Chapter 72: Kṣitigarbha's Blessing

The moment I saw Cui Hai about to smash his head again, I panicked—if that blow landed, he'd be crippled or worse.

I couldn't afford to hesitate. Even though I knew I couldn't match that strength, I still charged toward him. At the critical moment, I bit down hard on my tongue, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

This wasn't some movie trick—this was a real Maoshan technique called Blood Spirit Arrow, using one's pure Yang blood to repel evil.

The blood hit him square in the face. He froze instantly.

To be honest, there's another method involving feminine hygiene products—but as a grown man, where the hell was I supposed to get one?

Cui Hai dropped like a log, crashing face-first into the dirt. Even if he survived, I doubted he'd want to show his face in public again.

Though that yellow weasel spirit was a land-bound immortal, she still hadn't ascended fully—meaning she retained demonic energy and thus feared pure Yang items, like my blood. The Blood Spirit Arrow was like acid to her, burning her beast soul from within.

I didn't let up. As soon as I got close to seal her away—bam! Cui Hai sprang up and grabbed me by the throat.

The grip was iron-like, choking the air from my lungs. Damn it! Why do all these evil things love strangling people?

I was suffocating. Desperate, I slapped a soul-binding talisman on his forehead and croaked out, "Banish!"

Immediately, Cui Hai froze, and a streak of yellow energy shot from his skull, darting off toward the graveyard. I watched it flee with incredible speed.

That was her—the Huang Daxian had finally left.

I heaved a sigh of relief. We'd survived—barely. But I knew this wasn't over. She'd be back. A grudge like this wasn't easily dropped.

Still, for now, I had a job to do. I lifted the unconscious Cui Hai and carried him back to the camp.

But what I saw made my heart sink.

The camp was in chaos—a mess of blood and debris. I heard wailing nearby and dropped Cui Hai, racing forward. The sight froze me: all the students had crammed themselves into the protective talisman circle I had set earlier.

Outside the circle?

Countless weasels.

Some stood upright, others hunched, pawing at severed human limbs. I felt a chill run down my spine. Leading the pack was a giant, inky-black weasel the size of a wolfhound—clearly their king.

My classmates had become prey.

When they saw me, they screamed, "Dabao! Help us! Please!"

The shrieking drew the weasels' attention. Suddenly, dozens of glowing yellow eyes turned toward me.

I wanted to run—but where could I go? I couldn't outrun them, and even if I did, I'd be a coward.

The air filled with chittering. The big black weasel fixed its gaze on me. It had cultivated to the edge of transformation—no doubt.

Then it shrieked, and the weasel horde charged.

I had one gamble.

Raising two fingers to the sky, I stamped my foot and shouted,

"Heaven and Earth, lend me your strength!Heavenly soldiers, reveal your power!Ancestor Master, I beseech you!Tai Shang Laojun—by decree, manifest now!"

The moment the last syllable left my mouth, a scorching heat surged through my body—especially the place where Master Wang once wrote that talisman on me. My limbs trembled with unnatural power.

I felt… different. I stood still, but everything else seemed tiny.

The weasels froze.

Then, led by the giant black one, they knelt down before me, bowing three times.

At that moment, I understood what it meant to be possessed by a god—"Spirit Descent."

I had invited the ancestral master's spirit into my body. No evil spirit dared challenge that divine aura. Just like how Night Wandering God had shielded me from being gutted earlier, now the weasels fled, humbled.

One by one, they scattered into the darkness. When they were gone, the pressure lifted—I felt the spiritual force vanish. It was like none of it ever happened.

But the weasels had retreated, and my classmates were safe. As they stepped out of the talisman circle, they broke down crying.

Jiang Shiyu ran over and asked, "What just happened? Were the weasels trying to take revenge?"

I didn't need to answer—three people lay dead nearby.

Liu Ruoyi had a bitten arm. Five weasel pups had died; we'd lost three lives—so at least two more were still marked for death.

I told everyone the danger had passed, but deep down, I knew it wasn't over. Still, now everyone looked to me for guidance.

I ordered people to carry Cui Hai back. With real deaths on our hands, the authorities would soon get involved.

Speaking of that spiritual energy—"Haoran Qi"—it's not just found in monks or Taoists. Even among everyday people, a greatly virtuous person may carry it.

I once met an old man, 80 years old, who spent his days repairing roads. He even appeared on the news in Liaoning. His demeanor was so peaceful that just standing beside him made you feel at ease. That's what Haoran Qi is—a righteous aura that calms all evil.

Soon the sun rose, bringing with it the warmth of Yang energy. We were safe for now.

We found the half-buried remains of a weasel near Cui Hai's tent. After dousing it in gasoline and setting it aflame, we officially broke the Fang Cang curse.

By 8 a.m., our phones had signal again. We called the police. Three classmates were confirmed dead. Cui Hai, somehow, had only minor injuries—his skull was tougher than expected.

The deaths were attributed to "wild animal attacks."

And none of us wanted to speak another word about what really happened.

Back on the bus, the atmosphere was heavy. Some were joyful to be alive, others quietly anxious.

Especially Cui Hai. All along the ride, he kept glancing back.

Someone asked, "What are you looking at?"

He replied with a haunted look:

"I don't know… I just feel like something is still following me."