Destruction of the Primordial Soul

1,160 words

Yu Zitong’s primordial soul was trapped in a narrow corner, crashing about like a fly with a broken wing. Every time it tried to fly outward, a jet of black liquid would drive it back, and a cold blade would follow close behind, hacking relentlessly into the light orb, weakening its glow with each blow.

Despair filled his being. The relentless pursuit of the enemy’s sword had weakened his soul, but that was not what truly frightened him. What he could not counter was the constant, corroding touch of that black liquid.

Ever since he had been hit by that splash, he felt a strange numbness and weakness spread through his primordial soul. It was slowly eroding his remaining mana, grinding it away bit by bit. More fatally, it was obstructing his ability to cast spells. Again and again, his techniques failed mid-cast, as if he had been sealed.

“Why are you killing me? Why?...”

Faced with Han Li’s merciless assault, Yu Zitong’s hoarse cries came from the light orb, filled with utter unwillingness. But Han Li said nothing. His only reply was the accelerating swing of the blade in his hand.

Soon, Yu Zitong’s voice began to fade, growing weaker and weaker. It shrank to a faint groan, and then there was no sound at all.

Han Li did not stop immediately. He brought the sword down on the primordial soul—now a dim little thing no brighter than a candle flame on the ground—a dozen more times. Only when he saw that the last stubborn embers of green light could no longer be extinguished did he finally sheathe his soft sword and loop it back onto his belt.

Only then did he speak coldly:

“I never cooperate with a man who swears a poisonous oath on his own parents. Much less would I trust a scoundrel like you and end up on Doctor Mo’s path.”

With a cold glance at the dying embers of Yu Zitong’s soul, Han Li turned without hesitation and walked to the stone door. He pushed the heavy door open.

As the stone door swung wide, several shafts of glaring sunlight poured in from outside, falling upon the remnant soul. A soft puff sounded. The faint green light flickered once and vanished, dissolving into a few wisps of smoke that disappeared into the air.

Thus, the last trace of Yu Zitong’s existence in this world was cleaned away by Han Li, leaving nothing to be traced back.

If Han Li had known that primordial souls feared light, it was only because of the way Doctor Mo had immediately snuffed out many of the lamps upon entering the room. That action had given him the clue. Otherwise, he truly would have had no way to deal with this final hidden danger—a remnant soul that was impervious to blade and sword—and would have had to remain constantly on edge.

But the fact that Han Li had been able to eliminate the other’s soul so easily was also largely due to the tube of Seven Poisons Water he had prepared in advance.

This poison liquid was an improvement on the Five Poisons Water that Doctor Mo had confiscated from him earlier. A new ingredient had been added: the “Tugu Flower.” This toxic herb was not only highly poisonous to ordinary people, but also greatly detrimental to a cultivator’s primordial soul. It was precisely because of this that Yu Zitong had been unable to cast his spells smoothly, leading to his soul being so easily extinguished.

As for why Han Li had first sprayed the primordial soul with Seven Poisons Water, it was simply because of the influence of various folk tales. In those stories, nearly all evil spirits and monsters were said to fear liquids like chicken blood or black dog blood. Han Li, on a whim, had treated Yu Zitong’s soul as if it were one of those demons.

Such a fortuitous accident—if Yu Zitong had known about it from the underworld, he might have coughed up blood and died again in frustration.

Han Li naturally knew nothing of these coincidences. All he knew was that even if the poison liquid had not worked, once he opened the door to allow the sunlight in, the other’s soul would still have been doomed. With such comprehensive consideration, he had struck at Yu Zitong with such ruthlessness, showing no mercy.

Now, he was finally free. No more of those days with a knife pressed to his throat, waiting for death at any moment.

Walking slowly back to the center of the stone room, Han Li stood there in silence for a moment. Suddenly, he jumped into the air, rising a full three feet off the ground, and let out a fierce roar, venting the joy in his heart. At that moment, he was finally his true self again—a mere sixteen-year-old boy’s nature.

“I am finally free!”

“I am—”

Crunch. His voice was cut off like a knife slicing through, the cheer abruptly dying in his throat.

A massive figure meandering into view not far from the stone door caught his eye. It was the giant known as “Iron Servant.”

Han Li’s expression suddenly turned extremely sour. The moment he saw this person, he felt a phantom ache in his shoulder. He had made a grave mistake. He had once again neglected the existence of this man, forgetting to ask Yu Zitong about the giant’s origin and weaknesses.

What gave him some slight reassurance, however, was that the giant seemed completely uninterested in what had happened inside the stone room. He merely paced back and forth outside, strictly obeying the orders Doctor Mo had given him while he was alive. He did not even cast a glance toward the open stone door.

Han Li furrowed his brow. This was going to be trouble. The giant was obviously simple-minded, only knowing how to blindly follow orders. But for Han Li, this type of opponent was the hardest to deal with, because he could not persuade him through words to lay down arms and make peace. And if it came to a fight, Han Li was no match for him. The only thing that might threaten the giant was the now-empty tube of poison water.

Han Li paced back and forth across the room several times, racking his brains for a way to subdue the man. But for now, his mind was a tangled mess, completely without a clear direction.

By chance, his gaze fell on Doctor Mo’s corpse.

In that moment, inspiration struck.

“Maybe I can find some way to restrain the giant on his body,” Han Li thought.

He turned his head to glance outside. The giant was still pacing tirelessly, showing no signs of approaching.

Seeing this, Han Li felt at ease. He took a few steps over to Doctor Mo’s corpse, and without any hesitation, reached out his hands and began to carefully search him inch by inch.

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Reading Guide Decoding

Cleaning Up the Mess — Han Li’s First Real Exorcism

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

The primordial soul’s vulnerability to sunlight has deep roots in Chinese spirit lore, where the sun’s Yang energy is destructive to dispersed or weakened Yin-type spiritual entities. This is consistent with descriptions throughout the novel: possession and soul battles are often nocturnal. Han Li’s improvised tactic—using a liquid poison against a soul—is not standard Daoist exorcism, but draws from folk narratives where corrupting substances (chicken blood, black dog blood) were believed to repel or weaken spirits. The Tugu Flower is a fictional herb, but its mechanism—harmful to both body and soul—aligns with a common xianxia concept: certain rare flora affect both the physical and metaphysical layers of a cultivator’s existence.

Chapter Overview

The hunter becomes the vanquished. This chapter delivers the final, decisive end of Yu Zitong’s remnant soul—not through a grand magical clash, but through cold, methodical extermination by a sixteen-year-old boy with a soft sword, a tube of poison, and a stroke of applied folklore. It is not a triumphant battle; it is a cleanup operation. And the moment Han Li allows himself a brief, uncharacteristic burst of joy, the world immediately reminds him that freedom is never without a price. The Iron Servant is still out there, pacing.

Key Plot Points

Han Li wastes no time on mercy. He corners Yu Zitong’s primordial soul, subjects it to relentless blade strikes, and compounds the assault with Seven Poisons Water—a refined version of the earlier Five Poisons Water, now dosed with Tugu Flower, a herb that is toxic to both mortals and cultivators’ souls. The poison doesn’t kill the soul directly; it paralyzes Yu Zitong’s ability to cast spells, turning him into a defenseless target. Once the soul is reduced to a flickering ember, Han Li opens the stone door. Sunlight does the rest. Han Li states his refusal to ally with someone who would swear a poisonous oath on his own parents—firm narrative closure that Yu Zitong’s word meant nothing. Then comes a rare moment: Han Li, alone, jumps and roars in joy. For one paragraph, he is just a kid who survived a nightmare. The chapter undercuts that relief immediately. The Iron Servant is still outside. Han Li forgot to interrogate Yu Zitong about the giant’s weakness. Now he must search Doctor Mo’s corpse for answers.

Reading Guide

This chapter closes the Yu Zitong arc with finality. The soul is burned out of existence. No rebirth. No future return. That matters. In many cultivation stories, remnant souls linger as plot devices. Here, the resolution is absolute. Pay attention to Han Li’s internal recovery: the brief, giddy outburst is the only time in the entire early novel where he forgets himself. It will not happen often again. The Iron Servant’s presence now sets up the last remaining problem from Doctor Mo’s legacy: a physically invulnerable guardian with no obvious off switch. Han Li must solve this without intel, with empty poison, and with a dead man’s corpse as his only lead.