Chereads / Devil's Shadow, Heaven's Bane / Chapter 31 - Chapter 21: Ghosts and Poison (Part 1)

Chapter 31 - Chapter 21: Ghosts and Poison (Part 1)

Tao Yiming lingered at the edge of the residential district, his ghastly green eyes smoldering like cursed lanterns in the dark. The shrieks of his scattered spirits faded into silence, a few outer sect disciples laying strewn across the pathways.

He exhaled slowly, a wisp of spectral mist curling from his lips, and flexed his claw-like fingers. 

So close.

Zhang Yan's desperation had been palpable; the frantic edge to his movements, the raw reliance on his shadow's brute force. A weakness Tao Yiming would be sure to exploit next time.

"Clever, little shadow," he murmured, his voice a chorus of whispers borrowed from the dead. "But desperation is a brittle shield."

He turned his gaze toward the forest, where moonlight carved jagged silhouettes through the trees. The night slowly receeding but still teeming with prey: Outer Disciples watched on, cowering in thickets, their fear souring the air. Weaklings who had not yet awakened. Fodder for his ghosts.

The scent of blood; sharp and metallic, guided him forward.

He drifted through the woods like a vengeful phantom, his form flickering between corporeal and spectral. Branches passed through him as though he were smoke; frost crackled in his wake, withering leaves to brittle husks. The forest itself seemed to recoil, shadows recoiling from his presence as if he were a blight upon the dark.

A choked sob echoed ahead.

Tao Yiming slowed, tilting his head. Three Outer Disciples stood in a trembling triangle, their weapons shaking in their hands. At their feet, a fourth disciple convulsed violently, his limbs contorting as venom seared through his veins.

"Poison," Tao Yiming mused, stepping into the clearing. His voice slithered through the air, colder than the night. "How… artistic."

The disciples whirled, their faces blanching. The stocky one with the spear staggered back, his weapon dipping. "T-Tao Yiming…"

Fear? Good.

Tao Yiming's lips peeled into a grin, revealing teeth stained black from the souls he'd consumed. "You should have run," he said softly. "But now? Now, you'll feed something greater."

He moved.

The nearest disciple died without a sound, Tao Yiming's hand closing around his throat. Ghostly frost spread like wildfire, blackening veins, freezing the scream in the boy's lungs. The corpse crumpled, brittle as ash.

The spearman lunged, his strike wild with panic. Tao Yiming dissolved into mist, reforming behind him. A swipe of his clawed fingers raked the disciple's back, flesh rotting on contact. The boy collapsed, choking as decay crawled toward his heart.

The last disciple fled, crashing through the underbrush.

A pitiful display of cowardice.

Tao Yiming raised a hand, and the forest erupted with the wails of his spirits. Translucent figures surged from the shadows, their hollow eyes and clawed hands converging on the fleeing disciple. His shriek cut short as they devoured him, leaving only a desiccated husk.

He stared at the remains, he appeared unappeased.

"Not enough," he muttered, turning to the spearman writhing in the dirt. The boy's chest was a ruin of necrotic flesh, his qi flickering weakly as it fought the rot. Tao Yiming crouched, tilting his head. "You'll linger for hours yet. Shall I savor it, or—?"

A rustle.

The air soured—bitter, acrid. Tao Yiming leapt back as violet mist hissed past, scorching the earth where he'd knelt. The ground blackened, tendrils of decay spreading like spiderwebs...

His eyes narrowed as his pupils focused on the emerging figure from between the trees.