Chapter Fifty-Two: Rebirth of the Soul

"Go to hell!"

With wild, sweeping motions, golden arcs of the blade flashed again and again. The shadow soldiers vanished one by one before Song Nianqiang. He needed to move fast now, for the fat man's condition was dire. Blood loss was one thing, but more pressing was the fact that the Fat Man's Pure Heaven Incantation was nearly at its limit. If he kept casting it, he would spend the rest of his life as a mindless fool.

The great golden blade was incredibly powerful, though it too would run out of energy. When Song Nianqiang cut down the last shadow soldier, the golden blade disappeared, and his soul became so faint it could vanish at any moment. Now, not only the Fat Man but Song Nianqiang himself could die at any time.

Yet a bigger problem remained: though the lackeys were dead, the Centurion still stood. Judging by his build, he would be no easy foe. Perhaps when Song Nianqiang first left his body, he might have stood a chance, but now he was no match at all.

The Centurion glanced coldly at Song Nianqiang, said nothing, and strode forward, swinging a heavy fist toward Song Nianqiang’s head. The punch was accurate but slow, and Song Nianqiang dodged by tilting his head to the side.

With a "thump," Song Nianqiang seized the opening, gathering all his soul force and punching the Centurion square in the chest. The result was disappointing: Song Nianqiang was sent flying, landing beside the Fat Man. Without time to check on his companion, he scrambled up and charged the Centurion again.

A soul feels no pain—wounds merely make it fainter—so Song Nianqiang could rise instantly. But after that last blow, his already insubstantial soul grew even paler.

"I’ll drag you to hell with me!" Gritting his teeth, he lunged again, this time his hand enveloped in a golden light. Song Nianqiang was ready to risk everything. At his current strength, using soul arts would only hasten his soul's dissipation. If he vanished before returning to his body, he’d become a vegetable—never to recover.

He leaped high and crashed down toward the Centurion. The Centurion, noticing the faint golden glow around Song Nianqiang’s hand, drew his longsword with a sharp hiss and thrust it at Song Nianqiang midair. But Song Nianqiang twisted away, and the blade, grazing his rib, pierced his arm instead.

That arm was as good as lost, but since he was in soul form, he could recover as long as he restored his soul force. One arm useless, but the other remained.

He shifted his fist into an open palm and struck the Centurion’s forehead. The Centurion grunted, stumbling back several steps and abandoning his sword. Song Nianqiang yanked the blade out of his arm without a care—pain was meaningless to him now.

He gave the sword a few test swings. It was a fine soul weapon. Gripping the Centurion’s greatsword, Song Nianqiang charged. The Centurion, infuriated by the blow, clenched his fists and stood his ground, eyes locked on his opponent.

"Yah!"

Song Nianqiang swung the longsword at the Centurion’s neck. The Centurion seemed to have resigned himself, for he sensed something stirring below the ground. If he didn’t kill Song Nianqiang soon, whatever lurked beneath might emerge, trapping not only Song Nianqiang and his companion, but himself as well.

He freed one hand to grab the blade, while the other smashed toward Song Nianqiang’s head. There was no time for tricks, and Song Nianqiang would not simply accept defeat. He twisted in midair, swinging his ruined arm at the Centurion’s massive hand.

With a sickening rip, Song Nianqiang chopped off one of the Centurion’s arms, while the Centurion tore off Song Nianqiang’s as well. Song Nianqiang did not react; his only thought was how to kill the Centurion in a single blow—his own soul was of no concern.

As long as his soul endured, he could return to his body and recover in a week. But the Centurion, an undead, would be gone for good if destroyed. That was why Song Nianqiang fought so desperately.

The Centurion's advantage was gone; now they were evenly matched. Rain hammered down, thunder roared as if signaling the emergence of some monstrous evil. Song Nianqiang glanced at the Fat Man, who lay unconscious, face ashen, brow furrowed, all signs of his usual roguish cheer vanished.

Blood still poured from the Fat Man, mixing with the rain and seeping into the earth. The muddy ground, once yellow-brown, had turned pitch black, like ink. In this weather, Song Nianqiang failed to notice the change, and in soul form, even if he saw it, there was nothing he could do.

But the Centurion knew exactly what was buried below. They were here to suppress that thing. Who could have guessed that a fight with Song Nianqiang would erupt, and that this graveyard had been cursed—allowing the creature below to use that curse to break free.

The Centurion was more desperate than anyone. If the creature emerged, death was certain. He had to kill Song Nianqiang and remove the curse, preventing the thing from escaping.

"Thunder Fist!"

Suddenly, the Centurion lunged, landing a punch to Song Nianqiang’s chest. Song Nianqiang caught his fist, but had misjudged. The Thunder Fist was a two-stage attack: even if the first blow was blocked, the second would break through. Song Nianqiang, with only one arm, could not stop the second strike. With a muffled thud, he was hurled aside, landing next to his own body.

After that blow, Song Nianqiang no longer had the strength to rise. He watched as the Fat Man’s life ebbed away. Was he really going to lose his best friend before his eyes?

"No! Absolutely not! I must save him—I can’t just give up!" he screamed in his heart, but his soul force was spent, and he could not stand. As his soul began to drift back toward his body, a sharp pain stabbed through his mind. Suddenly, he shouted, "Soul Rebirth!"

A crimson light burst from his eyes as his soul, about to return to his body, was forced out again, becoming clearer, stronger—a soul force even greater than when he first left his body erupted from within.

"Impossible!"

The Centurion cried out in astonishment. Song Nianqiang himself was bewildered—he had never learned Soul Rebirth, so how had he cast it at such a crucial moment?

Soul Rebirth—the signature technique of the previous generation’s master exorcist. In his hands, the move was legendary; as long as he refused to return to his body, his soul force would never fade. With this, he became a master among ghost hunters. As for why Song Nianqiang could use it—well, the only others who knew the move had another identity: Song Nianqiang’s father.

Perhaps, for reasons unknown, Song Nianqiang had inherited and unleashed his father’s legendary technique. Of course, he was wholly unaware of this himself.