Lan Jingyi peered through the crack of the door, his eyes widening in shock. He quickly pressed his body against the gap, effectively blocking it. "There's... there's so many!" he stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and fear.

Wei Wuxian, his brow furrowed in concern, asked, "Walking corpses? How many exactly?"

Lan Jingyi shook his head, his face pale. "I... I can't even count! They're all over the street, hundreds of them! And more keep coming!" His voice rose in panic. "Those two paper dolls at the door... I don't think they can hold much longer!"

The implications of his words hung heavy in the air. If the pair of paper dolls guarding the entrance failed, the horde of walking corpses flooding the street would pour into the shop. Fighting them would be suicide - the corpse poison would spread rapidly through any wounds. Not fighting meant certain death by their ravenous bites.

Xiao Xingchen, his face a mask of determination despite his weakened state, gripped his sword and made to push open the door. It was clear he intended to use what little strength he had left to buy them some time. But as he stood, a wave of purple-red qi surged across his cheeks, and he collapsed to the ground.

Wei Wuxian's eyes softened with concern. "Stay put," he said gently but firmly. "I'll handle this. It'll be over soon."

With a casual motion, Wei Wuxian used Lan Jingyi's sword to make a small cut on his right index finger. A drop of blood welled up, bright red against his pale skin.

Lan Jingyi watched with a mixture of fascination and worry. "Are you going to use the eye-dotting summoning technique again? You'll need to dot both eyes on each paper doll... that's a lot of blood! Should I... should I give you some of mine?"

Before Wei Wuxian could respond, other young disciples began rolling up their sleeves, eager to help. "I can spare some blood too!" one called out.

Wei Wuxian couldn't help but laugh, touched by their willingness to assist. "No need for that," he said with a slight shake of his head. "Do any of you have blank talismans?"

The young disciples from prominent cultivation families were still too inexperienced to draw and use talismans on the spot. They typically carried pre-drawn ones. Lan Sizhui shook his head apologetically. "We don't have any blank ones."

Wei Wuxian shrugged, unperturbed. "That's fine. Used ones will do."

Lan Sizhui quickly produced a stack of yellow talismans from his qiankun pouch. Wei Wuxian took just one, giving it a cursory glance. He pressed his bloodied index and middle fingers together, then began to trace over the existing cinnabar markings with swift, fluid motions. The bright red of his blood mixed with the deep red of the cinnabar, creating a new, powerful talisman.

With a flick of his wrist, the yellow paper with its red characters burst into flames, hovering in the air. Wei Wuxian extended his left hand, catching the gently falling ashes. He closed his fingers around them, bowing his head slightly. As he opened his hand, he gently blew the black ashes towards the rows of paper dolls, whispering, "Wildfire burns not all, spring breeze brings life anew."

The ashes scattered, swirling in the air before settling on the paper dolls.

Suddenly, the Yin soldier standing at the front of the group lifted the cleaver that had been resting by his feet, hoisting it onto his shoulder with an air of grim determination.

Beside him, a paper beauty with an elaborate hairstyle and luxurious clothing slowly raised her right hand. Her long, delicate fingers moved with eerie grace, as if she were a languid noblewoman admiring her blood-red nails.

At the beauty's feet stood two paper children, a golden boy and a jade girl. The boy, mischievous even in death, tugged on the girl's braid. In response, the girl stuck out her tongue at him - a grotesque, nine-inch-long appendage that shot out like a viper, punching a hole in the boy's chest before retracting. Not to be outdone, the boy opened his mouth wide, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth, and bit down hard on the girl's arm.

One by one, the twenty or thirty paper dolls began to sway and move, as if stretching after a long slumber. They turned to each other, seeming to converse in hushed, rustling whispers. Though not truly alive, they appeared more lifelike with each passing moment.

Wei Wuxian's voice cut through the eerie scene. "Hold your breath," he commanded. He stepped aside, clearing the path to the door, and made a graceful inviting gesture.

The wooden door burst open once more, allowing a rush of foul air laden with corpse poison to flood in. The group quickly covered their mouths and noses with their sleeves. The Yin soldier let out a battle cry and charged out first, followed by the rest of the paper army.

As the last paper doll exited, the door slammed shut behind them. Wei Wuxian turned to the group. "Did anyone breathe it in?"

Everyone shook their heads, and Wei Wuxian nodded in satisfaction. He then moved to help Xiao Xingchen, intending to find a place for him to lie down. However, the shop floor was covered in dust and debris. With no better option, he gently lowered Xiao Xingchen to sit on the cold, grimy floor.

Xiao Xingchen still clutched his Frost Glare sword tightly, barely conscious. After a few weak coughs, he managed to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "What you did just now... was that the eye-dotting summoning technique?"

Wei Wuxian nodded, then remembered Xiao Xingchen couldn't see. "I know a bit about it," he admitted.

Xiao Xingchen pondered this for a moment, then smiled weakly. "It's... certainly an effective way to deal with these walking corpses."

He paused, gathering his strength before continuing. "However, practicing such methods... it's easy to suffer backlash from the fierce ghosts and evil spirits under your command. Even the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian, the founder of this technique, wasn't immune to its dangers." His voice grew earnest, despite its weakness. "I would advise you to be extremely cautious. Use it sparingly, only when absolutely necessary. Perhaps focus on other cultivation methods..."

Wei Wuxian felt a pang in his heart, touched by the man's concern. "Thank you for your advice," he said softly.

Most renowned cultivators would have been quick to denounce such practices, drawing clear lines between themselves and those who dabbled in the dark arts. Yet here was Xiao Xingchen, barely clinging to life, offering kind words of caution about the dangers of backlash. It spoke volumes about his gentle and compassionate nature.

Wei Wuxian's gaze lingered on the thick bandages covering Xiao Xingchen's eyes, his mind drifting to the man's tragic past. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sympathy and regret.

While the adults grappled with the weight of the situation, the younger disciples, still naive to the true horrors of the cultivation world, crowded around the door crack, eagerly watching the battle outside.

"Gods, look at that paper woman's nails!" one exclaimed. "One swipe would leave five deep gashes!"

"Why is that little girl's tongue so long and hard?" another wondered aloud. "Is she some kind of hanged ghost?"

"The male one is so strong!" a third chimed in. "He can lift so many walking corpses at once! Oh, he's going to slam them down! Look, look! They're shattering!"

Their excited chatter filled the room, a stark contrast to the grim reality outside.

Wei Wuxian, having finished his conversation with Xiao Xingchen, picked up the last unfinished bowl of glutinous rice porridge from the table. He turned back to the injured cultivator. "You've been deeply poisoned," he said matter-of-factly. "I have something here that might help a little, or it might do nothing at all. Fair warning - it tastes awful. Do you want to try it? If you'd rather not live, that's fine too."

Xiao Xingchen accepted the bowl with both hands, his movements careful despite his weakness. "Of course I want to live," he said with a hint of a smile. "If there's a chance to survive, one should take it."

However, after taking a sip, Xiao Xingchen's lips twitched, and he had to press them tightly together to avoid spitting it out. After a long moment, he managed to say politely, "Thank you."

Wei Wuxian turned to the young disciples, a triumphant look on his face. "See that? Did you hear what he said? And here you all were, complaining about my cooking. Such picky eaters!"

Jin Ling, never one to back down, retorted, "Was that really your cooking? All you did was throw a bunch of weird stuff into the pot at the end!"

Xiao Xingchen, his voice still weak but tinged with humor, added, "Though, if I had to eat this every day, I might choose death after all."

Jin Ling burst into unrestrained laughter, and even Lan Sizhui couldn't hold back a snort of amusement. Wei Wuxian looked at them, feigning offense, which only made Lan Sizhui struggle harder to compose himself.

Just then, Lan Jingyi's excited voice cut through the moment. "It's over! We've won!"

Xiao Xingchen immediately set down the bowl, his tone urgent. "Don't open the door yet. Be careful... there might be more coming."

Wei Wuxian nodded in agreement. "And don't put that bowl down. Finish it." He moved closer to the wooden door, peering through the crack.

The street outside bore the aftermath of an inhuman battle. A thin white mist mingled with purple-red dust, slowly dissipating in the air. The corpse poison was gradually fading. The paper dolls patrolled the street at a leisurely pace, surrounded by scattered corpse parts. When they encountered any fragments that still twitched with unnatural life, they stomped mercilessly, not stopping until the remains were nothing but a pulpy mess.

Beyond this gruesome scene, all was silent. For the moment, no new walking corpses had arrived.

Just as Wei Wuxian was about to relax, he caught the faintest sound from above.

The noise was so slight that it was nearly imperceptible - the sound of someone moving swiftly across the roof tiles. But this person's movements were unnaturally light and eerie, their footsteps almost completely silent. Wei Wuxian, with his heightened senses, barely caught the subtle clinking of tiles. Even this slight noise didn't escape Xiao Xingchen's notice, his blindness having sharpened his other senses. "Above!" he warned.

Wei Wuxian's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Scatter!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a large hole burst open in the ceiling of the main hall. Broken tiles, accumulated dust, and bits of thatch rained down. Fortunately, the quick-reflexed young disciples had already darted to the sides, avoiding injury. A black figure dropped through the newly created opening.

The newcomer wore a black Daoist robe, tall and straight-backed, standing proud as a pine tree. A duster was thrust through his belt at the back, and he held a long sword in his hand. His face was handsome, his bearing aloof as he held his head high.

However, his eyes were devoid of pupils, nothing but dead white.

A fierce corpse!

Before the realization had fully sunk in for the group, the figure lunged forward, sword extended.

His target was Jin Ling, the closest to him. Jin Ling raised his sword to parry, feeling the immense force of the blow reverberate through his arm, nearly numbing it. If not for the spiritual power of his sword, Suihua, he might have been cut down instantly. The black-robed fierce corpse, undeterred by the failed first strike, immediately followed up with another, this time aiming for Jin Ling's arm.

In the nick of time, Xiao Xingchen's sword flashed out, deflecting the blow meant for Jin Ling. But the exertion proved too much for his poison-wracked body, and he collapsed, motionless.

Lan Jingyi, his voice thick with horror, exclaimed, "Is he dead or alive?! I've never seen such a..."

He trailed off, the realization hitting him. He had seen something like this before.

The Ghost General had been just as swift, just as skilled with a blade!

Wei Wuxian's eyes were locked on the Daoist figure, his mind racing. He pulled out the bamboo flute from his waist and immediately launched into a piercing, discordant melody that made everyone else cover their ears in pain. The Daoist corpse faltered at the sound, his sword hand trembling uncontrollably. Yet, after a moment's hesitation, he lunged forward again, blade flashing!

It was clear now - this fierce corpse was under someone else's control!

Wei Wuxian dodged the lightning-fast thrust, smoothly transitioning into a different tune on his flute. In response, the paper dolls that had been patrolling outside leapt onto the roof and dropped through the hole. The Daoist corpse sensed the new threat and reacted with inhuman speed. His right hand wielded the sword in two swift slashes, cleaving two paper dolls in half from head to toe. With his left, he drew the duster from his belt. The thousands of soft white strands transformed into steel-like whips tipped with venomous barbs. One sweep of the duster shattered heads and severed limbs - a glancing blow would turn a person into a bloody sieve.

Wei Wuxian, in the midst of the chaos, managed to call out, "Stay back! Keep to the corners!" He then returned his full attention to the flute, the melody alternating between playful and teasing to high and wrathful.

The Daoist corpse, despite his dual-wielding prowess and ferocious attacks, found himself overwhelmed as paper dolls continued to pour in from above. He struck down foes on one side only to find more at his back, his superhuman speed and strength pushed to the limit. Suddenly, a Yin soldier dropped from above, landing squarely on the Daoist's shoulders and driving him to the ground.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

As if on cue, three more Yin soldiers leapt down from the hole in the ceiling, landing one after another on top of the Daoist corpse.

Legend had it that Yin soldiers possessed immeasurable strength. The craftsmen who created them often added extra weight to their frames, and once possessed by wandering spirits, they became even heavier. Having just one of these land on you would feel like being crushed by a mountain. To have four pile on top and not have your internal organs burst out was nothing short of miraculous.

The black-robed fierce corpse, now completely pinned down by the four Yin soldiers, was rendered immobile.

Wei Wuxian approached cautiously. He noticed a tear in the back of the corpse's robe and smoothed it out to examine more closely. Beneath the tear, near the left shoulder blade, was a narrow, precise wound. "Turn him over," Wei Wuxian commanded.

The four Yin soldiers complied, flipping the Daoist onto his back for easier inspection. Wei Wuxian extended his bloodied finger, brushing it across the lips of each Yin soldier as a reward. They extended their bright red paper tongues, slowly and appreciatively licking the fresh blood from their mouths, seeming to savor the taste.

Wei Wuxian then turned his attention back to the corpse. On the left side of the chest, close to the heart, he found another tear with an identical wound. It appeared as though the man had been run through with a sword, piercing his heart.

Throughout the examination, the fierce corpse continued to struggle weakly, emitting low growls from its throat. Black blood trickled from the corners of its mouth. Wei Wuxian gripped its face, forcing the jaw open. To his shock, he discovered that the tongue had been completely removed.

Blind eyes, torn out tongue. Blind eyes, torn out tongue.

Why did these two characteristics keep appearing with such frequency?

As Wei Wuxian observed the corpse, he couldn't help but draw parallels to Wen Ning's appearance when he was controlled by the black nails. Acting on a hunch, he ran his fingers along the corpse's temples. To his surprise, he felt two small metal points!

These black nails were used to control high-level fierce corpses, robbing them of consciousness and independent thought. Wei Wuxian, unsure of the corpse's identity or background, knew he couldn't recklessly remove the nails. A thorough interrogation was necessary. However, with the tongue removed, the corpse wouldn't be able to speak even if awakened.

He turned to the young Lan disciples. "Has anyone here practiced Spirit Questioning?"

Lan Sizhui raised his hand. "I have," he said.

"Do you have your guqin with you?" Wei Wuxian asked.

Lan Sizhui nodded. "Yes, I do." He promptly retrieved a simple yet gleaming wooden guqin from his qiankun pouch.

Noticing the instrument's pristine condition, Wei Wuxian inquired, "How proficient are you with the Inquiry technique? Have you used it in actual combat? Can the spirits you summon lie?"

Lan Jingyi interjected, "Hanguang-jun said Sizhui's Inquiry skills are quite good."

If Lan Wangji had said "quite good," it meant exactly that - neither an exaggeration nor an understatement. Wei Wuxian felt reassured. Lan Sizhui elaborated, "Hanguang-jun advised me to focus on precision rather than quantity. The spirits we summon can choose not to answer, but they cannot lie. So if they do respond, it will always be the truth."

"Very well, let's begin," Wei Wuxian said.

The guqin was placed horizontally in front of the Daoist corpse's head. Lan Sizhui sat on the ground, arranging his robes neatly. He plucked two strings to test the sound, then nodded, ready to start.

Wei Wuxian instructed, "First question: ask who he is."

Lan Sizhui took a moment to gather his thoughts, silently reciting the incantation before carefully playing the first inquiry.

After a tense moment, the guqin strings vibrated, producing two harsh, metallic notes.

Lan Sizhui's eyes widened in shock. Lan Jingyi, unable to contain his curiosity, urged, "What did he say?"

"Song Lan!" Lan Sizhui exclaimed.

The revelation hung in the air. Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen's close friend and fellow cultivator?

All eyes instinctively turned to the unconscious Xiao Xingchen on the ground. Lan Sizhui whispered, "I wonder if he knows... that it's Song Lan who came..."

Jin Ling, his voice equally hushed, replied, "He probably doesn't. He's blind, and Song Lan was mute. Now he's a fierce corpse without reason... It's better if he doesn't know."

Wei Wuxian, maintaining his composure, said, "Second question: ask who killed him."

Lan Sizhui played the inquiry with utmost concentration.

This time, the silence that followed was three times as long as before.

Just as they were beginning to think Song Lan's soul was refusing to answer, the guqin strings trembled, producing three mournful notes.

"Impossible!" Lan Sizhui blurted out.

"What did he say?" Wei Wuxian pressed.

Lan Sizhui, his voice filled with disbelief, replied, "He said... Xiao Xingchen."

The killer of Song Lan was Xiao Xingchen?!

They had only asked two questions, yet each answer was more shocking than the last. Jin Ling, skeptical, accused, "You must have played it wrong!"

Lan Sizhui defended himself, "But 'Who are you?' and 'Who killed you?' are the two simplest and most common questions in the Inquiry technique. They're the first two phrases everyone learns when starting to practice Inquiry. I've practiced them millions of times. I double-checked just now - there's no way I played it wrong."

Jin Ling persisted, "Either your Inquiry was wrong, or you misinterpreted the response."

Lan Sizhui shook his head firmly. "If it's impossible that I played it wrong, it's even more impossible that I misinterpreted. 'Xiao Xingchen' is not a common name or phrase in spirit responses. If he had answered with a different name and I misinterpreted, the chances of it coincidentally being this exact name are astronomical."

Lan Jingyi murmured, his voice tinged with confusion and disbelief, "...Song Lan went to find the missing Xiao Xingchen, but Xiao Xingchen killed him instead? Why would he kill his own good friend? It doesn't seem like something he would do..."

Wei Wuxian, his mind racing with possibilities, said, "Let's not dwell on that for now. Sizhui, ask the third question: Who is controlling him?"

Lan Sizhui, his expression grave, took a deep breath before playing the third inquiry. All eyes were fixed on the guqin strings, anxiously awaiting Song Lan's answer.

Lan Sizhui interpreted the response, enunciating each word carefully: "The person behind you all."

The group whirled around in unison. To their shock, Xiao Xingchen, who had been lying unconscious on the ground, was now sitting up. He was casually resting his chin on one hand, a faint smile playing on his lips. He raised his left hand, clad in a black glove, and snapped his fingers.

The crisp sound of the snap reached Song Lan's ears like an explosion. Suddenly, he threw off the four Yin soldiers pinning him down as if they weighed nothing!

In one fluid motion, Song Lan leapt to his feet, wielding his sword in one hand and the duster in the other. With terrifying efficiency, he slashed and shredded the four Yin soldiers, reducing them to a colorful shower of paper scraps. His sword came to rest at Wei Wuxian's throat, while the duster was menacingly aimed at the young disciples.

In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere in the small shop had completely transformed.

Jin Ling's hand moved to his sword, but Wei Wuxian, catching the movement from the corner of his eye, quickly warned, "Don't move. Don't make things worse. When it comes to swordplay, everyone here combined is no match for... Song Lan."

Wei Wuxian was acutely aware of his current body's weak spiritual energy, and his own sword was not at hand. Moreover, the intentions of Xiao Xingchen, whether friend or foe, remained a mystery.

Xiao Xingchen spoke, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "The adults need to have a chat. Why don't you children step outside?"

He made a gesture to Song Lan, who silently obeyed, herding the young cultivators towards the exit. Wei Wuxian addressed the youths, "Go on out for now. You can't help here. The corpse poison should have settled by now, but move slowly and breathe shallowly to avoid stirring it up."

Jin Ling, hearing that he "can't help," felt a mixture of defiance and frustration. He knew he was powerless in this situation, but his pride made it hard to accept. With a huff of anger, he was the first to storm out.

As Lan Sizhui was about to leave, he hesitated, clearly wanting to say something. Wei Wuxian reassured him, "Sizhui, you're the most sensible one. Take care of the others, alright? Can you do that?"

Lan Sizhui nodded solemnly. Wei Wuxian added, "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Lan Sizhui replied.

"Really?" Wei Wuxian pressed.

"Really." To Wei Wuxian's surprise, Lan Sizhui smiled. "Senior, you're a lot like Hanguang-jun."

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Similar? How are we similar?" They were as different as night and day. But Lan Sizhui merely smiled and said nothing more as he led the remaining youths out.

In his heart, Lan Sizhui thought, "I don't know exactly why, but it just feels that way. It's as if when either of these two seniors is around, there's nothing to fear."

Once the young disciples had left, Xiao Xingchen produced a small red pill from somewhere and swallowed it. "How touching," he remarked dryly.

After taking the pill, the purple-red qi rapidly receded from his face. Wei Wuxian observed, "An antidote for the corpse poison?"

Xiao Xingchen nodded. "Indeed. Much more effective than that terrifying porridge of yours, wouldn't you agree? And it's sweet, too."

Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed. "You've put on quite a performance, haven't you? From your valiant fight against the corpses outside, to your collapse from exhaustion, even taking that blow for Jin Ling and losing consciousness... was it all an act for our benefit?"

Xiao Xingchen held up a finger, wagging it in front of his face. "Not for 'your' benefit, but for 'yours' specifically. The infamous Yiling Patriarch... your reputation precedes you, but seeing is believing."

Wei Wuxian remained impassive, his face betraying no emotion. Xiao Xingchen continued, "I'm guessing you haven't told the others who you really are, have you? That's why I didn't expose you. I sent them away so we could talk privately. Thoughtful of me, don't you think?"

Wei Wuxian, ignoring the taunt, cut to the chase. "Were all the walking corpses in Yi City under your control?"

"Of course," Xiao Xingchen replied smoothly. "From the moment you arrived and blew that whistle, I sensed something unusual about you. So I decided to investigate personally. And indeed, only the creator of such techniques could wield them with such power, even low-level ones like the eye-dotting summoning."

Xue Yang had followed in his footsteps, and they walked the same path - a path of unorthodox cultivation. It was impossible to hide from a fellow practitioner. Wei Wuxian, his voice cold, asked, "So you've taken all these young cultivators hostage. What exactly do you want from me?"

Xiao Xingchen's smile widened. "I'd like you to do me a small favor, Patriarch. Just a tiny one."

The fact that his mother's junior was calling him "Patriarch" made the whole situation feel absurdly convoluted. As Wei Wuxian was inwardly chuckling at the irony, Xiao Xingchen produced a soul-locking pouch and placed it on the table. "If you please," he said, gesturing towards it.

Wei Wuxian placed his hand on the pouch, feeling it as if taking a pulse. After a moment, he spoke, "Whose soul is this? It's shattered beyond repair, barely clinging to existence."

Xiao Xingchen's voice took on a more serious tone. "If this soul were so easily mended, why would I need to ask for your help?"

Wei Wuxian withdrew his hand from the soul-locking pouch, his expression grave. "You want me to repair this soul? Forgive my bluntness, but there's precious little left in there. Moreover, this person must have endured extreme suffering in life, to the point where they likely took their own life, unwilling to return to this world. If a soul lacks the will to survive, there's a ninety percent chance it can't be saved. If I'm not mistaken, these soul fragments have been forcibly pieced together. The moment they leave the pouch, they'll likely dissipate. Surely you're aware of all this."

"Xiao Xingchen" leaned back, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "I don't care about the details. You'll help me whether you want to or not. Don't forget, Patriarch, those young disciples of yours are waiting just outside, counting on you to get them to safety."

His tone was peculiar - seemingly friendly, even sweet, but with an undercurrent of unmistakable menace. It was as if he could switch from camaraderie to cold-blooded killer in an instant. Wei Wuxian couldn't help but smirk. "You're quite the surprise yourself. Xue Yang, why would a scoundrel like you masquerade as a Daoist?"

After a brief pause, "Xiao Xingchen" raised his hands and began to remove the bandages covering his eyes.

As the layers fell away, they revealed a pair of bright, shining eyes.

Perfectly intact eyes.

The face that emerged was young and charming, handsome even. But when he smiled, revealing a pair of prominent canines, there was an almost childlike cuteness that belied the cruelty and wildness lurking in his gaze.

Xue Yang tossed the bandages aside carelessly. "Oh my, you've figured it out."

Wei Wuxian's voice was laden with sarcasm. "Clever touches - pretending to be in pain to evoke sympathy and prevent anyone from checking under your bandages; deliberately exposing a part of Shuanghua; 'accidentally' mentioning you were a wandering Daoist. Not only did you employ the 'wounded-but-brave' act, but you also expertly played on people's sympathy. Your performance as the noble, otherworldly cultivator was truly convincing. If it weren't for your knowledge of things Xiao Xingchen shouldn't know, I might have believed it entirely."

He paused, recalling the Inquiry session. Song Lan's last two answers had been "Xiao Xingchen" and "the person behind you all."

If "the person behind you all" had also meant Xiao Xingchen, there would have been no reason for Song Lan to change his phrasing.

Unless "Xiao Xingchen" and "the person behind you all" were not the same person at all. Song Lan had been trying to warn them of the danger, but feared they wouldn't recognize Xue Yang's name, so he had to be indirect.

Xue Yang grinned widely. "Well, when his reputation is so sterling and mine so... colorful, of course I'd choose to impersonate him. It makes gaining trust so much easier."

"Impressive acting," Wei Wuxian conceded.

"Oh, you flatter me," Xue Yang replied with false modesty. "I have a very famous friend whose acting skills are truly exceptional. I pale in comparison. But enough small talk, Patriarch Wei. You have no choice but to help me."

Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed. "The black nails controlling Song Lan and Wen Ning - they're your handiwork, aren't they? You managed to recreate half of the Yin Tiger Seal. Why would you need my help to repair a soul?"

Xue Yang's smile never wavered. "It's not the same. You're the pioneer. If you hadn't created the first half of the Yin Tiger Seal, I couldn't have made the second half. You're undoubtedly more skilled than I am. What I can't accomplish, you surely can."

Wei Wuxian found it bemusing how strangers seemed to have such unwavering, inexplicable confidence in his abilities. He stroked his chin, wondering if he should return the flattery. "You're too modest."

"It's not modesty, it's fact," Xue Yang countered. "I'm not one for empty words. When I say I'll kill someone's entire family, I mean it - not even the dog will be spared."

"Like the Chang clan of Yueyang?" Wei Wuxian probed.

Before Xue Yang could respond, the door suddenly burst open, and a black figure flew in.

Both Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang leapt back from the table, with Xue Yang swiftly snatching up the soul-locking pouch. Song Lan, using the table as a pivot point, executed a graceful flip and landed atop it, dispersing his momentum. He raised his head sharply, his gaze fixed on the doorway as black blood vessels crept across his face.

Wen Ning, dragging iron chains and surrounded by a mix of white mist and black wind, entered with ominous presence.

Wei Wuxian had summoned Wen Ning earlier with his first flute melody. He quickly instructed, "Take the fight outside. Don't destroy everything. Keep the living safe and prevent other walking corpses from approaching."

Wen Ning raised his right hand, a chain whipping out towards Song Lan. Song Lan met it with his duster, the two weapons entangling. As Wen Ning began to retreat, pulling the chain, Song Lan refused to let go, allowing himself to be dragged out the door. The young disciples, who had taken refuge in a nearby shop, watched the spectacle with wide-eyed fascination.

The clash of duster, chains, and sword created a cacophony of metallic clangs and showered sparks. The ferocity of the two fierce corpses was unparalleled - each blow was vicious, each strike potentially lethal. Only undead beings could fight with such brutal disregard for physical limitations. Had they been living cultivators, they would have been dismembered or had their skulls crushed long ago.

Xue Yang watched the battle with keen interest. "Care to wager on the winner?"

"Is there any doubt?" Wei Wuxian replied coolly. "Wen Ning will win."

Xue Yang sighed theatrically. "It's a pity. I drove so many nails into his skull, yet he still won't obey. Some things are just too loyal for their own good. It can be quite troublesome."

Wei Wuxian's response was deliberately ambiguous. "Wen Ning isn't a thing."

Xue Yang burst into laughter. "Oh, don't you see the double meaning there?" As he uttered the word "see," he suddenly lunged forward, sword aimed at Wei Wuxian's chest.

Wei Wuxian dodged nimbly. "Do you always attack mid-sentence like this?"

"Of course," Xue Yang replied, feigning surprise. "I'm a scoundrel, remember? You shouldn't be shocked. I'm not trying to kill you, just incapacitate you. Then you can come with me and take your time repairing this soul."

"I've already told you, it's beyond my abilities," Wei Wuxian insisted.

Xue Yang pressed on, his voice deceptively light. "Don't be so quick to refuse. If you're stumped alone, we could put our heads together, couldn't we?" True to form, he launched another attack before finishing his sentence.

Wei Wuxian ducked and weaved among the scattered paper doll fragments, silently acknowledging Xue Yang's impressive swordsmanship. As Xue Yang's attacks grew faster and more vicious, Wei Wuxian couldn't help but taunt, "Are you taking advantage of this body's low spiritual energy?"

"Indeed I am!" Xue Yang replied cheerfully.

Wei Wuxian, finally encountering someone even more shameless than himself, grinned back. "Better to offend a hero than a scoundrel - that saying was made for you. I'm done fighting. Let's bring in someone else."

Xue Yang's smile turned predatory. "Oh? Who might that be? That Lan Wangji of yours? I sent over 300 walking corpses to surround him. He..."

Before he could finish his boast, a white-robed figure descended from above. The cold, clear blue light of Bichen cut through the air, aimed directly at Xue Yang's face.