Chapter 129: Song of the Twin Gods pt. 10

That copper coin darted toward Ming Zhuo’s face, stopping just half a finger's width away from his amber eyes. Ming Zhuo made no move to evade it but instead intoned, “Pursue wickedness, subdue malice, and let the puppet quickly comply!”

With a resonant hum, the coin froze in midair. A wave of intense heat rushed forth, blurring the inscriptions on the coin's surface. Ming Xi, standing nearby, was also immobilised, her expression frozen as if under a binding spell.

Little Luo Xu shuddered and exclaimed, “She just touched the coin, and it’s already about to break!”

The Yin Yang Coin was derived from the water-controlling bronze beast of the Heavenly Sea, and was crafted with techniques known only to the Tianhai Imperial Guards. Its ability to suppress the Heavenly Sea’s tides and commune with the spirits of Yin and Yang was not just due to its intricate and secretive forging process but also because of its innate power to dispel evil and ward off calamities.

Ming Xi, the second-generation ruler of the Baiwei dynasty, had long passed away. The fragment of her summoned by Ming Zhuo and Little Luo Xu through the Nine Summons ritual was no more than a faint wisp of her spirit tethered to her ancestral tablet—not even a complete soul. Yet, unexpectedly, even this fragment wielded such overwhelming strength.

Ming Zhuo retrieved the coin, brought it to his lips, and gently blew on it. The two coins chimed together with a clear ding as if to soothe Little Luo Xu’s anxious heart. He turned to Ming Xi and said, “Since you’ve heeded the summons and come forth, it proves you bear no malice. However, the unfilial descendant here is not me—it’s him.”

Amid the wind, Ming Zhuo raised his hand and pointed at Wenle.

Wenle pressed a hand to the white paper mask on his face, still smiling. “That’s not quite true, not quite true. It was your father who dug up graves and desecrated tombs, your father who devoured the ancestral tablets, and now you, who treat your ancestor as a puppet to command. Such acts of filial impiety, immorality, and irreverence have nothing to do with me. Don’t fling accusations in desperation.”

His words were neither entirely true nor entirely false. When Hui Mang had dug up graves and devoured ancestral tablets, he had already fallen into a state of madness. Ming Han had coerced him with threats against Ming Zhuo and controlled him with the Blood Shackle Curse. Whatever Ming Han wanted, Hui Mang was forced to do.

Ming Zhuo said, “Jiujiu, there’s one thing I truly detest.”

"Jiujiu? You call me Jiujiu?" Wenle burst out laughing, clearly entertained. “Fine, I’ll play your Jiujiu. Now, this thing you detest—could it be the puppet control?”

Ming Zhuo lifted his head slightly, his gaze heavy and piercing. “It’s talking to you. Every time I hear your voice, I feel an uncontrollable urge to kill you.”

"This matter is not difficult to resolve. I could use a small spell to change my voice for our conversations." Wenle loosened his grip on the white paper mask, which nearly fell off. “Ming Zhuo, how about this voice?”

His voice abruptly shifted, transforming into a soft and gentle female tone, one that bore a resemblance to the princess’s voice by eight points.

Wenle continued, “If you don’t like it, then how about this voice?”

This time, his voice changed again, remarkably similar to that of Luo Xu. The ink on the paper mask began to smear, blending grotesquely with his eerie grin. It was clear he was mocking Ming Zhuo.

"Yi," Wenle suddenly feigned a realisation. “When I use your mother’s voice, you seem perfectly calm. But the moment I use the Imperial Lord’s voice, you’re filled with murderous rage. Could it be that your mother is less important than the one you’ve been entangled with? If that’s the case, what a good son, filial son you are!”

He let out a raucous laugh, but in the next instant, the scenery before him shifted dramatically. Suddenly, he and Ming Zhuo had swapped positions.

Moon Mirror!

Wenle remarked, “Well, what a bold displacement spell. Most people would only dare to use it on others, but you had the audacity to use it on me…”

Ming Zhuo replied, “Correct!”

Little Luo Xu, under his control, naturally had to comply. This “Correct” was a self-command spell Ming Zhuo improvised on the spot. It was both an order to Little Luo Xu and an invocation to Luo Xu itself, commanding spiritual energy to flow freely. And in that very moment, he demanded more—much more—usable spiritual power!

The command spell took effect, and Ming Zhuo’s spiritual energy surged instantly. The sky darkened as thunderclouds gathered. With a fierce exhale, he manipulated the invisible puppet strings in his hands and shouted, “Burn through me!”

Though Ming Zhuo primarily wielded lightning, incapable of summoning fire, the puppet strings connected him to Ming Xi.

Ming Xi’s domineering nature was evident. Her approach to love—binding others to her with her soul, disregarding their life or death—reflected her rule: prosper with her, perish against her.

Peng!

A crimson wave of fire erupted from the ground, sweeping out with ferocious intensity. Thunder roared as Ming Zhuo tightened his grip on the puppet strings. Sparks of electricity danced along the lines, though not by his will—Ming Xi was too difficult to control.

Dominance, after all, meant absolute authority and unchecked power. As the second sovereign of the Baiwei Dynasty, Ming Xi had inherited a flourishing kingdom from Ming Yao. She stood at the pinnacle of cultivation, commanding the Four Mountains with unchallenged authority. To manipulate her against Wenle required Ming Zhuo to exert tremendous effort.

Ming Xi maintained her stance as if still tossing the bronze coin. Her tall figure, even as a mere spirit, exuded an air of effortless elegance.

Wenle remarked, “You summoned her, yet she doesn’t obey. Seems like swapping places was pointless. What other tricks do you have? You’d better act quickly while there’s still time.”

Ming Zhuo frowned slightly, too preoccupied to retort. The intricate puppet strings remained unyielding, no matter how much strength he applied.

Wenle reached out, grabbed the strings, and scolded, “Revealing your strings is the gravest mistake in puppet control. To force her into service, you’ve disregarded your safety. Foolish, foolish—don’t blame this on me!”

The moment he touched the strings; they dissipated like smoke.

Substitution Spell!

When Wenle looked ahead, Ming Zhuo was nowhere to be found. Realising he’d been tricked, Wenle tried to turn back, but it was too late. Before he could open his ink-drawn mouth, a massive fist struck the base of his skull.

Peng!

Wenle crashed to the ground, the paper mask on his face torn apart, along with his skull. A swarm of paper moths burst out, flapping toward the sky. Unfortunately for him, the attacker wasn’t Ming Zhuo but another force entirely. The moths barely made it a few feet before they were incinerated by the flames.

Hū—

Amid the fierce wind, Ming Xi released her fist, and the giant shadow of her hand followed suit, hoisting Wenle off the ground.

"A descendant bound with a soul contract," sparks flew as the second sovereign’s piercingly cold gaze burned with mockery. She tilted her chin ever so slightly—a gesture strikingly similar to Ming Zhuo’s. “I want to speak with him, you’ll have to wait in line.”

Though Wenle’s body was several times larger than hers, it was dwarfed by her arrogance. Suspended by her shadow, he chuckled darkly, his wings trembling.

"If you were a living ancestor, perhaps I’d feel fear. But you’re just a spirit, temporarily borrowed by reversing Yin and Yang.” From the shattered remains of his head, a new one formed. This time, there was no paper mask. His mouth stretched wide, and he devoured Ming Xi’s shadow and spirit in one gulp.

“The string breaking hurts… Stop him…” Little Ming Zhuo clutched his mouth, his eyes bloodshot. “Don’t let him summon that person. If he does, I’ll die. I’ll be consumed alive!”

Bound by shared fates, the four of them would perish together if even one fell.

Luo Xu said—

"Correct!" Ming Zhuo couldn’t spare the time to change spells. He directly unleashed the Yin Yang Coin. “Luo Xu!”

As spiritual energy surged wildly, Little Ming Zhuo could no longer stem the flow of blood from his nose and mouth. Luo Xu steadied him, placing a hand against his chest, but the command spell’s power was irresistible. Even if he didn’t comply, the prohibition could not hold.

Luo Xu spoke a second incantation, just as Ming Zhuo called out the name of the second being he sought to summon.

Ding!

The bed chamber fell into deathly silence. Even the ancestral plaques seemed lifeless, the situation locked in a tense stalemate. Across the divide of time and space, Luo Xu and Ming Zhuo gripped the same lifeline, neither yielding to escape.

Luo Xu said, “Sustain life.”

Ming Zhuo uttered, “Ming Yao.”

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