Chapter 82: Bloodthirst Weaponry

Li Yunfei directed his sword with swift motions, the Coin Sword moving as naturally as his own arm, darting with agility and extinguishing one vengeful ghost after another. As more and more fiends were destroyed, the pure yang energy on the blade gradually faded. After eliminating over thirty specters, Li Yunfei recalled the Coin Sword and reinforced it once more with the “Flying Sword Incantation,” restoring its pure yang power.

This time, he finally wiped out all the malevolent spirits, leaving the graveyard empty and silent.

Retracting his sword, Li Yunfei let out a quiet sigh. The Coin Sword, empowered by the Flying Sword Incantation, was ultimately not a true flying sword—it could not be guided by his spirit, nor could he channel energy into it from afar through a spiritual link. Without endless spiritual power, the sword would fall, and he could hardly display the myriad sword techniques of a true sword immortal.

At present, he had only just begun to condense his spiritual sense, possessing only the telekinetic power to manipulate objects, without the outward-reaching awareness that true spiritual sense provided. To acquire that, he would first need to refine his Yin Spirit and achieve astral projection, allowing his spirit to leave the body—and, with it, his spiritual sense as well.

But to truly master the flying sword, he would need to form a Golden Core in his abdomen. Otherwise, lacking sufficient cultivation, he would exhaust his energy after only a few attacks, rendering the weapon of little practical use.

Setting aside the Coin Sword, Li Yunfei’s gaze swept across the graveyard. All around were hundred-yuan banknotes scattered across the ground. These ghosts were only level thirty-one—not nearly strong enough to drop spirit stones directly. Still, this dungeon run had yielded tens of thousands in cash.

Unfortunately, monsters in ghostly dungeons rarely dropped equipment, mostly just materials for drawing talismans and setting up formations—such as small triangular flags with red borders on yellow backgrounds, large yellow talisman banners over half a yard long and a foot wide, and standard blue talisman paper.

There were also black beads the size of longan fruit, and small white-bone emblems about the size of a palm. He had no idea what these were for, or whether they were valuable. The materials themselves were surely worthless, traded only for cash. If the beads and emblems were also of little value, then there was little profit to be made from supernatural dungeons.

The Maoshan talismans were not all yellow; their color varied according to their power, ranked from highest to lowest as gold, silver, purple, blue, and yellow. Golden talismans were the most powerful, requiring the highest cultivation—at least the Yang Spirit realm to wield. Silver came next, then purple, then blue, with yellow being the weakest and most common.

One’s cultivation dictated which talismans could be used; attempting to forcefully draw a higher-level talisman would usually fail due to insufficient realm. Even if successful, the result would be a hollow shell, lacking true power.

If one succeeded by chance, the backlash could be severe—at best, a disruption of meridians or paralysis; at worst, bleeding from the orifices and instant death. Only those at the Spirit Movement realm and above could use blue talismans. At Spirit Movement, one could command blue talismans; at Golden Core, purple talismans; Nascent Soul, silver; Yang Spirit, gold.

Li Yunfei had been troubled by the scarcity of blue talisman users in the modern world—those who needed them made their own, and they were rarely found for sale. He hadn’t known where to buy them! Who would have thought that supernatural dungeons would drop such talisman paper? It was like finding a pillow just when he needed sleep.

He glanced over the loot, but did not immediately move to collect it. Instead, his eyes turned to the largest, most luxurious tomb at the far end of the graveyard—a structure of stone and brick, surrounded by a low wall.

After all the lesser ghosts were slain, the system did not announce the dungeon’s completion, for the final boss had yet to appear. Evidently, supernatural dungeons worked differently from insect or beast dungeons. In those, one could clear the dungeon by killing the boss, regardless of the small fry. Here, it seemed, all the minions had to be cleared before the boss would emerge.

Sure enough, as Li Yunfei pondered this, the grandest tomb began to stir.

A grinding sound echoed out as the stone tomb split open, green light and a thick, foul miasma seeping from the crack. Li Yunfei’s heart settled—this dungeon’s final boss was a Green Ghoul.

Once the tomb had opened three feet, a Green Ghoul over two meters tall, exuding a ghostly verdant aura, rose stiffly from within. Its twisted face, hulking physique, outstretched arms with knife-like claws, and vicious fangs protruding from its mouth made for a horrifying sight.

With a guttural roar, the ghoul launched itself skyward—without bending its legs, in blatant defiance of physics, it leaped nearly two meters straight up and out of the tomb, covering three or four meters in a single bound with astonishing speed.

Li Yunfei stood over sixty meters away, but at this rate, the ghoul would reach him in mere seconds. He narrowed his gaze, grabbed a handful of Heavenly Thunder Talismans, and charged to meet the monster head-on.

Earlier, with so many ghosts, he couldn’t lock onto a single target with precision. Now, with only one enemy, every thunderbolt conjured by a talisman would strike true.

His spiritual sense could reach over forty yards, so he closed in to within that range before acting.

“Now!”

At the right distance, Li Yunfei flung the stack of talismans—five hundred sheets in all.

A relentless barrage of thunderbolts crashed down upon the Green Ghoul, causing its sinister green aura to flicker wildly, but failing to harm its body directly.

“Red!” he called.

A fox darted to his side, and with a leap, Li Yunfei landed squarely on her back. The little fox was faster than he, and with only the Green Ghoul left, it was time for classic kiting tactics.

Thunder rained from above without pause, while on the ground, Li Yunfei circled and hurled True Fire Talismans. The Green Ghoul, for all its immense strength, was helpless to retaliate.

Faced with a target lacking ranged attacks, a Taoist or a sorcerer could whittle it down with ease. In under ten minutes, the Green Ghoul let out one last defiant roar toward the sky before collapsing in a blaze of crimson flames.

Its foul miasma had been utterly depleted, unable to extinguish the True Fire or withstand the thunder’s onslaught.

“Dungeon cleared. Would you like to exit?”

At that prompt, Li Yunfei finally relaxed, leapt from the fox’s back, and strode toward the loot the Green Ghoul had dropped—the only equipment to be found in the entire dungeon.

It was a long sword thrust into the ground, without a scabbard, its appearance savage and malevolent. The hilt was seven inches long, faintly glowing green, its entire form twisted like sinew and muscle, reminiscent of the ghoul’s own. The crossguard resembled a pair of zombie fangs, curving forward above and below, both the same ghostly green as the hilt.

The blade itself was blood red, with two deep grooves running along its length—a weapon that seemed the very embodiment of evil.

Li Yunfei drew the sword, and its information flooded his mind.

Ghoul Spirit Bloodthirst Flying Sword: Three feet one inch long, one inch and three-tenths wide. Wielded by hand or guided by spiritual sense, it can absorb the target’s blood to restore and enhance the wielder’s own power, greatly accelerating recovery and healing.

Li Yunfei frowned. This sword would be superb for grinding through beast or monster dungeons—its attack power was formidable, and any successful strike would quickly boost experience and speed up leveling.

But to use it openly before other cultivators would surely attract accusations of practicing demonic arts. Weapons and magical treasures themselves held no alignment, only the user determined good or evil, but others might not see it that way.

Since this was a supernatural dungeon, and its monsters had no flesh or blood for the sword to consume, he’d consign it to the system shop for now and decide what to do with it later. If he ever truly needed it, he cared little for others’ opinions—so long as it brought victory, that was enough.