Chapter 60: Perhaps This Is Retribution

Is this a corpse reanimation? Staring at Ning Zhiyuan’s lifeless body on the ground, Ning Xiu’s brows knitted tightly. After confirming the man was truly dead, he turned and hurried toward the mourning hall.

Since Ning Zhiyuan’s corpse was here, just who was lying inside the coffin in the mourning hall?

But as he burst into the hall, a shadowy figure suddenly darted from the darkness.

Ning Xiu drew his sword.

His opponent unsheathed a blade.

Sword and knife clashed in midair, neither side yielding an inch, neither willing to make the first move.

“Uncle Zhang?” Sensing the man’s presence, Ning Xiu called out.

“Young master, it’s you!” Realizing who stood before him, Zhang Heng immediately withdrew his steel blade. Yet, the chill of the killing intent that had just radiated from Ning Xiu still sent a shiver down his spine.

“What’s going on?” Ning Xiu demanded.

“Just now, I saw a white shadow enter the mourning hall from afar, so I followed. But why are you here, young master?” Zhang Heng replied.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Ning Xiu said grimly, stepping to the center of the hall before the pitch-black coffin. He drew the Requiem Sword and, in a blur, wedged it between the lid and the coffin. With a twist of his wrist, the lid was sent flying high, crashing to the ground with a thunderous boom.

Zhang Heng stepped forward and peered inside—lying there wasn’t Ning Zhiyuan at all, but Ning Qing.

Yet, Ning Qing’s death was different from all the other recent deaths in the Ning household. There was no eerie smile on his face; instead, a conspicuous wound marred his body.

A fatal gash to the chest, as if something had pierced straight through him. Fresh blood still flowed from the wound, staining the coffin red—he had only just died.

At that moment, a white shadow suddenly sprang from the gloom and darted out the window.

“After it!” Ning Xiu reacted instantly, giving chase. Glancing up, he saw that the white shadow wasn’t running, but floating!

The apparition moved swiftly, soon drifting out of the courtyard.

“Trying to escape?” Ning Xiu sneered, unleashing his Eight Steps to Catch the Cicada technique. His speed exploded, and in moments he’d caught up with the white shadow.

“Die!” Ning Xiu’s sword flashed.

The Holy Spirit Sword Technique came forth—eight shimmering arcs of sword light slashed out in an instant.

A shrill scream erupted as the white shadow spun around.

The piercing sound struck Ning Xiu’s mind, leaving him dazed as if struck by a heavy blow. His sword stance faltered.

The female ghost seized the opportunity, darting through the sword light and shrieking as she lunged toward Ning Xiu.

A chilling air washed over him, making him shudder. As he regained his senses, the ghost was already upon him.

A ghostly claw slashed toward his throat.

“Courting death!” At the brink of life and death, Ning Xiu’s eyes blazed red. His left hand shot out like lightning—faster than the ghost herself—gripping her throat in an iron grasp.

The female ghost’s body froze, suspended in midair.

Ning Xiu felt a biting cold seeping into him from his left hand, as if clutching a block of ice. But with the Nine Yang Divine Art guarding his body, he had no fear of such Yin chill.

He glared coldly at the ghost and, in the next instant, slammed her hard to the ground.

With a deafening crash, the ghost hit the stone pavement, cracking it beneath her.

Ning Xiu pressed in, driving the Requiem Sword through her body, pinning her mercilessly to the earth.

A furious shriek tore from the female ghost’s lips as she lashed out at Ning Xiu with her ghostly claws.

But Ning Xiu stared at her indifferently. The Golden Bell Shield and the Iron Skin, Steel Bones, and Indestructible Body techniques activated together. Clenching his fists, he hammered down without mercy.

Bang! Bang!

After only a few blows, the female ghost lost all will to resist, but Ning Xiu did not relent. His eyes remained bloodshot as his iron fists rained down, left and right in relentless fury.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

No one knew how long he struck, but at last the female ghost let out a piercing wail and exploded into nothingness.

A silvery-gray light flashed from her body and was instantly absorbed by Ning Xiu.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his lips, his breath heavy.

After a moment, he gripped his Requiem Sword and used it to support himself as he slowly rose to his feet.

Only then did Zhang Heng finally arrive.

“Young master, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Ning Xiu waved him off, trying to take a few steps forward, but a sudden wave of weakness overtook him. His body swayed, and he dropped to his knees, coughing up another mouthful of blood.

“Young master!” Zhang Heng rushed forward to support him, shouting back in anger, “Quick, fetch the physician!”

The patrolling martial artists, witnessing the scene, grew alarmed—some rushed to help, others ran to notify Ning Mingfeng and the others, while still more hurried to summon the doctor.

The entire Ning household was thrown into chaos.

Ning Mingfeng and his kin arrived at the first notice, their eyes widening at the sight of the massive crater in the ground. Ning Mingzhi, the second uncle, recalling his past misdeeds, felt a chill run down his spine. He dared not meet Ning Xiu’s gaze, keeping his distance, his eyes flickering with guilt. Who would have thought that the wastrel he once scorned would become so fearsome?

Ning Xiu’s injuries came from three sources. The first were the claw marks—light compared to the rest—his dual body-forging arts and the Nine Yang Divine Art provided ample protection, reducing these wounds to mere superficial scratches.

The second injury was the Yin energy corrosion left by the female ghost. Though the Nine Yang Divine Art shielded him, the Yin energy had already invaded his body. It could be resolved, but not without trouble.

The third and most serious injury was spiritual. He hadn’t expected the ghost to wield an attack that assaulted his very soul.

The rest was merely exhaustion of inner strength, which rest would soon restore.

The Ning household’s physician arrived in haste. After a round of treatment, his conclusion was that there was no lasting harm. He prescribed some nourishing tonics and instructed the servants to prepare the medicines.

Upon hearing this, Ning Mingfeng and the others finally breathed a sigh of relief. They retreated from Ning Xiu’s chamber, leaving only Xiao Cui and the maids to tend to him.

For Ning Mingfeng, troubles were far from over.

A son had only recently died, and now his grandson was gone as well.

What’s more, the sordid affairs between Ning Qing and Madam Zhang would also demand attention.

So many calamities in his twilight years.

Ning Mingfeng’s already stooped figure seemed to bow further under the weight of it all. His clouded eyes gazed into the night sky, and in a low, hoarse voice, he murmured, “Perhaps this is retribution…”