The Unremarkable Little Taoist Master

The burly man was momentarily stunned, then hurriedly stepped back.

The old man was the first to rush towards Bai Qi, reciting an unknown incantation loudly as he slowly approached him.

When the old man reached Bai Qi, Bai Qi suddenly displayed a smug smile.

Bai Qi suddenly vanished, as if he had never been there at all.

The old man seemed to understand something, his expression darkened significantly.

Seeing the old man come down, the old monk anxiously asked, “Where is the ghost king Bai Qi?”

The old daoist priest slowly cast a glance at me, helplessness evident in his voice as he said, “This time, we’re in trouble. The Bai Qi here is probably just a phantasm, while the real Bai Qi has likely found his host long ago.”

“What about this kid then?” The old monk suddenly realized and asked, somewhat in disbelief.

“Fate will bring what it will, and what fate does not allow should not be forced. We can only hope for the best.”

Then everyone dispersed, leaving just me and the old man staring at each other in silence.

Meanwhile, in a distant cave, Wang-Ge suddenly erupted with a thick layer of yin energy, letting out a mournful roar.

“I’m back again, haha, just wait, you all will die.”

At that moment, while I was locked in a gaze with the old man, my phone suddenly rang.

I picked up the phone to find that it was the fat police officer who had just left.

He simply gave me an address and urged me to hurry.

From the address, it appeared that the incident was taking place at a museum. This piqued my interest; what kind of supernatural event could occur in a museum? Although I was puzzled, I quickly made my way there.

The museum was built in the last century and appeared somewhat dilapidated, located in a remote suburban area, giving off a strange aura.

We slowly walked up to the entrance of the museum. Looking at the dark, ancient door, we gently knocked. The sound reverberated in the silent night; when no one responded, we cautiously pushed the door open. With a creak, we stepped into the interior of the museum.

The museum didn’t seem very large and appeared to have been abandoned for quite some time, only occasionally in use. It had long been closed to the public, and as we looked at the various exhibits inside, we felt a chill run down our spines.

This was no ordinary museum; to us, it felt more like a morgue for storing corpses. Preserved skeletons and dissected bodies were housed in large containers, creating an atmosphere filled with eeriness.

As we gazed at the open corpses, we had to stifle our nausea and reluctantly moved forward. After a while, we spotted a small room with its door ajar. We could hear voices inside, seemingly engaged in an argument.

It sounded like a heated exchange between an old man and a young person. We quietly listened, but the argument dragged on, growing somewhat annoying and disorienting. Frustrated, we decided to knock on the door.

An elderly voice called out from within, inviting us in. The three of us pushed the door open and stepped inside, where we found an old man and a young man staring back at us, both looking puzzled. The old man’s face was etched with the marks of age, his skin wrinkled and resembling tree bark, while his gray hair couldn’t hide the sparkle in his eyes that conveyed a sense of vitality.

The young man appeared quite ordinary, the kind of face you wouldn’t notice in a crowd. Perhaps the only striking aspect about him was his unusual darkness; he was so dark-skinned that we nearly overlooked him upon entering the room.

The young man was also sizing us up, and thus, we exchanged scrutinizing glances. It was the old man who finally broke the silence. “May I ask who you are? I am the curator of this museum.”

Forced to smile, I replied, “We received a phone call indicating that there are some extraordinary happenings here. We’ve come to help you resolve the situation.”

The three of us could clearly see the relief wash over both the old man and the young man, their smiles returning. The old man said, “It was indeed us who made the call. Please have a seat; I will explain everything to you.”

The old daoist priest and I settled comfortably into our seats, our attention piqued as we feared missing any crucial details.

The old man began, “This all started a fortnight ago when we heard that a sword had been discovered in Qin Shi Huang’s tomb. As seasoned experts, we recognized this as a significant discovery.

I was assigned to investigate and restore the sword, and I happily accepted the task. Together with my apprentice, we began the work of investigation and restoration. However, what transpired half a month ago left us in a state of panic.

Two weeks ago, we successfully restored the sword. My apprentice picked it up and swung it lightly a couple of times, and what happened next was beyond our belief. Suddenly, my apprentice’s eyes turned blood-red, and he charged at me like a madman, uttering words I couldn’t understand.

We ended up grappling with each other, and for some reason, my apprentice let out a terrible scream and then fainted. He hasn’t woken up since, and I even had an argument with my son over this sword just a while ago.”

The old daoist priest interjected, confused, “Old man, this dark-skinned young man is your son?” The old man nodded, saying, “Yes, he is indeed my son.”

The young man shot the old daoist priest a resentful glance, making the old man feel incredibly awkward. He turned to me, and I quickly averted my gaze. What a joke-calling someone “dark-skinned” outright? Who wouldn’t be upset by that?

I looked at the old man and asked, “Could you show us the sword? After all, just taking your word for it doesn’t give us much to go on.”

The old man hesitated, looking as if he still didn’t fully trust us. We sat silently, waiting for him to make a decision. After a brief moment, he gritted his teeth and said, “Alright, please wait a moment. I’ll fetch it.”

We sat in the chairs, taking in our surroundings, which were quite shabby. The two of us exchanged thoughts when, before long, the old man hurried back in, carrying a long box. It was clear without question that this was the mysterious sword.

He placed the box on the table and slowly opened it. As the lid lifted, we could sense the Blood Fiend Aura emanating from the sword, along with a peculiar feeling that lingered in the air. Though it was fleeting, we both noticed it. We didn’t fully understand what was causing this strange aura, but we sensed it was something to be extremely cautious about.

This sword was undoubtedly unusual. The old daoist priest and I exchanged glances and could see the same conclusion reflected in each other’s eyes. We cautiously picked up the sword to examine it closely.

As I held the sword, an overwhelming sensation washed over me, as if countless battles were raging in my mind, igniting an inexplicable fury within me. I quickly began to recite the calming mantra, gradually managing to quell the intense killing intent rising in my heart.

It took quite a while for me to expel a deep breath, my clothes drenched in sweat. I cast a fearful glance at the sword lying on the table; indeed, it was strange indeed, and I had almost fallen into its influence. This sword was certainly not ordinary.

The old daoist priest, noticing my reaction, looked astonished, his eyes filled with apprehension. I offered a wry smile and turned to the old man. “This sword has serious issues. I almost became entranced by it just now. Please, do not let anyone else touch it. I suspect this matter is far more complicated than it appears.”