6kv Chapter 253 It's Too Late
Chapter 253 It's Too Late
Chapter 253 It's Too Late (4000 words)
The cold wind seemed to be sucked into an old well, swirling around outside the salt circle but unable to get in.
Lu Yuan stood at the center of the scene, the circle of white salt beneath his feet now gleaming under the pressure of Xi Sha and Lei Yi, like an old rut pressed into the snow.
The Seven Star Sword, which guards the pass, lies horizontally in his palm, with the fifth and sixth dark stars on its spine emitting a cold light in succession.
Although not as dazzling as thunder in broad daylight, it possesses a heavy, oppressive quality, as if pressing down on a mountain and secretly suppressing all evil.
That was not a light weapon for exorcising evil, but a truly ancient sword forged in the wind, sand, cold corpses, and chaos beyond the Great Wall.
It is precisely in such critical moments that it appears most silent and ruthless.
The altar spirit stood in the center of the scene, its dark shadow, like a rolled-up mat, was torn apart by the salt ring, the mat's legs unable to be rejoined, and the lamplight was also pushed to the north.
Its original specialty, "borrowing shadows to switch places," has been fatally exploited by Lu Yuan using the second altar-breaking technique.
Although it was not completely dead yet, it was like a snake with its seven-inch mark pinned down. It knew it could still bite, but its tail was no longer under its control.
It let out a very low laugh, but the laugh was filled with sinister fire.
"What a tough tactic."
"You think—this will intimidate me?"
Before he could finish speaking, the altar spirit suddenly spread its arms wide.
All the paper banners on both sides of the stone path rustled at the same time. The banner bases that Zhou Heng had nailed down suddenly bent on their own, and the white faces on the paper all turned towards Lu Yuan.
The black dots in their eye sockets swayed together, like countless dead people's eyes opening at the same time.
The grayish-white flame inside the lamp also surged, and the paper hand inside the wick began to slowly turn its palm over.
Thin, long strands of black silk were drawn out between the five fingers, as if trying to sew up the life on the entire stone path bit by bit.
"It wants to borrow a hundred faces to retaliate!"
Lin Zhaoxuan's expression changed drastically. He suppressed the urge to vomit and almost roared it out.
"The lamp wick must not be turned over; if it is, the person under the lamp will be called out by name!"
Song Qinghe's sealing plate was cracked like an old bowl that was about to fall apart. Every time the edge of the plate trembled, a trace of cold white ash would leak out.
She gritted her teeth, pressing the plate firmly against her, her voice trembling: "It's summoning the shadow of the old altar—this isn't just a simple counterattack, it's trying to drag back the previously suppressed Xigen!"
Upon hearing this, Lu Yuan's eyes remained unmoved. He simply raised two fingers of his left hand and stroked the spine of the sword.
He then smeared the remaining blood from his fingertips onto his brow and murmured, "Seven stars suppress fate, all evil spirits retreat."
"Heaven gives you a way, but you don't take it; you insist on using a feast to revive yourself."
"Then I'll show you what it means to guard the pass."
These words of his were not random, but rather the "secret language" often used by experienced Taoist priests from beyond the Great Wall when they were in command.
The Taoist lineages in the mountains and fields do not emphasize pomp and circumstance. They rely on borrowing the righteous energy of heaven and earth, the incense of the patriarch, and the old flame of the objects. Only when these three are combined can they suppress such evil altars and shady practices.
Lu Yuan is not just putting on a show now; he is using himself as the final nail to close the door, driving himself inch by inch into the heart of the altar.
The altar spirit seemed to be angered by his words.
It suddenly raised its hand, and black energy from its sleeve lashed out like a whip, striking straight at Lu Yuan's face.
Before the whip even arrived, the pungent smell of paper wafted over, as if someone had covered someone's head with an old piece of paper that had been soaked in a well of corpses.
It's meant to seal all seven orifices of a person. Lu Yuan, however, didn't move his feet; he merely pushed the Seven Star Sword forward slightly.
"when""
A very faint metallic clang.
The black whip was actually bounced back, causing the altar spirit's sleeve to tremble and his entire arm to go numb.
It didn't expect that Lu Yuan wouldn't block it head-on, but would instead use the momentum of the sword to "send" it back.
The Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan is not an ordinary short weapon. Its blade is cold and restrained. Once it presses down on the center line, its best skill is to use the opponent's force to deflect and break the opponent's Yin energy before returning it.
The altar spirit's eyes darkened, and he finally stopped holding back.
Suddenly, a long crack appeared in the darkest patch of soil beneath its feet, and strands of old red paper scraps were turning out from inside.
On the scraps of paper, one can still vaguely see incomplete patterns, incense ash marks, and the edges of ink characters, like the remnants and fragments of something that has sunk over the years from an old altar or mat.
As soon as that thing appeared, the temperature of the entire stone path seemed to be dragged into an ice cellar.
"We're back at our old table!"
Wang Chengan exclaimed in disbelief.
Lu Yuan's eyes narrowed.
That's what he's most worried about.
The altar itself is not scary; what is truly terrifying is its ability to gather up the evil spirits of the old altar buried underground, the roots of the old mats, and the remnants of the dead.
In the old days outside the Great Wall, white mats, paper banners, and lanterns were traditional ways of sending off the dead, guiding spirits, and warding off evil.
If it is used by evil spirits in return, it will become the most troublesome "Xi Sha Tan".
It wasn't a single evil thing, but rather the entire old funeral system, the old sacrificial system, and the old rituals of the underworld twisted into a single knife.
Once it unearths that "old altar root," the second altar will be contaminated.
Lu Yuan cannot let it succeed.
He suddenly raised his sword and murmured, "The Big Dipper guards the central courtyard, the Southern Dipper protects the gate of life."
"Seven stars illuminate the dark path, thunder and fire sever the root of darkness."
"rise!"
This "rise" sound seemed to roll directly from the chest cavity, carrying a fierce strength that seemed to be holding back the gates of hell.
With his low shout, the sixth star of the Seven Star Sword that guards the pass suddenly lit up.
A cold light ran through the spine of the sword, as if seven stars were arranged along the blade. Despite it being a desolate road where daylight was about to end, it gave off a sense of oppressive darkness, like the stars sinking in the dead of night.
As soon as the sword was drawn, the salt ring tightened immediately.
Using the ring of white salt beneath his feet, Lu Yuan suddenly lunged forward half a step.
With his right hand, he slashed at the tip of his sword, not aiming to slash at the body of the spirit on the altar, but instead aimed directly at the crack in the black soil.
"Break the ground!"
He shouted sternly.
Where the sword tip struck, the black soil seemed to be pierced by something extremely cold, and instantly shrank.
The old paper scraps that had been turned up at the foot of the altar were about to take shape, but were suddenly suppressed by this action, and made a series of fine crackling sounds like ice falling into a pot of oil.
The altar spirit's expression finally changed.
It suddenly retreated, attempting to change position.
But Lu Yuan had already seen through this move. He turned his foot and the Seven Star Sword of Zhenguan spun around, its light traversing half a circle, cutting right into the path of the retreating spirit of the altar.
"If you back down, I'll stick to you one step further."
"If you mend one spot, I'll cut off another spot."
His tone was extremely calm, as if he were talking about something completely ordinary, but to everyone's ears, it made their hearts tighten for no reason.
Because everyone could see that Lu Yuan was not simply fighting with magic at this moment, but was risking his life to fight the altar spirit for the right to the "seat of power".
The altar spirit emitted a short, sharp whistle, and the lantern at the end of the stone path immediately began to sway wildly.
The lamplight distorted and split into three or four overlapping images, each resembling someone carrying a lantern moving in different directions, making it difficult to distinguish between the real and the fake.
The paper banners and white faces flipped simultaneously, and the faces that were originally hanging on the banners detached from the paper one by one and floated in mid-air.
A flattened human face slowly approached the altar, encircling the spirit.
"Paper Face Flying Demon!"
Song Qinghe was so shocked that her voice changed.
"It's going to show the faces on the banner!"
The older generation in the Northeast often says that if a paper face doesn't touch the ground, it's just scary.
Once it gains popularity, it will "eat souls".
While this statement may be somewhat exaggerated by the common people, it best illustrates the perilous situation at this moment.
Those flying paper faces were no longer decorations, but became deadly traps that could directly devour yang energy.
Once it touches the body, a person's mind will feel dull, confused, and empty, as if it were covered with paper.
Zhou Heng broke off half of the paper rope, his wrist bleeding profusely, but he still gritted his teeth and lunged forward, holding the short knife across his chest to guard the empty left side of Lu Yuan's path.
"Fellow Daoist Lu, I'll cover the left!"
Lin Zhaoxuan took a deep breath, turned the Thunder Token over, pressed the bloodstained palm against the back of the token, and hurriedly chanted, "The Ancestral Thunder roars, the Earthly Fiends submit."
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands!"
Although it wasn't the kind of earth-shattering technique that could immediately unleash heavenly lightning, it was enough to make the first few paper faces that rushed towards them pause in shock.
Upon seeing this, the altar spirit clasped his hands together and began to form a very strange gesture in front of his chest.
That gesture was unlike the hand seals of ordinary Taoist sects, nor did it resemble the style of shamans or folk sorcerers from beyond the Great Wall.
It's like a combination of some old methods of turning over a mat, raising spirits, and summoning souls.
When the ten fingers are intertwined, it's like an invisible mat being gradually turned over.
As its gestures changed, the movements of the lamplight and the paper face synchronized by half a beat, as if they were being led by the same breath.
"It's using this as a pretext to create an altar!"
Lin Zhaoxuan shouted suddenly.
"Don't let it backfire!"
Looking at the scene before him, Lu Yuan couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.
That smile wasn't relaxed; instead, it carried a chilling, bone-deep ruthlessness.
"Make a circle?"
"That's perfect."
Immediately, Lu Yuan slammed his left hand into the middle of the sword, and the Seven Star Sword that guarded the pass suddenly emitted a clear and long sound.
Immediately afterwards, Lu Yuan stopped pressing forward and instead used his sword as a boundary to draw a second, extremely thin arc within the salt circle.
As soon as the arc was formed, everyone felt the air beneath their feet suddenly sink, as if the entire stone path had been encased in an even smaller circle.
"An intricate trap!"
Song Qinghe immediately realized what was happening, and a glint of disbelief almost lit up her eyes.
"He incorporated the hand gestures of the altar worshipper—he wanted to use its power to turn the tables on the altar!"
This is the real ruthless move.
The hand gesture that the altar spirit had just made was meant to connect the paper face, the lamp shadow, and the old mat root into an inner circle.
But just before it gained momentum, Lu Yuan used the Seven Star Sword to draw an "inner circle" smaller than it, forcibly stuffing its air vent into it.
It's like someone opening their mouth to swallow a knife, but instead of swallowing the knife, they get choked by another, deeper pair of pliers.
The altar spirit's pupils suddenly contracted, and for the first time, a look of genuine shock appeared on its face.
"You dare lend me your form?"
It roared angrily.
Lu Yuan remained expressionless and raised his sword to press down.
"I'm not just using you to take shape."
"I still need to borrow your life force."
As soon as he finished speaking, the salt grains on the second small arc suddenly began to tremble rapidly, as if invisible gears were turning underneath.
Lei Yi crawled into the crack in the ground that Lin Zhaoxuan had previously pressed down, and then merged with the last bit of cold light remaining from Song Qinghe's sealing disc.
An extremely thin, hidden, and yin-like "inverted pressure mouth" appeared at the foot of the altar.
As soon as this opening was made, the altar spirit's newly formed hand gestures immediately felt like being stabbed in the back, and his breathing became disordered.
The paper faces flying in mid-air suddenly stopped in unison, and then two of them flipped over, revealing charred black marks on their backs.
The paper hand in the lamp suddenly shrank, its knuckles trembling, as if it were encountering a backlash it couldn't withstand for the first time.
The spirit of the altar roared in a low voice, and the black aura around it surged, causing debris to fly wildly from both sides of the stone path.
But Lu Yuan was no longer giving it a chance to catch its breath.
Lu Yuan held the Seven Star Sword, which guarded the pass, horizontally to his left side, and quickly ran his right fingertip across the blade.
He then pressed the bloody back of his finger heavily against his brow, his voice low and menacing as he uttered each word: "There are seven stars in the sky, and nine households on earth."
"I borrow the light of heaven, not the path of darkness."
"I borrow righteous fire, not evil incense."
"Seven stars press down on the altar, and everyone retreats!"
"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands!! Suppress!"
As the last word was uttered, the sixth star on the spine of the sword shone brightly.
A faint star pattern appeared on the sword's body, as if the old sword, after recognizing its master, had finally awakened its long-accumulated power to suppress evil.
In that instant, the cold wind on the entire stone path seemed to be lowered by half a foot.
For the first time, Lu Yuan forcefully suppressed the altar spirit's counterattack.
A hint of surprise finally appeared in its dark eyes.
It discovered that Lu Yuan wasn't just relying on a single magical artifact to withstand the attack, but was manipulating the entire situation.
Sword, salt, thunder, plate, banner, lamp—these remnants of power, originally belonging to different people, were strung together in his hands into a constantly shrinking chain.
Every time it tried to tear open a little, Lu Yuan would take the opportunity to widen that small crack into an inverted trap.
The more it fights back, the more it seems to be adding to Lu Yuan's predicament.
This is not restraint, it is countermeasure.
What's even more frightening is that the more Lu Yuan suppressed his emotions, the more stable he became, yet his aura actually sank lower.
Like a frozen river on a winter night outside the Great Wall, the surface is still, but underneath it is a cold that can freeze you to the bone.
The altar spirit suddenly realized something: Lu Yuan's previous attack wasn't a reckless confrontation, but rather he was waiting for it to unleash its most ferocious methods.
Wait for it to release the paper face, wait for it to turn over the old mat base, wait for it to make a round gesture of turning over the mat.
Only in this way could Lu Yuan use its strongest breath to crush the jar to death.
Thinking of this, dark energy surged in the eyes of the altar spirit, revealing a twisted expression that was almost furious.
This guy—
How—how could there be so many?!
He's only in his early twenties —
Immediately, it stopped trying to hold on, jerked its head back sharply, and let out a very long, sharp whistle.
This howl was neither like a wolf nor like a cry; it was like dozens of paper faces screaming in the wind.
The paper banners around them suddenly flew wildly, and the lanterns were almost blown off course from the stone path. The old paper scraps in the black soil were all turned up, as if countless broken bones were about to come back to life from the ground.
"It's going to fight desperately!"
Zhou Heng shouted.
Lu Yuan stood steadily, without even catching his breath.
He looked at the altar and suddenly slowly pushed the Seven Star Sword, the sword tip pointing directly at the center of the altar.
He uttered a very soft, yet extremely cold, sentence: "Too late."
The next moment, he slammed his palm down on the end of the sword hilt.
"Thump"
It was like an old bell from beyond the Great Wall striking heavily in the snowy night.
The second broken altar formation finally closed completely.
Lu Yuan forcefully suppressed the altar spirit's counterattack with an even more ruthless, steady, and decisive move.
And the real third round was quietly approaching with that muffled, resounding boom.