Chapter Seventy-Five: The Camp Rises

Before long, Xuan Yangzi had completed the preliminary arrangements. In Miao Shihai’s home, he erected a ritual platform, spread five feet of blue cloth atop it, set up three red candles, placed an incense burner, and lit three sticks of incense.

“Master Daoist, where exactly is this object that the demon is so close to?” Miao Shihai stood in front of the platform, his face filled with nervous tension.

Earlier, Xuan Yangzi had told him that the object intimately connected to the demon was on his person. Yet, after racking his brains, Miao Shihai still could make no sense of it.

Xuan Yangzi, having made all necessary preparations and needing only the final, crucial step, saw Miao Shihai’s doubt and decided to speak plainly. “At this point, I won’t hide it from you. The item the demon is attached to is indeed not on you. However…”

“Please speak freely, Master Daoist. Whatever the cost, I am prepared to accept it.” Miao Shihai’s expression was solemn, his face earnest.

“There is an art I possess, called Transposition of Form and Shadow,” Xuan Yangzi said, glancing at Yi An.

“Transposition of Form and Shadow—doesn’t that only erase or generate memories? How is it connected to the demon’s object?” Yi An was puzzled upon hearing this. Xuan Yangzi had taught him this technique, but now the old Daoist’s words seemed at odds with what he understood.

Could it be the old Daoist was holding back secrets…?

Yi An couldn’t help but wonder.

Catching the questioning look in Yi An’s eyes, Xuan Yangzi seemed to guess his true thoughts and explained, “I told you before, the Transposition of Form and Shadow is endlessly useful. Even I dare not claim to have mastered its essence, let alone you who have only just begun to study it.”

As he spoke, he detailed his thoughts.

First, it was to prepare Miao Shihai psychologically; second, it was to guide Yi An on how to truly harness the art’s wonders.

Yi An, unable to comprehend the deeper meaning, could only attribute it to his lack of skill.

It turned out the root of the Transposition of Form and Shadow lay in affecting the soul—whether altering or erasing memories, it all began with the spirit.

And the only evidence they could now trace of the demon was the memory Miao Shihai held of it.

Next, Xuan Yangzi’s task was to extract that memory.

Once extracted, the memory would serve as the medium for the spiritual incantation.

The pain Miao Shihai would endure from this process was beyond ordinary comprehension—a torment as if his very soul was being torn asunder, impossible to describe in words.

Afterward, the lost memory could be restored by using the same art once the task was complete, so there would be no problem.

Provided, of course, Miao Shihai could withstand the agony. If anything went awry, all would be for naught.

Yet Xuan Yangzi could think of no better method.

Yi An, hearing this, could not help but admire Xuan Yangzi’s boldness. What had seemed a rather impractical art could indeed be used this way. Truly, every talent has its use; even seemingly useless techniques possess value.

Miao Shihai, the one most affected, was stunned upon hearing the explanation. It wasn’t that he shrank from the ordeal, but an involuntary chill ran through him, inside and out.

After all, he was just an ordinary man. When had he ever witnessed such terrifying matters? The thought of memories being torn from his soul chilled him to the bone. With a weaker mind, he might have fainted on the spot.

Miao Shihai drew a deep breath, steadying himself. “Master Daoist, I can bear it. Don’t worry about me. To rid ourselves of this demon, what is a little suffering?”

He quickly calmed himself. Compared to the demon, what was temporary pain?

Clench your teeth and it will pass.

So Miao Shihai reassured himself.

“Don’t worry. Don’t bear too much mental burden. I dare not speak for other things, but I can wield the Transposition of Form and Shadow well enough,” Xuan Yangzi said with a smile.

He did not hurry to begin, but went on to offer words of comfort until Miao Shihai’s expression was fully at ease. Only then did Xuan Yangzi feel reassured.

If Miao Shihai’s emotions were too strained, it would hinder the ritual. Any great fluctuation of feeling would affect the soul as well.

“Young friend, your task next is to keep watch for us. While the art is being performed, do not let us be disturbed. If anything goes wrong… the consequences are dire,” Xuan Yangzi warned, not spelling out the specifics but making the gravity clear.

“Rest assured, Master Daoist. If anyone comes, as long as their strength isn’t overwhelmingly superior, I can hold them off,” Yi An replied solemnly. With the Ten Thousand Dragon Armor, even a formidable foe could be delayed, and lesser demons were no concern.

With all ready, Xuan Yangzi began the ritual.

First, he lit the red candles and incense, bowed three times—three bows, three candles, three incense sticks, totaling nine. The number nine was significant.

Nine is the ultimate number, the number of yang, the principle of the Way…

Next, Xuan Yangzi summoned his flying sword, formed hand seals, and, using the sword as a guide, swiftly pointed at the center of Miao Shihai’s brow. His hands wove intricate seals, so swiftly as to dazzle the eye.

In the next instant, Miao Shihai’s eyes lost focus, and a wisp of ghostly blue light emerged from between his brows—it was his soul.

Xuan Yangzi seized the moment, cast several more seals to capture and draw it to his side, and quickly invoked the Transposition of Form and Shadow. He began searching through Miao Shihai’s memories, focusing on the time when the demon appeared.

The soul could not remain separated from the body for long. If delayed, the harmony between soul and body would be lost—at best, causing disharmony; at worst, threatening his very life.

In a flash, Xuan Yangzi found all he needed concerning the demon. He rapidly cast several more seals. The flying sword on the ritual platform rose into his hand; silver light flashed from its blade.

“Sever!”

As the word left his lips, the sword blade struck, making the most intimate contact with Miao Shihai’s soul.