Chapter 3

Practically dragging the sword, or at least attempting to, Xue Xinyu finally manages to move again. Now, flying wasn't the problem, but balance was definitely giving him a run for his money. Shaking like a cat on a skateboard, with each wobble threatening to turn him into a human missile, Xue Xinyu struggled to maintain his dignity. Did he always have the balance of a newborn giraffe on roller skates? It felt like he was performing a disastrous rendition of an aerial ballet, with every wobble threatening to send him on a one-way trip to the ground.

After an absurdly dramatic struggle that could rival a Shakespearean tragedy, Xue Xinyu staggered to a precipice that seemed to mockingly declare "No Humans Allowed." The towering trees loomed like disapproving guardians, their shadows casting sceptical glances at his every stumble. With all the grace of a drunken elephant trying to tiptoe, he dismounted his sword (more like crash-landed) onto the rocky ground. A feeble attempt to brush off the dust turned into a flailing dance of embarrassment, ending with an awkward sheathing of his sword, hoping against hope that nobody had witnessed his less-than-heroic arrival.

The forest enveloped him in its dense, dark embrace, where even the trees seemed to squint to see through the gloom. The oppressive silence was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional creaking of ancient branches, sending shivers down Xue Xinyu's spine. As he ventured deeper into the sinister abyss, he half-expected eerie music to cue his every step. Fumbling with the scroll, he scanned his eerie surroundings, half-hoping for a friendly corpse to pop out and offer him tea. Because in this cursed narrative, even the forests had a penchant for twisted humour. It seemed improbable, yet entirely fitting for a world where even corpses might have their own VIP section amidst the eerie trees.

Embarking on his morbid adventure of corpse summoning, Xue Xinyu pressed his hand firmly against the ground, mimicking the instructions outlined in the scroll. With a whisper that sounded like it had been borrowed from the soundtrack of a horror movie, he intoned, "Zalak'thul durvok'ash," his voice taking on an otherworldly timbre. Clearly, this wasn't your everyday incantation; it was straight out of the demon playbook, complete with all the spooky vibes.

The earth beneath him seemed to writhe and twist with an otherworldly fervour, its surface rippling like the waves of a tumultuous sea. The air carried an eerie chill, accompanied by the faint scent of damp soil and the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. The tension in the atmosphere was palpable, as if even the forest held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

To his astonishment, multiple hands emerged from the churned earth, their gnarled fingers clawing at the air with a frantic urgency. One hand, then two, then three—until a veritable chorus of grasping appendages thrust their way into the open air, as if eager to seize hold of the world above.

As the cacophony of groans filled the air, Xue Xinyu's gaze fell upon the figures that emerged from the depths below. Four grotesque forms, their pallid skin stretched taut over skeletal frames, lurched forth from the earth like specters summoned from the darkest recesses of the underworld. With hollow eyes that gleamed with a malevolent light, they resembled nothing so much as the reanimated dead—lost souls condemned to wander the mortal realm in search of... what? Redemption? Release? Or perhaps just a good dance party in the graveyard.

Xue Xinyu couldn't help but ponder the profound existential question: would everyone inherit this ghoulish look post-mortality? Oh, the horror! Oh, the tragedy! Oh, the lament for a skincare routine lost to the grave!

Skipping thoughts of his nonexistent skincare routine, Xue Xinyu stood up, bracing for the minuscule 0.0001% chance of them suddenly pounding at him and whip whap whooping his life off his belt.

Now that he discovered he could summon corpses, he had to try and control them. The process of summoning alone drained a hefty amount of his precious demonic qi, leaving him walking a tightrope between success and exhaustion.

Now, he only had to whisper a command to them, to make them follow. Then he had to 'insert' demonic qi into his voice. Hesitantly, Xue Xinyu tiptoed closer to them, taking one step every five minutes. As he finally arrived, he could see the emptiness in the corpses' eyes. Drawing even closer to their ears, he whispers, "Jump." To be honest, he had absolutely no idea what command to give them. After uttering the command, the corpse he addressed began jumping. It was quite a sight to behold, their jump power strong yet wobbly, like a drunk kangaroo on a pogo stick.

"Cease," he whispered, and miraculously, the corpse froze in its tracks, as obedient as a puppy after a stern scolding. This was going swimmingly, so Xue Xinyu couldn't resist the temptation to try out the bell next. "Zarothal zorvexium," he intoned, taking a dramatic step backward. Lo and behold, a bell materialised out of thin air, assembling itself like a Lego set on steroids.

This method was a real energy hog, gobbling up both demonic and regular qi like a kid devouring candy on Halloween. It was a tricky balancing act, like juggling flaming swords while riding a unicycle on a tightrope. Most warlocks struggled with it, but Xue Xinyu was determined to master it, even if it meant looking like a clueless fool consulting a manual in front of everyone.

"Ring, corpse manipulation," he declared confidently, as if commanding a waiter to bring him a sandwich. The bell pealed loudly, startling even Xue Xinyu with its cacophonous noise. Yet, miraculously, it worked like a charm, controlling the corpses with precision akin to a master puppeteer pulling invisible strings. Who knew summoning the undead could be this entertaining?

This alone would have taken normal cultivators a lifetime to learn; after all, acquiring demonic qi is harder to come by than a unicorn on a flying pig.. Many warlocks even 'steal' demonic qi because they couldn't form their own demonic qi core. Xue Xinyu learning this so quickly meant that he did have a core with demonic qi. 

Even if a quarter of his normal qi core was made out of demonic qi, he could learn it, but if it was just a sprinkle, it wouldn't have taken him this short of a time to learn. This meant he either had a core the size of a whale with demonic qi, in addition to another core made out of normal qi (which was already too much biology to calculate), or he was just a naturally gifted learner, which was about as likely as finding a mermaid in a bathtub. 

However, having two cores was even more unlikely than winning a dance-off against a disco-loving dragon. To be correct, most half-demons, half-humans have one core, filled with half of each. Most warlocks or demonic cultivators, in general, have more normal qi in their core than demonic qi. 

But even if he had half, he wasn't the protagonist, so he had to have more than half of demonic qi to learn it this quickly. But considering Huai Xiaozhun was also strong in normal cultivation, it wouldn't make sense. This was messing with Xue Xinyu's mind.

"HEY, LOOK! IT'S A WARLOCK BELL!" The shout rang out from a distance, piercing through the serene ambiance of the forest. Xue Xinyu froze, his heart skipping a beat as he glanced up and over his shoulder. Sure enough, several airborne disciples from Qi Yun Peak soared above, their eyes fixed on the colossal bell he had just summoned amidst the dense foliage.

If they caught him red-handed like this on his first day of experimenting with demonic arts, it would be a disaster of epic proportions. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave crashing against his resolve. Without a moment to spare, he bolted, each step echoing in the quiet forest, his heart pounding like a drum solo gone haywire.

Behind him, the bell continued to toll, its deep resonance reverberating through the ancient trees. The sound was both haunting and cacophonous, sending shivers down his spine as he sprinted, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Glancing back, Xue Xinyu saw the undead minions he had summoned scattering in all directions, their eerie forms vanishing into the shadows like ghosts fleeing the daylight. It wasn't part of his meticulously crafted plan, but if the corpses could distract the pursuing disciples, he might just stand a chance at making a clean getaway.

As he ran, the forest seemed to close in around him, amplifying every crunch of leaves underfoot and the rustling of branches in the wind. The air carried a mixture of earthy scents, mingled with the faint hint of decay from the corpses he had manipulated. It was a bizarre blend of aromas that added to the surrealism of the moment.

With each stride, the toll of the bell grew louder and slower, signalling that its self-defence mechanism had been activated. This wasn't good news—it meant the disciples were dangerously close, mishandling techniques meant for the controlled summoning of corpses.

Summoning his sword with a mixture of determination and desperation, Xue Xinyu clumsily mounted it once more, his legs kicking wildly to find balance. He felt like a novice rodeo cowboy trying to stay atop a bucking bronco, except in this case, the bucking bronco was a magical flying sword and he was careening through a forest like a runaway freight train.

Navigating the dense thicket with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, Xue Xinyu's flight through the trees resembled a slapstick comedy routine—awkward, uncoordinated, and thoroughly entertaining to any bystander who might have witnessed the spectacle.

But amidst the chaos and the looming threat of discovery, Xue Xinyu couldn't help but find a sliver of amusement in his predicament. After all, how many cultivators could claim to have evaded capture with the help of summoned undead minions and a comically oversized warlock bell? It was a tale he would undoubtedly recount with equal parts embarrassment and pride, should he live to tell the tale.

In a whirlwind of movement, he rushed to the scene, his body moving almost instinctively as he intercepted the disciple under attack by the rampaging corpses. It was a chaotic dance, his movements a mix of clumsiness and unexpected grace as he fought to protect someone he never met before.

He was more terrified of flying than a cat at a cucumber convention, but hey, if he plummeted like a rock, his trusty skincare corpse squad could always swoop in like undead superheroes and perform some magical rescue mission.

Well, at least he hoped they could. I mean, do corpses even come with an instruction manual for magic tricks?

With a keen sense of the situation, Xue Xinyu refrained from simply demanding the corpses to stop, knowing it would only raise suspicion. Instead, he adopted the demeanour of a true sect master, swiftly depositing the rescued disciple on the forest floor with a careful touch.

"What brings you here, Master Xue?" the bewildered disciple inquired, their brow furrowed in confusion as they regarded their unexpected visitor. Beside them, their companion echoed the sentiment, their eyes wide with curiosity and awe.

"They say Master Xue appears wherever he's needed," the second disciple chimed in, a note of admiration colouring their voice as they spoke. 

"I saw and heard the bell chiming on my daily walk," Xue Xinyu replied smoothly, his words ringing with a hint of authority as he offered a plausible explanation for his presence in the forest. Though Qi Yun Peak lay far in the distance, the urgency of the situation demanded a quick and decisive response.

With a deft motion, Xue Xinyu summoned his flying sword back to him, the gleaming blade arcing through the air with effortless grace. In one fluid motion, he brought the sword down upon the bell, the ringing abruptly silenced as the metallic clang echoed through the forest.

"Master Xue is so strong. Thank you for your help," the disciple exclaimed gratefully, their expression a mixture of relief and admiration as they gazed upon their saviour. The tension that had gripped the air moments before dissipated like morning mist beneath the warmth of the sun.

As the bell's influence waned, the corpses that had been summoned by its toll collapsed to the ground, their lifeless forms no longer animated by the dark magic that had bound them. Xue Xinyu breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of the moment lifting from his shoulders as he surveyed the scene before him.