“Peppy Tiger, perk up, let’s go!”

“The best way to conquer fear is to face it directly. Come on, let’s do this.”

After giving the tiger an encouraging gesture, Yi Chen, holding the back of its neck with one hand and the Dragon-Slaying Sword in the other, walked straight out of the room.

Fear cannot resolve a crisis; only a fight can.

Leaving the side room and entering the main hall, a large “offering” character caught his eye, with two white candles burning on the offering table.

Above the offering table were hundreds of spiritual tablets, the most at the bottom with fewer as they ascended.

The tablets mostly contained names and surnames, featuring portraits, with the majority already faded to gray.

By now, Yi Chen had a vague guess: those whose portraits had turned gray likely met with grim fates.

His gaze moved to the top, where a vividly colored portrait of a Taoist, smiling benignly, was placed prominently. The tablet bore the name “Zhang Jishi.”

Hiss.

Indeed, a figure daring enough to suppress evil spirits in the Yin Mansion alone certainly had presence.

Top billing, this was.

Yi Chen drew a cold breath and, though unsure if the great one could hear, hurriedly bowed to the tablet: “Yicheng, a junior from Hidden Dragon Temple, pays respects to the senior. If I am fortunate enough to escape today, I will personally deliver the Taoist Master’s jade tablet to Dragon Tiger Mountain.”

…

After waiting in vain for a response, Yi Chen sadly lifted his head, realizing he must rely on himself. He looked at the white spirit hall in the eerie red mansion’s main house, daring not to strike it with his sword.

He had a strong intuition that any rash action could lead to dire consequences.

He had never heard of something like the Yin Mansion in his years of experience. It could very well be that Zhang Jishi, the Taoist Master, had managed to put the mansion’s consciousness in a dormant state, leaving only its instincts active.

If so, his interference could undo Zhang Jishi’s efforts, possibly awakening the mansion’s ability to process, leading to a horrific end.

Frustrating!

He was still not strong enough.

The satisfaction Yi Chen felt from advancing to the sixth level of the Minor Pure Yang Technique instantly evaporated. He thought he was quite powerful, but reality quickly corrected him.

After more waiting, with still no developments, Yi Chen’s patience wore thin. He crossed the hall and headed towards a room on the right.

Creak.

Using the tiger’s head to push open the vermilion door of the side room, the scene that unfolded made Yi Chen’s eyes narrow even further.

He felt increasingly aware of the uniqueness of the Yin Mansion.

Upon opening the door, it was as if he had stepped into another world. Yi Chen found himself on a long street shrouded in dense fog, with vague human silhouettes barely discernible.

Stomping his foot to test, he felt solid ground beneath, not like an illusion. It seemed as if he had magically been transported to a mysterious space.

“Damn, is this an illusion or reality? It’s too realistic.” Carrying the tiger, Yi Chen bravely proceeded down the street.

Strangely, as he moved, the fog began to dissipate, revealing the surroundings.

An aged voice called from the side: “Young Taoist Master, want to buy a melon? Just buy one, and I’ll tell you how to get out.”

Hearing this, Yi Chen stopped, a glimmer of hope in his heart. This was the first voice he’d encountered since entering the Yin Mansion. Any change was welcome.

The thought of being forever trapped here, exchanging glances with a foolish tiger, was too despairing a thought.

Yi Chen was sure the tiger felt the same.

Looking towards the source of the voice, he saw an old man with a tattered straw hat squatting by the roadside, next to a dirty white flag marked “Premium Melons.”

The flag, seemingly plucked from a grave, was stained with mud and yellowed with age.

In front of the old man’s stall lay a pile of human heads, arranged as if they were watermelons…

On this eerie street, the old man sold “melons” amidst the fog.

Finally encountering a ghost that could speak, Yi Chen wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip, despite the chilling scene.

He approached and asked with a smile, “How much for a melon?”

“Twenty years of your life for one, and I’ll tell you how to get out,” the old man said, squatting by the road, his smile revealing few good teeth.

Yi Chen frowned, “Is your melon made of gold, or are the seeds golden? Twenty years of my life for one, are you robbing me?”

He tossed the tiger aside and said, “See this fierce tiger next to me? Purebred, even has a whip. How about we trade it for one of your melons? You’re losing teeth; it could do with some replenishing.”

“I don’t accept junk. I want yours,” the old man laughed more brazenly, his mouth splitting unnaturally wide to reveal rows of sharp, triangular teeth, his nails turning black and elongating.

“My teeth…”

Crack!

The old man’s voice stopped abruptly.

Yi Chen’s hand, large as a fan, smashed the old man’s head into his chest, sneering:

“Old man, what are you laughing at?”

“Has anyone told you your laugh is quite unpleasant?”

Making deals with ghosts could never end well; their words were as reliable as a sieve holding water.

From the beginning, Yi Chen had no intention of bargaining with this spectral being, which is why he had tossed the tiger aside, fearing it might get hurt in the scuffle. What happened next would be left to fate.

After smashing the old man’s head into his chest with a palm strike, Yi Chen delivered a fierce kick to the ‘melon stall,’ sending heads flying into the air. He then swung his Dragon-Slaying Sword repeatedly, slicing the falling heads in half as if playing a game of Fruit Ninja.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.

Most of the heads were cleaved into two.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. The old man’s headless corpse twitched madly on the ground as a new head emerged from his neck, only to witness his stall being destroyed. Enraged, his body surged with sinister energy.

“Daring to slash my melons, huh?”

The old man howled, and the heads on the ground leaped to fuse with his ghostly form, embedding themselves into it. Even his chest sprouted two more heads.

In moments, the old man transformed into a grotesque giant, a sight so unnerving it could trigger trypophobia. Once transformed, his sinister aura intensified, with all heads opening their eyes and baring sharp teeth in fury:

“You’ll pay for this with your life!” thundered the voice.

With a crackling sound, one of the newly sprouted heads was sliced off by Yi Chen’s pale purple sword, rolling on the ground before being crushed under Yi Chen’s foot, exploding into a mist of blood.

“Is that all you got, old man?”

At that moment, Yi Chen, wielding his Dragon-Slaying Sword, was enveloped in a frenzy of pale purple Pure Yang Internal Energy. His muscles bulged, veins popped like dragons on his skin, showcasing the extreme limit of his Minor Pure Yang Technique’s sixth level.

Facing the old man’s transformation without hesitation, Yi Chen unleashed his active skill derived from breaking through to the sixth level of the Pure Yang Technique: the Extreme Yang Shift. Considering the old man’s current formidable state, Yi Chen feared he might not be able to overpower him without it.

Indeed, the strike was effective. Yi Chen, already exceptionally strong, saw his power triple. Coupling with the sword’s sharpness, he easily beheaded another of the old man’s heads.

“Got a lot of heads, huh? Keep growing them; let’s see if you can outpace my sword.”

Yi Chen advanced towards the monstrous old man with a sneer, the sword’s pale purple aura flickering, scorching the ground beneath.

Two more heads attempted to sprout from the old man’s neck, only to be swiftly decapitated by Yi Chen. The Pure Yang energy eroded the neck, preventing any more heads from regrowing.

“Come on, keep it up. Grow some more, let’s see if you’re faster or my sword is.”

“Why… why has your power suddenly surged? And that sword of yours, damn it…” The old man’s complexion drastically changed as he began to doubt his ghostly existence.

Though he lost another head, the multitude of heads embedded in his body provided him sight.

With every step Yi Chen took, the old man retreated.

A step forward, a step back.

“Don’t come any closer… Ah!”

“I won’t sell melons anymore, okay?”

“Don’t you want to know how to leave?”

At this moment, Yi Chen’s aura was wild, his body shrouded in pale purple Pure Yang energy, veins bulging on his neck, nearly two meters tall, looking more demonic than any Taoist. Wielding his Dragon-Slaying Sword, he moved swiftly, slicing the old man’s ghostly form into pieces before stomping on his chest:

“Speak up, my patience is limited.” Indeed, the Extreme Yang Shift’s duration was only ten minutes…

The old man trembled in fear, evading the question. Yi Chen, suspecting a few possibilities and uninterested in further excuses, didn’t hesitate to deliver a final blow, dispersing the old man into a puff of smoke.

The expected notification of successfully defeating the melon-selling old man did not come, leaving Yi Chen utterly perplexed and visibly upset.

It was clear the old man had been stalling for time, and with the Extreme Yang Shift’s limited duration, Yi Chen’s decision was to cut through the chase and eliminate him directly.

He was still 54 Deep Red Points shy of breaking through to the seventh level of the Minor Pure Yang Technique. If he could close that gap before the state ended, he would stand a fighting chance.

The foggy street, filled with shadows and unknown dangers, might hide more malevolent beings. Even if the old man didn’t provide enough points, Yi Chen was ready to face the next challenge.

But his plan was aborted as soon as it began.

“Is my golden finger malfunctioning? A bug?”

“Vast heavens above, why forsake me?” Yi Chen sheathed his Dragon-Slaying Sword and looked up at the foggy sky, where no birds flew.

The confusion in his eyes lasted less than a second before determination took over once again.

(End of the chapter)