Chapter 627 - 401: Dude, Are You Sure You’re Human? (2)

Chapter 627: Chapter 401: Dude, Are You Sure You’re Human? (2)

More eerie still, this black figure lacked a distinct shape for its head, the top merely a vague blur of darkness, as if it could spill over at any moment.

What was even odder, despite there being no wind around, not a single blade of grass on the bank was swaying, yet the edges of this shadow distorted slightly as if it had its own life.

The middle-aged Daoist priest’s breath hitched instantly, his grip on the peach wood sword tightening abruptly.

He could distinctly feel a chill seeping up from the ground, crawling into his pant leg.

The three disciples were even more terrified, their faces turning ashen as their bodies instinctively moved closer to the middle-aged priest, hardly daring to breathe.

The middle-aged Daoist didn’t have time to respond to his disciples; out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black shadow slowly seeping towards their shadows.

A piercing chill shot up his nape; purely on instinct honed from decades of battling supernatural entities, he raised his right hand swiftly, pressing his thumb tightly against his forefinger.

Without waiting for the sharp pain on his fingertip, he swiftly pressed the bleeding forefinger onto the body of the peach wood sword.

With a faint "hiss," the blood followed the pattern on the sword sheath, slowly spreading.

The previously dull peach wood sword, as if a sleeping creature awakened, burst free from the middle-aged priest’s hand, hovering in mid-air.

Suddenly, a scorching yellow light erupted from the sword’s body.

The light was fierce but not blinding, like a blazing sun pushing back the surrounding chill a bit.

Even the bizarre shadow on the ground slightly recoiled under this light and momentarily stopped spreading.

"Ha!" The middle-aged Daoist let out a low shout from his throat, not very loud but carrying the fierce aura of a banisher of demons, without the slightest ambiguity.

Quickly, he formed the Evil Suppressing Skill with his left hand, gripping the peach wood sword, now glowing yellow, tightly with his right.

In a swift wrist turn, the sword sliced through the air, accompanied by a whistling sound, slashing down hard at the unfamiliar black shadow clinging to the disciples’ shadows.

The actions were crisp and clean, without any hesitation, all born from decades of practical combat experience.

The moment the peach wood sword touched the shadow, a sharp "zzzzz" sound exploded abruptly, as if a red-hot iron collided with cold water.

At the point where the shadow was struck, a string of scorching sparks shot forth, scattering on the ground with a faint smell of burning.

Immediately, a thick gray-white smoke rose from the shadow, carrying an indescribable stench.

As it started to disperse, the smoke was incinerated, sizzling by the yellow light of the peach wood sword.

The shadow that was originally clinging tightly to everyone’s shadows also recoiled abruptly under this strike.

The edge even showed slight transparency, clearly having suffered a significant blow.

"Ah—!!!" A sharp, ear-piercing howl suddenly emanated from deep within the reservoir.

The sound was unlike any human voice, more like countless wailing specters intertwined, carrying a seething hatred and pain.

The previously calm surface of the reservoir now suddenly rippled with waves upon waves.

Subsequently, bubbling sounds of "gurgle gurgle" rose from underwater, muddy splashes continuously gushing from the depths, and the chill in the air suddenly intensified several times.

The coldness, which had just been forced back by the yellow light of the peach wood sword, now surged back like a tide, even condensing into a thin layer of white frost on the ground.

The middle-aged Daoist’s heart sank, his grip on the peach wood sword that had automatically flown back tightened even more.

He knew clearly that the specter lurking in the reservoir had been thoroughly enraged by that one strike.

What he might face next could be a counterattack several times more intense than before.

In the blink of an eye, before the middle-aged Daoist could recover from the specter’s howl.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw, by the reservoir dam, beneath that row of temporarily installed streetlights, countless eerie human figures had appeared at some unknown time.

Those shadows had no physical support, as if simply "seeping" out from the halo cast by the streetlights.

Some were bent over, some had twisted limbs, others didn’t even have a distinct outline of a head at the top — just a chaotic black mass, densely packed beneath the lampposts.

As the lamp light wobbled and slightly distorted, they appeared to number in the dozens.

More harrowing still, the shadow that had been struck earlier was still struggling on the ground.

The incessant howls from deep within the reservoir intertwined with the rustling of these human figures.

It was clearly the eerie and terrifying reservoir bank, yet with this crowd of figures and cacophony, it was bizarrely like a crowded morning market.

However, devoid of any hint of life, only chilling cold and a deathly poison lingered.

The middle-aged Daoist tightened his grip on the peach wood sword suddenly, his breathing skipping a beat.

The three young disciples beside him trembled all over, their faces as pale as paper.

The youngest among them couldn’t help but shrink back, his teeth beginning to chatter.

Clearly, this unimaginable scene spooked them to the point where even the thought of resistance was being suppressed.

"Damn it!" A young disciple couldn’t help but curse, his voice filled with shock and gravity.

"Master, what the hell are these things!"

The sight before them had far exceeded everyone’s expectations present.

Most critically, those shadowy figures emerging beneath the streetlights were still increasing, densely covering the reservoir dam surface.

Some crawled slowly along the ground; others stood upright. Though merely shadows, they seemed imbued with life, gradually encircling towards the four of them.