CHAPTER 461: CHAPTER 455: THE DECLINING GOD WITH 8 STRAW HEADS

"Such audacity..."

The concerns of the people within the Paths of the town were indeed starting to appear. As the vitality of Shima Town surged, drawing attention, the gentleman in green clothes and the Iron Steed Grand Hall Officer waited patiently.

Time ticked away second by second as they awaited the arrival of midnight. Watching the commotion in the town, a faint cold smile emerged on their faces. "Humans have three souls: Cause and Effect, Corpse-Guarding, and Reincarnation. This world also has the three foundations of Fortune, Blessing, and Destiny."

"Mere mortals must abide by the heavens. If they dare interfere, they shall face Heaven’s Punishment."

"This One Coin Sect fosters evil objects to gather blessings, already harming the natural order. If we hadn’t happened to arrive here, after this Blessing Meeting passed, they might have truly cultivated a bit of fortune..."

However, the Iron Steed Grand Hall Officer seemed uninterested in the commotion of the town, only slightly lowering his eyes as he listened. He said indifferently, "Our Shousui Path has no other skills, nor do we calculate these elusive matters. We simply wait for the two-hour and go about our business."

"Whether they hold this Lantern Festival or deceive these foolish folks, or even truly forge swords and rebel, swinging the blade will naturally cleanse things clean."

"Heh, Master Tie Jun, you think lightly. I admire the skills of your Shousui men, but the strange people should still be in the town. The little thief who stole the General Order is of unknown origin as well; the matter may not go as smoothly as you think..."

Young Master Meng let out a low chuckle. A slight displeasure seemed to have arisen between the two, who were previously courteous. This was due to Young Master Meng’s earlier insistence on refining the Yin General, which had failed, creating a rift in their conversation.

Having heard his words, the Iron Steed Grand Hall Officer even showed some indifference, saying, "To follow the rules, wait for these three days. Wasn’t that what Young Master Meng told me?"

"Of course, rules must be followed."

Young Master Meng chuckled. "While Master Tie Jun waits for the two-hour, I won’t enter the town before then, either. But just watching these demon people flaunt their Demon Art and confuse those village folks is unpleasant to see."

"Some things that need doing don’t necessarily have to wait until entering the town!"

As he spoke, he suddenly swept his sleeve, and a chilling wind stirred behind him. Seven or eight little ghosts, each carrying a Command Flag, shot out with his sleeve’s motion, transforming into a gentle breeze that instantly scattered in all directions of Shima Town.

Centered around Shima Town, in the wilderness and hills, eight positions now had peculiar sacrificial altars set up. Maidservants in emerald clothes and servants each held a tablet, kneeling straight towards the direction of Shima Town.

Only when the little ghosts appeared, hopping in front of them with the command, did these people light four incense sticks, place them beside themselves, and then unveil the black cloth covering the tablets.

On each tablet was a single word: Sickness, Wound, Pain, Sorrow, Fright, Despair, Grief, Suffering.

They held the tablets, bowing slowly in the direction of Shima Town. Suddenly, an eerie wind rose around them, and the smoke from the burning incense sticks drifted towards the heart of Shima Town from eight directions.

The movements were extremely subtle. The smoke mixed with the eerie nighttime wind, unnoticed by anyone, but between the heavens and earth, a slight darkening occurred; even the brilliant stars dimmed.

In the town, the lanterns decorating every corner were also, at this moment, shrouded in a layer of shadow.

Some silent changes were secretly breeding in this lively Blessing Meeting, spreading invisibly like an unnoticed eerie wind through the crowd.

"Red Lantern blesses, wards off evil and disaster..."

In the streets, the citizens waiting for blessings from the Divine Platform had various woes, each different. Some were ill, seeking health; some had tragic fates, seeking liberation; and some simply came for a meal after years of hunger.

They were full of hope, kneeling to receive a few drops of sweet dew from the Divine Platform, hoping that from that moment on, their fate would open a path for them, unaware that first, a ghostly wind blew upon them.

A shiver ran through their bodies, as if something ominous were about to happen.

At first, it was hard to explain this feeling, like suddenly being watched by something, a strong sense of oppression and gloom welled up in their hearts.

Some already hungry people came to town and had a full meal. Now kneeling in prayer, they asked for nothing more than a daily bowl of soup with visible grains of rice.

But at that moment, inexplicably, their newly filled stomachs grew hungrier. It was as if years of hunger had concentrated into that single instant, like a starving ghost resided within them, unable to be sated.

Those who were ill came seeking a cure. Their heads anointed with "sweet dew," they had felt better, yet a blow from the eerie wind would stir their illness anew, drawing forth hidden aches and moans.

Meanwhile, on the Divine Platform, the Magic King standing in the northeast corner looked down at a dirty farmwoman. She was holding a bruised and wailing baby, continuously kowtowing to him and murmuring pleas for help.

The Magic King used his fingers to delicately dip a few drops of sweet dew, sprinkling it on the baby. Instantly, the crying ceased, and the baby’s unhealthy bluish color seemed to recede, bringing the farmwoman to tears of joy.

However, as the Divine Platform beneath them was about to move forward again, a sudden eerie wind blew through. The crying, which had just stopped, resumed louder than before, shattering the quiet.

The Magic King, witnessing this, looked surprised. He hastily dipped more "sweet dew" to sprinkle on the baby again. But to his dismay, even after several attempts, the baby continued to cry, its wails growing even louder.

The Divine Platform itself stalled. The guiding little ghosts and kneeling townsfolk were all taken aback, raising their heads in confusion to gaze at the crying baby.

Soon, others joined in moaning, with some unable to stay upright, half-collapsed on the ground.

Just a moment ago, the town had been bustling with joy and vitality. Yet now, inexplicably, a shadow hung over it, and uninterrupted waves of crying and moaning began to emerge.

On the Divine Platform, the Magic Kings standing at each corner sensed the shift, growing more frantic. They repeatedly dipped into the porcelain bowls, sprinkling the water on the surrounding crowd, their movements noticeably faster.

Yet, no matter how quickly they acted or how much water they used, the oppressive gloom persisted, rising like mist and gradually enveloping more people.

The four Magic Kings on the Divine Platform grew increasingly tense. The porcelain bowls in their hands felt as if they were becoming heavier, almost too heavy to hold.

"Sect Hierarch, something’s off..."

Elsewhere, in the main hall’s residence, the One Cent Sect Leader, Immortal Miaoshan, donned a Taoist robe and sat beneath an old elm tree. Her chest bore a large copper coin as she continuously chanted spells, surrounded by ten blackened vats.

The vats emitted eerie yin qi, punctuated by occasional sobs. Water droplets occasionally formed on their surfaces, slowly dripping down before evaporating into Shima Town.

Nearby stood Bai Shanzi, her protector, listening attentively to the town’s developments to prevent any unforeseen events.

The Sect Hierarch had assured that this Lantern Festival would proceed without issue. He simply waited here, having already spent most of the day with no incidents, but at this moment, he suddenly paused.

Fanning himself, he funneled the outside noise into his ears, and his expression quickly turned shocked. "The Divine Platform has stopped, and there are cries outside..."

Before he finished speaking, Immortal Miaoshan suddenly opened her eyes. Staring intently, her expression changed dramatically. Faint movements appeared in two of the vats, as if something inside were struggling, and fresh blood slowly began to seep from their rims.

"Fostering blessings to suppress evil, atoning and diminishing karma, the cycle of cause and effect, the heavenly principles are evident—return to me!"

Immortal Miaoshan’s eyes flashed with a sharp light. She wielded her horsetail whisk, forming a Magic Seal with her fingers, and pointed forcefully at the two vats. The blood seeping from them seemed to recoil in fear, slowly retreating.

She had just begun to relax when suddenly, she heard violent struggling from three nearby vats. The sound was extremely abrupt and startled her. As she turned to look, an eerily sinister laugh echoed from within the vats.

Previously, the ten vats occasionally emitted sobs, which Immortal Miaoshan ignored. But now, with a laugh emanating from them, she was utterly frightened.

Her face turned pale, her voice trembling. "This... this thing laughed?"

Bai Shanzi was also startled by the laugh, stepping back in fright. Nervously eyeing the vats, he stammered, "Sect Hierarch, something has infiltrated..."

Immortal Miaoshan had also risen, warily watching the ten vats before her. "I’m... I’m not blind!"

The eerie wind blew fiercer, and the sky over the entire town grew increasingly gloomy. What was once a bustling, brightly lit Lantern Festival now seemed smothered by something, growing ever more oppressive.

Yet, in one particular place, where the mood was initially tense, there was an unexpected elation.

This was on the west side of Shima Town, within a large blacksmith shop, where the master smith was leading over a dozen apprentices in forging blades. The CLANGING and BANGING of their hammers had been incessant, as they had worked tirelessly for more than ten days, their twenty-odd pairs of bloodshot eyes fixed on the blades in the furnace.

The surrounding townsfolk were clueless about what was happening in the blacksmith shop and had grown reluctant to disturb them. They only knew that the shop seemed cursed, as its occupants had remained shut in for over ten days, unconcerned with either the commotion of the Demon Corpse or the current Lantern Festival.

Just moments ago, as the Lantern Festival began and sweet dew was being sprinkled from the Divine Platform, bringing joy to the entire town and dispelling the gloom, only the chief smith’s expression grew heavier. He exclaimed in distress,

"Damn it, why does it have to be now?"