Chapter 107: Has Xiaofan Fallen Under a Soul-Seizing Spell?

The True Immortal Xuan Zhe also leapt down from the little black-backed beast, standing about ten feet away from Yang Shengtian.

“Child, what’s happened to you? I don’t even recognize you anymore. Where have you been all these past ten years? Your brother and I have searched for you tirelessly!” True Immortal Xuan Zhe said, his voice filled with emotion.

“Don’t come any closer! If you do, don’t blame me for disrespecting you, an elder!” Yang Shengtian raised his golden halberd, pointing it at True Immortal Xuan Zhe.

“Junior Brother Xiao Fan, how can you speak to your senior uncle like that—” Huang Xianlin began, but True Immortal Xuan Zhe stopped him with a gesture.

To True Immortal Xuan Zhe, the man before him was no longer the Wei Xiaofan of ten years past, but someone evidently troubled in spirit. As to what exactly had gone wrong in his mind, he was not yet certain. It seemed he would need to fight alongside him while observing closely to discern where the problem lay.

“Young man, if I come any closer, what will you do? Do you intend to strike down this old bone? I doubt you have the courage to spar with me!” True Immortal Xuan Zhe taunted, stepping toward Yang Shengtian.

Huang Xianlin hurried to his side and whispered, “Senior Uncle, the Wei Xiaofan of today is no longer the Wei Xiaofan from ten years ago. He has completely forgotten everything that happened before he was fifteen—his memories of that time are entirely lost.”

“I understand. You may step back now,” True Immortal Xuan Zhe replied without turning, continuing his approach.

“Since you refuse to recognize the situation, don’t blame me for being rude!” Yang Shengtian raised his golden halberd and, with lightning speed, thrust it toward True Immortal Xuan Zhe.

“This child, how could he have become so rude? Why has his temperament turned so violent? What kind of influence has he been under?” True Immortal Xuan Zhe stared steadily into Yang Shengtian’s eyes, seemingly oblivious to the halberd aimed at his face.

When Yang Shengtian’s halberd was only the length of a finger away from his face, True Immortal Xuan Zhe suddenly flashed aside like lightning, moving a foot or two, then resumed his original stance.

Huang Xianlin and Wang Qingjie, standing nearby, were startled, thinking True Immortal Xuan Zhe might not be able to evade the attack.

But upon seeing him dodge so swiftly and maintain his posture just a foot away, their tension eased, and they admired his calm composure and rapid reflexes.

“Neice and nephew Huang Xianlin, what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be off killing the enemy?” True Immortal Xuan Zhe called out without turning.

“Yes, Senior Uncle, we’re going immediately. Take care of yourself!” Huang Xianlin said, mounting the qilin divine beast and speeding toward the battlefield with Wang Qingjie.

Yang Shengtian, having missed, was propelled forward by his momentum, flying a full ten feet before regaining his footing.

Turning, he saw how easily True Immortal Xuan Zhe had dodged his thrust and realized he had underestimated the old man.

He raised his golden halberd again, this time sweeping it horizontally at True Immortal Xuan Zhe’s waist with ten times the speed of his previous attack. He thought that while the old man had dodged a thrust, a long sweeping strike aimed at his waist might be harder to avoid.

True Immortal Xuan Zhe remained calm as the halberd swept toward his side. When it was just a finger’s breadth from his waist, he bent swiftly like lightning and shifted his hips back. The halberd sliced past the narrow gap of his bent abdomen, while he simultaneously swept his duster toward Yang Shengtian’s helmet.

With a sharp “bang,” Yang Shengtian’s helmet was knocked off, rolling a full ten feet away, and his hair was disheveled, cascading over his shoulders.

Yang Shengtian was shocked. If the sweep had struck his face, it would have left countless bloody marks.

Having missed twice and narrowly escaped injury, Yang Shengtian’s anger surged. Ignoring his messy hair, he leapt sideways toward True Immortal Xuan Zhe, twirling his golden halberd in circles and thrusting at him.

As the halberd neared, Yang Shengtian pushed forward, intending to pierce through the old man.

But True Immortal Xuan Zhe did not dodge or move. Instead, he swiftly lifted his duster to entangle the tip of the halberd, then used the momentum to pull Yang Shengtian more than ten meters away.

Stumbling and staggering, Yang Shengtian ran another three or four meters before regaining his footing. His face flushed with embarrassment—never before had he been so humiliated, bested so easily by an old man.

After three consecutive moves, failing to harm his opponent and suffering two setbacks effortlessly imposed by the elder, Yang Shengtian was beside himself with frustration. His eyes gleamed an eerie crimson, his face rising with murderous intent as he pointed the sharp end of his halberd at True Immortal Xuan Zhe and shouted, “Long—”

At the shout’s end, Yang Shengtian’s halberd instantly lengthened, its tip extending and retracting like it was motorized, stabbing repeatedly toward True Immortal Xuan Zhe.

Watching the increasingly clumsy attacks, True Immortal Xuan Zhe shook his head, turned around, and in an instant, positioned himself amidst the halberd’s thrusts. He swept his duster, wrapping it around the shaft, then lifted it high. The halberd slipped from Yang Shengtian’s grasp and flew into the air.

Having disarmed him, True Immortal Xuan Zhe stood before Yang Shengtian, scrutinizing his eyes glowing with a strange red light.

Inside Yang Shengtian’s reddened eyes, mingled with the crimson was a faint eerie green glow, giving off a sinister aura. This gaze emitted a faint light that inspired an inexplicable terror. Ordinary people seeing it would surely be frightened to death, believing they had encountered a demon.

“What could cause this? Has he been possessed by the soul of some demon?” True Immortal Xuan Zhe pondered.

The so-called demon soul possession was a forbidden technique practiced by unscrupulous cultivators. During their cultivation, they secretly learned a soul-capturing art, which allowed them to attach their spirit to a target. The controller could then chant spells remotely to command the possessed person to do their bidding, or even project their entire soul into the host, taking control of their consciousness and directing their actions and speech.

To cultivate this soul-capturing art, one must use the blood of people or beasts with various temperaments. The blood is collected and boiled in a forge infused with the Tri-Elemental True Fire, extracting the essence vapor of the blood and freezing it into pellets in a special ice pool. The cultivator then ingests these pellets. After digestion, the essence is sealed in the left brain. When encountering the target, the cultivator releases this blood-spirit essence, which enters the target’s brain, searching for compatible temperament energy and injecting the cultivator’s consciousness elements, thereby controlling the victim’s mind.

Because the cultivation requires the blood of diverse temperaments and beasts, it is extremely cruel. Practitioners are often driven by personal greed and engage in unspeakable acts. The technique is rarely practiced because of its brutality and the risk of madness. Those who lose control become no longer themselves. Moreover, the complex energies absorbed disrupt the cultivator’s vital energies, rendering them infertile regardless of gender. Thus, very few dare to cultivate this soul-capturing art.