Chapter 190: Chapter 123: Fang Shuwen’s Spirit Tablet?

When they clashed with Fang Shuwen’s Mercy Does Not Cross palm, their expressions changed drastically.

With two sickening splatters, a pair of them spurted blood one after the other as they were sent flying backward.

A series of popping sounds erupted from their bodies as their meridians and acupoints shattered. Dripping with blood, they were dead before they even hit the ground.

In the blink of an eye, four of the twelve were dead.

They hadn’t managed to utter a single word.

It was only then that Shui Qianrou awoke as if from a dream. She realized she had been captivated by the sound of the suona, drawn into some kind of illusion.

Once she came to her senses, she trembled with rage.

Just as she was about to do something, she saw the eight pallbearers set down the coffins. The coffins themselves were groaning and cracking under the pressure of the Mercy Does Not Cross attack.

The eight men were also bleeding from the corners of their mouths, but they hadn’t died from the blow; the brunt of its power had been borne by the "filial sons and virtuous grandsons" at the front.

Now, the eight of them attacked in unison, pulling weapons resembling Soul-Grabbing Iron Claws from behind their backs and flinging them at Fang Shuwen.

A cold smile touched Fang Shuwen’s lips. Using the Plum Blossom Scattering Hand, his palms moved like fluttering blossoms, instantly gathering all the incoming chain-claws into a single bunch.

He activated his North Nether Divine Technique, and the expressions of the eight men changed drastically.

They felt their Inner Strength surging from their bodies, flowing ceaselessly along the chains toward Fang Shuwen, leaving them completely powerless.

Just as they fell into despair, an extremely fierce power suddenly traveled back through the chains.

The eight men were all sent flying by this force. Without their Inner Strength to protect them, the impact was enough to vibrate them to death.

In an instant, besides the two coffins, all twelve of the people in mourning clothes were dead. Not a single one was left.

There hadn’t been a single word exchanged during the entire process.

Shui Qianrou had been seething with anger and was about to do something, but before she could make a move, it was already over.

Staring at the bodies on the ground, the young girl sucked in a sharp breath.

"Big Brother... who are they?"

"How should I know?"

Fang Shuwen rolled his eyes.

"But whoever they are, they dared to write my name on a spirit tablet. Their malicious intent was plain enough. They didn’t die unjustly."

Shui Qianrou thought that made sense.

But she couldn’t help but ask again,

"What’s a spirit tablet?"

"..."

’The Celestial Water Palace must have completely lost its sense of propriety,’ Fang Shuwen thought.

Not knowing what a suona was, or a funeral procession, or joss paper... Fang Shuwen could accept all that. But to not even know what a spirit tablet was?

’Isn’t that going a bit too far?’

’Do they not even worship their ancestors? No burning joss paper, no offering incense?’

Helpless, Fang Shuwen briefly explained the meaning of a spirit tablet to her. Shui Qianrou’s face turned pale as she said,

"So, what’s written on it should be... the name of a dead person?"

Fang Shuwen nodded, walked over to one of the coffins, and picked up the spirit tablet from it.

He glanced up at the coffin, his brow furrowing slightly.

Suddenly, he flicked his hand. A gust of wind blew the coffin lid open.

In that instant, thick smoke billowed out from the opening.

Fang Shuwen had been suspicious before opening it, however. Although he hadn’t heard any movement from within, the Hundred Ghosts Hall Master had already proven through his actions that there were Concealing Breath-type Martial Arts in the world that made it very difficult to detect someone’s presence.

Thus, he had used a Palm Wind to open the coffin precisely to guard against a possible ambush.

As the black smoke billowed out, Fang Shuwen grabbed Shui Qianrou and swiftly retreated.

While falling back, he suddenly thrust out a palm.

A strong Palm Wind swept out, scattering all the black smoke. But at the same time, a figure leaped out from the smoke, two bluish-black hands, sharp as blades, striking straight for Fang Shuwen’s chest.

A cold sneer formed on Fang Shuwen’s lips.

"So there is another fiend!"

With a casual toss, he threw Shui Qianrou onto a tree branch. Then, instead of retreating, Fang Shuwen advanced, pushing out with both palms.

WHOOSH! A tremendous gust of wind erupted.

It was the fifth palm of the Great Black Heaven God Palm: Anger Burning Heaven!

The immense Palm Power crashed toward the figure like a tidal wave.

A boundless, roiling rage. Under the pressure of the Palm Power, the attacker’s bluish-black face froze, unable to advance another step.

Instead, he was ravaged by the Palm Power, and a constant stream of dull thuds echoed from his body.

But his meridians and acupoints weren’t shattered. This person, whatever his origin, had a frame that seemed to be cast from bronze and forged from iron.

Even so, he was still no match for this palm strike.

His body was finally sent flying by the Palm Power, slamming into a tree with a loud CRASH.

But the next moment, he leaped back to his feet, still able to fight.

Fang Shuwen’s expression was a little strange. This person’s Martial Arts... he suddenly felt they were familiar.

"The Cyan Corpse Record?"

He recalled the secret manual he had discovered in the Black Death Sect’s Demon Cave in Guangning City, and those Black Death Sect disciples who had cultivated the Cyan Corpse Record.

The weapons they used were identical to those of the mourners who had been carrying the coffins just now.

And the Martial Arts of the person before him now were clearly a level above those green-faced men who had practiced the Cyan Corpse Record.

His skin was bluish-purple, and his body was even tougher.

But this was far from enough to harm Fang Shuwen. He was just about to capture the man for a proper study.

Suddenly, he heard Shui Qianrou’s voice from behind him.

"Big Brother, I’ll help you!!"

Fang Shuwen froze. ’Help me? What a joke. Just try not to get in the way...’

He was about to turn and stop her, but when he did, he saw Shui Qianrou’s small, slender frame bent over, hugging a large tree.

What Fang Shuwen found even more unbelievable was that the tree was about to be pulled out of the ground...

’What in the ever-loving hell?’

Fang Shuwen considered himself fairly worldly by now. Even when faced with people in mourning clothes, pretending to be his grieving descendants and holding a funeral for him, he could kill the whole bunch of these dedicated cosplayers without batting an eye.

But watching Shui Qianrou uproot a tree, he couldn’t help but suspect he must have inhaled some of that black smoke.

’Am I hallucinating?’

’Is this... even possible?’