Chapter 227: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (41)
Although under Ye Li’s power, the entire Nanming Mountain had fallen into a suspended state between life and death, the corpses inside the hanging coffins—long ago turned into neither human nor ghost monsters by Ritual Master—remained unaffected. In fact, in this moment, they became the most agile beings in the area.
Thousands of corpses surged in from all directions, surrounding them. The crimson glow of their eyes gleamed menacingly within the dark mist, a chilling sight.
They moved quickly.
Though they were corpses, fragments of souls were still trapped within their bodies, granting them partial control over their limbs, keeping them from being completely stiff.
Almost the moment Ritual Master gave the order, these corpses began crawling along the cliff walls. In the blink of an eye, those dots of red light drew closer amidst faint rustling sounds, leaving behind eerie trails of crimson in the dark mist.
It was a sight that would make anyone’s scalp crawl in terror.
The viewers watching from Yan Shixun’s perspective screen were so frightened they didn’t dare breathe. Their hearts clenched as they silently prayed that Yan Shixun would escape this calamity unharmed.
Yet the man at the center of it all remained calm, his handsome face showing no trace of panic.
Yan Shixun lowered his gaze. All the anger and sorrow within him had by now transformed into icy killing intent.
How many among those corpses could still be saved?
None.
Some had already become monsters like Liu Ming, while others had their souls forcibly trapped in dry bones, unable to find release or peace.
So what was there left to hesitate over?
Ritual Master spoke of giving life happiness, yet he didn’t even understand what it meant to be human. If even a single one of those corpses still had a chance of salvation, Yan Shixun might have held back.
But Ritual Master had been too ruthless—and that ruthlessness had inadvertently created room for him to strike.
Thinking this, Yan Shixun let out a cold laugh in his heart. He stepped forward, long legs striding ahead as he formed a hand seal, preparing to strike at the corpses.
But Ye Li beside him grabbed his arm.
“No need. I’ll handle it.”
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised as he looked at Ye Li.
Ye Li’s gaze passed through the thick black fog and landed on the base of the towering cliff.
To him, those corpses weren’t even worth his attention.
Deep within the abyss beneath the shroud of mist, silhouettes began to emerge. Vague outlines of tall, burly figures gradually took form.
They were clad in armor, their metal plates gleaming coldly. Long swords hung at their sides, tightly gripped in hand. Under their helmets, only darkness was visible—faces obscured—yet they stood in chilling silence, as if awaiting the command of a general to draw their swords and charge.
Warhorses neighed. Long spears pointed toward the heights above.
Row upon row of soldiers stood in tight formation, stretching endlessly beyond the eye’s reach. It was as if the darkness beneath the cliff extended forever, filled with a legion of one hundred thousand underworld soldiers.
Battle flags billowed violently. Their oppressive presence weighed down with sharp intensity.
As Ye Li lowered his gaze toward the bottom of the cliff, the soldiers—as if having received an order—suddenly raised their helmets in perfect unison and looked upward.
In that instant, the clashing of metal rang through the surrounding mountains.
Swords were drawn. Horses reared. The soldiers’ cold and resolute eyes locked onto the corpses climbing up the cliff, and without hesitation, they launched a full assault.
They charged up the mountainside with terrifying speed, as if the steep cliffs were nothing. The overwhelming momentum of their assault bore down from above, causing even the undead corpses—caught between life and death—to momentarily hesitate under the instinctive fear carried by the remnants of their souls. They stopped in place and turned back to look downward.
The grand and imposing military formation was reflected in each of their crimson eyes.
The darkness did nothing to hinder the soldiers’ sight, nor did it slow their steps.
They were beings of the dark, marching hand in hand with death, guarding the boundary of Fengdu and protecting the world of the living according to the will of their commanding general.
And under that general’s command—
Any who disturbed the order of life and death must—die!
The corpses that had just moments ago surged up the mountain wall toward Yan Shixun and Ye Li, brimming with murderous intent, were now trembling violently under the crushing pressure. Their bones clattered together with a loud “clack, clack” sound.
Their originally fierce and terrifying aura vanished in an instant under the assault of the elite underworld soldiers. Instead, they became panicked and frightened, scattering in all directions in a desperate attempt to flee with no sense of direction.
Under such absolute suppression, the remnants of their survival instincts took over completely. The commands from Ritual Master no longer held any sway over them.
Just moments earlier, Ritual Master had been laughing wildly in triumph. But before he could enjoy his victory for long, he was shocked to find that those corpses were now fleeing like helpless prey being chased by a ferocious beast, scattering through the mountains. And yet, not a single one dared to come even a step closer to the place where Ye Li and Yan Shixun stood.
Ritual Master couldn’t help but roar in fury, “What’s going on? What are you doing?!”
“This… is what you intended to use against me?”
Ye Li’s deep, magnetic voice came from not far away. It carried an indifferent dominance from high above, like a ghost deity seated atop a divine altar, looking down upon the tiny ants and specks of dust below with disdain.
“Pathetic. Not even worth a single blow.”
His voice was cold and devoid of the slightest warmth. Even in the darkness, it still locked precisely onto Ritual Master’s location.
His gaze pierced through the battlefield strewn with blood and flesh, through blades and bones, looking directly at Ritual Master.
“Nan Heye, twenty years ago, you escaped by sheer luck. But now, all your paths of retreat have been cut off. Nanming Mountain has been severed from the realm of heaven and earth, cast into the gap between life and death—where else can you run?”
Ritual Master’s heart trembled. The fury he’d felt just moments earlier over the fleeing corpses instantly transformed into fear of Ye Li under that single gaze.
It was as if all his tireless preparations over the past twenty years had been for nothing. He was still that same insignificant and powerless man from two decades ago, utterly incapable of resistance in the face of a ghost deity.
The old shadow once again wrapped itself around Ritual Master, deflating the arrogant confidence he had just puffed himself up with, like a balloon pricked by a needle.
He instinctively stumbled a few steps back, eyes darting around in panic, trying to find a place to hide in the darkness.
From below the cliff came the crisp clang of armor and metal clashing. Long blades fell, flesh burst open, and the sound of bones cracking with a sharp “crack!” sent chills down the spine.
Warhorses neighed as they raised their hooves high, then stomped down heavily, trampling the living corpses into pulp, smearing blood and flesh across the cliff walls, which then trickled down along the cracks in the stone.
A stench of blood and decay quickly filled the air.
The tide of battle, which had once been tilted in Ritual Master’s favor because of the undead corpses caught in a state between life and death, was reversed in an instant.
—It was said that Fengdu once shut its gates tight, its Yin officials unable to enter the world of the living, and that there was no salvation for humankind.
But even though they did not appear, no ghost exorcist, no spirit or demon, dared to take Fengdu lightly.
The warriors who once charged across the battlefield had followed their general into Fengdu, now standing silent and unyielding between the realms of life and death.
And now, as the one hundred thousand underworld soldiers returned to the battlefield… they embodied absolute, undeniable victory.
Yan Shixun looked coldly at everything below. The corner of his mouth curled in a faint sneer, and with a cold laugh, he stepped forward with long strides.
“Nan Tian is still with Ritual Master. I’ll go bring him out.”
His eyes darkened. “Grandma Nan once sacrificed her own life to destroy Ritual Master’s power. We cannot allow him to kill Nan Tian and regain that power.”
Ye Li gave a slight nod. “Do what you wish to do. Don’t let anything hold you back. Shixun, I’m here with you.”
Yan Shixun gave Ye Li a deep look, then leapt forward with all his strength, rushing straight toward the place where Ritual Master stood.
Ye Li moved as well. Before Ritual Master even noticed Yan Shixun, Ye Li was already stepping onto the black mist suspended in mid-air, walking toward him one step at a time.
His eyes were locked firmly on Ritual Master. Those long, narrow eyes carried no warmth whatsoever. His gaze was sharp, almost tangible, and under its weight, Ritual Master felt as if his body were being torn apart by a thousand blades.
Every step Ye Li took was slow, yet each one carried a storm and immense pressure.
It was as though all of heaven and earth were focusing their attention here. With each of his steps, the weight of the skies descended upon Ritual Master.
Ritual Master felt his breathing grow labored and unsteady. He could no longer maintain his composure.
The Winter Solstice ritual had been sabotaged by an Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, robbing him of his source of power. Even the corpse he regarded as his ultimate trump card had been easily suppressed by a ghost deity—it hadn’t even posed a threat to the exorcists.
At this moment, he was like a chess player who had exhausted all his pieces, facing an opponent with overwhelming forces, poised and ready to strike—an authority that could not be challenged.
The violent wind whipped through Ye Li’s ink-black hair. He looked like he had descended from the heavens, walking through the darkness toward the sinful soul.
Death lingered beneath his feet. Corpses formed the altar to the divine. The ghost deity stood above it all, overlooking the human world with cold indifference, watching the trembling, terrified soul awaiting judgment at his feet.
“Nan Heye, age 302. You have slaughtered 2,469 lives, imprisoned 3,783 souls. You fled the judgment of Fengdu, disrupted the order of life and death, and dared to seize the Dao in pursuit of godhood.”
“Countless crimes. Not a single one can be justified.”
Ye Li looked down upon Ritual Master from above and pronounced his sentence with icy indifference: “There is no place for you in Fengdu. No record of you in the mortal world or the underworld. You exist nowhere. You have no home.”
“There is only one final fate—utter annihilation. To vanish forever, leaving not even a trace.”
“This is the judgment of Fengdu.”
With every word Ye Li uttered, the fear on Ritual Master’s face deepened. He instinctively shook his head and stepped backward, trying to put distance between himself and Ye Li, as if doing so might somehow delay the inevitable end.
At the same time, Ritual Master didn’t dare to relax for even a moment. He desperately drew power from the coffin hidden beneath his skin.
The presence of the coffin made his appearance grotesque and terrifying. Yellow chrysanthemums began to sprout from his mouth, nose, and eyes, even blooming from the wounds on his skin.
Yet despite his pitiful, disheveled state, Ritual Master no longer cared.
He was like an old man on the brink of death, terrified of dying, willing to sacrifice everything for one last chance at survival.
But all of his attention was fixed on Ye Li above him. He didn’t notice—
Just behind him, a tall figure was silently and swiftly approaching.
Yan Shixun had merged himself into the shadows, using the black mist as the perfect cover. He leapt down from the air, his body moving with the grace and agility of a large feline. Using every protruding rock on the cliff face, he adjusted his posture and direction mid-air to silently approach Ritual Master from behind without being noticed.
On the battlefield, the underworld soldiers were still relentlessly slaying the corpses.
Yet these soldiers acted as if they had long since recognized Yan Shixun’s authority. Not only did they not block his path, but they also parted instantly to clear a way when he passed by. Their swords swept obstacles from his path, and they bowed silently and respectfully as they watched him rush forward.
The corpses were pinned beneath the soldiers’ blades and spears, completely prevented from interfering with Yan Shixun or Ye Li.
Still, Yan Shixun couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. While speeding through, he turned his head slightly and glanced at the underworld soldiers on either side.
But all he saw in return were their respectful, lowered heads.
Yan Shixun: …? Something felt strange, as if even these underworld soldiers saw him as their master.
Still, time was of the essence. Yan Shixun set aside his doubts for the moment and refocused on his objective. In complete silence and darkness, he landed behind Ritual Master.
At this point, all of Ritual Master’s mental defenses were concentrated on Ye Li in front of him. In his panic, he made a fatal error—he didn’t notice that Yan Shixun was already approaching from behind.
By the time he realized it, it was too late.
“What god dares resist? What ghost dares defy me—Nan Heye!”
With a fierce shout, Yan Shixun reached into the air. Golden light condensed around his palm, shaping the air into a long sword, which he gripped tightly.
Then, from behind, he thrust the blade directly toward Ritual Master’s head.
“Sins must be repaid!”
Ye Li and Yan Shixun moved in unison—one from the front, one from behind—striking with terrifying speed.
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