Chapter 306: Ritual Money, Old Capital (33)
The moment Yan Shixun struck the ground with his full strength, causing it to crack open, the King of Hell reacted instantly.
With a crisp *”swish!”*, he snapped open his folding fan. It spun smoothly in his palm before landing back in his grip, as graceful as a butterfly dancing among flowers—but the force it carried was heavy and unshakable.
As soon as the King of Hell raised the fan in front of him, all the force sweeping toward them was completely blocked.
No matter how fiercely the wind howled or how violently the earth quaked, the King of Hell and the people he shielded behind him stood firmly, untouched by the chaos.
The official in charge, who had been wobbling and barely able to stand just a moment ago, suddenly felt like the earth beneath him had stabilized within a split second. Having just gotten used to the tremors, his body lurched forward due to inertia.
A nearby Taoist reacted quickly and pulled him back.
The official murmured a thank you. When he looked up, he saw the King of Hell standing at the very front of the group like a stabilizing anchor amidst a stormy sea.
The gusts billowed his long robe, the embroidered images of ferocious beasts and vengeful spirits on it seeming to come alive.
Yet not a single breeze passed him to reach the people behind.
Simply by standing there, the King of Hell created a barrier between the battlefield and the civilians, not allowing a single malicious ghost to harm them.
At that moment, a rescue team member, dizzy from the earlier quake, shook his head and finally managed to look down at the ground beneath his feet.
His eyes slowly widened in disbelief as he pointed downward and shouted, “Wh-What is going on here?!”
The others around him, startled by his exclamation, instinctively looked down as well.
What they saw made their blood run cold.
The ground they had been standing on had completely collapsed without them realizing it. The earth had broken apart, disintegrating into stones and falling away.
Beneath them lay a dark abyss, so deep it seemed bottomless.
In that darkness, countless pairs of scarlet eyes suddenly opened, staring coldly upward.
The sheer number of them made everyone suck in a breath, their scalps tingling with fear.
Previously suppressed in the depths of the abyss, these malevolent spirits had been reduced to ghostly energy, covering the lowest layer of hell and concealing the old Fengdu’s core. But Yan Shixun’s strike had completely shattered their bindings.
The evil spirits now scrambled upward, climbing over one another in a frenzied rush. Some even crushed their own kind underfoot, shattering their bodies into puddles of blood just to move higher.
The thick stench of blood filled the abyss, mixed with the reek of rotting flesh, piercing straight to the skull.
Everyone instinctively covered their mouths and noses, gagging from the overwhelming odor.
But what terrified them even more was the realization that they were now hovering directly above this abyss.
Some unseen force was holding them up, preventing them from falling when the ground collapsed. That was the only reason they could calmly watch everything unfold.
Otherwise, if they had fallen into that pit of ghosts, their fate would have been far worse than the ones already devoured.
And the one who saved them from that fate…
One by one, they slowly looked up at the tall, bamboo-straight figure standing at the front. Their gazes were a mix of awe and gratitude.
Only after walking the line between life and death did they truly understand the peril of facing ghosts and demons.
Once the fear began to subside, what remained was deep appreciation and admiration for the King of Hell.
When they had first met him, they’d all thought he was nothing more than a spoiled rich kid, the kind born into luxury who dabbled in variety shows for fun.
Even after returning from Gui Mountain, people would privately bet on when that director, Zhang Wubing, would finally give up, admit defeat, and go home to enjoy his endless fortune.
After all, this program had been plagued with misfortune beyond belief—disasters upon disasters.
Even in a smooth-running production, a director had to juggle a massive workload, coordinating everything and everyone. It was exhausting work.
For someone who had never stepped outside the protective bubble of wealthy parents, it was nearly impossible.
Some had even resented Zhang Wubing, thinking he should just stay home as a pretty face. With his poor constitution, they believed he ought to quietly wait for death in some corner, rather than come out and endanger others.
But regardless of what people initially thought of him, none of them had imagined that beneath that always-soft, dopey smile was the unshakable will of a ghost deity, sharp and firm as a blade.
At the most critical moment, he had turned the tide.
The official in charge recalled the slander he’d heard about Zhang Wubing. Now, seeing everyone safe under the King of Hell’s protection, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Do you think some people owe him an apology when we get back?”
He lowered his voice and casually asked the nearby rescue team members.
Though they had never spoken ill of him themselves, they had heard whispers from others in the team, or rumors from the media and internal departments.
Now, hearing the official bring it up, they all nodded solemnly.
“They definitely do.”
“If it weren’t for Director Zhang—I mean, the King of Hell—we would all be…”
One of the team members glanced downward just in time to see a malevolent ghost open its massive mouth and swallow another ghost in half. With a *crunch*, only the bloody lower half of the victim remained, its torn flesh exposed right in the team member’s line of sight.
He gagged and dry-heaved twice, even tearing up from the disgust.
If it weren’t for the King of Hell, it might’ve been them getting snapped in two.
The Taoist stared at the King of Hell’s back, his expression growing even more unreadable.
In his early years before becoming a master, he truly had vivid dreams about his future. From time to time, he imagined one day making a name for himself, establishing his own sect, and envisioned how powerful he might become—slaying ten thousand ghosts with a single sword strike.
But those unrealistic dreams had long faded away. They vanished the first time he followed his master to witness a terrifying scene where a fierce ghost killed a person, the first time he faced a ghost with his own eyes, and the first time he personally killed one with his peach wood sword.
He gradually began to realize just how important talent was on the path of cultivation. He came to understand the gap between himself and those with true genius.
Even though now he had already made a name for himself and many people respectfully called him Taoist, calling him a great master, but he himself knew very clearly—he was just an ordinary person. It was merely the weight on his shoulders that made him different from the rest.
Yet no matter what, he never would have thought that one day he would actually see the legendary King of Hell… and even be protected by him.
The Taoist felt a storm of emotions and had a strong urge to speak to his master—who had long perished in the dangerous clutches of fierce ghosts—and say: “Master, your disciple has seen the King of Hell and didn’t even die! The King of Hell even took the initiative to protect me!”
The Taoist: This experience is too bizarre. I should write it down and pass it on so that my disciples and their disciples can all read about it.
From the very first glance the others cast toward him from behind the King of Hell, he immediately sensed it.
He slightly turned his head, casting a glance over his shoulder with a faint smile. In that flickering gaze was a deep understanding of the shifts in their thoughts.
That little fool, silly and clueless as he was, had been the form the King of Hell took after nearly exhausting all the death-bound energy in his soul.
Soft, kind, empathetic, and deeply attached to the human world with a love and protectiveness that ran deep.
He was the embodiment of the King of Hell’s softest traits, after death had been stripped away from his soul.
And as the King’s power waned, the once overwhelming force that could suppress tens of thousands of ghosts became nothing more than an empty shell—like a flower stripped of its thorns. All the evil spirits now coveted him, yet he had no power left to defend himself.
If Zhang Wubing hadn’t successfully encountered Yan Shixun, what awaited him would have been nothing but death.
And it wasn’t just because of Zhang Wubing’s unique constitution, but also because of his pure-hearted kindness, untouched by the world’s filth.
But what did that matter? Was this what they called “fool’s luck”?
The King of Hell chuckled softly in his heart.
Given what he now knew about Yan Shixun, he was certain: had their first meeting occurred with his current appearance, Yan Shixun would never have let him come close. He would have been as cautious of him as he was of any other evil ghost—there would have been no chance of trust.
If one wanted to earn Yan Shixun’s trust, the beginning had to be just right. Otherwise, this alert, big feline would never let his guard down again.
Let alone guide him to the very core of the Ghost Dao.
The King of Hell looked at Yan Shixun from a distance, a smile surfacing in his eyes.
Even if the sky collapsed and the earth split open, he stood firmly at the epicenter of the quake, as unshakable as a mountain—a source of support for all, unwavering in the slightest.
Above the abyss formed by the collapse of the earth, thanks to the King of Hell’s presence, everyone hung suspended in midair.
And the hundred thousand underworld soldiers stood firmly atop the darkness, not falling into the abyss with the earth.
For a thousand years they had followed Fengdu, safeguarding the boundary between life and death, never fearing the rampage of evil spirits. In this moment, when all others were helpless, their sharp edge shone even brighter.
Ye Li cast a cold glance at the vicious spirits howling up from the abyss. The soldiers immediately understood his command and charged into the depths without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun slowly straightened up. He stood atop the abyss at the center of the collapse, tightly gripping the long sword in his palm—the same sword that had pierced the ground and caused the land to collapse.
A steady cloud of black mist rose beneath his feet, allowing him to stand midair as if on solid ground, not descending even a hair’s breadth.
Yan Shixun noticed that Ye Li was looking at him, but when he lifted his eyes, he looked not at Ye Li, but at the King of Hell.
He had seized the moment to launch the attack when Old Fengdu hadn’t yet reacted, without discussing it with anyone beforehand. This was because he trusted Ye Li and the King of Hell—believed in their unspoken coordination, believed they would each know what to do.
The King of Hell did not betray Yan Shixun’s trust. Without needing a word from him, he had already acted to protect everyone, eliminating any concern Yan Shixun might have had.
Yan Shixun blinked and gave the King a small nod.
The King of Hell, smiling, lightly waved his folding fan, appearing every bit the graceful and refined young gentleman—
—if one ignored the vicious spirit at his feet, now reduced to a mist of blood.
“Xiao Xun, don’t let your guard down.”
Li Chengyun’s warm and gentle voice came from the side.
He stepped lightly over the abyss, and not a single evil spirit dared approach him. His white robe, billowing in the wind, was a beacon of brightness in this dark realm.
Having stayed in the lowest levels of hell for an untold stretch of time, Li Chengyun understood Old Fengdu’s workings far more intimately than anyone present. That made him all the more cautious.
Yan Shixun looked up. The moment his gaze met Li Chengyun’s, he suddenly felt as if he had returned to those long-past days.
His master had always stood beside him, smiling as he looked at him, his eyes full of warmth and acceptance—as though even if he tore a hole in the sky, his master could effortlessly patch it up for him.
By his master’s side, he felt as if he could cast aside all burdens and simply be a happy child—and that would be enough.
But soon, Yan Shixun’s gaze regained its steadiness, bright and sharp like a sword freshly drawn, flashing like snow.
He quickly readjusted his breathing, skillfully controlling the tension and release of his lean yet solid muscles, preparing his body—full of explosive power—to handle any sudden emergency or support any decision he had to make.
And just then, the evil ghosts who had been clawing their way up from the abyss and charging ferociously toward the crowd suddenly all froze.
Then, on faces where such expressions had no place, appeared a look of panic and helplessness that entered Yan Shixun’s field of view.
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows—an ominous feeling arose in his heart.
And right after, that feeling came true.
—From the deepest part of the distant abyss, there came a low, slow roar.
Like the furious roar of some ancient beast.
That sound was full of oppression, echoing and overlapping within the depths, spreading with an earth-shaking intensity. In no time, it swept across the entire underworld.
The rescue team, which had just barely relaxed for a moment, now felt a chill run up their spines with the roar, every hair standing on end.
The fear came from the very depths of their souls, nearly forcing them to the ground.
And it wasn’t just one person who felt it—everyone sensed that same soul-crushing pressure. Like rabbits caught in the gaze of a starving wolf, they couldn’t even twitch.
The smile on the King of Hell’s face faded, and his hand gripping the folding fan unconsciously tightened.
He already understood what it was.
That—was what they had spent so much time and energy searching for. The key among all keys.
—The very reason Old Fengdu had managed to stand tall for a thousand years.
It was the final trace of ghostly divine power left behind by the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor before his death.
Before the King of Hell could call out to warn Yan Shixun, a sudden, dramatic change erupted from the abyss.
The ferocious ghosts that had once swaggered before living souls and even the ghost soldiers were now scrambling upward in terror, desperately trying to climb as if falling behind for even a moment would mean instant death.
Yan Shixun’s brows slowly furrowed. The turmoil among the spirits weighed on his heart, and he gripped the longsword in his hand more tightly.
A thick black mist spread rapidly from the depths of the abyss, surging upward at an astonishing speed, extending all the way to the sky.
Every vengeful ghost along its path was devoured by that black mist. They didn’t even have time to let out a scream before their flesh dissolved under it, leaving behind only charred skeletons. But even the bones quickly disintegrated, turning to dust and scattering into the abyss, buried beneath the black fog.
Everyone who witnessed this scene finally understood why the vengeful ghosts had been so terrified—
—A stronger being was consuming them, turning them into its own nourishment.
The big fish ate the small fish. The strong devoured the weak.
And among ghosts, the strongest ruled as king.
That terrifying beast from the depths of the abyss—the one that made all spirits tremble—finally revealed its form under the watchful eyes of Li Chengyun and Yan Shixun.
The first part to emerge from the darkness was its massive head.
It was densely covered with countless specks of red light, which, upon closer inspection, were not merely dots—they were blood-red eyeballs.
Surrounded by tens of thousands of eyes, three enormous eyes were embedded in the beast’s skull. One was entirely white, another completely black, and the one in the center continuously oozed pus and blood.
Blood streamed down from its head in winding trails, carrying a rancid stench so thick it couldn’t be dispersed.
“One eye sees life, one sees death. All souls in the world reside within the third eye, becoming its power.”
Li Chengyun’s gaze calmly swept over the beast. Though his heart had already grasped the truth, his tone remained composed. He explained to Yan Shixun quickly but without urgency: “To become the Great Dao, one must keep life and death, yin and yang, the five elements and the universe—all in perfect balance. That is the only unchanging law in the rules of impermanence.”
“Anyone who wishes to take the place of the Great Dao—no matter who it is—cannot escape this law. Even the Ghost Dao born from the power of the Old Fengdu is no exception.”
Li Chengyun raised his eyes and looked directly at the massive beast only a few meters away from them, showing not the slightest trace of panic.
The way he gazed at the beast resembled the delicate and precise movements of a scalpel—calmly controlled, slicing through the surface layer bit by bit, revealing the truth beneath flesh and blood.
In Li Chengyun’s eyes, the true nature of the beast slowly unfolded.
“A Ghost Dao born from the demonic aura of the old Fengdu… it seems it truly possesses the qualifications to replace the Great Dao.”
Li Chengyun frowned lightly. He turned his head to glance at Ye Li in the distance. After confirming Ye Li’s condition, he turned back to face the beast. “Lord of Fengdu governs only death, but this beast before us now holds both death and rebirth, achieving a perfect balance of power. To completely replace the Great Dao… it’s merely a matter of time.”
“It seems this creature is the embodiment of that wisp of ghost deity power.”
Li Chengyun flicked his sleeve. The worry that had clouded his expression faded, and a faint smile returned to his lips. “Well done, Xiao Xun. You’ve forced it out of hiding.”
The most terrifying thing was when your enemy lurked in the shadows, formless and unknown.
You wanted to strike but couldn’t even find a target—only left to stand there blankly, heart uneasy, waiting for the enemy to reveal itself.
As long as the formless became form, from hidden to exposed, it meant the appearance of a target.
That was far better than waiting helplessly for danger to strike from nowhere.
Yan Shixun didn’t respond. He stared intently at the beast, his focus leaving no room for anything else.
The sound of wind vanished from his ears. The battlefield sped past in his vision, and the voices of those around him blurred and faded. In their place came the deep, growling breaths of the giant beast.
Yan Shixun poured all his attention into the beast. In his mind, he quickly chanted a spell, while his hand at his side formed a seal. He adjusted his breathing to the lightest rhythm, carefully controlling his muscle tension and posture.
In that brief moment, he had already made his decision—choosing the method to deal with the beast before him.
The beast quickly took notice of Yan Shixun.
On him, it sensed the same kind of power that had disturbed its long slumber. Coupled with the deep hatred old Fengdu held for Yan Shixun, in an instant, all of the beast’s anger and animosity locked onto him.
Its three enormous eyes rotated, all focusing on Yan Shixun.
The skin on the beast’s head writhed constantly, bulging and sinking, as if tens of thousands of insects squirmed beneath it.
When he got close enough, Yan Shixun finally saw clearly—it wasn’t insects.
It was countless human faces.
The ghosts that the beast had devoured as nourishment, perhaps due to the remnants of divinity once held by the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor, had not entirely lost their awareness. Though consumed, they retained fragments of consciousness.
But that only made their suffering worse.
Under the beast’s skin, the spirits twisted and screamed in agony, their faces contorted as if struggling to break free from the beast’s grip on their souls. Yet, each attempt ended in despair and failure.
Though that wisp of power had originally belonged to the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor, after falling into the hands of the old Fengdu’s sentience, it—lacking divine status—chose the fastest and most sinister method to gain strength.
As it plundered the ghosts and their powers, the demonic aura corrupted the once-pure ghost deity force, leading it to fall from grace and forget its original nature. It became nothing more than a monstrous puppet of old Fengdu’s will.
Vast and powerful.
But bloated, grotesque, and revolting.
Yan Shixun didn’t know how many of the souls howling beneath the beast’s skin had once been unjustly imprisoned in old Fengdu due to its harsh judgment, despite being innocent.
He didn’t know if those souls had suffered unfairly in life, died in vain, and carried a burning hatred for death—just like Ye Li once had—desperate to seek justice.
But now, that could no longer be known.
Even if they had held resentment in life, now they couldn’t even hope for a sliver of justice after death.
Yan Shixun sighed quietly, then slowly lifted his head. His brows and eyes sharpened with deadly resolve.
The beast’s full form emerged from the abyss. Its massive, bloated body stretched hundreds of meters tall, and on its surface were countless ghostly faces locked in eternal struggle, trying and failing to escape.
Anyone who looked at it had to crane their necks upward.
The official in charge felt a chill creep into his chest, as though wind were leaking through his heart.
This beast, tall enough to rival the sky, looked to be an undefeatable entity no matter who laid eyes on it. What about Mr. Yan? Could Mr. Yan really handle something like this?
Though the official had always trusted Yan Shixun, the moment he saw the beast, he couldn’t help but cast a worried glance in his direction. His heart grew uneasy, uncertain.
In front of the beast, Yan Shixun looked as tiny as an ant.
But his tall, straight figure showed no signs of faltering or fear. His eyes were resolute, not shaken by the unexpected strength of the enemy. Instead, an even fiercer fighting spirit surged within him.
Every cell, every muscle fiber in his body screamed with the urge to slay the beast with his own sword.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Yan Shixun’s lips.
Sword in hand, he stepped forward.
“Xiao Xun.”
Li Chengyun called his disciple’s name softly, his gentle voice hiding the worry beneath.
But he didn’t stop Yan Shixun. After that single call, he fell silent again.
That one word, it seemed, was only a reminder born from concern—urging him to stay safe while slaying his enemy.
Having once faced death himself, Li Chengyun understood better than anyone that a cultivator’s path was something they had to walk themselves.
How could he ever obstruct the perilous yet righteous path of his beloved disciple?
So all his concern condensed into that single, gentle reminder.
“Xiao Xun, come back alive.”
Li Chengyun said calmly, “There are many people waiting for you.”
Yan Shixun’s steps briefly faltered, but he quickly regained his pace, lifting his sword with unwavering resolve and pressing forward.
Amid the stampede of terrified vengeful spirits, he moved against the tide, heading straight toward the colossal beast.
The giant beast raised its head and howled to the heavens.
Its roar thundered like a storm, shaking all of Hell to its very core.
The surrounding ghostly aura, manipulated jointly by the beast and the ancient Fengdu, transformed into countless sharp arrows that shot straight toward Yan Shixun.
Had those arrows struck him, his body would have been pierced through and obliterated, leaving not even bones behind.
The onlookers clenched the hems of their clothes in anxiety, their hearts pounding like war drums.
But Yan Shixun’s expression remained calm. A talisman hovered steadily before his chest.
He raised the long sword in his hand with composure. With a sweeping motion, the ghostly energy around him shattered like brittle glass, the arrows severed and disintegrated into dust that vanished into the wind.
At the same time, he burst forward with explosive force from his legs, leaping off the ground with the power beneath his feet, shooting through the air like a loosed arrow, rapidly closing in on the giant beast.
The fierce wind tossed his loose hair around his temples, revealing his sharp and radiant eyes.
Even the beast couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear under the gaze of those eyes.
It felt as if the exorcist before it wasn’t just one man. Behind him stood the Lord of Fengdu and the Great Dao, all watching intently. Perhaps even the trust and expectations of countless living beings had been placed upon his shoulders.
Such a heavy burden, yet it came hand in hand with overwhelming strength.
In that moment when Yan Shixun locked eyes with it, the giant beast felt as if a colossal wave surged up and came crashing down upon it. The pressure was so immense, so terrifying, that it instinctively took a step back. The countless ghost souls that made up its form were seized by primal fear and wished to flee.
Yet they were forcibly held in place by the ancient Fengdu.
The ancient Fengdu, now frantic and furious, had no choice but to keep pouring more power into the fight, attempting to intercept and kill Yan Shixun before he could reach the beast.
But Yan Shixun deftly sidestepped the sharp ghost aura, even stepping upon it to borrow momentum—using the enemy’s strength to fuel his own. With rapid, soaring leaps, he drew even closer to the beast.
If someone had told the ancient Fengdu before today that the “Evil Spirit Bone Transformation” could pose a threat, that a living soul would jeopardize its millennia-long plan, it would have scoffed, dismissing such a claim as narrow-minded ignorance.
Even that lucky ghost official who had managed to survive—Fengdu had paid no attention to his disloyal thoughts.
To Fengdu, once one grew powerful enough, no external force could pose a real threat.
With its power expanding and its grand plan nearing completion, the ancient Fengdu had once again become arrogant and aloof.
And it had every reason to be.
To a human world that had lost its ghost deities, and to a Great Dao that had grown weak, the Ghost Dao was an unstoppable force.
Yet, that very arrogance had caused Fengdu to overlook the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, upon whom the Great Dao had pinned its hopes.
It had assumed that this transformation was just a desperate, self-deceiving struggle by the Great Dao.
But now, watching Yan Shixun effortlessly dodge every attack, even using its power as a tool to advance, inching closer and closer, the ancient Fengdu finally panicked.
Only then did it realize—perhaps the Great Dao’s long silence… was for this very moment.
To allow Yan Shixun to approach it unhindered—and to accomplish the impossible, earth-shattering feat.
No matter how unwilling it was, the old Fengdu had no choice now but to grit its teeth and manipulate the beast to fight back against Yan Shixun.
The beast lowered its head and let out a low roar, raising its massive paw and swinging it toward him.
The fierce wind sliced across Yan Shixun’s face like blades, leaving stinging pain and even drawing thin traces of blood across his unruly yet handsome features.
The beast’s claws were sharper than any sword. Even though Yan Shixun reacted in time, narrowly dodging to the side, the edge of the claw still grazed his shoulder, tearing open his arm.
Blood gushed out instantly, soaking his black coat.
But Yan Shixun didn’t pause for even a second. Instead, he used all his strength to drive his sword deep into the beast’s claw, now so close to him.
Like a mountaineer driving a piton into a cliff face, the sword lodged firmly.
Using this as a foothold, Yan Shixun swiftly flipped upward, his tall figure agile and light as he landed squarely on the beast’s claw.
Then he turned around and gave the beast a gentle smile.
The beast froze, chilled to the bone by Yan Shixun’s smile. It had no idea what he planned to do, nor where he got the confidence to act so composed, so calm, even after being wounded.
Could it be… that the Lord of Fengdu and the general were planning to intervene again? Could the ghost deities—those who looked down on both heaven and earth—truly act to help a mere Evil Spirit Bone Transformation?
The ancient Fengdu, overwhelmed by fear and speculation, grew increasingly frantic, its calm completely shattered.
The beast too lost its composure, attacking wildly with no more method or discipline.
And all of this instability had stemmed from just one of Yan Shixun’s smiles.
—The best strategy was to strike the mind.
Seeing his goal achieved, the smile in Yan Shixun’s eyes deepened.
He carefully regulated his breathing, wasting no time. Using the beast’s furious attack to propel himself upward again, he struck with his sword, which tore through the air with a sharp whistle. The snowy gleam of the blade reflected in the beast’s eyes.
It dazed the beast.
Meanwhile, the one hundred thousand ghost soldiers of Fengdu, well-trained and orderly, swept through the evil spirits, cutting off the power being fed into the giant beast. At the same time, they protected Li Chengyun and the others, shielding them from the shockwaves of the battle.
Although it was Yan Shixun and the beast who were fighting, everyone present understood clearly: this was not merely a personal battle.
This was a confrontation between the Great Dao and the Ghost Dao.
Only one could prevail—heaven and earth could not serve two masters.
And everyone sincerely hoped that the victor would be Yan Shixun.
Ye Li watched Yan Shixun without blinking. He knew this was a battle he could not interfere in.
From the beginning, the Great Dao had chosen Yan Shixun—placing its final hope in him, in this seemingly hopeless situation.
It was a do-or-die battle, where the Great Dao wagered the fate of the entire world.
If they won, all karma in the world would be wiped clean. The world would return to its original purity, and all things would flourish once more.
If they lost…
Then the Ghost Dao would reign, and the land would fall into wailing and despair.
It was because Ye Li so clearly understood the causes and consequences of all this that he knew—any interference, even out of concern, would disrupt the delicate balance Yan Shixun maintained under these extreme conditions and could tip the battle in the wrong direction.
All he could do was place his faith—his soul and divine name—entirely in Yan Shixun, giving him all the strength he had, without holding anything back.
Under the intense gazes of everyone present, Yan Shixun did not disappoint.
He flipped through the air several times and leapt from the beast’s bloated body, launching himself toward its head.
The tip of his sword pointed directly at the beast’s eye—an oozing, pus-filled giant eye atop its head.
Because the current commotion was so immense, it had become impossible to avoid drawing the attention of the Old Fengdu. The Old Fengdu now closely monitored every inch of the underworld, and every word spoken by anyone would fall into its ears, allowing it to learn of their plans and prepare a countermeasure in advance.
That was why, when Li Chengyun spoke to Yan Shixun, he did not directly state what he had seen. Instead, he merely hinted at it.
—What symbolized the power of the beast was that massive, pus-oozing eye.
As long as that eye was destroyed, the giant beast would no longer be able to draw power from the vengeful spirits. Even the energy that had already gathered within its body would collapse and disperse.
Once that point was reached, the situation for Yan Shixun would be the exact opposite.
As someone bearing the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, Yan Shixun held an unmatched advantage when confronting ghosts—even when in the depths of hell.
All ghostly energy could be used by him.
And the denser the ghostly aura in a place, the stronger the power that would flow along his meridians and serve him.
As the giant beast weakened, Yan Shixun’s strength would only grow.
One rose while the other fell—such was the natural balance.
Even though Li Chengyun had spoken in a cryptic way, Yan Shixun understood his meaning the moment he heard it.
He had absolute trust in Li Chengyun, so he didn’t waste even a second hesitating. A plan had already formed in his mind, with a clear target—the pus-filled giant eye.
Yan Shixun focused all his attention on the approaching beast, ignoring the other two terrifying eyes and the way the beast’s skin writhed in panic upon sensing danger. With unwavering focus, he thrust his longsword inch by inch into that massive eye.
As Yan Shixun drew closer, the old Fengdu finally realized his plan.
Stunned at first, it then trembled with fury and let out a deafening roar, desperately trying to stop him. At the same time, the beast began retreating, attempting to widen the distance between itself and Yan Shixun once more.
But it was too late.
The surging ghost energy, combined with the power Ye Li had lent Yan Shixun, had already gathered into an unstoppable momentum.
With every breath Yan Shixun took as he charged forward, his power grew stronger.
By now, it had become impossible to ignore the overwhelming presence he exuded.
The giant beast swung a massive palm toward him. The impact left several bloody gashes across his face, and even his thigh was deeply pierced, bleeding profusely. But Yan Shixun seemed unfazed by pain and continued forward with unwavering resolve.
With all his strength poured into it, the longsword in his hand plunged swiftly into the pus-dripping eye at blinding speed.
Even the hilt disappeared into the wound.
After the strike, Yan Shixun had no intention of lingering. He immediately leapt aside, landing lightly on the beast’s shoulder. Catching his breath, he looked down at the beast beneath his feet and up at the sky—and smiled.
At that very moment, the giant beast froze in place, motionless for a long time.
Even hell itself fell silent.
The beast tilted its head back and opened its massive, blood-soaked mouth. Its bloated, towering body loomed across heaven and earth like a volcano after death.
Everyone who looked up at the battlefield felt their hearts tighten, anxiously waiting for the outcome.
After a long silence, bright red blood began to slowly trickle from the grotesque, oozing eye.
And with it came countless crimson eyeballs.
The beast’s body began to tremble, as if it had finally come to its senses. Overwhelmed by pain and the humiliation of being gravely wounded by a mere living soul, it went completely mad—howling and roaring in rage. It flailed wildly in all directions, blindly lashing out, desperate to kill the one who had injured it.
But no matter how the beast struggled, Yan Shixun stood firmly on its shoulder, effortlessly dodging all of its attacks.
As the beast weakened, its power began to leak uncontrollably from its body—only to rush eagerly toward Yan Shixun instead.
At that moment, his strength reached its peak.
Whether in the Ghost Dao or the Great Dao, there was no one in the world who could match Yan Shixun’s power now.
Whatever he wished to do, there was no force left that could stand in his way.
Even if the old Fengdu or the Northern Yin Fengdu Emperor himself returned, they would not be able to defeat Yan Shixun.
Let alone a beast patched together from vengeful spirits.
The plan had succeeded. Yet Yan Shixun showed not the slightest hint of arrogance, nor did he relax prematurely in celebration.
Success never made him lift his chin in pride. On the contrary, it only made him look more intently at the ground beneath his feet, with each step as steady as the last.
His confidence never came from outside sources. His resolve had always stemmed from the path he chose to follow.
The smoother things went, the calmer and more rational he became.
Yan Shixun did not launch a second attack right away. Instead, he waited quietly for the beast’s strength to continue declining—until it hit rock bottom.
That was the moment he had been waiting for.
But just then, in an attempt to buy time for itself, the old Fengdu did something no one had anticipated.
A figure was thrown out from that oozing eye and plummeted downward.
Li Chengyun was the first to notice. He narrowed his eyes and then, with shock in his voice, exclaimed, “Senior Brother?!”
If you love what Ciacia is doing, then consider showing your support by supporting a cup of tea for her at Kofi. If you can’t wait for the next release chapter, subscribe to advanced chapters membership on her Kofi to get access to up to 10 chapters!
