Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter Fifty: Lightning in Human Form

Ye Mingke was sent flying by Fei’s strike, his body carving a deep furrow in the earth as blood gushed wildly from his mouth.

“Ying Kui, are you insane?” Li Guifan blocked Ying Kui’s path, preventing him from making another move, and shouted at him in anger.

Ying Kui retrieved his circling sword, his sinister face feigning a half-hearted apology. “Senior Brother, this isn’t my fault. I didn’t attack the boy; he ran into it himself. I couldn’t have expected it. How was I to know he’d be so desperate, or react so quickly?”

“And besides, that fellow got our junior brother killed. We can’t just let that go, can we?”

He withdrew his sword, his gaze still cold as he looked toward Ye Mingke. “You’d better check if the brat’s dead or not.”

“Control your madness. If you don’t care for your life, don’t make a joke of your brothers’ lives. I’ll deal with you later,” Li Guifan said coldly, then strode quickly toward Ye Mingke.

“You’re still alive after all that, as a mere mortal?”

Ye Mingke lay in the shallow pit his own body had gouged into the ground, blood still bubbling from his lips. His empty eyes looked upward to see only a lovely face peering down at him with curiosity.

His body burned—every inch and every organ seared with excruciating pain. Yet the world felt cold, and those beautiful, curious eyes gazing at him were frigid.

It was like a child observing an ant struggling in a puddle: innocent, indifferent, and cruel.

Why was it always that look?

How he loathed that gaze.

His consciousness blurred; even the burning pain began to fade, leaving only coldness.

How he hated this icy world.

The cold, repulsive malice that constantly lingered around him suffocated him, making him unbearably weary.

Song Mingyu reached out and pulled him from the shallow pit. Through his fading senses, he saw shadows flicker and heard a growing clamor of voices.

“Huh, there’s not even a sword wound on him? Only his organs shattered.”

It was the voice of the girl who’d looked down at him.

“His sword case must have taken the blow. Otherwise, with Old Ying’s reckless sword energy, there wouldn’t be a body left—just two pieces.”

“And this sword case isn’t even damaged. How intriguing.”

This was Sword Nine’s voice.

Indeed, at the last moment before the sword energy struck, Ye Mingke had curled up, taking the blow on the sword case strapped to his back.

When Ye Mingke leapt out, he knew he would not die; his unique constitution let him heal simply by eating. As long as he wasn’t killed outright, he would survive.

“Mingqing, the elixirs—give him the best ones.”

“Wake him quickly. That ghost could appear at any moment. We need him.”

It was the cultivator Li Guifan, now beside him.

Soon, a cool, fragrant liquid was poured into his mouth. He felt it transform into a strange warmth that coursed through his body.

“It seems his injuries aren’t as severe as expected. This man’s constitution is peculiar.”

“Strange, not a drop of the elixir overflowing.”

“Wait a second—he’s got seven hundred and twenty meridian points, and not a single one is open. I’ve never seen such a thoroughly useless constitution.”

“A completely blocked body? How bizarre. Though for mortals, whether their meridians are blocked or open a few dozen points, it makes no difference; they’re unable to cultivate either way—just useless trash.”

“Haha, at least it makes the elixir easier to absorb.”

After taking the elixir, Ye Mingke felt his injuries rapidly improving, his fading consciousness gradually sharpening. The voices around him grew clearer.

Before long, he slowly opened his eyes.

“Well, kid, you’re lucky,” said a white-robed cultivator whose features resembled that of the female cultivator, noticing Ye Mingke’s awakening and speaking with a smile.

“It’s your luck, not mine,” Ye Mingke replied coolly, immediately silencing the cultivator.

Ye Mingke turned his head and looked coldly at Ying Kui, who stood at a distance behind the crowd.

“Now, have I proven my resolve?”

Ying Kui sneered, about to retort, but Li Guifan waved a hand to silence him.

Li Guifan turned back to Ye Mingke, his face still gentle and friendly. “Young man, we’ve put the matter of our junior brother to rest. After all, that ghost was following us, so we bear responsibility too. We’re not unreasonable people.”

“As long as you promise to do your utmost against that ghost, I promise, on behalf of us all, that from now on none of our people will harm yours. Is that acceptable?”

A faint, mocking smile appeared on Ye Mingke’s face.

How very... reasonable of them.

“Fine. But you must understand: my resolve and my warning remain unchanged.”

Ye Mingke’s icy gaze swept over them all.

He meant that he would still stake his life to protect those he wished to shield.

Seeing that none of the white-robed cultivators objected—though their faces remained cold—they tacitly agreed to his terms. The tension in his heart eased a little, only to tighten again.

This was not the nameless town, watched over by Uncle and Aunt Long and countless unseen protectors. Here, he was surrounded only by cultivators who saw mortals as no more than grass, and by lurking evil spirits.

And he was alone.

He glanced at the men who still hung back behind the cultivators, afraid to approach. His eyes darkened for a moment but grew resolute and bright once more.

“Now, tell me what’s going on,” he said, drawing a breath and feeling much recovered. Sitting upright on the ground, he addressed the five cultivators before him.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” asked the cultivator who looked much like Song Mingyu, scratching his head.

“The ghost, of course. Or are you so confident that if I can spot it in advance, you’ll be able to kill it?” Ye Mingke asked coldly.

“How can I help you survive if I don’t understand this ghost?”

“Mingqing, step back—I’ll explain,” Li Guifan said to Song Mingqing, the cultivator Ye Mingke had just rebuffed.

Song Mingqing rolled his eyes and stepped back. This man looked frail and delicate, but his words were so sharp and abrasive—no wonder Ying Kui wanted to cut him down.

“We’ve encountered the ghost a few times, but we know very little about it,” Li Guifan began. Not wanting Ye Mingke to strain his neck looking up, and sensing the explanation would be lengthy, he sat cross-legged on the ground, meeting Ye Mingke’s eyes and collecting his thoughts.

“We don’t even know what it truly is. We call it a ghost simply because its movements so closely resemble the mysterious, sinister spirits of mortal legends.”

“If it were truly a ghost, it would be easier. Mortals fear ghosts; we cultivators do not. Ordinary spirits pose little threat to us, unless they’re powerful ghost cultivators.”

“That thing appeared before us three days ago.”

“Our first encounter, it behaved like an ordinary ghost—vanishing and reappearing, attempting possession. But our junior brother resisted, and the ghost revealed its true form—a visible shape, like a figure of lightning, humanoid but faceless.”

Here, Li Guifan paused. Those listening for the first time, both the men and Ye Mingke, couldn’t help but imagine a living bolt of lightning in human shape, faceless and uncanny.

“It attacked us with thunder and fire, but such attacks could not harm us. We destroyed it easily. Yet…”

At this point, both Song Mingqing and Song Mingyu’s faces showed a flash of fear, clearly recalling something dreadful.

“That night, the ghost returned. Again, it failed to possess anyone and became that lightning figure, exactly the same. We cultivators sense things not just with our eyes, but by their aura. Other than being slightly stronger, its presence was unchanged—it had come back to life.”

“But even then, it posed little danger. Out of curiosity, we destroyed it again.”

“The real horror began with its third appearance.”

By now, dusk had fallen, and Li Guifan’s face was shrouded in the growing twilight.

“The third time, at first, the ghost had grown a bit cleverer and much stronger.”

“We happened to be attacked by a fierce beast, which was more dangerous than the ghost at that time. So we didn’t focus much on the ghost. After several failed attempts to defeat us, the ghost fled, and we didn’t pursue it.”

“The terror began yesterday afternoon. The ghost returned, and this time it succeeded in possessing someone—my junior sister. It took her body, and its power increased beyond anything we’d imagined.”

“That time, the ghost slaughtered several of our brothers and sisters before our eyes. It used all kinds of methods—rending flesh with its hands, striking with lightning, burning with fire—but it didn’t attempt possession again.”

“The ghost’s killing was unspeakably brutal and bloody. We were caught off-guard and hardly able to resist.”

Now night had fallen completely; Li Guifan’s voice echoed in the darkness. His tone was steady, and his account of the killings was brief—he spoke only of the methods, not the details.

Yet as darkness pressed in and the ghost might appear at any moment, the mortals and cultivators huddled close together.

Fear gripped everyone; before their eyes they could almost see a shadowy forest, a once-familiar woman transformed into a lightning-wreathed fiend, stalking through the woods, tearing, burning, and electrocuting her companions one by one.

It was a living nightmare—a human world turned into a ghost’s lair.