Chapter Seventy-Four: Seeking the Way of Cultivation

Half a month later, the Sect of Yin Corpses summoned back all its elders and disciples. The sect’s treasury was thrown open, and scrolls of secret techniques and manuals could be studied without restriction. Countless resources for creating corpse puppets were being consumed without regard for cost. This war had been suppressed for far too long; it ought to have erupted years ago. It was as though a volcano’s mouth had been forcibly sealed shut—when it finally erupted, the outpouring would be all the more violent.

The execution power of a powerful sect was nothing short of terrifying. After half a month of preparations, every disciple was brimming with vigor, in peak condition, their eyes alight with a thirst for slaughter. This was the very nature of evil cultivators—let alone the fact that this would be a battle of overwhelming strength.

Though the Sect of Form and Morph had enjoyed a decade of relative peace, the cultivation world was unlike the mundane world—a mere ten years changed very little. Even with the influx of new disciples, their aptitudes varied wildly, and among them lurked not a few traitors. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the Sect of Form and Morph was in dire peril!

Soon, all the disciples and elders assembled. The elders at the Golden Core stage hovered at the very front, exuding an overpowering aura of evil. Their bodies reeked of corpse energy so strongly it stung the eyes—at a glance, there were twenty-seven of them.

Next came the Foundation Establishment disciples, standing atop coffins of various sizes, flying upon their sarcophagi. Each exuded the stench of decay; most had deathly pale skin and wore the sect’s tattered green robes, stained with blood to varying degrees. Counting them carefully, there were two hundred sixty-eight!

Lastly were the disciples at the Qi Refinement stage, clothed in rough linen. Some could barely be distinguished from ordinary folk, while others already bore coffins on their backs, their eyes sunken, dark circles heavy beneath them, their bodies emanating the earthy tang of grave soil and corpse rot. One by one, they numbered two thousand nine hundred forty-seven!

Beside the corpse cultivators, there loomed a vast expanse of black mist, within which the anguished wails of vengeful spirits rose unceasingly. Within this shadowy mass, several hundred ghost cultivators concealed themselves.

When all disciples had gathered, the earth atop a mound outside the sect stirred violently. The ground trembled; a gigantic hand burst from the soil, pressing down on the earth around it, and then a colossal figure slowly climbed forth from underground.

It was a behemoth over a thousand meters tall, radiating an aura verging on the Nascent Soul stage! Atop the giant corpse puppet’s head, the infamous Corpse Mountain Old Fiend sat cross-legged, manipulating its immense body, shrinking it gradually until it stopped at just ten meters tall.

Corpse Mountain Old Fiend sat silently, eyes closed; it was clear he would not be leading this campaign. After all, this was a war between sects—should they fail, the sect would be annihilated!

A thunderous rumble echoed from deep beneath the Sect of Yin Corpses. The earth split open in jagged fissures. Thousands of outer sect disciples, caught off guard, tumbled into the crevices—only to discover, to their surprise, that the ground below was soft and unharmed them.

Corpse Mountain Old Fiend was the first to descend, calling out, “Come down, all of you! This war will be led by our sect’s true master—the Ancestor of the Corpse Body! Be on your guard, and follow the Ancestor to slay and refine bodies for puppets—keh keh keh!”

As the last person vanished into the chasm, the ground knit itself back together, and silence returned to the Sect of Yin Corpses. Only the haunted, abandoned grounds remained, utterly deserted.

Not long after, at the entrance of the building where the sect’s manuals and secrets were stored, an array pattern began to glow brightly on the ground. When the light faded, a figure stood at the heart of the pattern.

“At last, everyone’s gone. Now it’s my turn to plunder their treasures.” Zhou Xuanhong chuckled. He had been the one to destroy the puppet-rearing pool earlier, and had left a teleportation array here, waiting for this very chance to sneak in.

“No, now it’s my turn to refine you into a corpse puppet!” A sinister voice echoed. A figure hovered in midair, looking down at Zhou Xuanhong with mocking amusement.

Zhou Xuanhong feigned surprise. “Why didn’t you join the battle?”

“Because I was waiting just for you!”

This was a middle-aged man at the mid-Golden Core stage, who had remained hidden above, only revealing himself when Zhou Xuanhong arrived. He looked at Zhou Xuanhong with the lofty disdain of a cat toying with a mouse.

With a sneer, the man said, “Your cultivation’s not high, but your courage certainly is. As a disciple of the Sect of Form and Morph, you’ve dared to sneak alone into my Yin Corpse Sect. I’d wager it was you who destroyed our puppet pool, wasn’t it?”

Zhou Xuanhong laughed. “I don’t know about courage, but you seem pretty bold too. How many people do you think I brought with me?”

Suddenly, another figure appeared beside the middle-aged man—a ghost cultivator at early Golden Core stage, another powerful guardian who had stayed behind.

The middle-aged man cackled, “I can’t guess how many you have, but I have two Golden Core cultivators here. If your companions don’t show themselves, you’ll be refined alive into a corpse puppet, and your shattered soul will be given to my friend here to forge into a vengeful spirit—nothing wasted.”

Zhou Xuanhong tilted his head. “But he’s already here, isn’t he?”

At that, the middle-aged man’s heart lurched. He tried to flee, but Zhou Xuanhong linked their minds with the Grand Evolution Art and struck his sea of consciousness with a soul attack.

At the same time, the ghost cultivator Hun Li summoned countless wraiths from the black mist, which surged forth to tear at the man, wearing down his protective treasures.

Caught off guard by Zhou Xuanhong’s psychic assault, the man was instantly imperiled. Yet, as a mid-Golden Core cultivator, he recovered quickly. He snatched his coffin and attempted to retreat inside, while a flying needle in his sea of consciousness shot up the Evolution Path to fend off Zhou Xuanhong’s soul strike, buying himself a brief respite.

Hun Li sighed, “A pity—he’s holed up in the coffin. We won’t be able to deal with him quickly.”

Zhou Xuanhong tossed a formation disc at the coffin, transforming it into a trapping array that imprisoned the man inside.

“Keep wearing him down with your wraiths—just don’t let him break the formation. He won’t be getting out for a while.”

With that, Zhou Xuanhong strode into the building housing the sect’s manuals, searching for secrets of corpse puppet refinement.

Though Zhou Xuanhong ordered Hun Li about like a subordinate, the ghost cultivator held no resentment. Over half a month ago, Old Daoist Black Ghost had asked him to cooperate with Zhou Xuanhong—not as a junior, but as a peer. At first, Hun Li had scoffed, but after witnessing Zhou Xuanhong’s thunderous power, he was convinced.

Hun Li dissolved into black mist and slipped into the trapping array, engaging the man inside the coffin in battle. He avoided direct confrontation, instead sending wraiths to harry and wear down the opponent. Though unable to defeat him, he could buy enough time.

Inside, Zhou Xuanhong unleashed his divine sense, on par with a late Golden Core cultivator, scanning tens of thousands of manuals. A torrent of information on corpse puppets flooded his mind. In the depths of the building, he paused before a jade slip titled “Corpse Refinement Art.” Probing it with his divine sense and relying on his prodigious comprehension, he rapidly assimilated its contents, gaining a preliminary mastery of the art.

Stowing away the jade slip, Zhou Xuanhong emerged to find the two still locked in combat within the array. He smiled faintly.

“All right, you can come out now.”

By now, Hun Li was being pressed hard, forced to rely on his black mist to evade the man’s corpse puppet—after all, with three cultivation levels between them, defeat was understandable.

Once Hun Li emerged, the middle-aged man inside the array glared coldly at Zhou Xuanhong. “Who exactly are you? You’re only at the seventh level of Foundation Establishment, yet your soul is stronger than mine. Are you perhaps some powerful ghost cultivator possessing a new body? Don’t forget, our sect and the Ghost Sect are allies. If you betray us, aren’t you afraid our ancestor will wipe out the Ghost Sect entirely?”

Zhou Xuanhong had no more need for words. With a thought, a golden light shot from the Evolution Path at the man, detonating the third-grade trapping array!

The man immediately retreated into his coffin, enduring the array’s self-destruction while his soul was weakened.

At the same moment, Zhou Xuanhong raised a finger and drew in spiritual energy from seven kilometers around, gathering it to a single point.

When the explosion ended, the man, bleeding within his coffin, found his soul-protecting flying needle destroyed by Zhou Xuanhong’s attack and could only rely on his own soul to resist.

Peering out with his divine sense, the man sensed the destructive force at Zhou Xuanhong’s fingertip.

Boom!

A beam of light blasted the coffin, already battered and failing. The internal inscriptions were shattered; the beam pierced a hole straight through, detonating inside with a massive explosion.

Countless corpse puppets were blown out, scattering like blossoms, all ruined.

The middle-aged man had no time to mourn. Hun Li, with his horde of wraiths, engulfed him, and under Zhou Xuanhong’s soul assault, the man was tormented into helplessness, his will collapsing.

“All right, don’t kill him—I still have use for him.”

With a thought, Zhou Xuanhong summoned the man’s body before him and said to Hun Li, “Show me your Ghost Sect’s Soul Refinement Art.”

Hun Li hesitated. At first, he had truly believed Zhou Xuanhong was an elder in disguise, but now he wasn’t so sure. The Soul Refinement Art was their sect’s core technique—how could he share it so freely?

Zhou Xuanhong said, “Do you think I really covet your Ghost Sect’s secrets? The soul arts and finger techniques I just used far surpass Soul Refinement. How about this: I’ll teach you the soul art I just used, and you teach me Soul Refinement. How much we each learn depends on our own abilities. Deal?”

Hun Li’s eyes gleamed. “Deal!”

They exchanged jade slips. Zhou Xuanhong gave Hun Li the Grand Evolution Art—but it was only the version from Xu Yuqi’s light sphere, not the true Grand Evolution Art. It could barely establish a crude Evolution Path and would inscribe a Divine Evolution Seal in the sea of consciousness.

Zhou Xuanhong scanned the jade slip and frowned. “Friend, something seems off with your Soul Refinement Art. It feels strange—did you tamper with it?”

Hun Li retorted, “How do I know your secret art isn’t faulty? Let’s swear an Immortal Oath.”

Zhou Xuanhong agreed, sending a drop of his essence blood from his fingertip. His soul invoked a mysterious law of heaven and earth: “I, Zhou Xuanhong, hereby swear that what I have taught is indeed the Grand Evolution Art of Xu Yuqi, the Sect of Form and Morph’s founder—without a shred of falsehood. If I lie, may my soul be obliterated in the next tribulation!”

Hun Li coughed and, retrieving another jade slip from his pouch, likewise swore.

Zhou Xuanhong looked at him with a half-smile. “You’re not being very honest, are you?”

Hun Li apologized in words, but inwardly he was delighted—he hadn’t expected this secret art to be related to Xu Yuqi, a True Monarch at the Void Spirit stage! No wonder it was so profound and unfathomable!

But what Hun Li didn’t know was that Zhou Xuanhong’s oath contained a trap: it broke no promise, and if Hun Li succeeded in cultivating it, the Divine Evolution Seal would form in his sea of consciousness—playing right into Zhou Xuanhong’s hands.