Chapter 9

However, if I were to summon his soul during the day, it would undoubtedly be to sentence Old Zhou to death. This is because, if the soul had not been lost in this room but had instead wandered outside, how could a weak and fragmented soul possibly navigate through the dense crowds to return to Old Zhou's body?

Forcibly summoning the soul is not impossible; I know several methods, such as the soul-guiding lamp, the soul-calling disc, and the soul-summoning water bowl. However, no matter which method I use, doing so in broad daylight would seem very strange, as strange as running naked down the street.

So, I can't rush, but lying outside is my brother, and how can I not be anxious?

I must calm down. Thinking this, I lit another cigarette. At this moment, my fingers began to feel cold, but this wasn't due to any emotional reaction or a random occurrence. Instead, it was a technique to control my breathing and收敛自己的气息——敛息诀 (conceal my breath and aura) through a method of controlling my breathing.

This is a unique technique from my impressive sect. When my master taught me, I didn't understand what use such a seemingly useless technique could have. Concealing one's aura, presence, and even stopping the flow of yang energy by controlling one's breathing, holding it in the throat, and sinking the other energy to the dantian—wouldn't that make you no different from a living dead person?

I didn't want to learn it, but my master glared at me and shouted, "Don't think you're so great just because you're human. Why do you think you can offend spirits? When you cause irreparable regret, you'll regret not learning this technique from me!"

"What do you mean?" I was 13 years old at the time and didn't understand why offending a spirit would cause irreparable regret. At my level, I couldn't grasp what my master was saying.

But the answer my master gave me was unforgettable for life.

"Rubbish! If a female ghost looked as beautiful as Xian Xian (Wang Zuxian) in 'A Chinese Ghost Story,' would you dare to offend her? Such a beautiful existence is not something you can offend. You might as well go and hit your head against the wall. Got it? Learn it!"

Well, isn't that an unforgettable answer?

But now, as I exhaled a puff of smoke, following the technique of concealing my breath, the shape of the smoke was strange, like bamboo segments being exhaled one by one. I realized I was starting to understand what that old man meant. For example, if my yang energy were to scatter Old Zhou's fragmented soul, it would be a regret I would carry for the rest of my life.

At a higher level, I vaguely understood something, perhaps because my divine and talkative senior brother added a comment: "Sanzi, offending a beautiful ghost is the cause, and the result is that I can't see such a beautiful ghost with my Heavenly Eye. Master, with his primary school level of Chinese and obsession with beauty, is not to be taken seriously. You should listen to me, understand?"

I realized that both of their Chinese skills might not even be at a primary school level, but at this moment, I muttered the words 'cause and effect' under my breath, and a sense of frustration rose in my heart.

This frustration was directed at myself, but it was futile because this matter could not be changed. As a cultivator, my spiritual senses were very average. According to my master, he wasn't saying I was bad, just giving me face.

However, I was a freak. On one hand, my spiritual senses were poor, but on the other hand, my soul power was exceptionally strong, very strong! My master was puzzled by why my soul power was so strong and why my yang body hadn't collapsed. Was I a diamond?

He genuinely believed that such powerful soul power should only belong to a diamond, not the Buddhist or Taoist kind, but a gorilla named Diamond.

But even my impressive master from the impressive sect couldn't figure out why my soul power was so strong by the time I left the mountain. How could my slightly stronger physical body (which I trained on the mountain) withstand such soul power?

I think he was so angry and embarrassed that he kicked me down the mountain.

This anger and embarrassment made him forget my other strength, which was a deep understanding of techniques and quick learning. I could have brought glory to the sect, but he still kicked me down the mountain.

"This old man must have been extremely angry and embarrassed," I thought, feeling a slight pain in my heart. I thought I could spend my whole life on the mountain, even bringing my parents and family to live there. The serene mountain scenery, the rolling clouds, the sunrise and sunset, wouldn't that be a beautiful life?

But this old man kicked me down the mountain.

Such deep thoughts interrupted my previous train of thought. By the time the cigarette was almost burned to the end, I almost forgot that I was frustrated about my poor spiritual senses. Because of my poor spiritual senses, no matter how sharp my various techniques were, I couldn't master many of the skills that Taoist cultivators must learn—such as the Heavenly Eye.

I wasn't completely incapable, but my Heavenly Eye was extremely unstable, like a remote control that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. You never knew when it would work smoothly or when it would fail even if you smashed it.

Not to mention the Heavenly Eye, even my sensitivity to spiritual bodies was worse than that of average cultivators, according to my master. I didn't have a specific understanding of how much worse it was.

Because, apart from my impressive master and my crazy senior brother, I had never met other cultivators or seen their world.

I only knew that when I was bored, I once explored a so-called 'haunted house.' I created a record where a ghost followed me for five minutes, and I only turned around to see its face, which was already on the verge of tears from frustration.

But was it really a record? Wasn't it better than ordinary people? At least ordinary people wouldn't know what the ghost looked like even if they stood there for half an hour, unless they were someone like Old Zhou, with extremely low luck, who might see a memorable face.

By this time, my body had become slightly cold. I finally began to move around the room carefully. I had only dared to stand in the center of the room before because my spiritual senses were poor, and spiritual bodies liked to stand by the walls or in corners. Once a fragmented soul was startled, it would remain motionless, so I had to be very cautious when entering this room.

Based on my level of spiritual senses, if I felt a chill, the room must be much colder. Therefore, the entity that came here must be much stronger. What I couldn't understand was why a human came with such a cold aura, and what was a cat?

But I put these thoughts aside and relied on my movements and senses to carefully feel whether Old Zhou's fragmented soul was in the room.

After 15 minutes, my expression became more serious. Even with my poor spiritual senses, I could feel that there were no other spiritual bodies in the room except for the person who brought the cold aura. Old Zhou's startled soul was not here.

So, was the situation more complicated? I looked out the window, where the fingerprint was particularly noticeable, reminding me that the fierce beast had been so close. I knew this, but I had no leads, and even after racking my brain, I couldn't find a usable technique.

Perhaps, I should go to the scene of the incident?

Of course, the scene of the incident refers to the basement where Old Zhou encountered the ghost wall and saw the mutilated body. The one thing I was certain of was that I had to summon Old Zhou's soul tonight. The problem wasn't that his soul was startled, but that if he was rejected by the soul, what would happen with such a heavy cold aura?

Thinking of this, I stood by the window again. It was around 10:30 in the morning, and the neighborhood was bustling. The elderly were busy 'walking their grandchildren,' but these scenes were irrelevant to me. I found it amusing that Zhang Yang, who was so lazy, had the taste to set up an iron rack on the windowsill and place a few green plants.

Unfortunately, I turned around and took a plastic bag from the living room, and without hesitation, I threw all the green plants into the bag. He had placed cacti on the windowsill, which is a taboo in feng shui, though not a major one, it was still significant.

I wasn't an expert in metaphysics, martial arts, mountains, medicine, divination, or physiognomy, but I knew a bit about feng shui. I didn't think it was very important, but breaking a taboo was unnecessary, and I couldn't just watch my friend suffer.

But what were cacti? Prickly things. I don't know if I moved too fast, but I suddenly got pricked by a cactus, and a drop of blood welled up on my thumb. I stopped my actions.

At this moment, the cacti on the windowsill were not yet all cleared. Zhang Yang, that oddball, had managed to place 7 or 8 cacti on the windowsill.

"Hmm," I frowned slightly.

Then I heard Old Zhou moving in the living room, groaning as if he was waking up. I suddenly remembered the bright blue underwear still in his mouth and felt it was unfair. So, I walked out and saw Old Zhou's confused eyes open again.

I pulled the underwear out of his mouth, and he started shouting "cat" again. I helplessly grabbed something from the sofa to put back in his mouth.

But this time, I was more cautious. I looked at it—rusty red socks. Zhang Yang was indeed a pervert! But at that moment, I really wanted to hit him.

Fortunately, I didn't put the socks in Old Zhou's mouth. If Old Zhou found out that I, Ye Zhengling, had once put a bright blue pair of underwear and then a pair of rusty red socks, both men's and Zhang Yang's, in his mouth, he would chase me to the ends of the earth. At that point, no brotherhood would matter.