The grotesque transformation of the room was already enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
But what was even more horrifying was the presence of five terrifying, deformed beings standing around them.
These five creatures were all short in stature, cloaked in black robes. From the neck down, they looked like ordinary people—but it was what sat atop their necks that defied sanity.
One had no head of flesh or bone, only a loose, flapping sack of skin.
Another's skull was split in two like a pair of lungs, oozing with black, oily sludge.
A third had a massive head shaped like a nose, its gaping nostrils pitch black, filled with tangled nose hairs and glistening mucus.
A fourth had a serpent-like head coiled upward—the "snake" actually a length of intestine, slick with yellow gut grease.
The last had no head at all, and yet, its presence was somehow the most unsettling of all.
Together, the five abominations chanted in unison. Wu Xian listened carefully and began to discern the words of their eerie hymn:
"The altar of the Five Impure Gods,
Skin, Mouth, Lung, Nose, Gut.
Flesh reeks with human rot,
But ghosts savor bone and blood."
These five beings were the Five Impure Gods!
They had been in the room ever since nightfall. And yet Wu Xian and Shi Ji had never once noticed them—played like puppets in their sinister hands. If not for this cursed blade...
"Heh."
"He's awake. He's waking up!"
"Send him back to sleep. Then send him into the domain!"
The five abominations spoke in turn, stepping forward in unison. The invisible pressure in the room surged once again.
Wu Xian struggled to stand. Every movement brought new waves of pain under their oppressive force—but he no longer fell into hallucinations.
Polluted weapons carried some power to dispel illusion.
And this particular blade—tainted with a child's urine—was so foul even these entities dared not touch it. It was only thanks to this that Wu Xian regained a shred of clarity.
But unfortunately, he couldn't wield the blade himself.
Weapons and tools bestowed through divine patronage could not be used by others. Wu Xian could only benefit from the blade's lingering impurity.
So—
Wu Xian spun around and hurled the foul blade straight into Shi Ji's face.
"You still planning to stay mind-controlled? Wake the hell up!"
Then, without pause, Wu Xian drew his own coin-sword—its six spiritual blades still intact—and launched himself at the headless abomination.
But in midair, his movement froze.
From his angle above, he could now clearly see: the creature wasn't truly headless.
Where its neck should've been, a gaping human mouth grinned from the top of its collarbones. Rows of pristine human teeth lined the opening, and a bloated, mossy tongue writhed ceaselessly inside.
And Wu Xian hadn't stopped on his own.
Crimson intestines had lashed out to ensnare his wrists and ankles, their putrid juices soaking through his clothes with a reeking stench.
But the nightmare had only just begun.
The ceiling, walls, and floor all began to twist and morph. From within these contortions, yellow-white sheets began to emerge—soft, semi-translucent tissue marked with fine blood vessels and faint hairs.
It was skin.
Living human skin.
Five massive sheets of skin, warped from the very room itself, began to fold inward like petals around a flower bud.
And once that "bud" closed—Wu Xian would be finished.
The five abominations stared intently, waiting for the moment Wu Xian would be wrapped in skin, his life essence siphoned through the flesh into their hungry bodies.
Yet even in the face of such hopeless terror, Wu Xian did not lower his sword.
The coin-sword still pointed unwaveringly at the chest of the headless fiend.
In this moment of utter despair—
Wu Xian refused to give up.
He hadn't thrown away the tainted blade in desperation. He had leapt into danger not in madness, but in cold calculation. He had judged his chances—however slim—and chosen the one path that might lead to victory.
Beyond the coin-sword and the Flame Incantation, Wu Xian still had two talismans.
One was the Length Charm, which could be affixed to an object to increase its size.
The other was the Dual Cast Spell, which could be used twice—each time doubling the number of times the next talisman would activate.
These were talismans Wu Xian had carefully selected and preserved until now. At last, it was time to unleash them.
With two quick snaps of his middle finger, Wu Xian activated Dual Cast—twice.
Then, with a flick of his index finger, he cast the Length Charm on his coin-sword. With both Dual Casts applied, the Length Charm would now activate...
Four times!
Shhhhik!
The coin-sword surged with invisible force, suddenly lengthening—its six blades now doubling into twelve!
And that was only the result of the first activation...
The second time—the sword's blades became twenty-four.
The third time—forty-eight.
The fourth time—ninety-six blades gleamed along the length of the coin-sword!
With a violent thrust, the suddenly-elongated weapon tore straight through the unguarded body of the headless abomination.
The grotesque grin on the enormous mouth at its neck vanished instantly.
A red glow flashed across the coin-sword, and three layers of coins on the weapon evaporated into light. The headless spirit collapsed, lifeless.
With its death, the foul, unbearable stench of rotten breath that had lingered in the air abruptly vanished.
Murderous intent filled Wu Xian's gaze.
If he could take out the remaining four, maybe he'd finally feel clean again.
"Who's next?"
The remaining four abominations recoiled in fear.
But it wasn't Wu Xian they feared—it was the coin-sword in his hand, now transformed into something monstrous.
Could they even still call that thing a coin-sword?
At over two meters long, the blade now resembled a flaming spear, radiating searing heat. Just three or four of its blades were enough to annihilate a low-tier wraith.
Forget four of them—even ten wouldn't stand a chance against this weapon!
But as the Four Impure Gods slowly retreated, they failed to realize—
Wu Xian wasn't the only one they needed to worry about.
Shi Ji, having taken a blow to the face from the urine-soaked blade (and losing a tooth in the process), had finally come to his senses.
The earlier chaos had kept him crouched low, biding his time for a chance to strike.
Now, with Wu Xian commanding the enemy's attention, the gut-headed spirit—its neck bundled with coiled intestines—had unknowingly turned its back to Shi Ji.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Shi Ji's eyes glowed red as he sprang from his crouch, driving his blade upward with all his strength.
The long knife pierced three inches below the spirit's tailbone, shooting up through its chest and severing the intestine that served as its head.
And just like that, the Five Impure Gods were reduced to three.
The remaining three were shaken to their core.
They realized now—there was no escape.
They rallied, hoping to fight back together, but it was already too late.
Against Wu Xian and Shi Ji, they no longer had the upper hand.
Only when united were the Five Impure Gods at their most fearsome—capable of warping reality, clouding perception, and crushing human will with their powers.
But with two of them gone, the remaining three were little more than common spirits.
What followed next—
was a slaughter.
The lung-headed spirit spewed a stream of black oil at Wu Xian. He flipped a table to block the sludge, then lunged with his coin-spear, impaling the creature and hurling it across the room.
The nose-headed spirit began forming hand seals, preparing what looked like a powerful technique—
But before he could complete it, Shi Ji slit his throat cleanly.
The final one—the skin-headed spirit—tried to flatten its body and slip through the walls to escape,
but Wu Xian and Shi Ji yanked it back and used its own skin to wipe the filth from their weapons.
And so, the dreaded Five Impure Gods, who had committed countless atrocities and claimed innumerable human lives within this cursed domain,
were utterly destroyed by Wu Xian and Shi Ji.