Chapter 227: They Look More Righteous Than Me!!

Lin Zhaoxuan’s eyes were bloodshot, both hands gripping the Thunderclap Token, his entire body trembling.

He wasn’t afraid—the blood qi stirred up by the Blood-Fire Pill in his body was nearly impossible to suppress.

He stepped with his left foot in the Kan position and his right foot in the Li position, forcing his stance into the “Water and Fire Balanced” step.

Then, he pressed his right thumb firmly onto the Cloud and Thunder Patterns on the back of the Thunderclap Token, while his left hand formed the “Five-Thunder Finger” seal!

His thumb pressed down on his little finger, his ring finger curled into his palm, his index and middle fingers extended together, the tips aimed at the broken “Ting” character at the center of the token.

“Patriarch above, disciple Lin Zhaoxuan.”

“With blood as the guide, with the token as the medium.”

“Thunder moves through the Three Realms, Thunderclap shakes the Nine Netherworlds.”

“Break the lamps, enter the stage, sever the opera!”

As the final word “sever” left his lips, Lin Zhaoxuan thrust both hands forward—

The Thunderclap Token blazed with a dazzling green-white light.

But this time, the thunderous light did not condense into a straight, direct bolt of lightning like before.

Instead, it followed the red cord that Lu Yuan had drawn out, transforming into a thin electric serpent, racing along the altar path.

Wherever the electric serpent passed, the red cord crackled.

Bone White Soldiers rushed at it from all sides, but were blocked by the incense smoke barrier and forced back by the Talisman Fire.

A few ferocious skeletons charged straight into the altar path, trying to cut the red cord with their bone blades.

Zhou Heng roared in anger and hurled his Peach Wood Sword.

Three Yellow Talismans on the sword ignited simultaneously—

“Taiyi Splits the Light, Sword Slashes the Ghost Soldiers!”

The Peach Wood Sword turned into a streak of fire, slamming into the chest of the leading Bone White Soldier.

That skeleton was blasted backward, shattering together with several others behind it into bone dust.

Zhou Heng himself was knocked flat on his ass from the recoil, his face ashen, but he still scrambled up and shouted:

“Senior Brother, don’t stop!”

Lin Zhaoxuan clenched his teeth, blood already seeping from his nose and mouth.

The cracks on the Thunderclap Token grew longer, nearly cutting across half its body.

But the electric serpent finally reached the opera stage.

The ghastly white wall of yin energy blocking the stage immediately surged.

The seven lanterns contracted inward simultaneously, emitting a cacophony of sounds—a baby’s cry, an old woman’s laugh, a woman’s curse, a man’s heavy breathing—as if seven human heads were struggling inside the lanterns.

The old sheng sang in a shrill voice:

“The lamp shall not extinguish—

“The opera shall not end—

“The guest shall not leave—

“The spirit shall not scatter—

This was exactly what Lu Yuan had been waiting for.

He bit the middle finger of his left hand hard, and smeared the blood across the Big Dipper engraving on the ritual sword’s blade.

Blood lit up the seven star marks one by one.

Heavenly Pivot, Heavenly Jade, Heavenly Mechanism, Heavenly Balance, Jade Scale, Opening Yang, Shaking Light—

The seven stars formed a line.

Lu Yuan stepped into the Dao pattern, moving rapidly: three steps to the left first, then four steps to the right, and finally turning back to step into the center.

This was the “Yu Steps Walking the Dipper.”

With each step, his shoulders didn’t sway, his waist didn’t waver, his heels struck the ground like driven nails.

He shouted:

“Heavenly Pivot’s righteous qi, the Big Dipper’s true form.”

“The seven stars illuminate the path, dispel illusions and open clarity.”

“I respectfully obey the Nine Heavens Prime Responder Universal Thunder Transformation Celestial Master’s command!”

“Sever the opera sound!”

The ritual sword flicked upward, its tip striking precisely where the red cord and the thunderous light intersected.

The electric serpent, as if gaining direction, abruptly split into seven.

Seven thin bolts of thunder simultaneously drilled into the seven ghastly white lanterns.

“Shatter!”

The first one exploded.

A head of an old woman wrapped in white hair rolled out, turning to ash from the thunder fire before it even hit the ground.

“Bang!”

The second one exploded.

A woman’s face smeared with rouge flew out, torn to shreds by Lu Yuan’s sword aura.

“Bang, bang, bang!”

The third, fourth, and fifth lanterns burst in succession.

Inside were blackened child bones, tangled hair, half of an old opera troupe’s wooden sign—all reduced to ashes in the thunder fire.

But when it reached the sixth lantern, the thunderous light suddenly stalled.

The old sheng on the stage bit off his own tongue in a flash—

That black tongue landed on the stage surface and transformed into a slippery black snake, lunging at the sixth lantern and wrapping itself tightly around it.

The thunderous light struck the black snake, which managed to devour most of it.

Lin Zhaoxuan grunted, his knees weakening, nearly collapsing.

The cracks on the Thunderclap Token snapped and popped.

Song Qinghe cried out in alarm:

“Senior Brother, the token is about to break!”

A cold gleam flashed in Lu Yuan’s eyes.

This old sheng had actually used his own evil actor’s true form to protect the lantern.

If the sixth and seventh lanterns didn’t go out, although half the opera sound was severed, the Willow Tree’s evil eye could still renew it.

Then all their previous efforts would be wasted.

At that moment, Lu Yuan suddenly heard Lin Zhaoxuan let out a low laugh.

The laugh was very soft, yet carried a reckless, life-be-damned energy.

“Brother Lu.”

“Did you think we looked like heretics earlier?”

Lu Yuan’s gaze sharpened.

Lin Zhaoxuan didn’t turn around, just stared fixedly at the stage.

“Actually, you were right to be wary of us.”

“In these chaotic times, with so many bandits beyond the Great Wall, there are plenty of evil cults too.”

“No one should be trusted lightly.”

As he spoke, he suddenly shoved the second Blood-Fire Pill into his mouth—

Song Qinghe’s face changed drastically:

“Senior Brother!”

Zhou Heng’s eyes turned red:

“Lin Zhaoxuan! Have you lost your mind?!”

Lin Zhaoxuan swallowed the pill with a gulp.

The next moment, his entire skin took on a layer of bloody red, the veins on the back of his hands bulging like earthworms.

The Thunderclap Token emitted a piercing hum in his grip.

He bit his own left palm hard and smeared the fresh blood across the “Ting” character on the front of the token.

“Heretic or righteous, it doesn’t matter.”

“Someone has to deal with what’s here today.”

“Patriarch, forgive your disciple for wasting the treasure.”

“Disciple borrows the token today to stake his life!”

As his voice fell, he formed a seal with both hands.

Not the Five-Thunder Finger, nor an ordinary sword gesture.

Instead, he interlaced his ten fingers, extending his right middle finger from the tiger’s mouth of his left hand.

His left thumb pressed down on the root of his right ring finger, forming a rare “Thunder Bureau Combined Fighting Seal.”

Lu Yuan’s eyes moved.

This hand seal was incomplete.

Lin Zhaoxuan had obviously only learned half of it.

But even so, the moment the seal was formed, the Thunderclap Token still erupted with a blinding green-white light.

Within that light, a faint, aged commanding voice could be heard—

“Thunder, come!”

It wasn’t Lin Zhaoxuan’s voice.

It was as if a remnant of an elder Daoist’s intent lingered within the Thunderclap Token.

The green-white thunder light suddenly surged.

The black snake on the sixth lantern shrieked in agony as the thunder light split it from head to tail.

“Bang!”

The sixth lantern exploded.

The severed tongue inside turned to charcoal, twitched twice on the stage surface, and then fell still.

Only one lantern remained.

But just as the sixth one burst, the four evil actors on the stage—old sheng, old dan, hua dan, and wusheng—all raised their heads simultaneously.

Their bodies began to melt.

Opera robes, white powder, flesh, bones—all flowed like wax across the stage surface, rapidly converging beneath the final lantern.

That final lantern suddenly expanded.

From the size of an ordinary lantern, it swelled to half a person’s height in the blink of an eye.

A face with no features appeared on the lantern’s paper surface.

The face slowly split open a mouth, and it emitted the Willow Tree’s laughter.

“Heehee...”

“Heeheehee...”

The gaze of the Willow Tree’s evil eye once again pierced through the darkness, landing on Lin Zhaoxuan.

Lin Zhaoxuan’s body stiffened abruptly, and the light on the Thunderclap Token dimmed instantly.

He had been locked onto by the evil eye.

Xu Erxiao shouted:

“Brother Lu!”

Lu Yuan was already prepared.

With his left hand, he tore off the charred protective talisman from his chest, and with his right hand, he flicked the talisman’s ashes with his ritual sword toward Lin Zhaoxuan.

“Substitute form and shadow, shift the stars and cross the Dipper!”

The talisman ashes formed a blurred human figure in midair, positioned precisely between Lin Zhaoxuan and the Willow Tree’s evil eye.

“Puff!”

The ash figure exploded instantly.

Lu Yuan’s chest felt like it had been struck by a heavy hammer. He staggered half a step back, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

But the suppression on Lin Zhaoxuan was finally released for a single moment.

That single moment was enough.

Wang Cheng’an hurled the copper bell high into the air.

The copper bell spun in midair, its mouth facing south.

He formed the “Jade Emperor Seal” with both hands, thumb pressing on his middle finger, index and ring fingers extended together, and recited sternly:

“The bell’s sound reaches the Three Pure Ones’ realm above, and penetrates the Nine Netherworlds’ gates below.”

“Evil sounds fall silent, the righteous command opens!”

“Decree!”

The copper bell rang by itself.

“Ding—”

The sound wasn’t loud, but it was exceptionally clear—

Clear like the frozen surface of a river beyond the Great Wall in the twelfth lunar month, cracking with a sharp sound that split open the entire valley’s yin atmosphere.

The singing on the stage was cut short by half a beat from this bell tone.

Song Qinghe also seized the opportunity to press the last cold talisman onto Lin Zhaoxuan’s back, crying as she shouted:

“Senior Brother, fight!”

Zhou Heng climbed up from the ground, his mouth full of blood, but he grabbed hold of a Bone White Soldier lunging at Lin Zhaoxuan.

The bone blade pierced his shoulder, but he refused to let go, instead pressing his forehead against the skeleton’s face and roaring:

“Fight!”

The last shred of doubt in Lu Yuan’s heart dissolved completely at that moment.

If this was an act, it was far too convincing.

Lu Yuan held back no longer.

He pulled the black cloth pouch from his bosom.

But this time, instead of untying the last two red cords, he patted the pouch lightly through the fabric.

Inside the black cloth pouch, that top-tier Ritual Tool seemed to awaken for an instant.

A heavy, majestic aura seeped out for just half a breath.

Just half a breath.

Yet it caused the Three Pure Ones spirit tablets and the Patriarch’s spirit tablet on the ritual altar to tremble slightly at the same time.

Lu Yuan seized this trembling force, holding his sword with both hands, the tip aimed directly at the final lantern.

“Patriarch lends half a seal.”

“Disciple severs the evil sound.”

“Thunder obeys the command, the true Dharma walks together!”

He stomped hard into the center position, thrusting the ritual sword forward.

A golden-white qi shot out from the sword tip, following the red cord and crashing into the Thunderclap Token in Lin Zhaoxuan’s hands.

Lin Zhaoxuan shuddered all over.

He felt an immense, righteous, mountain-heavy surge of magical power coming from outside.

It wasn’t taking his token, nor suppressing his magic—it was supporting the token that was about to crack.

He had no time to be stunned. His eyes blazed as he used the last of his strength to push the Thunderclap Token forward.

“Thunder breaks the evil!”

The green-white thunder light merged with the golden-white sword qi.

They combined into a thin, extraordinarily bright thunder sword.

The thunder sword pierced through the darkness, through the surging yin wall before the stage, through the filthy blood of the melted old sheng, old dan, hua dan, and wusheng,

And finally, it struck the ghastly white lantern that had swollen to half a person’s height.

The faceless face on the lantern’s paper showed terror for the first time.

It opened its mouth to sing—

But Wang Cheng’an’s copper bell had already suppressed its voice.

It tried to dodge—

But Song Qinghe’s cold talisman had frozen the stage corner.

It tried to summon ghost soldiers to block—

But Xu Erxiao’s three anchoring nails had firmly pinned the red-cord ghost path.

It tried to use the Willow Tree’s evil eye to suppress them—

But Lu Yuan’s ritual sword had already blocked its path.

“Boom!”

The final lantern exploded.

This was no ordinary lantern shattering.

The entire opera stage shuddered violently.

The ghastly white light went out instantly.

A palm-sized black wooden plaque flew out from the lantern.

On the wooden plaque, two blurred characters were written in blood—

“Opera Offering.”

The moment that wooden plaque appeared, a cold light flashed in Lu Yuan’s eyes.

“So this is the root!”

He spun his ritual sword, drawing a “Break” character talisman in midair—

“Thunder fire refines the filth, true form quickly extinguish!”

Lin Zhaoxuan also used his last breath to press the Thunderclap Token—

Green-white thunder fire landed on the black wooden plaque.

“Crack!”

The black wooden plaque split in two.

The next moment, every sound on the entire opera stage came to an abrupt halt.

The gongs stopped.

The drums stopped.

The huqin stopped.

The old sheng’s singing stopped.

The mixed sounds of crying and laughing stopped too.

In Wildman Ditch, an utterly terrifying silence descended.

That silence lasted less than a single breath.

Then, the opera stage began to collapse from all four corners.

Blackened wooden planks rotted piece by piece. The faded red silk on the pillars turned to ash. Yellowed paper flowers crumbled into dust.

The melted blood of the evil actors on stage, as if losing its support, rapidly dried, cracked, and finally turned into a layer of black ash.

A gust of yin wind blew, scattering it all cleanly.

The “spectators” beneath the stage also froze.

Black qi seeped out of their hollow eye sockets in wisps.

The old man in the front, chewing his dry tobacco pipe, lowered his head as if he had suddenly forgotten why he was standing there.

His lips moved.

This time, it wasn’t “watching the opera.”

Instead, it was an extremely faint, soft phrase:

“It’s over...”

“The opera... is over...”

As these words fell, large swaths of “spectators” began to disintegrate.

Their old clothes, tattered jackets, long robes, red silk—all turned to dust.

The reassembled Bone White Soldiers also seemed to have their frames pulled out, collapsing to the ground with a clatter.

The yin fires went out.

The bone blades and rusty spears shattered into fragments.

The second wave of evil puppets, which had almost pressed against the edge of the ritual altar, receded like a tide, dissolving into countless plumes of black smoke as they retreated.

The candles on the ritual altar regained their dim, yellow glow.

The incense smoke, no longer flying horizontally, began to rise slowly.

But in the center of the valley, the old willow tree still stood.

The evil eye on its trunk stared fixedly at everyone.

But unlike before, that evil eye now held a clear trace of venom and terror.

With the stage destroyed, the “incense and offerings” it had gathered through the opera’s sound had been cut off at one corner.

The willow branches lashed the ground frantically, producing a slapping sound.

But no matter how it thrashed, the dissipated spectators and Bone White Soldiers did not rise again.

Lu Yuan let out a long breath.

This opera was finally dealt with.

“Thump!”

Lin Zhaoxuan could no longer hold on. He fell to his knees.

The Thunderclap Token slipped from his hand, but he caught it in the last moment with both hands, preventing it from hitting the ground.

The ancient token was riddled with cracks, its light nearly completely dimmed—

But in the end, it hadn’t shattered.

Song Qinghe hurriedly supported Lin Zhaoxuan, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

“Senior Brother! Senior Brother, are you okay?”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s face was deathly pale, but his lips were a terrifying red—clearly a sign of the Blood-Fire Pill’s backlash.

He gasped for breath a couple of times, then actually cracked a grin.

“Didn’t die.”

Zhou Heng clutched his shoulder, hissing in pain, but he still forced himself to scold:

“Still laughing! Two Blood-Fire Pills—do you have a death wish?”

Lin Zhaoxuan looked down at the Thunderclap Token in his hands and said in a weak voice:

“The token didn’t break either.”

“The Patriarch was generous enough.”

Lu Yuan looked at Lin Zhaoxuan and the other two, a complicated expression on his face.

One swallowed pills and risked his life, one had his shoulder pierced by a bone blade, one cried with a face full of tears and ash while still pasting talismans to protect people.

If these were heretics, then there probably weren’t many true righteous in this world.

To be honest...

Lu Yuan felt...

Hell, these three looked more righteous than he did!!