"You as well. Allow me to offer one final word of advice: the waters at the lumberyard run far too deep. Even with your astonishing secret techniques, Junior Schoolmate Fu Yang, getting mixed up in that business will likely spell more misfortune than fortune. Do take care."

By the end of their conversation, the cold expressions on both men had faded considerably, and they exchanged a parting smile.

After Fu Yang and Master Xiong departed, Zhao Que leisurely opened the wine cabinet, poured himself a glass of red wine, and sipped it with elegance.

"Junior schoolmate, I truly must thank you for doing me such a huge favor. The armored dark puppet is destroyed, and Senior Martial Brother, you have no way to contend with me for the position anymore. The seat of sect leader is mine!"

At this thought, he couldn't help humming a little tune...

Along the garden path illuminated by dim streetlights, a man and a cat walked toward the inpatient building.

"Fu Yang, knowing your stubborn personality, are you really just going to let Zhao Que off the hook?"

"I'll find time tomorrow to give Wang Jian a call and lay out everything happening here at the campus hospital in full detail, leaving it for him to decide how to handle it. After all, Wang Jian is the official boss in charge of Jiangcheng's supernatural incidents; let him worry about this kind of mess!"

"Well done! Crafty and shameless enough. This knack for shifting the blame has quite a bit of your grandpa's style. I taught you well..."

As the fat cat spoke, it even extended a furry paw to pat Fu Yang's lower leg.

"Scram!"

Fu Yang lashed out with a kick, sending it flying...

"Son of a bitch! Damn you, Fu Boy, you jerk!"
Master Xiong's shrill and furious voice traced an arc through the air before crashing into the bushes nearby... (Second Chapter)