Wu Tong wrenched his sword free, blood gushing from the Great Ghost of Lingnan's left shoulder. The Second and Third Ghosts rushed forward to catch him, their faces pale, cold sweat streaming down the Great Ghost's brow. His heart was gripped by horror—he had no idea that on the day "Fearless" Lü Qiang had instructed Wu Tong, the youth had taken what was called a "Sobering Pill," greatly boosting his internal energy. Now, seeing him again, Wu Tong's skill was on an entirely different level.
Wu Tong's voice was like ice, cutting to the bone.
"Fearless Lü Qiang once gave you three a chance to reform. Meeting you today, I see the Three Ghosts of Lingnan are still possessed by evil—beyond all redemption. The King of Hell's second trial is at hand!"
As the saying goes, "Do not say I did not warn you." The Three Ghosts blanched. In desperation, they drew the blades from their backs, forming a tight formation, though inwardly they hoped the East Heaven King Yang Chao would intervene.
The Second Ghost called out urgently,
"East Heaven King, today we Three Ghosts of Lingnan have met our doom-star. We beg you to join us in resisting this enemy!"
Yang Chao had seen for himself the subtlety of Wu Tong's swordsmanship—only a few strokes, and the Great Ghost's shoulder had been pierced. A chill of dread crept into him; his mind hesitated.
Wu Tong's tone was curt and commanding, brooking no argument.
"This matter has nothing to do with you. Stay out of it."
The weight in Wu Tong's voice made Yang Chao's heart give a start. This youth's sword is fierce, his presence overwhelming—he must not be underestimated. With a cupped-fist salute, Yang Chao said,
"Three Ghosts, this is your own enmity with him. I will not interfere. I take my leave."
He bowed, leapt lightly, and was gone. For Yang Chao to be cowed into withdrawal by a single sentence left the Three Ghosts momentarily stunned, unsure how to face such a formidable foe.
The Nestorian Patriarch Aros then called out, his voice like a temple bell at dawn, filled with compassion:
"Three Ghosts of Lingnan—lay down your blades, accept baptism, and join the Faith. It is not too late!"
His words could have been their chance at redemption. But the Three Ghosts only gave a cold snort, their smiles twisted.
"Who lives and who dies today is yet to be decided!"
Their stubborn arrogance showed there would be no turning back.
Wu Tong's gaze was like a spear.
"The Three Ghosts are steeped in evil. In the Hall of Hell, the vengeful souls are gathered, crying for justice and blood!"
Before his words had faded, the Second Ghost's blade was already flashing toward Wu Tong's face. Wu Tong met it with a sweep of his sword.
"The King of Hell's third trial is concluded—time to open the blade for execution!"
The Great Ghost, eyes blazing, roared,
"Let's see if this King of Hell of yours has the skill!"
Steel clashed, sparks flew. Wu Tong turned his wrist, the sword whirling.
"If the King of Hell wills you dead at the third watch, who dares keep you alive till the fifth?"
Two quick thrusts came like lightning, aimed again at the Great Ghost's wounded shoulder. The Third Ghost rushed in to defend, and in an instant, three blades pressed Wu Tong from three directions.
Though blades are blind, Wu Tong dared not be careless. He parried and deflected, calm under the rain of steel. Their attacks came like a tide, but he stood like a rock in the stream, his sword flashing, light like lightning, his body moving like the wind. For the space of half a cup of tea they fought, until Wu Tong suddenly unleashed the move Like Clouds, Like Sea—the sword quivering, humming, its force spreading like mist and waves, parting the three attackers.
In that instant, his sword darted for the Great Ghost's Xuanji, Tiantu, and Lianquan points, the blade clinging like bone to flesh. The Great Ghost could not shake it off; each stroke pressed closer, until the tip hovered before his chest. He managed to block one thrust, but could not avoid the next. With a hiss, the sword pierced his right thigh. He screamed, blood spurting.
The Second and Third Ghosts charged wildly, hacking down. Wu Tong sidestepped, sword flickering; in the blink of an eye, several cold arcs flashed. Their faces blanched; still they fought like madmen. The Great Ghost, summoning his last strength, leapt with his blade—but Wu Tong's sword was already on the rise.
Again came the Thirteen Swords of the Soaring Sky, first move: Strike Where Unprepared. The sword shot forth, swift as thought, aimed at the heart. The Great Ghost had no time to react. A scream echoed through the valley as the blade drove through his chest—he fell lifeless to the ground.
The Second and Third Ghosts cried out in grief,
"Brat! Your life for his!"
They rushed him like mad tigers, swinging with all their might. Wu Tong answered with No Visitor Turned Away—their offense vanished under his flowing swordwork. His blade moved like drifting clouds, like the vast sea, boundless in its might, endless in its force. Suddenly the sword swept across; the Second Ghost's abdomen split under its edge, blood spraying. A turn, a slanted cut—steel sliced across the Third Ghost's chest, crimson blooming.
Two strokes. Two lives ended.
So it is in this world—what is sown must be reaped. When "Fearless" Lü Qiang had taught Wu Tong his art, who could have foreseen that the Three Ghosts' fate would end here?
Patriarch Aros, a man of great compassion, felt a deep sorrow. He traced a cross from brow to chest, then shoulder to shoulder, and intoned:
"First, one must reflect on the fruit of one's deeds. The Lord endured suffering to establish the path for all beings. The Buddha is never far; human life is one's own to guide. Good begets good fortune; evil begets evil fate."
These verses from the Sutra of the Poem of the Lost spoke of the inexorable law of cause and effect.
Wu Tong, having slain the three villains, had fulfilled the cries for vengeance from countless wronged souls. Yet his heart was heavy.
"Patriarch Aros, I have broken the commandment against killing today. May Heaven forgive me. But these villains' crimes were too great—Heaven and Earth themselves could not abide them."
Aros spoke gently:
"Our scripture says: retribution misses no one. The Three Ghosts have met their due. You, young hero, have struck down evil—you are a man of chivalry. Do not burden yourself with undue guilt."
Wu Tong's heart eased. He bowed.
"It is my fortune to have met the Patriarch and heard your words of wisdom. I am deeply impressed."
Aros nodded slightly.
"Would you join me in burying them? Villains though they were, they were still living beings. They deserve rest."
Shame touched Wu Tong's heart.
"A good thought, Patriarch. I had neglected it."
He turned to Zhao Rou.
"Sister Rou, fetch the spade from my saddlebag."
She obeyed, and soon Wu Tong took the spade, digging a large pit alone—swift, yet solemn in every motion. Before long, the grave was ready. Together, Wu Tong and Aros laid the Three Ghosts to rest.
Standing before the mound, Aros folded his hands and chanted:
"The highest heavens offer deep praise; the earth remembers peace for all. The true nature of man finds its refuge; the Three Powers are the merciful fathers of the Arhats…"
His voice was low and solemn, as though sending the three villains their final blessing and release.
Wu Tong stood silently beside him, filled with emotion. Though he had slain evil, in this moment he felt the fragility of life and the impermanence of karma. The sunset bathed the fresh grave in golden light, casting a serene glow—until it seemed that all grudges and feuds under heaven had turned to dust, drifting away on the wind.