Chapter Forty-Eight: Black Impermanence

A single man and a horde of ghosts stood frozen, locked in a bizarre standoff. The atmosphere was eerily tense. Of all present, the simple-minded ghost was the most at ease, seated atop a pile of stones, occasionally casting resentful glances at the hundred ghosts. Clearly, he still bore a grudge from earlier, having been chased by them for quite some time.

Neither the ghosts nor Lin Ran dared to make a move. After all, the Soul-Summoning Bell had inexplicably ceased its power to collect spirits, depriving Lin Ran of his greatest advantage. Lin Ran believed that if he could just hold out until dawn, these fierce ghosts would retreat of their own accord. Yet, he had underestimated the situation.

Perhaps too much time had passed—suddenly, the ghosts grew less restless and, in unison, knelt in worship toward the direction of Ghost City, their mouths emitting shrill, mournful cries. Witnessing this, Lin Ran felt a surge of foreboding, as though a summoning ritual was underway.

Anxiously, Lin Ran glanced at the simple-minded ghost, who was still eating contentedly, unaware that grave trouble was looming. The sense of unease pressed on Lin Ran like the suffocating weight of impending death.

Suddenly, the worshipping ghosts seemed to receive some response, and, as if possessed, they surrounded Lin Ran and the simple-minded ghost. Lin Ran frowned, gazing toward Ghost City, where a chilling aura of death was rapidly approaching. That deathly presence made Lin Ran deeply uncomfortable, locking onto him with an unyielding grip.

As the oppressive aura drew nearer, Lin Ran’s expression grew increasingly grim. He wasn’t the only one who sensed it—the simple-minded ghost, too, ceased eating, his dull eyes now filled with panic as he stared toward Ghost City. Seeing this, Lin Ran knew that whoever was coming was not a simple adversary.

Minute by minute, time slipped away. When the aura of death enveloped Lin Ran completely, a gigantic figure slowly emerged into his view.

A clattering sound echoed—there stood a figure four or five fathoms tall, clad from head to toe in a black robe, with even his shoes the same somber color.

His head appeared oddly pointed, giving him a peculiar look. In his hand, he held an enormous black staff, and over his shoulder hung a long iron chain, which rattled with every step he took.

The giant moved with extreme slowness, as though each step was a laborious effort. As he drew closer, Lin Ran could finally see him clearly, and when his gaze fell upon the giant’s head, Lin Ran’s pupils contracted sharply—for it wasn’t a human head at all, but a tall, pointed hat, inscribed with four bold words: “Peace Under Heaven.”

Black Warden! Lin Ran had never seen him before, yet he had heard tales of the infamous Black and White Wardens. Lin Ran had seen their likenesses in the Book of Yin-Yang Mysteries, and this figure matched seven or eight parts of those descriptions, though the book had never mentioned such imposing height.

“So, you are Lin Ran?” The Black Warden halted before Lin Ran, making no move but merely bowed his head to look at him, as one might gaze at a feeble ant.

“Yes! And who might you be?” Lin Ran retorted with a cold sneer, knowing full well that this encounter would not end peacefully and thus felt no need to temper his words.

“Hmph! Who would have thought that the once noble Bai Ye, after entering the human path, would become so sharp-tongued! This time, I shall cast you into the beast realm—let’s see how clever you are then!” The Black Warden’s anger flared, his voice booming and making Lin Ran’s ears ring.

“You? Just you?” Lin Ran looked at him with undisguised contempt, his fingers surreptitiously clutching a black box.

The Black Warden had no intention of wasting words; he swung his mourning staff directly at Lin Ran. Before the black staff could even strike him, Lin Ran felt a sudden, tearing agony—as if his soul were being forcefully extracted.

He twisted aside, attempting to dodge the staff. Yet it seemed almost sentient, impossible to evade no matter what he did. For the first time, Lin Ran experienced its power firsthand, shocked at its overwhelming force.

Though Lin Ran tried his best to avoid it, he was struck on the shoulder. Yet the expected pain did not come—instead, he was merely thrown off balance. What manner of cursed staff was this? Why was he unharmed? Glancing back in confusion, he was startled to see a duplicate of himself behind him, frozen in the same posture, with the staff landing squarely on its form.

What was happening? Lin Ran looked down at his feet, realizing he felt weightless—could it be that his soul had been pulled free? He was stunned. As he hesitated, a massive iron chain wound around his neck, dragging him forward. He found himself powerless to resist its pull.

Seeing Lin Ran chained, the simple-minded ghost went berserk, howling and charging straight at the Black Warden. The pair of twin fiends—Black and White—showed no intention of helping, leaping away to safety. Lin Ran tried to stop the simple-minded ghost, but to his surprise, the ghost suddenly burst forth with astonishing speed.

Lin Ran barely registered a blur before a tragic scream rang out—the simple-minded ghost was sent flying. The Black Warden glanced coldly at him, his face twisted in mocking disdain. Lin Ran’s expression changed; he knew the terror of the mourning staff—if the simple-minded ghost survived, he would certainly be gravely injured.

The simple-minded ghost crashed to the ground, lying motionless. Seeing this, Lin Ran’s heart sank, his face ashen. That fool! His eyes grew moist.

“Hm? Hmm…” As Lin Ran’s hope faded, the simple-minded ghost suddenly groaned, struggling to rise.

Lin Ran’s eyes lit up—he was alright! A genuine smile broke across his face, a deep joy from within. The simple-minded ghost had withstood the mourning staff! The Black Warden uttered a surprised grunt, frowning at the ghost.

“The box! Smash it!” Seeing the ghost stagger toward him, Lin Ran urgently pointed to the box held by his own corporeal body and shouted.