Chapter 122 (2/2): Finale (2)

Ouyang Jue had hidden a shotgun in the stone palace. 

As soon as Xu Qin raised the sword, he summoned the gun to his hand.

By now, Ouyang Jue’s flesh was gone.

Only stark white bones remained, holding the gun. 

Without hesitation, he blasted at Xu Qin. 

“Let me help you—corpse liberation is faster this way!”

Shi Pengpeng and Yan Jing off to the side: “….”

It seemed they didn’t even need to intervene—these two swindlers would finish each other off.

Xu Qin was already dead. 

Ordinary means couldn’t kill his soul, but they could destroy the body he possessed.

Xu Qin slowly lowered his head.

His body was riddled with holes, one arm blown off and falling to the ground along with the Zigan Sword.

“Ahhh—” Xu Qin howled, forcing his ruined body to reach for the sword.

“Clang—”

A terrifying Talisman Soldier, forged from fate itself, sliced through the air and severed his filthy spiritual arm in an instant.

A burst of talismanic fire ignited, burning the ghostly arm to ashes.

It also burned away the ominous energy swirling in the air.

The Blood Talismans on the walls rapidly faded, signaling the collapse of the entire formation.

“No—!” Xu Qin screamed in terror.

“The Unwithering Bone is mine…” Ouyang Jue’s bones were crumbling too, but he struggled to reach for the Zigan Sword.

He couldn’t reach it.

A torrent of ghostly power surged from underground, like countless invisible iron hooks, latching onto his and Xu Qin’s souls.

Underworld soul-reaping.

These two wicked souls had long been due for capture.

They’d used dark arts to evade capture for decades, harming countless lives.

Now, with all formations broken, they could run no more. 

The final judgment had come.

“No—!” Xu Qin wailed in terror. 

The evil he’d done was too great—being dragged away by the Underworld was a fate worse than soul destruction.

Ouyang Jue’s bones crumbled to dust, leaving only a gray soul floating above the Thousand Mile Stone.

Suddenly, the Thousand Mile Stone flashed, and a brightly lacquered wooden figure appeared atop it.

Shi Pengpeng gasped, “Woodie!”

“My dear daughter, help Daddy one more time,” Ouyang Jue’s soul said.

This Woodie carried a drop of vengeful blood left behind when he swapped blood with his daughter, still stained with a trace of her aura.

All these years, he’d used two destinies to confuse Yin and Yang, deceiving Heaven and hiding from Earth.

Now, for the last time, he would use this Woodie as a substitute, to enter the Underworld in his place, to sink into the sea of suffering.

Shi Pengpeng saw his intent and, furious, began to cast a talisman. 

“Essence of Two Forms, Yang Fire in the Heart—”

A small black shadow darted out, faster than her talisman, appearing before Ouyang Jue’s soul.

It was a fist-sized bat.

“Ouyang Jue, I’ll bite you to death!” 

The little bat bared its fangs and bit down on the soul’s throat without hesitation.

A soul has no flesh or blood, but a vampire’s fangs carry an ancient curse. 

With one bite, Ouyang Jue’s soul froze for an instant.

But the little bat was badly injured and hadn’t fully recovered—it couldn’t even transform. 

Against Ouyang Jue, it was still too weak.

“Liu Ruyan, you’ve lost your mind again…” Ouyang Jue cursed, trying to swat the bat away, when he suddenly glimpsed the wooden figure moving.

Ouyang Jue was startled. 

“Wood Spirit, what are you doing?”

The wooden figure, moving at lightning speed, snatched up the Zigan Sword. 

Its carved, normally expressionless face twisted in pain as it whispered, “I’m taking you down with me…”

Its true self was just a block of senseless wood.

All its awareness came from a single drop of blood—a drop that should never have existed in this world.

Now, that drop of blood no longer wanted anything to do with Ouyang Jue.

It raised the sword and, without hesitation, stabbed it into its own chest.

The Corpse Liberation Treasure Sword burst with terrifying power, but the wooden figure had no flesh to liberate. 

In its chest was only a mass of anguished, vengeful blood.

The sword pierced through, and the blood curse turned to ash.

“Longevity—” The little bat swooped down, manifesting enormous vampire wings. 

Before the last trace of Woodie’s spirit faded, it gathered it into a gentle embrace.

“No—!” Ouyang Jue let out a shrill, despairing wail.

All his schemes were utterly destroyed, countless ghostly hooks sinking into his soul.

Dragging him to the place he feared most.

All the suffering and sin he had inflicted on others was destined to return upon him a hundredfold, a thousandfold.

Heaven’s justice cycles, retribution never fails.

“Miss Shi, Chief Yan, are you inside?” A muffled voice called from outside the stone palace. 

“Hold on, we’re coming in to save you!”

“Don’t come in, it’s already over.”

Shi Pengpeng replied, then walked over to the stone platform.

The giant vampire wings had vanished, leaving only a tiny bat perched on the wooden figure’s shoulder.

Shi Pengpeng spoke softly, “Sister Liu, it’s time to go.”

“Squeak—okay.” 

The little bat came to her senses, nodded, and hooked its claws onto the wooden figure, flapping its tiny wings to lift it up.

Shi Pengpeng: “Want me to carry Woodie for you?”

“No need,” said the little bat.

Shi Pengpeng didn’t insist. 

Yan Jing came over and took her hand. 

“Let’s go.”

The two of them, with the bat carrying Woodie, left the stone palace, passed through the long tomb passage, and returned to the surface.

The battle between the Mystic Sect and the Clay Army was over. 

The whole valley was leveled, broken stones and earth scattered everywhere.

Seeing them emerge safely, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ahhh! Senior Shi, Brother Yan, thank goodness you’re alright!” Xiao Lingshu rushed over, shaking the Sanqing Bell and leading a horde of hundreds of zombie corpses. 

“Eh? Sister Liu, when did you get here? And Woodie too… uh!”

“Shut up.” Shi Pengpeng silenced him with a punch.

Xiao Lingshu belatedly realized something was wrong—Woodie still had the Zigan Sword stuck in its chest, and its Woodie aura had faded.

He choked up, croaking, “S-sorry…”

“Let it be,” the little bat said, her tone unexpectedly calm. 

“It’s better this way. Longevity was never meant for this world.”

Her real daughter had been gone for many years.

Perhaps, by now, she had been reborn into a family that truly loved her.

“I want to find a good spot with good feng shui and make a grave for Woodie,” the little bat said.

Though this wooden figure wasn’t her real daughter, it carried a trace of her spirit. 

Burying it would be some small comfort.

“Alright.” Shi Pengpeng nodded, glancing at the feng shui master who had come with them. 

“Later, let’s have the master pick a spot.”

Then she said, “Let me take the sword out of Woodie for you.” 

The little bat nodded. 

“Alright, thank you.”

Shi Pengpeng reached out, pulled out the Zigan Sword, and then paused in surprise. 

“Woodie… it sprouted…”

A tiny green bud had sprouted from Woodie’s chest.

The others saw the tender green shoot and were all amazed.

The little bat was even more astonished. 

“This… this is…”

Shi Pengpeng looked at the Zigan Sword in her hand and suddenly understood.

The Zigan Sword was, after all, a Corpse Liberation Treasure Sword—life from death. 

As it destroyed the vengeful blood, it drew the essence of Yin and Yang into the wooden figure, cycling decay and renewal, and sparked a trace of new life.

“No need for a grave,” Shi Pengpeng smiled. 

“Sister Liu, plant it in your courtyard. When it grows into a towering tree, maybe one day, it’ll become a true Woodie.”

The little bat fluttered her wings, a smile in her voice. 

“Okay.”

“Everyone, please return to the vehicles immediately!” 

The Special Police Captain, seeing everyone had returned, raised a loudspeaker to maintain order. 

“We’re about to begin the final operation.”

No one said more. 

They followed the main group away from the site, even the unlucky refrigerated truck driver was carried off by the Special Police.

A few shells arced through the night sky, landing on the stone palace they had just left.

Night was ending, and the eastern sky was turning pale.

Yan Jing stood by the car, gazing at the dawn, and suddenly remembered that night many years ago, when he’d carried Shi Pengpeng, exhausted from fighting the great ghost, slowly through the mountain paths, through the long night.

In the end, he’d also stood in a dawn like this.

Back then, he hadn’t woken Shi Pengpeng, nor had he listened clearly to the wild beating of his young heart.

“Pengpeng.”

Yan Jing turned to the person beside him. 

“It’s morning.”

Shi Pengpeng looked back at him, her eyes curved in a smile. 

“Mm, it’s morning.”

Yan Jing lowered his head and kissed her lips. 

This time, he heard his heartbeat clearly.

“I love you.”