Returning after 10000 Years Cultivation - Chapter 49

“Shut your mouth!”

“Who the hell do you think you are, you worthless fraud? How dare you disrespect Master Yang!”

“If even Master Yang can’t handle it, what makes you think you can?”

The Maoshan disciples erupted in fury, their voices rising in a chorus of condemnation.

Yang Guochang’s face twisted in rage, as if personally insulted. “Hmph! I received the true Maoshan inheritance at ten, opened my Heavenly Eye at twenty-eight! I’ve exorcised demons for Hong Kong tycoons, battled serpent kings on construction sites, and quelled plagues in Zhongzhou! What’s one mere vengeful ghost to me?”

His glare sharpened as he sneered, “Today, I’ll slay every ghost that dares show itself! Let this arrogant fool witness what true sorcery looks like!”

With that, Yang ignored Jiang Tian, placing the black pottery jar on the table. He formed a hand seal, murmuring an incantation.

“By the decree of the Supreme Lord Laozi—PURGE!”

A thunderous stomp shook the room, making everyone jump.

“REFINE!”

His face flushed red as he pointed at the jar. A beam of light struck it, making it vibrate violently.

Suddenly, the talismans on the jar glowed crimson, their light solidifying into a cage-like barrier around it.

The temperature in the hall soared, as if the air conditioning had failed. Sweat beaded on foreheads.

“This… this is incredible!”

The wealthy elites gaped, mesmerized.

“A true magical artifact!” The paper-offering master rubbed his hands in awe, his eyes feverish.

“This must be Maoshan’s legendary Soul-Refining Jar!” The feng shui master, Qi, whispered reverently. “Maoshan’s heritage is beyond our comprehension. With this, no ghost stands a chance!”

As Yang’s spell intensified, the jar emitted piercing shrieks—the ghost child’s agonized wails. The jar rattled violently, its struggles horrifyingly vivid.

Gradually, the cries faded into silence.

The crowd exhaled in relief. “It’s done!”

Tang Wannian wiped his brow, grinning weakly. “That little demon tormented me for years. Finally, it’s over!”

“So, Mr. Jiang,” Yang smirked, casting a sidelong glance, “what do you think of my ghost-catching skills?”

Jiang Tian, busy comforting Zhao Xueqing, replied offhandedly, “Eh, passable.”

Having traversed cosmic realms for millennia, witnessing divine arts beyond mortal comprehension, Jiang Tian’s standards were… astronomically high.

For him to call Yang’s crude ghost-trapping “passable” was already generous.

“What?!”

“Passable?!”

The crowd stared, certain they’d misheard.

“Ignorant fool!” Zheng Guangsha scoffed. “Your shallow mind can’t even grasp Master Yang’s prowess!”

Yang chuckled derisively. “Even an idiot could see I’ve captured the ghost. Yet you call it ‘passable’? You’re not just ignorant—you’re blind!”

“If this were my turf, I’d have thrown him out already!” a tycoon snapped.

Feng shui master Qi jabbed a finger at Jiang Tian. “Master Yang is a transcendent immortal! Unless you’ve achieved Dao Body yourself, how dare you mock him?”

Zheng Guangsha shot Tang Wannian a pointed look. “If you won’t deal with him, my bodyguards will.”

Tang forced a strained smile. “Let’s all stay civil…”

Privately, though, his faith in Jiang Tian wavered. Rumors of Jiang’s feats—swallowing spirits, killing with qi—were just that: rumors. But Yang’s power? Tang had seen it firsthand.

“Before me, Jiang Taichu, you’re nothing. ‘Passable’ is already flattery.”

Jiang’s tone was icy. Had Zhao Xueqing not been present, these insolent mortals would’ve been dust by now.

Yang, suppressing his fury, feigned magnanimity. “A frog in a well. Beneath my dignity to engage.”

The crowd erupted in sycophantic praise. “Such nobility, Master Yang! To tolerate this fool’s disrespect!”

Then—

A sudden, unnatural wind howled through the hall, scattering rice powder.

The chandeliers flickered wildly before plunging the room into darkness.

The temperature plummeted to subzero.

“Power outage?!”

Panic erupted. In the pitch black, an oppressive, hateful gaze seemed to bore into them, raising every hair on their bodies.

“Fear not!”

Yang flicked his wrist, producing a luminous pearl that bathed the hall in light.

The chandeliers sputtered back to life—

And revealed a woman beside Tang Wannian.

She was beautiful. A blue-and-white cheongsam, long flowing hair. Her face serene, eyes like tranquil pools.

Yet black miasma coiled around her. Plants withered instantly.

“Shi Ya… It’s you!”

Tang Wannian’s face drained of color. His entire body trembled, drenched in sweat.

The crowd scrambled for the exits—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Doors and windows slammed shut, resisting all efforts to open them.

“What’s wrong, Tang Wannian?” Shi Ya’s voice was soft, yet it slithered into their bones like ice. “Not happy to see your old flame? Did I grow ugly?”

Tang whimpered, snot and tears mixing. “M-Master Yang…”

Yang steeled himself. “A formidable ghost, but today, you meet your end!”

He aimed the jar at her, chanting.

Shi Ya’s gaze turned glacial. “You harmed my child. For that, you die.”

Her delicate hand clenched in midair.

CRACK!

The Soul-Refining Jar shattered. The ghost child tumbled out.

“Impossible!” Yang staggered back, face ashen.

A disciple lunged with a peachwood sword.

“Ant.”

Shi Ya flicked her wrist.

The sword snapped. The disciple hurtled into a wall, dead before he hit the ground.

Another swung a soul-summoning banner—

Only to hallucinate his son’s death, his wife’s betrayal, his mother’s murder.

“NO! LIES!”

Dropping the banner, he clutched his head, screaming.

In moments, Yang’s disciples lay broken—one dead, one insane.

Terror gripped Yang.

‘Her resentment is beyond anything I’ve seen. Even my master couldn’t suppress her!’

His legs gave out. He kowtowed, begging. “This lowly one overstepped! Spare me, Great Immortal Shi Ya!”

Then—

“Shi Ya. Enough.”

A calm voice cut through the chaos.

Jiang Tian rose, sighing.

Zhao Xueqing grabbed at him, but he was already walking forward.

“What are you doing?!” Yang shrieked.

Jiang Tian didn’t glance back. “Ending this.”

“You’re insane!” Zheng Guangsha yelled.

Jiang Tian smiled. “I’ve waited too long for her.”

And with that, he strode toward the furious ghost, the storm of her hatred parting around him like a bow wave.