The Ghost race is difficult to completely eradicate.
Much like Lu Wuming, they possess an incredibly strong regenerative ability. However, there's a difference. While other members of the Ghost race might heal exceptionally well, none can achieve what Lu Wuming can – to regenerate even when reduced to a paste.
Lu Wuming is an anomaly, a singular existence within the novel.
As for the other members of the Ghost race, based on the protagonist's methods in the novel, there are two primary ways to eliminate them.
The first is incineration. They fear flames, and once reduced to ashes by fire, they indeed cannot be reborn.
The second method is comparatively more brutal: dismemberment. Unlike Lu Wuming, when their bodies are damaged to a certain extent, they are unable to recover.
The second method presents a greater challenge, as even though the Ghost race are not entirely human, they appear as such externally.
Completely tearing them apart is also a significant test of the opponent's psychological fortitude. And to what degree of fragmentation constitutes success remains unknown.
Therefore, from the outset, Liu Buli did not hesitate to choose the first method.
Taking a deep breath, he gently brushed his fingers along the sword's edge. True fire, conjured by spiritual energy, blazed on the blade. He looked up at the Ghost race opposite him, and following the original owner's actions from memory, he began to wield his long sword, launching his attack.
The cultivation techniques of the Dan Sect are visually stunning, truly beautiful. Coupled with Liu Buli's own graceful physique, his movements while executing the techniques resembled a dance within the flames.
The sword, enveloped in spiritual fire, swept past his side. Its faint glow pierced the pitch-black night, illuminating Liu Buli at its center. Combined with his serene and peaceful expression at this moment, the technique, born for slaughter, was imbued with a noble and captivating aura, akin to a divine dance.
The Ghost race found themselves momentarily at a loss for how to proceed. It wasn't due to Liu Buli's stunning beauty at that moment, but rather because the spiritual fire surrounding him completely enveloped him, leaving no opening for his opponent.
This approach wouldn't last.
The Ghost race couldn't help but frown.
But before he could devise a countermeasure, Liu Buli was already charging towards him.
He seemed to have merged with the spiritual fire, the flames dancing with his form. With each movement he made, the fire burned even more intensely. In the end, it wasn't just him; the spiritual fire also engulfed the Ghost race.
It was too late for the Ghost race to evade.
The spiritual fire rapidly climbed his body, using his skin as soil to bloom flowers of blood.
Liu Buli stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged.
The wails and roars of the Ghost race echoed through the night, yet Liu Buli showed no intention of stopping.
He had read the novel; he knew this was a world where the strong preyed on the weak.
Needless compassion would only lead to his own demise.
But he could not die.
At the very least, before he could pull Lu Wuming out of the abyss of darkness and into the light, he absolutely could not die.
He watched the Ghost race before him struggle and writhe in the spiritual fire, his form becoming increasingly gaunt as it was consumed by the flames. He listened as the screams rose in intensity, eventually fading away…
When the last ember died out, the Ghost race's body had been reduced to ashes.
Liu Buli let out a long sigh.
He dared not linger for rest and immediately turned to pursue the direction Lu Wuming had been taken.
Liu Buli clenched his long sword, the rage in his eyes intensifying.
Dealing with this fellow had taken too long. He hoped his beloved wouldn't be injured.
Otherwise…
He wouldn't hesitate to use the second method to send that damned Ghost race to hell.
Liu Buli was unaware that while he was dealing with this Ghost race member, Lu Wuming had already undergone a transformation.
His hands had become claws, his eyes a blood-red hue. All the madness and malice within him erupted in an instant. The Ghost race who had taken him didn't even realize what was happening before Lu Wuming vanished from his sight.
Simultaneously, a searing pain shot through his shoulder.
He looked down to see his arm had been brutally torn off.
Glancing to the side, he saw Liu Buli holding his severed arm. After a brief look, he let out a cold laugh and proceeded to crush the detached limb into pieces with his bare fingers.
The ensuing period became a one-sided slaughter.
As if deliberately inflicting the deepest pain and despair, Lu Wuming's attacks never resulted in immediate death. He merely tore at the opponent's body bit by bit, allowing them to survive while clearly experiencing the agony and hopelessness of their slow descent into death.
Blood splattered, drenching the surrounding trees and flowers. Moonlight bathed the land, yet it couldn't illuminate this profound darkness.
The sky itself seemed to change color with the bloodshed. Dark clouds, carried by the night wind, obscured the heavens, blocking the moon, and finally plunging everything into darkness.
In Lu Wuming's eyes, even a hard skull was as fragile and brittle as a twig. With a single kick, accompanied by a final soft crunch, the Ghost race's last form dissolved into a bloody mess.
Lu Wuming looked down at himself, a slight frown on his face.
Master had said to pay attention to personal hygiene.
So, now that he was covered in the foul-smelling blood of that vile creature, would Master still like him?
Certainly not.
Lu Wuming concluded.
There was nowhere nearby to clean himself.
Looking down at his blood-soaked hands again, Lu Wuming hesitated for a moment. Then, with his sharp, blade-like fingers, he slowly tore off the flesh from his hands.
New skin quickly covered the exposed bone and muscle. In the moonlight, Lu Wuming observed his hand quietly.
Yes, he was clean now.
So, what that woman he called mother had done wasn't entirely wrong. For instance, when she called him dirty, she would use boiling water to peel off a layer of his skin.
Because the newly grown skin was indeed smooth and clean.
Lu Wuming meticulously examined his body and finally smiled.
He needed to be clean before he saw Master.
…
When Liu Buli finally caught up to Lu Wuming, he saw the young man walking towards him alone.
The worry in his heart lessened considerably. Liu Buli quickened his pace, reaching Lu Wuming and pulling him into a tight embrace.
The smell of blood on Lu Wuming's clothes was heavy, the fabric thoroughly soaked, making it impossible to discern its original color.
Yet, his skin was impeccably clean, with no trace of bloodstains. This struck Liu Buli as peculiar.
He opened his mouth to ask.
The young man in his arms, however, pouted first and began to cry pitifully. He sobbed, nuzzling into Liu Buli's embrace, and from his throat emerged a voice filled with childish petulance, "Master…"