Chapter Seventeen: The Fine Black Line

He Chang'an sat down amidst the wild grass and immediately began his breathing exercises and cultivation, circulating his internal energies while at the same time urging the little black rod in his spiritual sea to refine the shadowy mark at his brow. That old wretch—he really did just drain me without warning...

Under He Chang'an's deliberate urging, the little black rod transformed into two tiny millstones, which began to spin slowly within his spiritual sea, devouring and refining the "yin energy" transported there through his circulation exercises, swiftly converting it into pure strands of spiritual power.

That sensation of being drained vanished almost instantly, replaced by the gentle warmth that always accompanied the circulation of the Qi Absorption Art—a relief to He Chang'an.

What happened next surprised him: as the shadowy mark at his brow was gradually refined away, the black threads that had been drawn out and dispersed now slowly began to flow back toward him.

An unexpected windfall. Did this mean the vital essence, blood, and cultivation stripped from him by the female wraith could be reclaimed through refinement?

He Chang'an wasted no time and continued his breathing and cultivation exercises.

"Damn it, all the essence I've worked so hard to accumulate—it better all come back, not a drop missing! I haven't even gotten married yet..."

A cup of tea's time passed, and he was still breathing and refining, his brow growing warm with an odd sensation; half an hour later, he was still at it; nearly an hour, and still he continued...

"Wait, the part that was stripped away has already been restored—why am I still able to refine more? That doesn't make sense..."

No matter. Free black energy, directly converted to spiritual power—who cared how it worked?

"Ah, fortune is smiling on me..."

"But wait, there's too much spiritual energy in my core now, it's getting uncomfortable, and my meridians are swollen as well. Is this the sign I'm about to break through to the fourth level of the Qi Absorption Art?"

...

Six or seven miles away, in the academy, the old female wraith battling the learned scholars was in utter distress, howling and screeching in frustration.

She simply couldn't understand it—she had used the ghostly secret art "Drawing Silk and Peeling the Cocoon" and clearly devoured vast quantities of human vital energy, blood force, and martial cultivation. So why was she still so weak?

In her rage and confusion, she failed to notice that hundreds of black threads were sinking into her ghostly crown, transforming into dense shadowy energy, while one of the threads...

...was being drawn away.

The two scholars, the white-robed student and Li Yishan, were equally baffled, growing tense as they wondered if the ghost was preparing some dreadful attack within the black mist.

Still, both inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

After all, unleashing the righteous, cultivated energy they had nurtured for years—enough to annihilate the ghost's shadowy energy—would be a mutually destructive tactic, only used as a last resort.

"If the enemy can't muster a grand attack, don't blame the scholars for playing rough..."

The white-robed scholar glanced at Li Yishan, blinking his left eye, then the other.

Li Yishan caught the signal and nodded slightly.

Scholar's minor divine power: "Hearts Aligned with a Single Thought."

"Senior, do you mean the ghost can't unleash her ultimate move?"

"Exactly. Look at her expression—a face twisted in constipation. I suspect she's suffering from... irregularities."

"Senior, do ghosts have such things as... irregularities?"

"Focus on the important part!"

"Alright, alright, so what now? Should I unleash my own ultimate move? Senior, I recently got my hands on a lithographed edition of 'The Correct Meaning of Mao's Poetry' and gleaned a new technique..."

"You? Really?"

"Uh, senior, are you looking down on your junior? Want me to prove you wrong?"

"What are you going to do? With your level of comprehension... Forget it, let your senior handle this ultimate move."

"Senior, you're formidable!"

...

While the two scholars, through their shared divine sense, exchanged feverish thoughts, the female wraith finally snapped.

She threw back her head, wild hair flying, a bizarre smile twisting her pale face as her lips split wide to reveal a mouthful of fangs.

Her ashen tongue, like a venomous serpent, writhed hungrily in the seething black energy, poised to devour...

At the tip of her tongue, a gray bead resembling an eyeball slowly opened.

All of the black mist surged towards the bead, which quickly became utterly black under the immersion of shadowy energy, occasionally emitting a strange red glow...

Above the academy, a dozen yards in the air, the immense phantom of a ghostly face slowly coalesced, staring impassively at the two scholars.

"Careful, senior, the old ghost is about to unleash her ultimate move."

"I see it. This ghost is desperate!"

...

Far away, five or six miles out amidst the wild grass, He Chang'an suddenly noticed the returning black thread growing thinner, the shadowy energy within it fading.

"Hmm? I was just about to break through to the fifth level of the Qi Absorption Art—why did the thread get thinner?"

He Chang'an felt stymied.

It was like, just as things were getting interesting, someone said, "Hang on, I've got to take a call?"

Actually, he loved watching people's faces when they took calls...

He poured all his will into the "millstones," which vibrated furiously, devouring and refining as much shadowy energy as the black thread could deliver.

Sure enough, after a few breaths, the thread once again became solid, even two or three times thicker than before.

"Ah, this is the life—getting all this for free!"

...

In the academy, the two scholars faced the ghost's ultimate attack with solemn expressions, as if confronting a deadly foe.

Each tore off a stack of "Sage's Writings," reciting Confucian maxims without pause, layering defense after defense upon the blue aura that shielded them...

Yet within the heart of the black mist, the old ghost was secretly alarmed. She had just sacrificed thirty years of cultivation to summon this mother-ghost phantom, but something was wrong.

It simply hovered there, staring coldly at the two shabby scholars, refusing to attack. Why? A moment ago, it had clearly trembled, its terrifying aura just beginning to spread, only to suddenly shrink back.

Could there be a great demon nearby? Or a powerful human cultivator?

Impossible—those great human cultivators were closely watched by the gods of the demons, ghosts, monsters, and sea tribes. The moment they left Chang'an, they would face a combined strike from several peerless masters!

Of course, those gods dared not act rashly either...

As the ghostly face in the sky began to fade, some parts turning transparent, the old wraith grew nervous.

She gritted her teeth and sacrificed another thirty years of cultivation, sending a torrent of black energy surging into the ghost face.

At that moment, the old wraith suddenly noticed a single thin black thread.

After so much "drawing silk and peeling the cocoon," the seven or eight hundred humans in Weiyang City had long since been reduced to withered corpses, their threads severed and dispersed...

So what was this one?

The old wraith had been so focused on battling the scholars, sacrificing her own cultivation to summon the mother-ghost phantom and determined to devour the two impoverished scholars, that she hadn't paid attention to that thin black thread.

By the time she noticed, it was already too late.