Chapter Thirty-Seven

Burying the dead in the earth, letting the laws of the land restrain spirits from possessing the living, truly was an effective method. Yet, there were too many unjust deaths in the world; ghosts were not difficult to find—their traces lingered throughout all creation.

As time passed and the sky grew pale, the three made their way to the summit of a mountain. At the peak stood rows of dilapidated tombstones—the resting places of countless dead through the millennia.

Atop the mountain was a cave, its entrance marked by two red stone spheres, shaped like eyes. The cave's interior was pitch-black, so dark that one could not see a hand in front of one’s face. The old priest stepped inside, produced a fire striker, and illuminated the gloom.

Within were heaps of rotting coffins and tattered garments, exuding an overpowering stench. The cavern felt increasingly oppressive, a dense, powerful darkness filling the air. Chu Tiange sensed an intangible aura of death gathering around them.

“This place was once a mass grave—a burial ground for bones. Over time, as corpses accumulated, resentment thickened, and the site became as you see it now,” the old priest explained.

All these bodies belonged to the creatures of the Wangchuan Mountains from ages past. There had been a great death here, and the victims were interred together.

“Sixty years ago, I came here with Apu’s father. We discovered a Wang Spring Flower,” the old priest continued as he walked deeper into the cave.

“Grandfather was here too?” Agudo’s eyes betrayed a mixture of surprise and fear. He remembered too well the mysterious circumstances of his grandfather’s death—the cannibalism, the drinking of human marrow, and finally, being burned alive by his people.

“Did Grandfather eat the Wang Spring Flower?” The thought struck Agudo, and his expression changed.

Chu Tiange felt the air grow heavier, the deathly aura intensifying, as if invisible spirits circled ever closer.

The old priest’s eyes were grave. He drew a deep breath and spoke slowly. “The Wangchuan Mountains are filled with ancient secrets—every corner may hide unspeakable horrors. This could well be the birthplace of the first ghost, saturated with endless grievance and sorrow, a haven for countless vengeful souls.”

“Otherwise, the Wang Spring Flower could not have been born here. A complete blossom emits an irresistible fragrance. If one’s mind is unsettled, one cannot withstand its temptation and will become part of Wangchuan.”

“The only way to destroy it is by burning the body, scattering the bones to the wind, erasing the soul with it. Unfortunately, when Agen died to a beast, I did not make the connection—until you saw his wandering soul,” the old priest sighed. “Thankfully, his spirit still lingers near the tribe.”

Suddenly, a sweet fragrance wafted through the cave. The exorcist wood they carried could not block it; the scent was intoxicating, almost magical, making one feel light and euphoric.

Chu Tiange could not help but close his eyes, surrendering to that strange, exquisite sensation. For a few seconds, he was enraptured—then clarity returned.

His attention snapped back to reality.

Agudo, less steadfast, began to moan softly, as if invisible hands had entwined her, binding her tightly.

The old priest halted abruptly, turned, and fixed Agudo with a piercing gaze. “The Wang Spring Flower makes her feel she is ascending to the heavens. If she is not stopped, she will seek her own end.”

As his words fell, the old priest shouted thunderously, the sound exploding in Agudo’s ears and jolting her awake.

“What… what happened to me?” Agudo returned to herself.

Chu Tiange glanced at the old priest, about to speak, when a bell rang faintly nearby, its sound carrying to their ears.

A veil of black mist parted, revealing a shaft of dim light. Though faint, in the pitch darkness it seemed as bright as a lantern.

The cave opened into a larger chamber.

The old priest, holding his fire striker, walked toward the light. There, a passageway appeared, lined on both sides with coffins and skeletons. As the source of the light grew nearer, the space widened and revealed a hidden inner sanctum.

The sight before them took their breath away.

Within a mountain valley lay a small lake, vast and imposing. White bones floated on its surface, as if countless vengeful spirits stared out, filling the heart with dread.

Chu Tiange gazed at the lake, inhaling deeply, understanding that the deathly aura emanated from this place—a gathering point for endless resentment and lost souls.

On either side of the cave, bells hung in profusion—the very same kind Agen had once carried.

It was clear: Agen had come here, taken a bell, and met his fate.

“A formation?” Chu Tiange frowned. The bells, arranged as they were, pulsated with spiritual energy—a formation had been laid here to seal the Yin energy, but Agen’s interference had broken it, unleashing the evil spirit.

Chu Tiange then noticed that on both sides of the lake, clusters of enchanting purple flowers bloomed, their petals swaying in the wind, releasing an alluring and mysterious fragrance.

These were Wang Spring Flowers—more than one!

A chill ran down Chu Tiange’s spine. He had never imagined there would be so many.

Swallowing a single Wang Spring Flower allowed a soul to pass into the Yellow Springs after death, becoming a medium for a Five-Prisons Ghost to descend upon the world. Here, the flowers grew in dense profusion—at least several thousand. If they ever reached the mortal world, the disaster would be unimaginable.

Suddenly, ripples spread across the lake. A pale hand emerged from the water, followed by a corpse’s ghastly face—a bloated female body surfaced, eyes snapping open, burning with hatred.

Those eyes fixed upon the group.

“Not good. A fiend has been nurtured here!”

The water churned again, and with a splash, the corpse’s other hand appeared, clutching a severed head.

The hair was sodden, the skull torn in two, the brains devoured. The face, swollen by the water, was still recognizable as Agen’s.

“Brother Agen!” Agudo’s face went deathly pale at the sight.

An unknown terror surged within her. Agen had come seeking a gift for Agudo, only to be slain by an evil spirit—his head taken. Why, then, had his body appeared at the mountain’s foot?

Chu Tiange could not fathom it, unless the spirit had tossed the corpse down deliberately, but for what purpose?

Suddenly, black mist surged toward them.

The female corpse in the lake did not move, but Chu Tiange sensed imminent danger.

Then, a shadow appeared behind the old priest—a terrifying ghost, tall and twisted, exuding malevolence. Its blood-red eyes glowed with eerie light, its mouth twisted in a cold, cruel grin, jagged claws gleaming as they slashed toward the old man, intent on tearing him apart.

The fiend knew to prey on the weak. Of the three, the old priest was clearly the frailest.

If not him, then who?

At that instant, Chu Tiange and the old priest reacted in unison.

“Wretched beast! Begone!”

The old priest flung a string of bone beads, which exploded into a burst of flames. The fire was so intense that the very air shimmered and warped.

The ghost was struck, its body charred and smoking, letting out a shrill, agonized wail.

But this fiend was fierce—it attacked again, even while wounded.

Chu Tiange dashed forward, producing a talisman and slapping it onto the ghost’s forehead.

The creature froze in place, its greedy expression undimmed.

A piercing scream echoed from the inner sanctum—the valley shook. The female corpse began to move.

The old priest and Agudo retreated at once.

Dark, potent energy seethed around the corpse—clearly, this was a powerful and savage entity.

“A Five-Prisons Ghost?” Chu Tiange’s eyes narrowed.

If this was indeed a Five-Prisons Ghost, it was a terror to rival a Nascent Soul cultivator—far beyond his means.

The subdued ghost shrieked and struggled, desperate to break free.

Chu Tiange snorted, drawing the Demon-Slaying Sword.

This was merely a corpse fiend formed from Yin energy—not worth fearing.

He struck with his sword.

A terrible, razor-sharp arc of sword energy slashed forth.

The ghost, immobilized, could not dodge—it was cleaved in an instant. With a thunderous crack, it exploded into fragments.

At that moment, a command talisman on Chu Tiange’s body glowed. A wisp of vapor condensed from the air, entering his chest.

A number appeared on the talisman: 10.

Chu Tiange had earned ten points—his ranking now stood at 11,300, second to last.

Ten points, equivalent to slaying a first-rank demon beast. Third-rank beasts were worth fifty; fourth-rank, one hundred. For most cultivators, encountering a pack of first-rank beasts was like stumbling upon a sack of gold.

Even Divine Realm experts, upon entering the Ancient Domain of Qingxuan, had their cultivation suppressed to the Golden Core stage—danger was ever-present. The point system was a matter of luck; meeting a fourth-rank beast was to court death.

Thus, if a Core Formation cultivator could find a group of second-rank beasts, killing just ten would be as valuable as slaying two fourth-rank monsters.

Unfortunately, there was only one fiend here—apart from the female corpse in the inner sanctum.

Now, the lake seemed to roar with fury, Yin energy surging toward the corpse.

Her body trembled, an overwhelming pressure erupted, scattering all the Yin energy. Then, she crushed the head in her hand.

“Ke-ke-ke-ke! I see you!” The female corpse grinned grotesquely, her crimson tongue licking her lips as she searched for prey, baring her ghastly teeth.

“The fiendish aura of this corpse… at least several thousand years old,” the old priest murmured, his face ashen. “We may well die here.”

“Give me the bell,” Chu Tiange demanded, reaching toward Agudo.

She hesitated, but quickly understood. The bell—Agen’s gift.

At that moment, the female corpse soared into the air, trailing dense Yin energy as she charged toward them.

The malevolence in her aura made Chu Tiange frown—it was far more terrifying than the last fiend, not even comparable.

“Stronger than a Nascent Soul cultivator... just a shade above Deng Gang,” Chu Tiange estimated her power.

“Give me the bell!” he urged again, feeling a chill in his fingertips.

A crisp jingle—the bell was returned to his hand.

“Primordial peace, let all spirits heed; True Officer of the mountains and rivers, spirit of the land, seal!”

As Chu Tiange chanted, the bell in his palm shone with golden light, forming a web of runes that sealed the entrance to the inner sanctum.

The broken formation was instantly restored.

Lustrous golden symbols cascaded like a flowing river, driving the female corpse back.

“A fine technique!” the old priest exclaimed in awe at Chu Tiange’s sealing skill, which barred the fiend from escaping.

“You stay here. I’ll deal with the corpse fiend,” Chu Tiange said, the Demon-Slaying Sword humming in his hand.

Yet the seal was but a temporary fix—if anyone disturbed the bells again, the formation would break and the fiend would be free.

This time, Chu Tiange had understood the formation, repairing it swiftly—something few others could have managed.

“How confident are you?” the old priest asked after a pause. “I think sealing the cave would be safer.”

“No matter. I am seventy percent sure,” Chu Tiange replied, striding into the inner sanctum.

The female corpse cackled at his approach, her eyes blood-red and feral, like a beast scenting prey. The veins in her throat bulged, brimming with explosive power.

As Chu Tiange stepped past the formation, she blurred, vanishing in a heartbeat and reappearing behind him, jaws wide, fangs poised to rip through his neck.

Her teeth were razor-sharp—one bite could sever his head.

“Chu Tiange!”

“Little friend Chu!”

The two in the cave paled at the sight—the fiend was too dreadful, overwhelming even Chu Tiange in an instant. If unleashed, who in the Ayen Tribe could withstand her?

Yet, there was no spray of blood.

Instead, the female corpse let out a piercing shriek.

Another figure appeared—her victim’s body dissolving into mist, fading on the wind.

Chu Tiange now stood behind her; his first sword strike had already severed the Yin wind, and the residual sword energy struck her.

Vast power surged into the Demon-Slaying Sword.

“Die!”

He brought the blade down.

Sword energy arced across the air, splitting the darkness. Chu Tiange held nothing back—this was his full strength.