Chapter 293: Ritual Money, Old Capital (20)
Yan Shixun was never someone curious about the pasts of others.
He had no interest in meddling with the karmic entanglements of others, firmly believing that whatever stood before him now was the result of personal choice.
No matter what kind of “present” others had once chosen, it was their own business.
Yan Shixun never sought to dig deeper, nor did he show any curiosity.
Beneath his restrained respect, a faint gentleness would sometimes surface.
However, things seemed different when Ye Li appeared.
From the very beginning, this person had voluntarily laid everything bare before him. As Ye Li himself had said, he welcomed exploration.
And yet, when Ye Li spoke to him about the ebony statue, although he told the truth without a shred of concealment, Yan Shixun still caught a glimmer of indifference in his eyes toward the events of a thousand years ago.
Yan Shixun could tell that while Ye Li didn’t deliberately hide his past, he didn’t particularly like it either. When mentioning it, he was mostly surprised that the ebony statue had survived at all, showing little positive emotion otherwise.
So when the King of Hell spoke of that battle, Yan Shixun, rarely stirred, found himself intrigued—willing, for once, to listen to someone else’s past.
Back then, even though Yan Shixun considered himself well-versed in the myriad facets of human nature and the many teachings and philosophies of the world, he was still shaken by the general the King of Hell described—one who dared challenge the heavens and the earth.
Such wild, unrestrained madness!
Because of injustice, because he believed heaven and earth were wrong, he had to fight—to see who was truly right.
There were no pleas or weeping, no weakness or resignation. He staked everything to fight for the countless souls behind him, just to win a chance at reincarnation and revenge.
At that moment, Yan Shixun felt the strings of his soul tremble violently.
Even now, that unprecedented feeling still surged within his heart.
Although the situation had been dangerous then, and Yan Shixun had instinctively restrained his emotions so no one could see what he truly felt, it was in that moment that a seed of curiosity about Ye Li took root in his heart.
He wanted to know about Ye Li’s past—to find out what kinds of soul-stirring experiences this man had gone through in the thousand years before their meeting.
What intrigued him even more was the general—this figure Ye Li still feared and seldom mentioned even after a millennium. Just what kind of person had he been?
This curiosity only grew during his conversations with the ghost official, piling up bit by bit until it reached its peak.
And just as Yan Shixun’s curiosity about the general reached its height, the general appeared.
He arrived in a stance sharp and untouchable.
It felt as if the general who once questioned the very order of heaven and earth had returned once more.
Yan Shixun looked up at the man, his eyes faintly tinged with a subtle smile, watching as he walked toward him step by steady step—neither avoiding nor flinching, completely unafraid.
In fact, he wanted to see up close what kind of person this was—what kind of being could make the entire Ghost Dao so fearful, that they would go to such lengths to lure him here.
According to the ghost official, this was someone who, the moment he set foot in the core of Old Fengdu, would severely damage it.
For years before this moment, he had held his ground at the ghost infant’s side and at Baizhi Lake, rendering Old Fengdu paralyzed.
This display of power was enough to make even Yan Shixun—who had never felt anything special toward the gods—grow deeply interested.
As the general descended from the mountain peak piled high with corpses, he saw Yan Shixun standing there, smiling at him, making no move to evade.
His steps paused for a brief moment. The hardness in his heart was suddenly scratched, like a big cat had swiped a paw across it—itching, trembling—as if Yan Shixun had crashed into his very soul.
The sensation was strange.
For once, the general felt curiosity.
He began to wonder—could this living soul standing before him truly have been part of those years when he became a ghost deity, as he had glimpsed in that fleeting vision of the future?
No one—neither human, god, nor ghost—could have guessed. Even the ghost official who had caught a final glimpse of him before he became a deity would never have known that, at the moment the general ascended to godhood, he looked back at the mortal world.
And in that single glance, he saw his future—saw a human world strewn with corpses and overrun by malevolent forces a thousand years later.
Even Fengdu, which should have existed beyond the bounds of heaven and earth, had descended into the mortal world. One hundred thousand ghost soldiers stood firm before the living, holding the final line of order in place of a broken heavenly Dao.
Ghosts and ghost soldiers clashed in chaotic battle. Corpses littered the ground. Scattered souls dissolved beneath the sun.
But the one image that remained vivid in the general’s memory was of a single figure.
—A resolute face that, even amidst chaos, never gave up on life or hope.
When that figure stepped through blood and the corpses of evil spirits, every ghost fled in fear, while the living cheered.
That person raised cold, sharp eyes and met the general’s gaze.
And in that one look, it was as if a blade pierced directly into the general’s soul.
Even though he quickly ascended to godhood and buried all memories and visions of that future deep within his divine soul for a thousand years, now—when he saw Yan Shixun—those old images overlapped with what was in front of him.
The young man stood tall, his coat flaring behind him in the wind. Under the dark red sky, surrounded by corpses, only his eyes shone with astonishing brilliance in that most hopeless place of death.
It was as if someone had struck a spark inside the general’s soul—
And it instantly became a wildfire.
The general furrowed his long brows, walking step by step, slowly but firmly, toward Yan Shixun.
He wanted to know—what had he seen in that future? Who was this young man?
And how could one strand of karma stretch on for a thousand years?
Just as the general was walking toward Yan Shixun, a sudden and strange change occurred around them.
The corpses that had been scattered chaotically across the mass grave suddenly trembled. Their lifeless, clouded eyes twitched, and pus and blood oozed from their dark, rotting eye sockets. The decaying corpses, already mangled beyond recognition, began to shake violently. They struggled to rise from where they had fallen, twitching spasmodically, staggering forward toward the general.
The moment the first corpse stood up, the general had already detected the unusual sounds with keen alertness.
His steps came to a halt. With an air of authority, he lowered his gaze and looked at the approaching, encircling corpses with eyes full of indifference.
Yan Shixun also quickly noticed the abnormality among the corpses.
Startled, he immediately glanced around.
The entire mass grave was piled with countless corpses—ghosts that had accumulated since the founding of the old Fengdu.
Each corpse belonged to a spirit who had once resented death. After dying, they were judged by old Fengdu to be evil spirits and cast into hell, guarded by ghost officials.
Even the ghost officials themselves could not say exactly how many souls were buried here.
And within all that resentment… who knew how much hatred had been brewing?
But now, those corpses were standing up one by one. Though their movements were stiff and sluggish, they resolutely advanced toward Yan Shixun and the general, quickly surrounding them.
After a brief moment of astonishment, Yan Shixun immediately understood what was happening.
The sentience of the old Fengdu city had originated from the lingering divine spirit of the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor after his death. For both the emperor and the old Fengdu, the one they hated and feared most had always been the mortal general who had overthrown Fengdu a thousand years ago.
That fear had never faded—not even after a millennium.
Instead, it had been etched into their very souls.
Having personally witnessed the death and dissolution of the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor and the instantaneous downfall of old Fengdu—from ruling the godly platform of death to becoming a relic buried deep beneath Baizhi Lake—the city bore a deep hatred for the general.
It chose this level of hell not just because the ghostly energy here was thick enough to lure the general in—
But also because there was enough power here to be used against him.
These reanimated corpses were clearly being manipulated by old Fengdu, trying to kill the general for good.
—Because for old Fengdu, which carried the Ghost Dao, the only thing it feared… was that ebony statue carved with utmost care and infused with all the ghost official’s energy and faith the moment he glimpsed the general on the brink of ascension to a ghost deity.
That statue was no different from the general himself.
It was as if the essence and form of the general in that singular moment a thousand years ago had been frozen inside the statue.
As a result, not only did the ebony statue gain power, but the general retained his peak strength—
And his most intense fury.
For old Fengdu, this was anything but good news.
The general’s rage… was directed even more at old Fengdu than at any other evil force.
Especially now, when old Fengdu still bore the mantle of the Ghost Dao, making it the most conspicuous among all ghostly presences.
It was as if someone had placed a giant target in front of the statue—how could the general possibly ignore it?
As Yan Shixun thought this through, a smile flickered in his once-alert eyes.
The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Regardless of whatever similarities or differences existed between the general and Ye Li, or what complicated feelings Ye Li might still hold toward his former self from a thousand years ago—at this moment, for Yan Shixun, the general was the best ally he could ask for.
In the blink of an eye, he analyzed the situation and made a decision—to stand temporarily on the general’s side.
Having made up his mind, he didn’t hesitate any longer and charged forward.
As he sprinted toward the general, his powerful arm reached out and snatched up a nearby corpse that had decayed into a bare skeleton. His long fingers gripped its neck bone like he was wielding a sharp sword.
Though the shape of this “sword” was certainly strange, it didn’t stop Yan Shixun from swinging it with tremendous force, as if it truly were a sharp weapon. With a heavy sweep, he struck down a whole swath of charging corpses.
Already stiff and slow, the corpses were caught completely off guard. They were knocked down hard by the skeletal blade in Yan Shixun’s hand and crashed to the ground, limbs twitching as they struggled to rise again.
His face remained calm, but his brilliant eyes betrayed the surge of battle intent that had been ignited within him by the scene before him.
The more lifeless the battlefield, the more fiercely Yan Shixun’s fighting spirit erupted.
The grimmer and more hopeless the situation, the more it stirred his exhilarating madness. Fear had no place in him.
If Heaven had erred—then he would defy it with a sword raised in challenge. If the ghost deities were wrong?
Then he would drag them down from their pedestals and smash them into pieces.
The Great Dao of ghost deties? No—mortals should handle mortal affairs. Ghosts and gods ought to remain as they are: silent, detached observers. They had no business interfering in the human world or disturbing its peace.
If they couldn’t do that… then they deserved to die.
Especially those ancient ghost deities that should have perished a thousand years ago!
A gust of wind swept across Yan Shixun’s forehead, blowing back his hair and revealing eyes as sharp and radiant as a freshly drawn blade—impossible to look at directly.
A grin curled his lips, and in his gaze toward the advancing corpses burned a ruthless fury, utterly devoid of fear.
—Even as more and more corpses crawled out from the mountain of the dead, tens of thousands—possibly millions—of ghostly figures rose beneath the darkened sky, their lifeless eyes fixed coldly on him, filled with a murderous intent that wished to tear him to shreds.
A full-scale assault was now inevitable.
Yet Yan Shixun didn’t back down—he leapt headfirst into the battlefield. His lean body twisted and spun with agility, his long coat billowing like an eagle spreading its wings.
Gripped tightly in his hand, the bone—something that clearly shouldn’t have been used as a weapon—was wielded by him with astounding agility and strength. He swung it horizontally and vertically with sweeping momentum, slashing wide arcs with powerful precision.
In an instant, none of the decaying corpses could get close to Yan Shixun.
The entire space around him was cleared out, forming a circle of emptiness.
All those corpses were thrown aside like garbage, hurled far away until they piled into a distant mountain of bodies, no longer able to move.
Because of the force he exerted, the vertebra of the bone sliced into his palm, splitting the skin. Fresh blood trickled down his hand, flowing along his fingers and staining the snow-white bone red.
Drops of blood dripped slowly from the bone.
Red and white—an extreme, striking contrast.
Even the general couldn’t help but turn his head slightly. For the first time during battle, he was distracted, his attention drawn to Yan Shixun.
Though the young man was clearly a living soul, he showed no concern for his injuries. Instead, he lifted his hand during a brief lull in the fight and casually brushed his loose hair behind his ear. His long, slender fingers threaded through his hair, revealing his sharp and handsome features.
He was smiling.
On those slightly reddened lips, there was unmistakably the curve of a smile.
The general’s long sword pointed downward, with countless ghosts who had died by his blade lying beneath his feet. The brutal and bloody beauty of raw power was vividly embodied in him.
But at that moment, he didn’t see himself. All his focus was on Yan Shixun.
The youth’s wild and unrestrained demeanor reminded him strikingly of himself in his younger years—when he had once led a million-strong army galloping across the battlefield, full of spirit and pride.
Back then, no one—man, ghost, or god—had understood his decision to defy heaven and earth.
The general remembered it clearly.
When he rose again on the battlefield, what greeted him was not the embrace of heroes, but the enforcers of the underworld—and the exorcists of the mortal realm.
Those so-called masters in fine robes looked down on the blood-soaked corpses of his soldiers with contempt. They only covered their mouths and noses, calling it “filthy.”
The masters had said: since you are dead, you must leave the human world at once. Lingering would only cause those with unresolved desires to be scattered and annihilated.
They had said: do not foolishly resist death. Fengdu rules above, and will not allow ghosts to act out of turn. Surrender is the only wise choice.
At the time, the general had slightly lowered his head. He was still drenched in drying blood as he stood before those supposedly respected masters.
But upon hearing their words, he laughed in rage.
He had only wanted to ask—if I were to kill you right now, would you so calmly accept death?
If you are a ghost, you must be exorcised. If you are human, you must be protected. What kind of twisted logic was this?
Why judge only by identity, without asking about cause and sin?
The general disliked exorcists. He despised the pompous masters even more.
Yet now, as he gazed from afar at Yan Shixun—full of fighting spirit and wild joy—an unfamiliar thought stirred in his heart.
—Perhaps this living soul was different.
If back then, he had encountered this soul instead, maybe—just maybe—this youth would not have dismissed his beliefs.
This young man… might even have agreed with him, might have stood by his side, resisting the heavens and the ghosts together.
The general didn’t know why such an absurd thought had entered his mind. But more absurdly, he truly believed this youth would have done exactly that.
He was a unique exorcist—one of a kind.
The general’s blade paused. In his sharp, narrow eyes, the reflection of Yan Shixun gradually came into focus.
Alone, Yan Shixun stood his ground like an army of thousands.
The bloodstained bone in his hand swung with such speed it left a blur behind, its movements too fast for the naked eye to follow. One could only guess its trajectory from the trail of corpses left in its wake.
This peculiar weapon didn’t hinder Yan Shixun’s movements in the slightest. On the contrary, it gave him a boost of momentum.
Wherever he went, corpses fell like wheat before a scythe. Blood sprayed like flowers blooming to greet the victor.
And the sharp crack of bones, the ringing of his makeshift sword—this was the most fervent applause.
Boom!
Yan Shixun leapt high into the air and crashed down with full force, stomping on the mountain of corpses beneath him. The bone he wielded pierced deep into the heap of bodies.
Like a long sword plunging through a mountain.
With a massive rumble, the earth itself seemed to tremble.
Thunder roared in the sky, as if the old Fengdu’s fury had been stirred.
Yet Yan Shixun slowly stood straight again. His figure, like a long sword, didn’t bend in the slightest.
He chuckled, tilted his head slightly, and following the line of someone’s gaze, looked back toward the distant general.
The general said nothing. He stared at him intently.
Yan Shixun, unconcerned, casually raised his hand to wipe away the blood splattered on his cheek. Then he grinned at the general, mouthing silently: Hello there, Ye Li.
Ye Li—the man from a thousand years ago that I never had the chance to meet.
The general’s eyes darkened imperceptibly. It was as if all the lightning and swirling clouds in the sky had fallen into his gaze.
Looking at the young man before him, he suddenly felt an urge—to ask his name, to pull him into the path of his own future.
Just like that one moment long ago, when he had seen something in a glance.
But because of the distance, and because Yan Shixun wasn’t particularly emotionally attuned, he didn’t notice the general’s subtle yet profound shift.
He simply laughed and looked up at the sky. The smile that surfaced was one of open provocation and ridicule.
He said: Wait for it. You’re the next to die.
The clouds overhead paused for a brief second. Then, as if provoked into rage, the dark storm clouds rolled and surged more violently, as though the entire sky was collapsing, pressing down on Yan Shixun with devastating force.
The terrifying pressure would have made any ordinary person tremble and flee in terror.
Yet Yan Shixun nodded with satisfaction, casting a meaningful glance at the sky curtain before retracting his gaze and turning his attention back to his surroundings.
Centered around him, the rotting corpses had been thoroughly cleared away, finally revealing the deep, dark-red ground beneath, long since soaked with blood.
The scene across the entire mass grave was exceptionally eerie.
Yan Shixun and the general appeared like two isolated focal points in the chaos, each with a clear space around them, untouched by the surrounding corpses.
However, these two conspicuous circles amidst the endless sea of corpses were gradually expanding, drawing closer, overlapping, and eventually merging into one.
It was as if two individuals, long accustomed to fighting alone, were cautiously approaching each other, testing the waters, tentatively reaching out to join forces and fight side by side amidst the encroaching tide of the undead.
These rotting corpses had long since died, their souls dulled and confused by endless torment and suffering. Trapped in a hell with no end or hope, they had become numb and stiff.
Now, under the control of the old Fengdu, they were sent to attack the general—no more than expendable cannon fodder. No matter how many fell, there would always be more spirits to replace them.
But what the old Fengdu had not anticipated was that the ebony statue, usually so fiercely determined and unyielding, would allow a living soul to remain by its side and even fight alongside it.
What surprised the old Fengdu even more was that this living soul… possessed the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.
Ordinary people, upon entering the Undeeworld, found themselves overwhelmed by the thick ghostly aura. It would disrupt their perception, damage both their soul and body, and often drive them to madness or even death.
Yet among the living, Yan Shixun was an anomaly.
The denser the ghostly aura, the more freely he could move. His presence remained calm and composed, as if he naturally belonged to this realm—its innate ruler.
No matter how vicious or terrifying a ghost was, they could only tremble and bow before him, submitting at his feet.
Moreover, Yan Shixun was exceptionally skilled at hiding his true emotions and thoughts.
From the very beginning, he had shown not the slightest hint of weakness before the old Fengdu.
No matter the situation, Yan Shixun remained composed, calm, and utterly at ease.
Unable to see through him, the old Fengdu grew even more anxious and uncertain, unable to understand where Yan Shixun’s confidence came from.
Did Yan Shixun know something it didn’t? Or did he still have a powerful card he hadn’t revealed?
The old Fengdu, wary of the unpredictable Yan Shixun, dared not act rashly.
It had originally planned to trap Yan Shixun with the corpse tide, letting him perish under the assault of countless ghosts.
After all, by its understanding, the ebony statue, despite its power to suppress evil, was by no means benevolent and would never come to Yan Shixun’s aid.
By then, Yan Shixun would die a miserable death in this hell.
The old Fengdu faintly sensed some karmic connection between Yan Shixun and the Lord of Fengdu. It didn’t know what had happened to cause an ordinary human to become linked with the Lord of Fengdu, and the situation left it confused and uncertain.
But that didn’t stop the old Fengdu from exploiting it.
Though it couldn’t defeat the Lord of Fengdu directly, it could use Yan Shixun as an opening—draw near, gravely wound him, and thus destabilize the Lord of Fengdu’s judgment and rationality.
In that chaos, the old Fengdu believed it might find a chance for victory.
—That was how battles with enemies worked.
Every weakness you exposed became a point for the enemy’s fierce assault. And once a weakness was broken, defeat was inevitable.
Unless… what appeared to be a weakness was not truly one.
In truth, this “weakness” was his inborn Evil Spirit Bone Transformation.
The best possible physique to suppress evil.
At that moment, Yan Shixun not only showed no fear, but maneuvered with ease among the corpse tide, counterattacking effortlessly. He didn’t seem like someone navigating a graveyard at all—his faint smile looked more like he was strolling through a garden.
The old Fengdu watched this unfolding scene, seething with suppressed rage. It howled, furious and desperate to crush Yan Shixun and show this audacious living being what it meant to challenge the ghostly gods.
But the general calmly lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes staring straight into the sky.
The old Fengdu was startled.
The moment the general looked its way, it felt as though its very core had frozen, stiffening to the point that it couldn’t move at all.
Only that deep, ancient fear remained, pulling it back to the battlefield a thousand years ago.
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow, sensing something from the abrupt silence of the thunder. He turned his gaze to the war general.
“Maybe you don’t know me, but I know you.”
He blinked, then added with a soft chuckle, “The one from the future.”
The general turned his head slightly to look at Yan Shixun.
Though he said nothing, his posture showed he was listening.
From the moment he had killed the old Fengdu and escaped the ghost officials, the general had vanished for a thousand years, never appearing again. He never listened to the pleas of the living, never responded to gods, ghosts, or humans.
But now, he quietly waited for Yan Shixun to continue.
“I’m Yan Shixun.”
Yan Shixun smiled softly and said clearly, word by word, “Would you like to join forces with me to deal with the old Fengdu?”
“The Ghost Dao has already risen. If we don’t stop it, it will soon replace the Great Dao. When that happens, all living beings will suffer, and life itself will be in danger.”
His tone grew solemn. “I don’t believe that when you chose to defy heaven and earth, this was the outcome you wanted to see.”
“You’re now the old Fengdu’s only constraint, but you are still part of this game.”
Yan Shixun tilted his head, smiling as he asked, “So, do you need an external force to break this stalemate?”
“I will use my way, with you, to end everything that is the old Fengdu—along with the Ghost Dao’s delusions.”
As his words fell, the mass grave returned to silence, broken only by the rumble of thunder rolling in from afar.
The general and Yan Shixun stared at each other from a distance.
For a fleeting moment, there was the faintest hint of a smile in the general’s sharp eyes, but it vanished quickly, replaced once more by the cold indifference he always wore.
If this living soul was the exorcist who had appeared before him a thousand years ago… then perhaps he truly could help him resist the ancient Fengdu.
This living soul said his name was Yan… Shixun.
The name sank into the general’s heart, and he lowered his gaze slightly.
When he looked up again, the cold light had returned to his eyes.
At that same moment, the ground beneath his feet—formed from a river of blood composed of countless corpses—began to shift and flow slowly toward the place where he stood.
Beneath his feet, the river of blood sketched out an intricate design—each stroke and mark seemed to follow the rhythm of an ancient formation. Stroke by stroke, the pattern gradually shaped itself into the image of a complete talisman.
At last, the general opened his mouth, his voice low and cold as he uttered, “Step back.”
Yan Shixun quickly glanced at the talisman taking form under the general’s feet. His mind spun rapidly, trying to match it against every formation he’d ever seen, in hopes of identifying what kind of array it was.
But the formation the general used was far too ancient—most likely already lost to the long passage of time and no longer in use. This slowed down Yan Shixun’s ability to compare and confirm it.
Fortunately, Yan Shixun’s master was Li Chengyun.
That hermit with friends across the world, aside from wandering the land and making acquaintances, had another hobby.
He loved collecting rare manuscripts and ancient texts and would spend a fortune just to restore a single damaged scroll.
Few knew that, in an unassuming courtyard in Binhai City’s old district, there lay preserved a legacy long lost to most sects.
From ancient to modern, it held everything.
Thanks to this, Yan Shixun’s knowledge of formations and talismans was not limited to the modern era—he had a deep understanding spanning across history.
He was even a master of it.
When the general warned him, Yan Shixun didn’t waste even a second—he swiftly retreated, putting a safe distance between them.
Although he didn’t yet understand the reason for the general’s warning, because the general was also Ye Li, he chose to trust him.
As soon as Yan Shixun reached the boundary, the general withdrew his lingering gaze and looked down at the giant formation drawn in blood beneath his feet.
His low voice rang out, clear and sharp:
“Pardon—”
The moment that syllable scattered into the air, the earth and sky began to tremble violently.
It felt as if a thousand troops and ten thousand horses surged forth from afar, shaking the land, their iron hooves trampling every inch of ghost-tainted ground, long blades mercilessly severing the heads of specters.
BOOM—!
Thunder rolled and nearly tore the heavens apart.
Yan Shixun’s eyes widened slowly.
At that very moment of sudden change, he finally dug through his memory and recognized what formation it was.
The Formation of Reverence for Heaven, Earth, and Deities.
But—every element of the five phases and eight trigrams was reversed.
That meant, though it was indeed the Formation of Reverence for Heaven, Earth, and Deities, there was absolutely no reverence in the general’s heart.
He intended to shatter the heavens and the earth!
Standing at the very edge of the affected area, Yan Shixun watched as thick black mist surged toward him, laced with roaring wind and deafening noise.
Within the fog, vague outlines began to emerge—soldiers astride tall steeds, their spears and halberds pointed skyward.
The warhorses neighed and raised their hooves, cold gleams flashing in the gloom. Each swing of their blades tore through ghostly bodies, reducing them to mangled flesh, which then crumbled to ash and scattered with the wind.
This army, beneath the flickering lightning and thunderous skies, stormed through the burial grounds with unstoppable might.
In the blink of an eye, Yan Shixun saw the mountains of corpses and seas of blood crushed under their hooves, ground into drifting gray dust.
Though Yan Shixun had seen this army under Ye Li before, this time, it redefined his perception of them.
In that moment, he truly realized that this was a tiger-like army that had once charged across battlefields with their commander—an army that could not be extinguished, could not be killed, could not be broken.
Even though they had once died on the battlefield, in death they returned as heroic spirits, still standing on the battlefield, still loyal to their commander.
A thousand years had passed—and nothing had changed.
The moment this army appeared, the situation reversed completely.
The once overwhelming numbers of ghosts were now being chased down and slaughtered by spears and swords, scattering in terror. Gone was the boldness they’d shown when surrounding the general.
Even the old Fengdu realized this—it watched, stunned, as the tides turned sharply. Though this was supposed to be its domain, it had now fallen into a disadvantage. Neither its ghostly aura nor its ghost army could stop the iron hooves of the underworld soldiers.
Thunder roared overhead, lightning so wild it seemed to rip through hell itself.
But in Yan Shixun’s eyes, it was a sign of the old Fengdu’s helplessness.
Its rage, unable to find release, could only thunder and howl—but even that had become nothing more than the backdrop to someone else’s triumph.
Yan Shixun lowered his lashes slightly. His eyes sparkled like shattered starlight, dazzling and deep.
Not only was he unafraid of the ghost army before him, he even felt as if the frustration that had been weighing on him was beginning to ease.
From the moment he saw the tragedy in the Bai village at the shadow puppet museum… to Master Bai and Zheng Shumu drawing prison lines on the ground, trapped by the now-desolate village… to the ghost infant, to Xie Lin, to the collapse of the balance between yin and yang by the Ghost Dao—
All the anger he had been suppressing in his heart was finally finding an outlet at this moment.
Yan Shixun let out a low laugh.
Then he laughed louder and louder.
Until, at last, he raised his head and laughed heartily at the sky. His chest trembled with the force of it, but it felt like a complete release.
In the midst of the galloping fog, the general stood silently, always watching Yan Shixun.
He was smiling.
He was watching him.
After a while, even the general seemed to be affected by that sense of elation. A stiff, unfamiliar smile slowly curved across his lips.
And when Yan Shixun finally finished laughing, his eyes were rimmed with tears—not from emotion, but a physical reaction. Amid the glimmer, however, a sharp glint lay hidden.
He raised his head and looked toward the sky—as if piercing through that false veil, gazing directly at the old Fengdu hiding deep within the center.
“Wait for me. I’ll be coming for you very soon.”
His voice was soft, like a whisper between friends.
“Something that should have perished a thousand years ago… now that your time is up, stop struggling in vain. Ghost Dao? Heh.”
Yan Shixun gave a scornful, mocking laugh. “In the end, you’ll realize—heaven and earth still endure. Everything you’ve done… has been nothing more than the futile thrashing of something on the verge of death.”
But the threat and coldness hidden beneath his words made it clear—this wasn’t a conversation between friends.
It was a declaration of war.
The old Fengdu howled in fury—but on the earth, no one cared what it felt.
Whether it was Yan Shixun or the general, the look in their eyes toward Fengdu was like one might regard a pitiful ant.
—Even though technically, it was Fengdu above, and they were below.
But anyone who saw their expressions would understand: to them, the old Fengdu was nothing more than the dust of yesterday resting on their shoulders.
All it would take was a gentle brush of the hand… and that dust would scatter into the air—
Never to be pieced together again.
Yan Shixun turned to the general, smiling as he shouted, “Come on—it’s time—”
“To break the stalemate!”
The general gave a light nod, responding to Yan Shixun for the very first time.
And in that moment, the warhorses’ iron hooves came crashing down. The ground cracked like shattered ice, enormous fissures spider-webbing across the earth.
CRACK—CRACK!
The sound of breaking echoed again and again.
Even the air seemed to freeze for a second.
Under Yan Shixun’s watchful gaze, the ground suddenly split open with a deafening crack. Chunks of earth were flung outward in all directions, as if something were forcefully breaking through from beneath the surface.
When the dust and rubble finally settled, a familiar face appeared in Yan Shixun’s line of sight.
A folding fan spun lightly, tracing a graceful arc through the air before landing once again in that fair, slender hand.
The King of Hell lifted his gaze with a cheerful smile, looking directly at Yan Shixun. “Looks like we’ve finally come to the right place this time.”
One by one, figures slowly rose up behind the King of Hell.
They lifted their hands to brush away the dust in front of them, coughing repeatedly as they choked on the heavy stench of blood and dirt.
Frowning, Yan Shixun looked over and gradually recognized them—it was the official in charge and the others who had been separated from him during the fall into hell.
However, judging by how disheveled the official and the rescue team members looked, it seemed they hadn’t been with the King of Hell the entire time. They had clearly suffered some setbacks.
Yan Shixun raised an eyebrow and shot a questioning look at the King of Hell.
The King of Hell spread his hands. “This was already pretty fast. It took quite a bit of effort to track these ones down. Otherwise, I could’ve gotten here even sooner.”
“But Yan Shixun, how did you end up falling here all alone…”
Halfway through his sentence, the King of Hell suddenly stopped. His gaze lifted and swept around—only to land on the battle commander.
His once-calm and smiling expression vanished in an instant, and he nearly dropped the folding fan in his hand.
The King of Hell: Why is this person here!!!
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