Chapter Nineteen: Breaking the Formation

"No problem! Watch me!" He pulled out a talisman and waved it in front of the skull, then confidently pressed it to the forehead. Instantly, a scorching aura radiated from the skull, spreading outward.

"Bang!" Three seconds later, the skull suddenly ignited with a blue flame. The big fellow immediately jumped back, watching from afar as the face of the skull twisted in agony. It seemed to be suffering greatly, but soon all that remained was a pile of ashes.

Now it was Song Nianqiang's turn. Taking a talisman from the big fellow, he murmured an incantation, then wrapped a small pinch of the skull's ashes inside the talisman paper.

"You can keep the rest," he said to the middle-aged man after finishing, then headed down the mountain. The fact that his grandfather's soul had mysteriously left the Eight Ghosts Wealth Gathering Array was highly unusual. Normally, if the array had only one primary soul, it would be perfectly stable and such a phenomenon would never occur.

Song Nianqiang wanted the grandfather's skull ashes precisely to summon his soul back, giving him a brief time to explain the whole matter. Truth be told, Song Nianqiang was still puzzled as to why his grandfather had left the array.

Once back at the villa, Song Nianqiang began preparations. Unlike what movies suggest, he only needed a willow twig and a handful of glutinous rice. He arranged the willow branch accordingly, then scattered the ashes atop the rice. All he needed was to wait until a little past one in the morning to summon his grandfather's soul—a ritual known as "inviting the spirit."

Within the villa, Song Nianqiang and his companion enjoyed complete freedom. The big fellow sighed, wishing he could someday own such a residence—a private swimming pool, parking lot, golf course, and so many private amenities.

"Stop dreaming. If you're willing, we'll have a day like this sooner or later, though who knows when it'll come." Song Nianqiang felt their current life was comfortable enough; the future was uncertain, but they would just follow the path as it developed.

After exploring every corner of the villa, they napped after lunch. The biggest drawback of their profession was the irregular sleep schedule—they had to adjust their rest according to their own plans.

At half past midnight, someone came to wake Song Nianqiang, telling him the time was near. He got out of bed, drank some water, washed his face to refresh himself, and went to the place where everything was prepared. "You need to personally ignite your grandfather's ashes," he said.

When it was just past one, Song Nianqiang spoke to the middle-aged man, who frowned in confusion, unsure what Song Nianqiang meant—how could glutinous rice be ignited? But soon he understood. The big fellow handed him a talisman and explained, "Just hold the talisman above the rice."

The middle-aged man followed instructions, and indeed, a faint flame rose from the bowl of glutinous rice holding his grandfather's ashes. Then a blurry human figure emerged from the gentle fire.

"Grandfather!" The middle-aged man immediately knelt, banging his head against the floor five or six times. In the ancestral home hung portraits of every family member, and the faint figure, seeing the kneeling man, seemed to approve.

"Little Qi!" The voice was unclear, but discernible. "The Eight Ghosts Wealth Gathering Array your grandfather designed had a sixty-year trial period. Now that sixty years have passed, it's time for me to reincarnate. As for the incomplete array, with your current wealth, you can easily find someone to dismantle it. Relying on dark arts to amass fortune is never a lasting method. From now on, you must earn every penny by your own strength—that's what I hope to see."

Perhaps the rice was insufficient, perhaps the grandfather's soul energy was lacking, but after these words, he vanished, and the rice in the bowl was reduced entirely to ash.

"What happens next is up to you, but let me advise you: it's best to live with your feet firmly on the ground." With that, Song Nianqiang stood silently beside the middle-aged man, waiting for his response.

"Take it down!" The middle-aged man suddenly raised his head and declared to Song Nianqiang, as if making a momentous decision. "I've been waiting for you to say that!" Song Nianqiang admired him—true strength lies in knowing when to let go.

"We must be there at noon to begin dismantling the array," Song Nianqiang reminded him, worried he might miss the appointed hour. Even a slight delay could cause tremendous loss.

Just as Song Nianqiang was preparing to rest for the day, he received a call from a woman. Her daughter-in-law had given birth and was now in the hospital. Song Nianqiang was momentarily at a loss—he still had to dismantle the Eight Ghosts Wealth Gathering Array, a technical task that required careful practice. A single mistake could have irreparable consequences.

But saving lives could not be ignored. So Song Nianqiang told the family, "Stay at the hospital and try to gather several strong young men in the ward to boost the yang energy. Before we arrive, make sure the mother and child do not leave the room."

Whatever they did from there was no longer Song Nianqiang's concern; he had already fulfilled his duty. If they ignored his advice and tragedy struck, it wouldn't be his responsibility.

After finishing the call, Song Nianqiang shut himself in his room to research the Eight Ghosts Wealth Gathering Array. Though only a model, it was designed exactly like the original.

He stayed locked up for four hours, and only when he felt he had mastered everything about the array did he finally relax.

The next morning at eight, they set out from the villa, driving to the middle-aged man's old house. Upon entering the room where the array was located, Song Nianqiang sent everyone out, leaving only the big fellow to assist.

When the clock struck twelve, Song Nianqiang began dismantling the array. He had only twelve seconds—if he didn't finish before the chime ended, the consequences would be dire. Not only would the middle-aged man suffer enormous loss, but Song Nianqiang himself could be harmed by the spirits within, and might even lose his life.

But thanks to his practiced rehearsal the previous day, Song Nianqiang finished in just eight seconds. All the resentful spirits flew westward, unafraid of the blazing sun, for the King of Hell was calling them.

"Done," he said, opening the door with a cheerful smile at the middle-aged man, striding out. The courtyard was now free of coldness, replaced by a stifling heat that spread quickly, trapped beneath the shade of the trees.

"Thank you both. Thirty thousand yuan has already been transferred to your account," said the middle-aged man, shaking hands with Song Nianqiang before they walked out shoulder-to-shoulder.

"One more thing—could your driver take us to the county hospital?" Song Nianqiang asked before getting in the car.

"Haha, no problem," the middle-aged man replied, in excellent spirits after solving his major problem.

When Song Nianqiang arrived at the hospital room where the woman's daughter-in-law was, the scene surprised him. "Well done, you really went all out!" Not only was the ward packed with young men, but even the corridor was crowded. The nurses were nervous when entering, fearing the family might be gangsters.

"Make way! Please make way!" Finally squeezing into the room, Song Nianqiang was relieved to see mother and child safe. "Good, now those who aren't needed can leave—you can rest assured now that we've arrived," he whispered to the woman's husband.

"Yes, I'll have them leave right away," he replied, then went to speak with his son. After a brief conversation, his son nodded and left the room, so that only Song Nianqiang, his companion, and the family remained.