Chapter Sixty-Six: Showing a Little Mercy

Wei Xiaoping was secretly delighted to see that his Demon-Slaying Sword could kill prison ghosts even in the underworld, and its power was just as formidable here as it was in the mortal world, slaying demons and punishing monsters. He thought to himself, “I never imagined this sword could cut through both worlds! To possess such a weapon is extraordinary luck. Sadly, I still don’t know which immortal gifted it to me. Alas!”

With a deep sigh, Wei Xiaoping leapt forward once more, swinging the Demon-Slaying Sword at prison ghosts dozens of yards away, advancing as he struck. Behind him, the spectral hound and horse, Old Horse and Niu Dahua, witnessed the sword’s might. Each swing scattered dozens, sometimes hundreds, of prison ghosts into nothingness, further fueling their fighting spirit.

Old Horse sprang into the air and crashed down onto the prison ghosts below. Those struck by Old Horse fell like bricks toppled in rows—one after another, the ghosts tumbled, some fifty in succession before the motion ceased.

Then, Old Horse opened his three dog heads wide, revealing icy white fangs, and bit three prison ghosts that had drawn near, fiercely flinging them backward. The three ghosts he seized flew from his crown, landing dozens of meters away in the black waters, their cries echoing mournfully.

Niu Dahua, not to be outdone, stretched his neck and thrust three dog heads toward the approaching ghosts, first knocking them aside, then biting three more and hurling them far behind, just as Old Horse had done. As Niu Dahua swung his neck, the chains around it swept forward, striking the ghosts. Where the chains passed, ghosts were cleaved in two like wheat beneath a sickle. Those struck fell into the black river before they could even cry out, swallowed by the waves.

Each time Wei Xiaoping swung the Demon-Slaying Sword at the prison ghosts, he felt an invisible force pulling his hands forward, his body drifting in the direction of the sword’s arc, nearly losing control due to the strength of this unseen power.

Initially, Wei Xiaoping considered jumping into the midst of the ghosts to cut them down with sweeping blows, but he hesitated, fearing too many would die. After all, these ghosts’ crimes were not deserving of death, nor did they wish to fight; they merely wanted to capture Wei Xiaoping and his companions, hoping to be taken away. Thus, he limited himself to downward strikes, sparing as many as possible.

Upon seeing that his first strike had killed over a hundred ghosts, Wei Xiaoping felt a pang of sorrow. Yet, observing their relentless determination to capture him, he had no choice but to use the Demon-Slaying Sword to clear a path.

To avoid further slaughter, Wei Xiaoping reduced his strength to a tenth when swinging at the ghosts. But the sword’s killing aura was so intense that even before its blade touched them, some ghosts were shattered by its light, fragments drifting upward only to vanish as they fell.

To prevent more accidental deaths, Wei Xiaoping sheathed his sword and fought with his hands and feet instead. Yet, the ghosts were too numerous, and his physical strength paled in comparison to the sword’s power. He barely managed to knock down a dozen before waves of ghosts surged forward again, like ants swarming toward food from every direction.

Several times, his clothes were seized by the ghosts, who clung desperately, as if grasping a lifeline. It took considerable effort for Wei Xiaoping to break free.

With no alternative, and determined to escape the entanglement and leave the prison of the black river, to return soon to his reviving body in the mortal world, Wei Xiaoping once again drew the Demon-Slaying Sword.

The spectral hound and horse, Old Horse and Niu Dahua, who were fiercely battling ghosts, noticed their master’s odd behavior—he drew the sword, then put it away, and now had drawn it again.

“General, why did you take the sword out, then put it away, and now take it out again?” Old Horse asked.

Niu Dahua chimed in, “General, let us hold off these ghosts. You go ahead!”

“This river is broad, and the ghosts swarm like ants from a nest. How can I go alone? We must all forge a path together,” Wei Xiaoping replied.

Old Horse said, “General, since you wield this Demon-Slaying Sword, you must possess some divine power—can’t you fly ahead using your magic?”

Wei Xiaoping answered, “I do have magic, but it’s useless in the underworld—I tried already. Here, divine arts are far weaker than in the mortal realm, usually diminished by more than half. No matter how powerful you are in the mortal world, in the underworld, your abilities are automatically reduced. Besides, the King of Hell arranged for us to return this way for a reason, so even if I could use my magic to its fullest, I must respect his decree.”

Hearing this, Old Horse and Niu Dahua agreed and continued to charge the advancing ghosts.

“Old Horse, to minimize casualties among the prison ghosts, let’s strike gently whenever possible. The King of Hell keeps them here because their crimes aren’t fatal. If we can avoid killing them, we must,” Wei Xiaoping said.

“Understood, General. We’ll follow your lead!” Old Horse replied, thinking Wei Xiaoping truly was a good general. Most returning souls passing through here would mercilessly slaughter the ghosts to escape their grasp, but Wei Xiaoping, out of pity, showed restraint.

Niu Dahua thought to himself, “This General Wei is truly a man of compassion, sparing even these insignificant ghosts. Working with such a person is bound to be worthwhile! The King of Hell was wise to pair us with him. I am truly grateful!”

After hearing Wei Xiaoping’s words, the spectral hound and horse adopted new tactics. Instead of killing, they used their bodies to knock the ghosts aside, or bit them gently and tossed them elsewhere, ensuring minimal harm. Only the most wicked and troublesome ghosts were killed outright by biting or forceful collisions.

And so, they pressed onward through the endless swarm of prison ghosts, forging a path together.