“It is futile. How can a middle and an early Foundation Establishment cultivator possibly withstand the soul-rending resonance of my High-Grade Magical Artifact, the ‘Soul Suppressing Bell’? Cease your struggling and accept your fate. State your names—I do not dirty my hands with the blood of nameless ghosts!”

The black-robed cultivator sneered, his eyes gleaming with sadistic anticipation. Two Foundation Establishment souls were a rich harvest. If he refined them carefully, they wouldn’t just be Vengeful Spirits; they had the potential to evolve into Baleful Souls, the crown jewels of any ghost cultivator’s arsenal.

Pfft!

Su Shan convulsed, coughing up another mouthful of vital blood. The crimson stain spread across her purple robes like a blooming flower of death.

“Junior Sister!” Sun Ju cried out, his face twisted in anguish.

Su Shan ignored the pain searing through her spiritual sea. Her gaze locked onto the temple complex below.

“Senior Brother,” she rasped, pointing a trembling finger. “That Buddha statue… it must be the Formation Core. Destroying it is our only chance!”

In the center of the main plaza stood a Buddha statue, nearly ten zhang tall. Yet, it radiated no compassion or solemnity. Its stone eyes seemed to mock the suffering below, and the air around it was thick with a cloying, sinister chill. Inside that stone shell lay the ghostly artifact powering the array.

Sun Ju followed her gaze, understanding dawning in his eyes. But then he looked back at her, hesitation warring with duty.

“But…”

How could he leave her alone? She was only in the early stage of Foundation Establishment, already injured, facing a late-stage monster.

“Senior Brother!” Su Shan shouted, wiping the blood from her lips. Her face was pale as paper, but her eyes burned with a fierce, reckless courage. “Life and death are in the hands of the heavens now! Someone must break the core. You are stronger; your chances are better. Go!”

Sun Ju gritted his teeth, his expression cycling through grief and resolve. Finally, he nodded.

“Junior Sister… survive.”

Sun Ju’s hands flew through a series of seals. A jade vial shot from his storage pouch, emitting a thick yellow aura that wrapped around him like armor, deflecting the invisible ripples of the bell’s attack. Retracting his flying sword, he dove toward the temple, riding the wind like a hawk stooping on prey.

“Trying to break the formation? Delusional!”

The black-robed cultivator watched Sun Ju’s descent with cold amusement.

“Come forth, Spirit Puppet!”

He slammed his palms together. A shockwave of pure necrotic energy blasted outward.

The earth beneath the Sunset Glow Temple groaned. The ground split open with a deafening tear, swallowing entire buildings. From the abyss, a nightmare rose.

It was a Spirit Puppet, standing twenty zhang tall—a titan of bone and dark magic. It resembled a demon from the lowest hells, blue-skinned and fanged, with six arms sprouting from its torso. Its aura was suffocating, rivaling a cultivator at the Great Perfection of Foundation Establishment.

Sun Ju skidded to a halt in mid-air, his face draining of color.

“A Spirit Puppet? You’ve been harvesting the Baleful Qi of the ancient battlefield to nurture this?”

Sunset Glow Mountain was a mass grave, the final resting place of millions of mortals from wars long past. The monks had built the temple to suppress the resentment, but this heretic had turned it into a breeding ground for monsters.

“You know too much,” the black-robed cultivator said icily. “Now you definitely cannot leave.”

He flicked his sleeve, and a black talisman shot out, embedding itself into the puppet’s forehead.

The giant’s eyes flared crimson.

With a roar that shook the mountains, the Spirit Puppet leaped. It moved with terrifying speed for something so massive, closing the distance to Sun Ju in a heartbeat.

Sun Ju tried to turn, but the shadow of a massive hand fell over him.

Desperate, he shoved his mana into the jade vial. The artifact glowed brilliantly, slamming into the incoming palm.

BOOM!

The collision released a shockwave of dual-colored light that flattened the surrounding forest. But the resistance lasted less than three breaths.

CRACK.

The jade vial shattered into dust. The giant palm continued its arc, slapping Sun Ju out of the sky like a gnat. He crashed into the forest below, smashing through ancient trees before disappearing into the ruin of wood and earth.

“Senior Brother!” Su Shan screamed.

Despair turned to cold, hard resolve. She turned her gaze to the black-robed man.

“Vile fiend… die with me!”

Su Shan abandoned all defense. Channeling every last drop of her mana, she charged. Her Green Condensing Mirror shone with a blinding, unstable light.

“Self-detonation? Predictable,” the cultist scoffed. “Righteous cultivators… always so eager to blow themselves up rather than face the music. Hypocrites.”

He prepared to crush her before she could complete the technique.

“Senior Sister, hold your hand!”

A deep, resonant voice suddenly thundered from the heavens, rolling over the battlefield like a tsunami.

The dark clouds above split apart. A beam of golden light pierced the gloom, revealing a massive sword of pure spiritual energy—over a hundred zhang long—descending from the firmament.

It was a sword of judgment.

The target was not the cultist, but the Spirit Puppet below.

Sensing the annihilation descending upon it, the puppet roared and leaped upward, all six arms reaching out to catch the blade.

It was a futile gesture.

The moment its hands touched the golden light, the flesh and bone disintegrated. The sword did not even slow down. It sheared through the puppet’s arms, pierced its torso, and drove it violently back into the earth.

BOOM!

The impact was cataclysmic. A tidal wave of golden spiritual energy swept through the temple, washing away the gloom. The ground heaved, and the ancient temple collapsed into the crater formed by the strike.

In the center of the devastation, the Spirit Puppet lay pinned like an insect, the golden sword dissolving into motes of light. Beneath the wreckage, the ominous Buddha statue lay shattered, its dark magic dispersed.

The formation broke.

The clouds vanished as if frightened away, and the full moon reclaimed the sky.

Under the moonlight, a figure descended slowly, robes of saffron yellow fluttering in the breeze.

He was an old man, yet not old. His hair and beard were white as snow, flowing freely in the wind, but his face was unlined, his skin possessing the rosy, vibrant glow of a newborn. He radiated an aura of profound tranquility—a true Sage of the Dao.

Su Shan stared, dumbfounded. The robes marked him as an Inner Disciple of her sect, but the aura…

“Formation broken,” the sage murmured, his voice calm amidst the chaos.

Li Meng landed softly on a ruined pillar. He glanced at Su Shan, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief as he took in her stunned expression.

Oh? Quite a beauty, he thought.

He chuckled, stroking his long white beard.

“Senior Sister, go check on Senior Brother Sun. Leave this demonic scoundrel to your Junior Brother.”