Chapter 3

The golden rooster, as he wished, surged forward with a burst of strength, "Rip," its wings tore apart.

The golden rooster, struggling forward, felt no pain, flapping askew, avoiding the monster's other head's bite.

Zhang Kedao's heart was in his throat. If he had a heart at this moment, he would have forgotten to recite the scriptures to encourage the brave golden rooster due to the intense tension.

It was too thrilling, far more so than the time he almost wet his pants during his first night in the old graveyard in the mountain village to build up his courage as a teenager.

"Who are you?"

Suddenly, the voice of the soul caller came from within the incomplete golden rooster's body.

It sounded distant, as if coming from across a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers, very strange.

But it was a man's voice, not old.

The other party finally sensed something was wrong and issued a challenge.

In his soul state, Zhang Kedao couldn't speak, and even if he could, he wouldn't dare to respond. A Daoist master who could cast spells in the human world to summon souls from the netherworld was not to be provoked. He was now focused on escaping back to the world of the living, leaving any troubles for later.

At this moment, the golden rooster plunged into a thick, substantial darkness and sprinted forward again. Each step produced a hollow "tap" sound, the echo reverberating, and the golden light quickly faded.

Zhang Kedao, lying on the rooster's back, wished he could shrink even smaller and hide in the gaps between the feathers.

He felt they passed several slightly lit forks in the path, his heart pounding, hoping to break through as soon as possible. He had no curiosity or leisure to explore the appearance of the ghost gate, feeling like a blind man in the dark.

After an unknown amount of time, perhaps just a moment, Zhang Kedao suddenly felt a lightness on his body.

Although the field of view was still dark, he could see the twinkling stars in the night sky, so lovely.

"We made it out, hah, finally escaped!"

Zhang Kedao was almost moved to tears, the eerie discomfort around him completely gone.

The same darkness felt different, warm.

This was the vitality of the human world.

It felt like a different era, being alive was truly wonderful!

The large rooster beneath him, having lost its last faint golden light, flapped and rapidly shrank, transforming into a tattered, flying yellow paper that drifted down to the dark mountain top.

Zhang Kedao, following the wind and air currents, waved his blurry arms, bidding farewell to the yellow paper that had helped him escape.

He was so happy at this moment, let him enjoy it for a while.

He would consider where his soul was and how to find his way back later.

Escaping from the netherworld was a great stroke of luck, a blessing from his ancestors and the Daoist patriarch.

Many coincidences had saved his life.

Suddenly, a blurry hand appeared in the air, glowing faintly in the night, as large as a windmill. The tattered yellow paper, about to fall to the mountain top, floated up into the palm, accompanied by strange, incomprehensible sounds that made the air ripple like water.

This bizarre turn of events startled Zhang Kedao, who was already several meters away.

Was it the creature from the netherworld chasing after him?

He quickly realized it was the Daoist master who had cast the spell to summon the soul!

Such profound and mysterious skills were unheard of, far more spectacular and mysterious than the cheap special effects in TV shows.

Zhang Kedao, scared, forgot he was in a soul state, not daring to breathe or move, fearing he would draw the other party's attention. He had used some unknown means to control the golden rooster and escape from the netherworld, and if the other party blamed him for ruining the soul summoning, he would have no way to defend himself.

He wanted to stay far away from such a life-threatening trouble, not even thanking the other party, for great kindness needs no thanks.

A strong wind like a wave swept away the light soul.

The blurry hand roamed for a while, found no clues, and finally disappeared in boredom.

Zhang Kedao, carried by the wind, only dared to move after a long time, sensing the danger had passed. He easily escaped from the wind and landed in a dark area with faint lights, which seemed to be a town.

As he got closer, Zhang Kedao laughed wryly. The buildings here were very retro.

Narrow stone streets, white walls, black tiles, overhanging eaves, and carved beams and painted rafters, the tallest being a two-story wooden building. There were also several coarse cloth banners used by ancient inns and taverns to attract customers, swaying in the light of the lanterns, with dragon and phoenix characters he couldn't recognize.

Was this some poorly researched imitation film set?

Zhang Kedao, floating to the middle of the street, level with the shop signs, examined them closely.

The square characters on the signs, as well as those on the opposite and neighboring shops, were clearly written with a brush and then carved and painted. Each stroke seemed to follow certain rules, but he couldn't recognize a single character.

What kind of modified Chinese characters were these?

A black dog suddenly emerged from a dog hole in a nearby yard, barking wildly at the sky, its tail between its legs.

In an instant, as if receiving a signal, countless dogs in the small town barked fiercely.

They were telling the sleeping people that something unclean had invaded the town.

Zhang Kedao instinctively moved to the darkness, feeling something was amiss, reminding him of the strange language accompanying the shadow of the hand earlier. He seemed to have arrived in a place similar to ancient China but not part of the Chinese civilization.

Strangely, he could understand the soul caller's words in the netherworld, but why did it change when he came out?

How could he find his body and return to the world of the living?

Even if there was some secret connection between his soul and body, it wouldn't work since they were in different dimensions.

Time didn't wait for him. Before the sun rose, he needed to find a place for his soul to rest, or it would be a big problem. According to the obscure knowledge he had learned as an amateur Daoist, if he couldn't return to his body within three days, he would become a wandering ghost.

Moreover, each day he delayed returning would cause great harm to his soul and body.

As he retreated, a few muffled and dissatisfied shouts came from the town, and the barking gradually subsided.

Zhang Kedao couldn't understand the shouts, and based on his experience from his university days and years of running "the江湖" (the underworld), they weren't one of the difficult dialects from southern China.

The sound of a gong echoed, "Dong—dong, dong, dong!"

It was four strikes, one slow and three fast, accompanied by a long, incomprehensible cry.

Zhang Kedao carefully counted the repeated gong strikes three times and sighed silently. The customs here were similar to ancient China, so it was already the fourth watch, around 2:30 AM, and he had little time left.

Anxious, Zhang Kedao silently recited the "Qingxin Jue" three times before calming down to think of a plan.

After a moment, Zhang Kedao, not giving up, decided to search further in the town.

This was a matter of life and death, no room for carelessness.

...