Chapter 53: The Humanoid Monster (First Update of the Fifth Watch)

“Bang!” With a single punch, the centurion was sent flying. Had he not been a soul, that blow would have shattered his body completely.

“Excellent! The Soul Lord’s soul rebirth technique has reappeared in you after all these years. Very good!” The centurion staggered to his feet, a strange light gleaming in his eyes. He pointed at Song Nianqiang and let out three loud laughs, then did something that left Song Nianqiang utterly astonished—he knelt down and bowed three times in reverence.

Long ago, the souls of the underworld had sworn an oath: whenever they encountered someone capable of soul rebirth, they would pay their respects in the name of the Soul Lord. That was why the centurion bowed before Song Nianqiang. As for the Soul Lord himself, this was the first time Song Nianqiang had even heard of him. His time in the ghost-hunting trade was short, and he knew little of such matters.

After finishing his bows, the centurion rose, a look of venomous hatred flashing in his eyes. He glared at Song Nianqiang and hissed, “Let me tell you something—I was a Taoist priest in life, skilled in the Maoshan arts!” As he spoke, flames suddenly flickered in his eyes. With a thunderous shout, he cried, “Soulfire!”

A pale violet flame burst forth from the centurion, and his soul power surged. The hands that Song Nianqiang had chopped off regrew in an instant. “Even if I die today, I’ll drag you to the grave with me!” he roared, hurling himself at Song Nianqiang, wreathed in soulfire.

Though Song Nianqiang’s soul power had grown tremendously thanks to soul rebirth, he still shrank from the soul-burning flames. Daring not to face the centurion head-on, he retreated swiftly, only stopping when he reached his own body.

Fatty’s face was deathly pale from blood loss. If his bleeding wasn’t stopped soon, his life would be forfeit. Gritting his teeth, Song Nianqiang threw a desperate punch, determined to end the fight as quickly as possible—for his sworn brother’s life was hanging by a thread.

“Hmph!” The centurion snorted at Song Nianqiang’s attack. The soulfire he wielded drew its strength from burning his own soul, boosting his power at the cost of self-harm. Desperation forced him to conclude the battle quickly—not only could he not withstand the soulfire’s toll for long, but something even more fearsome was about to emerge below.

He blocked Song Nianqiang’s punch with a sweeping blow, then unleashed his cannon hammer technique once more. Though Song Nianqiang had undergone soul rebirth, his arm had not yet grown back, leaving him unable to withstand the centurion’s assault. He was sent flying again with bone-jarring force.

“Damn it!”

Panic gripped Song Nianqiang. The rising water was nearly at his lips now. Fatty needed immediate aid, and if things dragged on, Song Nianqiang himself would drown.

“Let’s see who dies first!” The soul-golden blade appeared in Song Nianqiang’s hand as he charged the centurion. The centurion, also prepared for a final stand, swung his fist with all his might. Song Nianqiang did not dodge, instead hurtling straight at the oncoming blow.

It was a test of pure strength. Neither man defended, each letting the other’s attack land. The centurion’s punch was swifter than Song Nianqiang’s blade, striking first and sending him flying. Without pause, the centurion closed in, wrapping his arms around Song Nianqiang’s neck from behind, intent on strangling him.

But the centurion had miscalculated. Song Nianqiang drove his soul-golden blade into his own abdomen, skewering both himself and the centurion behind him, as if stringing candied hawthorn. The blade flared with golden light, and the centurion’s expression changed drastically. He recoiled from Song Nianqiang, stumbling backward in disbelief.

“You’re his son! You’re actually his son!”

Stunned beyond measure, the centurion’s eyes bulged wide. But after uttering those words, he vanished completely. Golden light burst from within, purifying him in an instant.

With the centurion gone, Song Nianqiang’s soul snapped back to his body. He gasped for air and woke up, then hurried to Fatty’s side. Tearing off his own clothing, he bound Fatty’s wound tightly, then carried him beneath a banana tree. With the ghostly soldiers gone, Song Nianqiang figured this mass grave was now free of spirits.

After settling Fatty, the aftereffects of repeated soul-separation hit Song Nianqiang hard. Waves of exhaustion washed over him. If not for the driving rain, he would have fallen asleep on the spot. Give him a bed now, and he’d be out within seconds.

Thunder rolled incessantly across the sky, jolting Song Nianqiang wide awake. The rain had eased, but the thunder grew ever more violent, converging above them. Lightning cracked down at intervals. Witnessing such a spectacle, Song Nianqiang knew a monstrous evil was about to appear.

Only then did he glance down and realize, too late, that the floodwaters were pitch black. Alarmed, he scooped up Fatty and prepared to flee the mass grave. But it was futile—a figure now stood directly in his path.

The newcomer looked human, save for skin as pale as a Westerner’s. Night had fallen, and rain still drizzled, so Song Nianqiang couldn’t make out his eyes. But they were just like those of the corpse Song Nianqiang had dealt with earlier that day. Fangs protruded from his mouth, gleaming in the lightning. As he stood motionless, black markings began to creep across his skin, like some ancient, enigmatic painting.

His fingers were unusually slender yet beautiful. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the humanoid creature, but he simply raised his delicate hands, channeling the current through his body and out his feet in a flash. Song Nianqiang could see the faint blue electricity flowing through the ripples in the water.

“Who are you?” Song Nianqiang summoned his courage. He understood now: where ghost soldiers and even a centurion appeared, a peerless evil must be buried here. In the underworld, a centurion was an extremely high rank—far above a provincial governor among the living.

The creature glanced at Song Nianqiang with indifference, then began to approach step by step. With no other options, Song Nianqiang once again forced his soul from his body. His Maoshan skills were far from sufficient—the creature wasn’t even afraid of heavenly lightning, let alone anything Song Nianqiang could summon.

His body collapsed to the ground as his soul charged the monster, the soul-golden blade materializing in his grip. Two consecutive soul separations had left Song Nianqiang’s spirit weak. If he survived and returned to his body, he’d probably sleep for a week.

With a furious roar, Song Nianqiang gathered all his remaining soul force for a single, all-or-nothing strike. Against such a monster, if you failed to kill it in one blow, you’d never have another chance. The soul-golden blade blazed with light—any ordinary ghost would be annihilated. But his foe was no ordinary specter; even hell itself had failed to subdue this humanoid creature.

The blade slashed down, golden light erupting across the monster’s body—yet it seemed unfazed and unhurt.

It continued its advance. Song Nianqiang pressed his blade against the creature, desperately trying to hold it back, but his strength was pitifully inadequate. Perhaps angered, the monster waved its hand, instantly weakening Song Nianqiang’s soul and forcing it back into his body.

The creature approached, seized Song Nianqiang by the throat, and lifted him off the ground. But at that moment, the amulet around Song Nianqiang’s neck burst with blood-red light, which shot directly into the monster’s head. The creature screamed in agony, a harrowing wail escaping its lips: “Ghost—”