Of course, He Lingchuan could also hear all of this. He held his breath, fixed his eyes on his nose, and his nose on his chest—like a monk entering a state of deep inner focus and mindfulness while standing—and ignored the whispers completely.

When the voice got no response, it shifted. Now it sounded like a soft-spoken girl of sixteen or seventeen, breathy and sweet, coy and cute. As He Lingchuan listened, it began to sound eerily like the girl he had once had a crush on during his school days.

He clicked his tongue inwardly. That girl hadn’t even finished her studies before running off with some local rich kid. Three years later, she already had two spoiled little heirs in tow. The first time he saw those long-nosed, runny-faced kids, he realized how unbelievably foolish his younger self had been.

This Three Corpses Worm clearly had not done its homework. It did not know that the ones who abandoned you yesterday are already long gone and best left behind.

Just then, the boat shuddered violently beneath his feet, like something massive had just climbed aboard. Cries rang out from the back of the vessel, soldiers shouted in alarm, sand bandits cursed, and there was the unmistakable sound of blades being drawn.

A fight had broken out.

The nearest scream came from just behind He Lingchuan. He was sure that he had spoken to that soldier earlier.

Now something was charging straight toward him. Its footsteps were so heavy they echoed in his chest. It felt as if the monster were stomping right on his heart.

Is this just another trick by the Three Corpses Worms? Is it trying to get me to turn around?

But what if it isn’t?

What if something really crawled onto the ship? This is the Panlong Desert. It’s home to countless mutated beasts, so would it really be so far-fetched that one or two had slipped aboard for a snack?

The pressure behind him was growing, and every hair on He Lingchuan’s back stood on end.

He darted a glance at his father. He Chunhua was facing him directly, so he should be able to see what was behind him.

He Chunhua’s expression was contorted, twitching slightly. His eyes were wide and vacant. It was a strange look. He Lingchuan could not remember ever seeing it before. He wondered what his father was hearing.

Neither of them spoke; they did not dare to do so, not with the Three Corpses Worms circling. But then, how were they supposed to communicate with just their eyes?

Then, suddenly, He Chunhua blinked out of his daze, fixed his eyes on his son, and, as if he had heard He Lingchuan’s unspoken question, winked his right eye.

The ever-dignified commandery administrator had just winked at him. It was utterly out of character, and yet it shattered the heavy, oppressive atmosphere in an instant.

He Lingchuan let out a breath of relief, steadying himself.

So it’s fake!

His father was warning him that whatever he was hearing, he should not believe it. It was all fake.

Sure enough, the monstrous footsteps thundered to the back of his skull, close enough that he could hear the beast’s ragged breathing, and then it vanished.

All that remained was the sound of the wind.

The wisps of smoke that had been circling him now drifted away, as if bored, swaying off to find new targets.

He had passed the test.

He gave his father a quick wink in return.

Earlier, when everyone had swallowed the red pill, it had been no ordinary medicine. It was a special concoction, personally refined by State Preceptor Sun for this expedition. The pill contained soul-masking powder, made from the rare rottencore herb that grew only in the deepest, most yin-saturated regions. Once consumed by a human, the powder granted them temporary sight into the realm of the “unclean.” At the same time, it cloaked their life aura, causing the flame of life to burn without revealing its living essence. Unless a Three Corpses Worm physically invaded a person’s nine orifices, it would mistake them for dead.

However, the greatest weakness of this method was that you absolutely could not turn around.

A person’s upper body was guarded by three flames—one above the head, two on the shoulders. These flames protected their vital gates, shielding the soul from intrusion. However, the moment they turned back while being targeted by a Three Corpses Worm, those flames would flicker, the illusion would break, and their soul would be laid bare.

Sun Fuping himself had not invented this method. It had been recorded by a spellcaster from the long-fallen State of Xianyou—a state that had fought Panlong City for over thirty years. Who better to obsess over countermeasures against the Three Corpses Worms than a sworn enemy?

In fact, encounters like this did not just happen in ancient ruins. At night in rural areas, lone travelers would often hear voices behind them calling their name. One careless glance back, and their life lamp would dim, leaving them open to possession.

When He Lingchuan had first received the red pill, something had clicked in his mind.

The State of Xianyou had fallen over a hundred years back, and spellcasters’ journals from that time were not easy to come by. Additionally, rottencore herbs could only grow under extremely particular conditions, so they could not be farmed or mass-produced. Gathering enough raw materials to refine enough soul-masking powder for three hundred men to use must have required monumental effort.

Was it really just half a year that the Minister of War and State Preceptor Sun began preparations to explore the Panlong Ruins?

The thought flitted across He Lingchuan’s mind. However, he did not dwell on it.

Instead, his attention turned to his father. He Chunhua’s face had regained its usual composure, and the Three Corpses Worms near him had dispersed. That meant he, too, had passed the trial.

But then He Lingchuan’s eyes swept past him and stopped in alarm. One of He Chunhua’s personal guards stood just behind him, eyes reddened, shimmering with tears.

“Hey, don’t—!” He Lingchuan blurted out, but it was too late.

The man turned his head.

Right before his eyes, the flame above the guard’s left shoulder extinguished with a quiet pop.

The other two flames dimmed instantly.

A nearby Three Corpses Worm, sensing weakness like a shark catching the scent of blood, coiled and struck. Its tail flicked once as it plunged straight into the man’s ears and nostrils.

The guard’s eyes lost all focus.

He Chunhua, catching his son’s horrified gaze and realizing something was wrong behind him, visibly strained. The veins on his neck bulged. He was clearly resisting every ounce of instinct screaming at him to turn.

He did not turn. Instead, he lunged forward two steps.

This decision saved his life.

Because at that exact moment, the possessed guard drew his changdao and, without hesitation, brought it down in a deadly arc aimed directly at the back of He Chunhua’s skull, as if chopping a watermelon in half.

They were only slightly more than a meter apart, and the blade moved quickly.

When it fell, it came within seven centimeters of his head.

But just then, He Lingchuan, having rushed past his father, threw himself into the guard’s chest, tackling both man and sword to the deck.

The strike halted.

A moment later, blood splattered. Steel had pierced the guard’s back, the tip of a blade jutting clean through.

He Chunhua, still alive, gasped for air. He steadied himself, then glanced up sharply. “Chuan’er, turn slowly, very slowly. I’ll take care of the puppets.”

He Lingchuan shoved the corpse aside. A wisp of smoke streamed from the dead man’s seven orifices, slipping back into the air lazily, as if no longer interested.

The man was dead. He could no longer host the Three Corpses Worm. It had to leave.

He Lingchuan did not move his neck. He turned by shifting his waist and legs instead, careful not to disturb the flickering flames on his shoulders. He did not dare let a breath blow them out. However, what he turned to see was utter chaos.

The boat had erupted into a frenzy.

That guard had not been the only one. Despite repeated warnings and meticulous preparation, seven or eight others had succumbed to the whispers in their ears. Each had blown out their own life fires and become vessels for the Three Corpses Worms.

And once possessed, they turned on friend and comrade alike, blades flashing with no recognition in their eyes.

In mere heartbeats, the deck was slick with blood. Four or five were wounded. One poor soul had half his head sliced clean off.

He Chunhua charged straight toward one of the attackers, a sand bandit who had now been possessed by one of the worms. The man still moved nimbly, dodging and weaving among the panicked crowd, slashing indiscriminately whenever someone got too close.

It was hard to stop him.

When you had to constantly remind yourself not to turn your head, your range of motion plummeted. He Chunhua felt like he was fighting in a body cast with every action three beats too slow.

He was just about to cast a spell when a knife whistled through the air from behind him.

Tchk!

It buried itself in the possessed man’s right eye.

The knife pierced through his skull, bursting straight out the back, causing blood to spray out in a shape like a flower.