Chapter Thirty-Five: The Phone Call

“Hoo...”

Shen Chang’an let out a slow breath, running his hands over every part of his body.

“Hiss...”

When he accidentally touched one of his wounds, he couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

Would these injuries on his body never heal?

With a sigh, Shen Chang’an shook his head helplessly. It seemed he would have to be more careful in the future; aside from carrying him to fly here and there, the beast-hide ancient book offered no other assistance.

Speaking of which, after subduing the demon this time, Shen Chang’an had gained another supernatural ability—only, it was yet another one from the Earth Fiend Arts.

While the seventy-two Earth Fiend techniques were certainly wondrous in their own right, compared to the thirty-six transformations of the Heavenly Gang, they paled in comparison.

Last time, Shen Chang’an had managed to obtain the only auxiliary cultivation technique among the thirty-six Heavenly Gang transformations. The remaining ones were all grand supernatural powers—resurrecting the dead, shifting stars and constellations, or, at the very least, turning stone to gold or scattering beans to create soldiers—each one could be considered a formidable spell.

But among the seventy-two Earth Fiend techniques, there were also bizarre abilities like gold-and-yellow, head-rejoining, and blade-swallowing. Judging from the fasting technique Shen Chang’an had previously acquired, perhaps even these odd spells had their own unique uses, but compared with the tangible grand powers of the Heavenly Gang, he couldn’t help but yearn for those more.

This time, the ability he obtained was called “Transference.”

Transference, as in the Five Ghosts’ Transference Art. Many evil cultivators had mastered this technique; it allowed them to steal others’ possessions, a base and despicable power, even looked down upon by some.

Its uses were few; generally, evildoers would use it to trick ordinary folk, but any proper cultivator could see through it at a glance.

Yet, when it was categorized among the seventy-two Earth Fiend techniques, the Transference Art was not so simple.

This supernatural power, said to involve the Five Ghosts, felt to Shen Chang’an more like telekinesis.

There were no Plague Gods to command at all; the true wonder of the art lay in the fact that, with just a thought, Shen Chang’an could bring forth whatever he desired.

Not only could he pull objects to himself, but he could also manipulate them freely according to his will—whatever he wished to do, he could do.

“To exert force on an object out of thin air... Tsk, I really underestimated the Earth Fiend Arts. There’s nothing simple about these powers...”

To exert force on an object from nowhere was already a violation of the laws of physics. If Shen Chang’an’s magical power grew mightier and his mind more precise in the future, the effect this ability could achieve would surely be terrifying.

But for now, the force he could exert was far inferior to brute strength; in direct combat, it could at best be used for interference. As for any other uses, those would have to wait.

Still, it was another supernatural power in his arsenal, another technique at his disposal. When facing enemies, he would have more choices. And the Transference Art could be activated with just a thought, with a range of over ten meters—quite practical indeed.

After checking his injuries, Shen Chang’an took a shower in the bathroom attached to his bedroom, then changed out of his Daoist robe into clean clothes and stepped out.

As soon as he emerged, the ghosts outside seemed startled, all curling up in fright, staring at Shen Chang’an as though they’d seen a ghost themselves.

“Shen... Shen... Master Shen, wh-when did you get back?”

Faced with him, the crowd of ghosts trembled with fear.

With a slight frown, Shen Chang’an gave a cold snort. “What’s this? Did you stir up any trouble while I was away?”

“No, no, nothing at all, we did nothing.”

“Really nothing?”

“Of course it’s true,” the ghosts all nodded vigorously.

Shen Chang’an eyed them suspiciously. “If you’ve done nothing, what are you afraid of?”

“It’s not that, Master Shen... Three days ago you vanished without a sound, and then today you reappeared just as silently. We couldn’t even see you come or go, and our poor hearts were about to leap out...”

Shen Chang’an shot a glance at Old Qin and snorted, “Get out of here, as if you have a heart in the first place.”

Seeing that they hadn’t caused trouble, Shen Chang’an stopped paying them any mind. This time, coming and going, three days had passed in the mortal world. He still didn’t know how time flowed between the book’s world and the real one—no matter how long he spent in the book, he always returned three days later, and when he left the real world for the book, at least a month would pass inside.

“Forget it. At least at home, I can rest for about a month.”

Back in the real world, the tension that had gripped Shen Chang’an finally eased a little. Each day in the book’s world was a struggle for survival—a hard life indeed.

And this time, the demon he encountered was especially difficult to deal with—Shen Chang’an was thoroughly exhausted by the end, only managing to kill Yuan, that troublesome foe, thanks to the means left behind by Master Jade Toad.

He wondered if Zheng Xin and Wang Yue would tell others what happened here when they returned. They should have noticed those monsters who’d died in Fang City; with Yuan’s collapse, the power sustaining them would have dissipated as well. Those creatures could only inhabit human bodies thanks to Yuan’s evil intent.

Now that Yuan was dead and even his core had been burned to ashes by Master Jade Toad’s mark, those fiends could no longer maintain their forms. The lucky ones could keep half a body, the unlucky ones would explode on the spot.

Fang City was destroyed. Once Wang Yue and Zheng Xin spread the word, even if Fang Siyu fled to the ends of the earth, the Demon Purging Division would never let him go.

Oh, and there was someone Shen Chang’an had forgotten—Li Qingqing.

Miss Li must have sobered up at the last moment and employed that bewitching art of hers, making Shen Chang’an overlook her. Just as she could make everyone in Fang City believe she was a master of exquisite skill, yet no one could say exactly what those skills were.

At the time, Shen Chang’an was gravely wounded, his magical power depleted, and had lost the effect of his warding talisman—he was naturally defenseless against Li Qingqing’s tricks and unconsciously ignored her presence.

If not for that, he would have seized the chance to strike her down, sending that demoness to the underworld to reunite with Yuan’s heart.

He silently resolved that next time he entered the book’s world, if he ran into Li Qingqing again, come what may, he’d make sure to deliver that blow.

After scolding the ghosts, Shen Chang’an intended to return to his room and get a good night’s sleep.

His wounds were serious; though the steady flow of magical power was hastening his recovery, it would take time. He hadn’t mastered supernatural healing methods like “Herbal Medicine,” “Talismanic Water,” or “Elixir Consumption”—all his magic could do was accelerate the healing.

Just as he was about to rest, his phone suddenly rang out loudly.

Glancing at the screen, Shen Chang’an saw an unfamiliar number and simply hung up.

But less than a minute later, the phone rang again.

Shen Chang’an paused, considered for a moment, and answered.

A familiar voice came from the other end: “Master Shen, I’ve got a case I can’t handle here. Could you come help me out? Of course, there’s money in it for you.”

Shen Chang’an was startled. The caller was... Sun Yiyuan, the fake Taoist priest!