A curse rang out loudly, startling William Carter. With a twist of his right hand, the broken sword at his side was unsheathed. The blade, clear as autumn water, emitted a faint bluish glow, appearing incomparably sharp. The red talisman on the sword’s spine also glimmered faintly.

However, William Carter had clearly been alarmed for nothing. At the spot attacked by the Chuyang Melting Fire Talisman, a gray-robed monk stood up, cursing and grumbling. Clearly, he was furious at the misfortune that had just befallen him. William Carter felt deeply embarrassed and hurried over, apologizing repeatedly: “Master, please don’t be offended. I panicked for a moment and accidentally injured you. Please forgive me.”

While apologizing, William Carter smoothly sheathed his broken sword and bowed respectfully.

The monk looked up and saw such a young and innocent little Daoist, so he stopped cursing. He let out a strange laugh and said, “Little Daoist, you’re so reckless. Do you know what important thing I was doing? If you’d delayed my timing, how would you compensate me?”

After apologizing several times, William Carter finally had a moment to size up the monk. This monk truly lived up to the term “poor monk.” Not only was his robe so filthy that its original color was unrecognizable, but his face and hands were caked with at least half an inch of old dirt—it was impossible to tell how many years it had been since he’d washed. The lower part of his pants, from the knees down, was completely gone. The tattered strips of his monk’s robe fluttered in the wind, carrying a musty odor. One would think that even a corpse buried in the ground for half a year wouldn’t be this ragged. Even among beggars by the roadside, it would be rare to find someone with clothes in such a state.

Glancing briefly at the straw sandals on the monk’s feet, William Carter couldn’t help but admire him—it was impressive he could still wear them. They were so tattered that it was hard to tell if they were tied on with straw rope or if mud was simply stuck to the soles. It was remarkable that William Carter could even tell the monk was wearing sandals at all.

William Carter was trying hard to determine whether the person before him was a monk, a beggar, or perhaps even a corpse that had crawled out of a grave after years underground. Suddenly, he caught a whiff of a fragrant aroma. Turning his head, he saw some charcoal burning on the ground, with a bird of unknown species roasting above it, giving off a delicious scent.

The monk followed William Carter’s gaze, remembered his roasting bird, and, ignoring William Carter, turned over to keep rotating it, then tore off a leg and began chewing.

Although William Carter hadn’t eaten breakfast, seeing the monk’s filthy appearance, he didn’t dare ask for a bite. He was a Daoist who lived in the secular world and wasn’t forbidden from eating meat or marrying, but he simply couldn’t stomach something like this.

Seeing that the monk had no intention of inviting him, William Carter was about to take his leave when he suddenly remembered something and quickly stopped him: “Master, please eat more slowly. I’m afraid the birds here might not be clean. Eating them could make you sick.”

The slovenly monk grinned and said, “Little Daoist, it seems you have some cultivation. Of course I know you can’t eat things that died here. I hunted this one elsewhere—it’s perfectly safe.”

William Carter quietly recited the name of the Lord Lao. He felt great disdain for this monk. It was one thing for a monk to eat meat, but to personally hunt for it—truly outrageous, and contrary to Buddhist teachings.

The slovenly monk didn’t care what William Carter thought and said loudly, “Little Daoist, do you know why the yin energy here dissipates during the day but becomes terrifyingly strong at night? It’s because someone is using the yin energy here to attract hundreds of thousands of wandering souls to practice evil sorcery. If they succeed, there won’t be any life left for hundreds of miles around. I was planning to slay the demon and rid the world of evil, but I’m a bit tied up. Since you’re here, why not join me in dealing with this fiend?”

William Carter shivered involuntarily at the monk’s words. He had noticed last night that the yin energy here was unusually dense and lingering, which was not normal for a place of evil. He had already suspected that someone was practicing dark arts here.

Although the monk’s words made some sense, William Carter had no intention of coming here to vanquish evil. He knew a few spells, enough to deal with ghosts and minor spirits, but this was likely the work of someone far more powerful than himself. How could William Carter dare to risk his life? If what the monk said was true, and there really was an old monster here who could summon hundreds of thousands of souls, there probably weren’t many in the world—righteous or evil—who could handle it. With his level of cultivation, he was simply not up to the task.

What’s more, this monk was so strange that William Carter dared not get involved. He quickly said, “Master, your powers are profound. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be of much help. Besides, this senior who is practicing magic here may not necessarily intend to harm anyone. If we go looking for trouble without just cause, it wouldn’t be right. Perhaps another time. I’ll take my leave.” With that, William Carter turned to go.

The monk chuckled and didn’t try to stop him. He slapped his palm on the ground—not that it looked impressive, but suddenly, ghostly cries rose from below, and a cold wind swept through the area.

Before William Carter could take a step, he suddenly heard a roar. Countless wisps of black smoke rose from the surrounding grass, and within the smoke were tens of thousands of vengeful spirits and fierce ghosts, wailing and shrieking in agony...

William Carter was startled, realizing he had fallen into grave danger.

Chapter Two: Spirit Essence