This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

After hanging up the phone, Zhang Chen remained standing still, still holding his phone.

The warm and harmonious atmosphere in the office instantly froze.

The gratitude on Lin Qingya's face hadn't faded yet, and Wang Xiaoer's silly grin froze.

They could all feel that Zhang Chen's relaxed aura had tightened to its limit within seconds, like a fully drawn bowstring.

"Brother Chen?"

Wang Xiaoer tentatively called out.

Zhang Chen slowly put down his phone and looked up.

His expression was solemn, unlike anything Wang Xiaoer had ever seen before, and even carried a hint of suppressed anger.

Those eyes, which always seemed somewhat lazy, were now flashing with a cold light.

"This is really a never-ending series of troubles."

Zhang Chen's voice was very low, each word sounding as if it were being squeezed out from between his teeth.

He turned to Wang Xiaoer and said, slowly and deliberately, "A 'living human stake' has been discovered in the abandoned cemetery in the west of the city."

"Someone is using black magic to borrow luck again!"

"Living human stake?" Wang Xiaoer was unfamiliar with this term.

Zhang Chen wasted no time. He grabbed the cloth bag draped over the sofa and explained at top speed.

"An extremely vicious forbidden technique."

"The caster will capture a living person, drive specially made wooden stakes through their limbs, and use them as a living focal point of the formation."

"Then nail the person to the ground where the yin energy is heaviest, such as an abandoned cemetery or an ancient battlefield."

Zhang Chen spoke at a moderate pace, but the chill in his words made the temperature in the entire room drop.

"Once the formation is activated, it will forcibly extract the victim's life force, yang energy, and most importantly... luck."

"These things will be continuously transferred to the caster."

"The victim won't die immediately; he will be drained of everything in extreme agony, bleeding from all seven orifices, his life extinguished, and his death a gruesome sight!"

Wang Xiaoer's pupils suddenly contracted.

A name flashed through his mind instantly.

Five Ghosts Gate!

The same unlucky guy from a few days ago was also targeted by an evil sect that tried to steal his luck using the "Five Ghosts Moving" technique.

This method of forcibly plundering other people's fortune is exactly the same as that of the Five Ghosts Sect, and even more cruel and direct!

Wang Xiaoer's usually nonchalant face turned cold at this moment.

"Walk!"

The two of them simply explained a few words to Lin Qingya before rushing out of the office like a gust of wind.

The streets were bitterly cold late at night.

They flagged down a taxi, and Zhang Chen gave them the address.

"Driver, the abandoned cemetery in the west of the city, please hurry!"

The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror with a strange look in his eyes, but still started the car.

Silence fell over the car.

The taxi sped along the empty streets, the streetlights outside the window flashing across their faces, sometimes bright, sometimes dim.

Zhang Chen broke the silence, his voice low.

"Waiter, this time it's not just catching little devils, it might be a life-or-death situation."

His gaze shifted to Wang Xiaoer, his eyes sharp as knives.

"The other party is a true evil cultivator. They dare to use such an inhumane method. They definitely have more than one life on their hands, and they must have made preparations."

"In their eyes, your luck is like a walking piece of Tang Sanzang flesh."

Wang Xiaoer met his gaze, but showed no fear on his face.

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, but his smile carried a hint of ruthlessness.

"Didn't you say I was incredibly lucky? Well, I'd like to see whose fate is tougher."

The taxi stopped at the end of a deserted side road.

Further ahead was a wasteland surrounded by barbed wire.

"Gentlemen, this is the best we can go. The car can't go any further." The driver pointed to the dark entrance ahead.

After paying, the two quickly got out of the car.

As soon as I stood still, a cold wind carrying the smell of rotting soil and weeds rushed towards me.

At the entrance of the cemetery, a middle-aged man in a security guard uniform was squatting on the ground, looking around anxiously.

An old, dilapidated electric scooter lay overturned at his feet.

Seeing Zhang Chen and Wang Xiaoer approach, he rushed over as if he had seen his saviors.

"Master! It was...it was Captain Zhao who told me to wait for you here!"

The security guard's lips were pale, his teeth were chattering, and he could barely speak coherently.

"I...I was just on night patrol when I saw a hole in the barbed wire fence and wanted to come and check it out..."

"The result...the result is what we saw...we saw it..."

He stretched out a trembling hand, pointing deep into the cemetery, his face filled with fear.

"A scarecrow! A scarecrow dressed in clothes, nailed to the ground!"

"His face...his face is bleeding! Black blood!"

Zhang Chen patted his shoulder, and a faint warmth flowed over him, which calmed the security guard's violent trembling slightly.

"It's alright, it's alright, this is none of your business now, hurry up and leave."

The security guard felt like he had been granted a pardon. He scrambled onto the electric scooter and fled the place without looking back.

Zhang Chen looked at the cemetery shrouded in darkness.

This place has been abandoned for many years, with weeds growing taller than a person, and tombstones standing crookedly in the sparse moonlight.

The wind rustled through the wild grass, making a "shush" sound, like the whispers of countless dead souls.

An indescribable, eerie atmosphere permeated the air; it was cold and filled with malice.

Zhang Chen took out a yellow talisman from his canvas bag, held it between his fingers, and was about to perform a hand seal to sense it.

Wang Xiaoer suddenly raised his head.

Just now, an intense, nauseating sensation suddenly gripped his heart.

It was an aura mixed with extreme resentment and a strong smell of blood, like an invisible venomous snake that burrowed straight into his senses from some direction in the cemetery.

His five senses, which had become exceptionally sharp due to absorbing the energy of the home-protecting charm, came into play at this moment.

He didn't even need to think; his body's instincts had already given him the answer.

Wang Xiaoer raised his hand and pointed to the darkest patch of darkness to his left, his voice deep and powerful.

"Over there!"

Zhang Chen was taken aback and looked in the direction Wang Xiaoer was pointing.

The talisman on his fingertip didn't react, but he trusted Wang Xiaoer's intuition.

This precise targeting of "evil" is sometimes more effective than any Taoist compass.

"Walk!"

Without further hesitation, the two men, one in front and one behind, pushed aside the waist-high weeds and followed Wang Xiaoer's intuition, heading deeper into the cemetery.

The road underfoot was rugged and uneven, and every now and then you would step on a soft mound of grave or a broken tombstone.

The further you go in, the stronger the stench of blood and resentment becomes.

The air seemed to have turned into a viscous liquid, making it hard to breathe.

Finally, after passing through a dense cluster of tombstones, the view suddenly opened up before them.

Not far ahead, there is a small open space.

In the center of the open space stood a huge old locust tree.

The locust tree's branches were gnarled and twisted, baring their fangs and claws in the night, like a hideous ghost.

Under the old locust tree, by the faint moonlight, they saw the "scarecrow" in the distance.

That wasn't a scarecrow at all.

He was a man wearing a modern jacket and jeans.

He lay sprawled on the ground in an extremely contorted position, his limbs firmly driven into the soil by several thick, dark wooden stakes.

The blood had long since congealed, but from his seven orifices, strands of black blood, as black as ink, were slowly seeping out.

Around the nailed man, several blurry, black shadows, like static on a television screen, were slowly circling him.