novel-bin Chapter 254 It's my turn to take you down.
Chapter 254 It's my turn to take you down.
Chapter 254 It's my turn to take you down (4200)
Before the fierce roar of the altar spirit had even faded, the paper banners on both sides of the stone path were pulled inward as if by an invisible gust of wind.
Those pale-faced paper figures that were originally half-dead under the pressure of the salt circle, the residual thunder, and the sealing disc suddenly began to twitch.
The dark spots in his eye sockets suddenly shrank, like a living thing waking up from a cardboard box.
Lu Yuan stood at the center of the situation, the Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan pressed diagonally under his palm, the sixth star on the spine of the sword already shining like an ice bead.
But he didn't relax at all; instead, the moment the fierce aura swept back, his pupils suddenly darkened.
He smelled something was wrong.
It wasn't a chilling wind, nor the smell of corpses, nor the odor of paper ash.
It tastes like "Huan Tan".
The older generation in the region often says that if you force an evil creature into a corner and kill it, you may not be able to finish it off with one blow.
If its root is not severed, it will shed its dirtiest, most sinister, and most human-like skin and move elsewhere to continue its evil deeds.
In folk parlance it's called "borrowing skin to exchange for altar," while in Taoism it's even more strictly called "borrowing evil spirits to transfer life."
The spirit of the altar is doing just that.
It wasn't about to immediately retaliate against Lu Yuan, but rather using that roar to unleash its remaining strength—the straw roots, the lamplight, the paper face—
All the old scraps of paper were pressed under the old jar.
They are preparing to change to a new "sitting altar" location in the shortest possible time.
If you change it, the previous broken altar formation will become mostly ineffective.
Lu Yuan's eyes turned cold.
"Want to trade your life?"
Did you ask me?
He suddenly raised his sword with his right hand, the blade half an inch off the ground, but instead of chasing forward, he shifted his heels and took three steps back with perfect accuracy.
Those three steps were not a retreat, but a "sealing back".
Tighten the salt lines that had been disturbed by the spirits of the altar, and press the small circle inwards another layer.
Lin Zhaoxuan was shocked and whispered, "He's closing the gap—he's trying to block the way for changing the altar to worship the spirit."
Song Qinghe's face was as pale as paper, the sealing disc was covered with cracks, and the disc was almost falling into pieces.
But she still forced herself to stay upright, pressing her body to her chest, and said in a hoarse voice, "I can still hold on a little longer in the north-left position."
"Lu Yuan, how do you want me to cooperate?"
Lu Yuan didn't turn around, but said in a deep voice, "You just guard the north and make sure the lamplight doesn't fall to the ground."
"Zhou Heng, go and break those two paper banner ribs."
"Lin Zhaoxuan, press the remaining thunder down to the foot of the altar, don't let it explode anymore, turn it into a nail."
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"Cheng'an, Erxiao, don't scatter the salt too far. Follow this white line under my feet and fill it back up."
The group immediately took action.
Zhou Heng gritted his teeth, his short knife whizzing past the stone wall, stabbing twice and creating a crack in the banner frame that had been hidden by the paper.
The banner loosened, and the paper face emitted an extremely piercing scream, as if its mouth had been forcibly torn open.
Lin Zhaoxuan then inserted the Thunder Token upside down into the ground, forcefully suppressing the thunderous intent that should have exploded outwards into a deep, internal force.
The bluish-white electric wires drilled down along the crack in the ground, like tiny nails, silently biting into the depths of the base of the jar.
This was exactly the "nailing the altar" tactic that Lu Yuan wanted.
It's not about using lightning to blast it, but about letting the lightning follow the soil's contours and the yin energy, nailing the base of the altar inch by inch.
This is the most mentally and physically demanding method, but once it is fixed in place, it is very difficult for the spirit of the altar to be moved to another location.
The altar spirit seemed to realize that its escape route was being blocked little by little, and the black aura suddenly surged up.
The shadows on its body, like overturned mats, seemed to stretch outwards from all directions, attempting to reconnect with the old altar and the old mat.
Lu Yuan turned his gaze and immediately saw the old mat nail that was originally half-buried in the black soil at the end of the stone path.
It was a rusty copper nail, with a blackened head, a crooked body, and brittle scraps of gray paper stuck around it.
Previously, no one had noticed, but now that the altar spirit had moved, it was faintly glowing, as if it were being dragged upwards by something below.
"Shock!"
Lu Yuan's eyes suddenly turned cold.
"Its core is still connected to that thing!"
It wasn't until this moment that he truly understood.
The spirit that appeared to be baring its fangs and brandishing its claws at the altar was actually just the outer altar.
The true "heart of the altar," the most sinister, poisonous, and difficult-to-sever root, was actually hidden in this old mat nail all along.
As long as the mat nails don't break, it can use this bit of negative energy to continue collecting the mats, changing positions, and moving the altar.
Everyone was startled upon hearing this.
Wang Cheng'an's face turned pale: "That...that thing was buried so deep, how could we cut it?"
Lu Yuan did not answer, but slowly raised the Seven Star Sword that guarded the pass, its tip pointing diagonally towards the sky.
In that instant, his entire demeanor suddenly changed.
If he had been using "pressure" to force the altar spirits to submit, then now, an almost chilling stillness emanated from him.
That stillness was neither a retreat nor a slowing down, but rather like the deepest stretch of glacier in the cold night beyond the Great Wall.
On the surface, there is no ripple, but underneath, the path of all things has already been blocked.
He stared at the mat nail and muttered a very short incantation in a low voice, each word like iron striking wood: "The altar has no owner, the mat is a mess of bones."
"With evil spirits but no roots, the lamp becomes a withered soul."
"I now borrow the righteous energy of the Big Dipper to suppress your old life and ruin."
"Borrowing the old fire of the mountain gate, borrowing the cold wind to sharpen the blade, I use this sword to suppress the soul of the pass for a moment."
"Imperial Edict!"
The moment the last word was uttered, the seventh star of the Seven Star Sword that guards the pass suddenly lit up.
The light was not a blinding white, but a deep, cold glow, as if reflected from the depths of the snow.
The seven points of starlight on the sword's blade faintly connected in an instant, resembling an invisible Big Dipper pressing down from the sky, directly covering the mat nail.
The spirit of the altar finally flew into a rage.
It lunged at Lu Yuan frantically, its black energy swirling from its sleeves into a mat, threatening to swallow him whole from the front.
The aura was so fierce that even the sand on both sides of the stone path was swirled up and flew upwards. Everyone felt as if a black wall was pressing down in front of them, and even their breathing became difficult.
"Lu Yuan!"
Song Qinghe gasped in shock.
But Lu Yuan didn't dodge at all.
In the instant the black mat rushed towards him, he suddenly held the Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan horizontally in front of him, and the white salt line under his feet and the starlight on the sword's spine trembled at the same time.
"town!"
Upon hearing this shout, the black mat seemed to have struck an invisible bronze wall, and was violently bounced back outwards.
The altar spirit itself was also shaken, its body tilting to one side, and the crack on its forehead suddenly widened, revealing the surging black and red evil energy beneath.
It originally thought that Lu Yuan was going to break the mat nail in this round, but it did not expect that Lu Yuan would first use the Seven Star Sword Stance to protect himself, and then use the salt line to suppress the counterattack, and forcefully make himself a "not approachable" position.
As long as the spirit of the altar cannot break this protective barrier, it cannot interfere with Lu Yuan's attempt to break the altar.
Taking advantage of this moment, Lu Yuan suddenly reached into his robes with his left hand and pulled out a neatly folded yellow talisman.
The talisman was older than the previous one, with a darker color and even traces of incense smoke on the edges, like an old talisman that had been kept in a box for many years and never used.
He quickly tapped his index finger on the talisman, seemingly drawing only a very short horizontal line, but as soon as that line was drawn, the entire talisman stood up on its own without any wind.
"Heavenly Gang Suppressing Evil Talisman!"
Lin Zhaoxuan gasped.
The older generation outside the Great Wall has very strict rules for making talismans. Such old talismans for suppressing evil spirits are not effective just by drawing a few strokes. They need to be burned in an altar, incense from ancestors, and suppressed many times to have that "old" quality.
This kind of talisman isn't afraid of old paper, but it is afraid of not sinking. The older and heavier it is, the more it can suppress evil influences.
Without hesitation, Lu Yuan stuck the talisman onto the Seven Star Sword that guards the pass.
In an instant, the black patterns on the talisman flashed, as if countless tiny specks of sand were rolling down the spine of the sword.
The seventh star merged with the talismanic energy, and the sword's momentum suddenly increased by three-tenths.
"Borrow talismans, borrow stars, borrow swords."
Lu Yuan said in a low voice, his voice hoarse as if it contained blood.
"The Heavenly Gang suppresses the evil spirits, and the old altar returns to the earth."
He stepped forward, the tip of his sword pointing directly at the mat nail.
The altar spirits desperately tried to protect them, and several paper faces simultaneously detached from the banner, shrieking as they lunged at Lu Yuan's arms and face.
Those paper faces were incredibly fast; they were almost like a flash of white light before they were about to stick up and devour his yang energy.
But Lu Yuan was prepared this time.
He brought his index and middle fingers together, flipped the back of his fingers, and drew a very simple yet very steady hand gesture in mid-air.
Thumb presses down on little finger, the other three fingers are slightly spread, and the wrist sinks down, as if pressing an imprint.
It wasn't a dazzling hand seal, but it carried a very heavy sense of "sealing".
He shouted, "Paper is not worthy of my eye, and magic is not worthy of my door."
"My hands are the gate, my heart is the shut-off gate."
"Go back!
'
As the word "return" fell, the several paper faces that had flown in suddenly seemed to have crashed into an invisible door frame, all coming to a halt.
Then, it was deflected by the cold wind at the edge of the sword's momentum, grazed Lu Yuan's shoulder at an angle, and slammed hard against the stone wall, shattering into several pieces of paper.
Everyone who saw this was shocked.
When the spirit of the altar was enraged to the extreme, it let out a sharp howl and tried to break through the barrier at all costs.
The black soil beneath its feet suddenly cracked open, and several rotten black paper ropes shot out from the cracks in the ground, wrapping around Lu Yuan's legs like live snakes.
Lu Yuan lowered his brow and lifted his foot.
He stepped on one of the paper ropes with the back of his foot, then slid the sword down and struck the darkest ring of ashes around the mat nail.
"Cut it off at the root!"
He drank.
This sword strike wasn't grand or sweeping, nor did it shatter rocks with thunder; instead, it was like the most steady and ruthless old hunter from beyond the Great Wall plunging his blade into a wolf's spine.
As the sword passed, scraps of old paper and black mud were violently thrown outwards, and the rusty mat nail made an extremely fine "ding" sound.
It was like an iron needle that had been pressed down for a long time finally loosening a little.
Just a tiny bit.
But for the spirits of the altar, even this slightest mistake is fatal.
The aura emanating from it suddenly dissipated, the lamplight dimmed, and the paper faces lost their domineering presence, freezing in mid-air like a flock of kites with broken strings.
"Not enough!"
The spirit of the altar roared in fury, and within the black mist, a human-shaped arm faintly appeared, as if many remnant souls it had devoured were struggling and clawing inside.
"I will not fall!"
Lu Yuan's temples were visibly bulging with veins, clearly indicating that he had reached his limit.
He knew that at this moment, a single sword strike would not be enough to completely sever the wound.
Since the altar can be erected by nailing a mat, it means that it has buried its evil roots very deep, with one layer broken and another layer pressing down.
If we don't force it to reveal its true nature, it will eventually be overturned.
Then he suddenly took half a step back.
This step back was extremely quick and steady, as if deliberately leaving the altar spirits with a false impression.
The spirit of the altar was indeed taken aback.
Just as it thought Lu Yuan was about to run out of strength and his momentum was about to weaken, Lu Yuan suddenly raised his head, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, and uttered an extremely cold statement: "You're not waiting for me to retreat."
"What you're waiting for is for the urn bones to rise."
"Then I will force your urn bones out myself."
He raised his sword, and with a sudden turn of the blade, it was no longer aimed at the mat nail, but instead pointed directly at the mat-turning lamp at the end of the stone path.
The lamp is the eye.
When the eyes are confused, the altar becomes confused.
What the spirits fear most in the altar is not that the mat nails break, but that the overturned mat lamp loses its guiding light.
Once the lights go out, the mat will resemble a dead person's shroud, losing its most crucial life force.
At this crucial moment, Lu Yuan turned around and knocked on its eye.
Lin Zhaoxuan understood, and immediately forced the Thunder Token forward, shouting in a low voice, "Thunder nails below, lamplight returns to the underworld!"
Zhou Heng immediately flipped his sword to block the two paper figures rushing towards Lu Yuan from the right.
Song Qinghe bit her tongue and spat a mouthful of blood onto the sealing plate. The plate immediately emitted a faint, cold light, which firmly covered the north position.
Taking advantage of everyone's momentum, Lu Yuan stomped his foot, and his whole body seemed to be carried away by the Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan, so fast that only a gray shadow remained.
Seeing that things were going badly, the spirit at the altar frantically raised his hand to protect the lamp.
But it was too late.
Lu Yuan did not shatter the lantern with a single sword strike, but instead flicked the tip of his sword, striking precisely the thinnest seam in the paper at the bottom of the lantern.
That sword strike wasn't heavy, but it was extremely ruthless.
The paper palm inside the lamp wick, which was turning over, suddenly stopped at this point, and the palm that was turning over came to an abrupt halt.
It's like someone is about to flip the table over, but their wrist is pinned down.
Immediately afterwards, Lu Yuan chanted rapidly: "If the lamp is not turned on, the mat will not come alive."
"Once the lamp is nailed, the evil spirit will collapse on its own."
"Beidou returns to its position, doors are closed and locks are locked."
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands—suppress!"
As the last character "镇" (zhen, meaning "town") was uttered, the seventh star of the Seven Star Sword of Town Gate shone brightly, and the sword light pierced through the seam of the paper under the lamp.
With a very light and crisp "hiss," the flame of the tumbler lamp seemed to be sucked out of its sockets, and it suddenly contracted.
Even the black shadows surrounding the altar spirit swayed violently.
Its true essence has finally been forced out.
It was neither human bone nor animal bone, but a piece of black, oily wooden wedge, with charred red thread wrapped around it, the thread ends fine and dense, like the sealing rope left over from the funeral rites of the previous year.
The wooden wedge slowly rose from under the turning lamp, its surface covered with fine cracks, within which faint outlines of pale human faces could be seen.
"I see----"
Lu Yuan stared at the object, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
"You are not the spirit of the altar."
"You cobbled together a Yin altar fate by using old mat bones, lamp bones, and paper bones."
The spirit of the altar was stunned.
It probably never imagined that its true nature would be seen through at such a crucial moment.
Lu Yuan, however, did not give it another chance to speak.
He suddenly bit his tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the Seven Star Sword that guarded the pass, instantly turning the blade a cold red.
He then swiftly formed a hand seal with his left hand, his five fingers interlocked, his thumb hidden in the middle, and his index finger slightly raised. His hand gesture was steady and calm, like pressing down on a coffin.
He uttered a short but heavy incantation: "Stars press down on wooden wedges, wooden wedges press down on the soul."
"If the soul does not leave, the death will not last long."
"If the evil spirit does not last long, the altar will not be completed."
"I will seal your three gates of darkness with the old flame of closed doors!"
"Imperial edict, imperial edict, imperial edict!"
The three sounds of "敕" (chì) were like three nails, driven one after another into the deepest, most vital part of the altar's spirit.
In that instant, the wind on the stone path suddenly stopped.
It was eerily quiet.
All the black mist, paper faces, shadows, and lamp smoke of the altar were as if being held down by an invisible hand.
It froze on the spot, a look of near panic appearing in its eyes for the first time.
It wanted to struggle, to retreat, to turn its fortunes around again by borrowing the black soil, but Lu Yuan suppressed its altar bones and also suppressed its path to change.
This game has reached its most critical moment.
Whoever loosens their grip first dies.
The blood on Lu Yuan's arm had flowed down to the hilt of his sword, dripping into the salt circle like red plum blossoms burning on the snow.
He stood ramrod straight, like an iron stake growing out of the frozen soil beyond the Great Wall.
"Now."
He spoke in a low voice, his eyes flashing with a cold light.
"It's my turn to take you in."
The true fear finally appeared on the face of the altar spirit, which had been twisted beyond recognition by the black mist.
The next instant, Lu Yuan raised his sword and pressed down, the Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan carrying the cold glow of the seventh star, fiercely slashing at the exposed black wooden wedge.