Chapter 28: Could the Real Culprit Be Someone Else?

The instant those two lines of poetry left his lips, a metallic tremor exploded through the dim little courtyard.

Xu Ye had finally drawn the Ghost-Slaying Blade.

Then, to the astonished eyes of Lin Buyu and Iron Mask, the righteous energy swirling around Xu Ye abruptly blazed into roaring flames. Within those flames, a figure wielding a massive saber suddenly merged with Xu Ye’s own form.

With a thunderous crash, as Xu Ye’s blade swept down, the surging fire—condensed from his majestic energy—transformed into a flaming saber two or three fathoms long, crashing heavily upon the vengeful spirit.

A deafening blast rang out. The specter, forged of baleful energy, was first cleaved in two, then engulfed by the raging fire. Amidst its shrill and wretched screams, every trace of ghostly energy was burned away, leaving only the frail, battered body of the youngest Cao daughter.

“He really... just slew a vengeful ghost?”

Staring at Xu Ye, who stood with blade in hand, Lin Buyu was still utterly incredulous.

“‘With blade held high I laugh at the heavens, whether I stay or go, my courage towers like twin peaks…’”

Iron Mask, his complexion much improved, softly recited the poem Xu Ye had just intoned, then gave a wry smile and said, “When one possesses such a timeless poem, slaying a vengeful ghost is hardly surprising. The Xu family’s heritage, even in decline, remains formidable…”

At this, Lin Buyu recalled Xu Ye’s earlier “Mighty Mouse” and nodded in understanding. “To call them a dying tiger would actually be more fitting.”

Both, hailing from families of some standing, understood well the hidden strength behind these houses of old lineage, so it wasn’t strange to see Xu Ye produce a couple of immortal verses.

But then—

A brittle crack shattered the moment. The Ghost-Slaying Blade in Xu Ye’s hand suddenly fragmented into countless pieces.

“Miss Buyu, Brother Iron Mask—what… what happened?”

From afar, Xu Ye stared helplessly at the broken blade in his hand, then turned to the others, seeking guidance.

The two fell silent. In their eyes, Xu Ye’s current “ignorance” was in stark contrast to the power he’d shown just moments before.

…

“Poetry isn’t meant to be used in such a way.”

Stepping before Xu Ye, Lin Buyu glanced at the shattered fragments of the blade, then explained quickly, “Some verses contain majestic energy so powerful and uncontrollable that ordinary sacred objects or ghost artifacts cannot withstand them—they’re easily destroyed.”

“They can destroy sacred objects?”

Xu Ye recalled his own broken ruler and realization dawned in his heart.

“Xiao Ye, the lines you recited when you drew your blade—were those from your family’s anthology?”

Iron Mask, now fully recovered, stood up, eyes shifting from the fragments to Xu Ye.

“I came across that poem by chance, in the old ancestor’s private collection,” Xu Ye replied, already resolved to attribute all such works in future to the family’s forebears.

“What a pity.” Iron Mask shook his head, regret etched across his face.

“Pity?” Xu Ye looked at him, puzzled.

“I’ll answer to the captain about the damage to the blade myself,” Xu Ye added, thinking Iron Mask was mourning the lost weapon, and apologizing for it.

“A mere ghost officer’s blade is nothing. What I regret is the poem you just recited. Had it been paired with the right sacred artifact, its power would have been extraordinary. Yet no matter how dazzling the verse, once its majestic energy is unleashed, it will never generate such energy again. That’s the true pity.”

Iron Mask’s face practically read “waste of treasure.”

“It… can only be used once?”

Xu Ye was first taken aback, then felt a pang of distress. “So much for using the Seven Slaughters poem to sweep all before me!”

“Unlike the writings of sages, the energy in poetry is strong but uncontrollable, easily damaging sacred objects. You were fortunate to use a ghost-slaying blade; barehanded, you might have lost your arm.”

Lin Buyu muttered this last bit, half-teasing.

Xu Ye shuddered at the thought. Yet, beneath the sting of regret, he felt secretly relieved—

Thank goodness I haven’t been reciting poems left and right.

Though he’d devoted himself to classical studies in retirement and could recall most of the eminent works, the number of truly immortal pieces throughout history was but a handful. If, as Lin Buyu said, each could only be used once, then each recitation would be one fewer treasure in the world.

“In truth, I was too careless. I didn’t expect that thing to turn into a vengeful ghost so quickly. If it hadn’t, there’d have been no need for you to act, nor would such a masterpiece have been wasted.”

Iron Mask sighed as he headed for the door.

“Brother Iron Mask, didn’t you say earlier that the ghost possessing that girl wasn’t especially strong?”

Xu Ye asked, perplexed.

“In the first Lord of the Underworld’s Book of a Hundred Ghosts, spirits are classified into six ranks: shadow ghosts, vengeful ghosts, fierce ghosts, ghost lords, ghost mothers, and the legendary ghost gods.”

Knowing Xu Ye’s knowledge of spirits was limited, Iron Mask explained their hierarchy before continuing, “Before we opened the cellar, Fox and I used soul-incense to test the ghost in the youngest Cao daughter. It was indeed a shadow ghost—the lowest rank.”

“Shadow ghosts are more akin to an aura of gloom or malice. At their weakest, they might cause a chill, nothing more. But should they encounter someone with overwhelming greed, anger, obsession, or resentment, they can silently possess them, feeding off that emotion until, over years, they become vengeful ghosts.”

“But this is never an overnight transformation—usually three to ten years. What just happened, when a shadow ghost instantly becomes a vengeful ghost, is extremely rare. Only those with monstrous resentment can cause such a rapid change.”

Xu Ye considered this carefully, then walked over and squatted beside the girl’s body.

“According to your theory, Brother Iron Mask, it must have been an eruption of immense hatred that let the ghost transform so swiftly. Yet when I arrived, her entire family had already been killed by her hand. Any resentment toward them should have dissipated. Why, then, would she harbor such overwhelming hatred?”

“What are you getting at, Brother Xu?”

Iron Mask caught the implication.

“My guess is that the massacre at the Cao residence was not committed by the possessed daughter, but by someone else. It was because of this person that the girl’s hatred became so boundless, allowing the shadow ghost to become a vengeful ghost in so short a time.”

Xu Ye voiced his deduction plainly.