Chapter 126

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Chapter 126: Title

The Ghost in Red shook her head. "There’s nothing I can do."

Her knowledge only extended to methods like searching its soul.

"If it understands our speech, shouldn’t communication be possible?" Yang Xingyu furrowed his brows, peering at the squirrel nestled in his palm. His free hand prodded at the creature, attempting to coax speech from its tiny form.

"A fractured soul operates through instinct rather than true comprehension," the red-clad senior corrected. Her gaze suddenly snapped toward the desolate horizon where nothing stirred.

"Senior Ghost in Red? What is it?"

"Nothing." Her voice remained frosty, though unease prickled her senses – that fleeting sensation of being watched lingered.

Qiao Feiyu tapped at his phone’s dim screen. "I’ll consult Young Master Leng. The signal’s weak but functional here." The message crawled through digital limbo before finally delivering its reply after prolonged silence.

"Dreamwalking." Qiao Feiyu read the header aloud, turning to the crimson figure. "Have you heard of this method? Young Master Leng claims it enables communication with fractured souls."

A nod. She’d encountered references in crumbling manuscripts.

"Can you perform it?" Hope colored his voice. Though instructions had been transmitted, their group lacked practical experience – her expertise could prove vital.

Her response crushed his expectations.

"No."

Beyond perception’s edge in the barren wilds, an unseen presence observed. Even extraordinary individuals couldn’t detect Seki at this range, her silhouette blending with moonlit shadows. The backpack clung to her shoulders as she studied both the Zhongxia team and the ominous jungle beyond.

Timing became crucial. Trailing behind the Zhongxia contingent would jeopardize her schemes. Deception came effortlessly to Seki – countless teams had already fallen prey to her machinations, lured into the green labyrinth only to meet its horrors.

True danger lay beyond initial threats. Fifteen kilometers inward, tribal totem warriors patrolled – warriors Seki had carefully manipulated through staged encounters. Now these guardians slaughtered intruders on sight, binding survivors for rituals resembling Sacrifice.

These Tier One combatants, led by late-Tier One commanders, butchered power-awakened extraordinary individuals with ease. Most Awakened Powers users hovered around Tier Two, rare exceptions reaching Innate Realm.

Zhongxia’s military prowess showed through their dispatched team, though Seki found their capabilities wanting. Mid-Tier One average strength would’ve offered better strategic flexibility.

Her true caution lay beyond physical warriors – the unseen totem deities remained an enigma despite days of sacrificial offerings. Scattered abyssal creatures survived the jungle’s cleansing, their tier two or three potential easily unlocked by Seki’s talents. Yet restraint proved necessary; conspicuous displays risked exposure so soon after her escape.

Campsite.

A bonfire crackled at the center of the gathering. Qiao Feiyu met Yang Xingyu’s stunned gaze and remarked, "Why stare at me? Weren’t you the one who retrieved this predicament?"

"The troublemaker bears responsibility—that’s always been our doctrine, hasn’t it?"

Yang Xingyu’s anger left him speechless. After an extended silence, he blurted, "I can’t! This ‘Dreamwalk’ reeks of unnatural forces. With elders to honor and dependents to protect—what becomes of them if I perish?"

"I’m certain Senior Ghost in Red would gladly safeguard you. Isn’t that right, Senior?" Qiao Feiyu arched an eyebrow.

The crimson-robed figure inclined her head in acquiescence.

Yang Xingyu’s gaze darted between companions—lingered on Yu Yue before rejecting the thought of endangering the little girl. His eyes shifted to Mingyu, but the youth’s tender age dissuaded him further. The burden clearly rested on his own shoulders.

Noting Yang’s wavering resolve, Qiao Feiyu pressed his advantage. "How does a human soul become trapped in a woodland squirrel, only to cross your path? This isn’t coincidence—it’s karmic threads at work."

"That creature’s spirit might hold jungle secrets. Unravel them, and we gain crucial intelligence for our mission."

Their expedition faced crippling information scarcity—no survivor had ever emerged sane from these woods. This dearth of intelligence justified deploying Special Bureau’s extraordinary individuals rather than regular military units.

Though the armed forces housed many Practitioners, few possessed autonomous operation clearance. Most had been diverted by former Bureau Director Yan Hua to refine experimental military formations—ancient tactical arrays reborn through the Awakening of Spiritual Energy. When perfected, their synergy would transcend mere arithmetic progression.

"Expedite our task and we depart sooner. Unless you fancy prolonging this excursion?" Qiao Feiyu’s neutral tone belied the challenge.

Yang Xingyu shuddered at the prospect—intermittent signals, jungle-induced communication blackouts, and sweltering heat decided him. "Fine! It’s not like flesh will melt from my bones." He turned imploringly to the crimson figure. "Senior, halt the ritual at the first sign of anomaly."

Ghost in Red gave a curt nod.

Accepting the phone, Yang Xingyu scrutinized the spell’s parameters: cultivation prerequisites, hand seal sequences, silent incantations. Through sheer memorization, he replicated the gestures and channeled spiritual energy along prescribed meridians. How he blessed his past self for enduring those tedious training seminars!

"Blood sacrifice? You’re certain this isn’t dark magic?" Grumbling, he positioned the squirrel and drew his Long Knife across a fingertip.

Ghost in Red flicked her wrist. A spiritual-laden gust encircled them, erecting protective wards.

Left hand sculpting air into esoteric patterns, right palm pressed to rodent fur, Yang Xingyu intoned the forbidden verses. His spiritual reserves surged violently before collapsing into vacuum—the world dissolved into alien memories.

Focusing through the psychic torrent, he sieved fragmented visions for jungle symbology and totem deities. Time dilated—eons compressed to heartbeat—until his eyes flew open, body hollowed by drained spiritual energy.

Breath ragged, he severed contact with the creature. "Forgotten how depletion burns," he croaked, meeting the circle of expectant stares.

“First, meditate and recover your spiritual energy,” the Ghost in Red advised impassively.

Yang Xingyu obeyed.

With the surrounding Spiritual Energy being so sparse, it would take him a full night of meditation to fully replenish his reserves.

Realizing this, Yang Xingyu opened his eyes after partial recovery—sharing his findings with the group took precedence.

“Any dreams?”

“The spell only lasted three minutes from cast to awakening,” Qiao Feiyu noted.

Three minutes… enough to drain him completely. Prolonged use might’ve left him a desiccated husk.

Yang Xingyu glared resentfully at Qiao Feiyu. By his calculations, sustaining this spell required at least Tier One cultivation.

Yet he understood Old Qiao’s limitations—martial-focused Practitioners seldom excelled in spellcraft.

“No dreams, but something akin to one,” Yang Xingyu replied.

“During the casting, I glimpsed visions revealing how this wretch ended up trapped in a squirrel.”

He observed the listless creature. Though “dreamwalking” proved gentler than “soul-searching” techniques, for a beast with negligible cultivation, the difference between ninety-nine and a hundred mattered little.

The sole consolation was avoiding soul dissipation.

“Recall that missing persons case we’re investigating?”

“The soul inhabiting this squirrel is one of our targets.” Yang Xingyu methodically recounted his visions.

His words drew furrowed brows from Qiao Feiyu’s group.

Their mission from the Special Bureau prioritized investigating totem deities, with sample collection and the African hikers’ disappearance as secondary objectives.

These eight Zhongxia citizens—adventurous youths blending Awakened Powers with basic cultivation—had last been traced to this city’s jungle outskirts by embassy officials.

Given previous jungle vanishings and elapsed time, survival odds seemed microscopic. Limited supplies made week-long wilderness endurance improbable at best.

Yang Xingyu’s team had marveled at such recklessness—even seasoned agents avoided certain perilous zones.

“As we suspected—that group’s gone,” he sighed.

“This half-person here is likely Song Zihang from the list. His registered Awakened Power was soul projection?”

Post-Awakening Practitioners displayed coherent abilities, but Awakened individuals? Their powers defied categorization—endlessly inventive, endlessly bizarre.

Qiao Feiyu pondered, “Their killers? Lingering jungle spirits?”

Yang Xingyu answered instantly:

“Animal-clad warriors matching totem warrior legends. They likely clashed with a totem deity-worshipping tribe.”

“Conflict erupted instantly. Four slain, four captured.”

“As for souls… the victims’ essences vanished upon death.” Yang Xingyu’s tone turned wry.

“Captives became offerings in Daoist rituals. This one panicked, projected his soul during escape, and… squirrel.”

"It’s also his misfortune. His soul simply couldn’t be forced into the squirrel’s body. After hiding within the squirrel’s form for a time, he felt the connection between his soul and original form severed."

"He dares not abandon this squirrel shell. Departure would condemn him to wander as a lonely ghost."

"The soul’s disintegration resulted from taking refuge in the rodent’s flesh," Yang Xingyu disclosed everything he understood.

Living beings cannot completely separate their souls from physical vessels. Though Song Zihang exploited his Awakened Powers to accomplish this feat, his spiritual essence proved too fragile to maintain independence beyond brief intervals.

Trapped within the squirrel’s frame after severing ties with his true body, he became an anchorless lonely ghost forced to inhabit this inadequate vessel.

Slowly, his soul began unraveling.

Had Yang Xingyu’s group arrived days later or missed this chance encounter, even these faint spiritual remnants would have dissipated completely.

"Did you witness what provoked the totem warriors’ assault?" Qiao Feiyu inquired after contemplative silence.

Yang Xingyu closed his eyes in recollection before responding:

"The conflict erupted instantaneously. Those totem warriors must have detected them earlier – they showed no quarter during the attack, ceasing hostilities only after crushing their resolve and taking prisoners."

"Curious. Without existing conflict, immediate violence seems unwarranted despite language barriers."

Qiao Feiyu pondered deeply before concluding, "I’ll inform the Team Leader tomorrow. Extreme caution will be necessary during our infiltration."

"What strength did these totem warriors display?"

"Four appeared total. Only two engaged – their combat prowess surpassed mine, likely Tier One classification."

"The inactive pair’s capabilities remain uncertain."

Dawn’s arrival saw Qiao Feiyu briefing the Team Leader while Yu Yue’s team inventoried jungle provisions. Ghost in Red approached the basecamp personnel with Yang Xingyu.

"Tend to this creature. Basic sustenance will suffice – keep it breathing."

Ghost in Red reinforced the weakened soul within the squirrel’s frame, though her efforts could only postpone disintegration for seven sunsets. Beyond this grace period, no salvation existed.

"But… how does one nurture such a thing?"

The rear personnel exchanged uneasy glances. "What if it escapes?"

"Let fate decide then," Yang Xingyu replied tersely.

The previous night’s moral dilemma had weighed heavily – prolonging this doomed existence seemed futile. Yet Yang Xingyu interpreted their encounter as karmic threads intertwining, imploring Ghost in Red’s intervention.

Should fortune smile, the Special Bureau might offer solutions post-mission.

Any morally grounded individual would struggle to abandon life’s flicker – human or beast.

Three guards remained at camp with strict orders: should seven days pass without contact, initiate emergency protocols.

Within the jungle’s embrace,

The climbing sun baked rising humidity into oppressive mugginess that would suffocate ordinary people. For the expedition team, discomfort remained manageable.

Their guide pressed forward relentlessly.

Though legends whispered of the jungle devouring lives, avarice still compelled men to gamble survival against wealth’s siren call.

On the first day within the jungle’s embrace, they noticed nothing amiss.

Practitioners required Tier Two mastery to manipulate objects for flight, and Tier Five to soar unaided. Yet ghost cultivators defied this logic, achieving flight at Tier One—perhaps unbound by mortal limitations.

This verdant labyrinth proved strange indeed. Even the Ghost in Red, despite her formidable cultivation, found herself earthbound upon entering the deeper reaches.

This revelation heightened their wariness.

The jungle’s heart pulsed with unexpected vitality. Insect choruses became their constant companions beyond a certain threshold, punctuated by guttural roars from unseen predators.

Yang Xingyu squinted at the indistinguishable foliage, frustration mounting as identical trees blurred into endless repetition. "Should’ve brought the squirrel," he muttered, kneading his temples. "That little navigator never forgets."

Half-hidden in shadow, Seki gnashed her teeth at the procession’s glacial pace. Their sporadic stops for leaf-collecting and measurements made her twitch with impatience. Were they botanists or warriors?

Her irritation crystallized into alertness. A held breath, narrowed eyes—the awaited players approached.

Where totem warriors tread, their deity’s gaze follows. Seki had no desire for divine attention today.

…

Qiao Feiyu’s eyelid fluttered—that ominous twitch never lied. His combat-honed senses screamed warnings as he scanned the green gloom. Nothing. Yet.

Their formation held strategic precision: Yang Xingyu cocooned at center, Captain Yuan’s soldiers fanning outward with an arsenal ranging from conventional bullets to glowing Spiritual Energy rounds. Even the rear-guarding Ghost in Red carried firearms, though her bronze bell remained the greater threat.

Morse code clicks echoed through earpieces—jungle-static blocking external signals but permitting localized communication. Response patterns confirmed readiness.

The ambush came at a clearing. Four figures materialized from cardinal directions, bare-chested warriors clad in beast hides, bone weapons gleaming unnaturally sharp. Yang Xingyu’s disbelieving chuckle died in his throat—four against twenty?

Qiao Feiyu maintained stoic composure while assessing threats: two Tier One novices, one mid-tier, another radiating Tier One Pinnacle pressure. Since when did apex warriors sprout like mushrooms?

"Totem warriors," Captain Yuan breathed. "Stay sharp."

"Why hesitate?" Yang Xingyu whispered.

"Resistance is futile." The Ghost in Red’s voice froze blood. Her translucent form seemed to phase between realities. "Two initiates, one mid-tier, one nearing Pinnacle."

Understanding dawned—their opponents feared only her. Yet some primal instinct warned against unleashing full power here.

"Parley," she commanded. "Use our translator."

Captain Yuan’s nod came slow but sure. Before them, the lead warrior shifted uneasily under the Ghost’s spectral gaze—a spirit judging mortal flesh.

In the charged silence, Spiritual Energy bullets cycled into chambers with barely audible clicks.