Sun Ju, clad in saffron robes, cast a grim eye toward the heavens. The moon hung full and bright, an indifferent spectator to their plight. Despite the vastness of the sky, they were trapped like rats in a cage upon the slopes of Sunset Glow Mountain.

He looked down at the woman beside him. “Junior Sister Su, have you managed to discern the nature of the array sealing this domain?”

Su Shan stood in a fluttering gown of purple silk, her raven hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of ink. Her face, fair as jade, was marred by a frown of deep concern. She shook her head slowly.

“Senior Brother, I am no formation master, though I dabble in the principles. This array is terrifyingly profound,” she admitted, her voice tight. “It is a parasitic construct. It slowly siphons the ‘spiritual rhyme’ and vitality of every living thing trapped within. If we do not break it soon, our Spiritual Power will be drained dry until our cultivation collapses and our life force withers.”

A heavy silence descended upon the group. This was supposed to be a routine exorcism. No one had anticipated a trap of this magnitude—one that threatened not just failure, but the complete extinction of their Dao.

Su Shan turned, her gaze locking onto the distant silhouette of the temple. “Senior Brother, the Formation Core must be within the Sunset Glow Temple. We have only one choice: we must strike now, while we still possess the strength to fight.”

All eyes turned toward the dark structure nestled on the mountain’s gentler slope.

Inside that temple resided a powerful entity, a presence radiating energy comparable to the Great Perfection of the Foundation Establishment realm. Worse, it commanded a legion of lesser spirits.

Sun Ju flicked his sleeves, his expression hardening into steel.

“Listen well, Martial Nephews and Nieces!” he announced, his voice carrying the weight of command. “If you wish to live, prepare for a desperate battle.”

Sun Ju was no coward. In the face of certain doom, he chose to die with a sword in hand rather than wither away in a cage. To fall into the hands of vengeful spirits meant a fate worse than death—eternal torment with no hope of reincarnation.

“Junior Sister, with me!”

Sun Ju summoned his flying sword and shot toward the temple, a streak of yellow light cutting through the dark. Su Shan followed instantly, her purple robes snapping in the wind.

Behind them, Qian Wen and Hua Biying exchanged a brief, resolute glance before mounting their own blades. The final pair of Outer Disciples, the young couple, gritted their teeth and followed. There was no retreat. They lived or died with their Foundation Establishment seniors.

Six streaks of sword-light tore across the night sky, cresting the ridges of the forest canopy.

As the temple loomed close, Sun Ju barked a command. “Junior Sister!”

Su Shan moved with practiced fluidity, bringing her flying sword parallel to his. The two cultivators raised their hands in perfect unison, fingers weaving complex seals. Their breathing synchronized, their spiritual veins resonating as one.

Behind them, the ambient Qi ignited. A formation matrix of pure fire manifested in the air, birthing hundreds of dense, swirling fireballs.

“Fire Rain Art!”

At Sun Ju’s shout, the matrix unleashed its payload. A torrential downpour of magical fire screamed toward the temple, turning the night sky a blazing crimson.

“Keh-keh-keh… Little brats of the Joyous Union Sect. I have been waiting for you.”

A chilling, rasping laugh echoed from the temple, vibrating in their very bones.

An explosion of eerie black mist erupted from the courtyard, surging upward like a geyser of ink. Simultaneously, the sky warped. The moon was blotted out as heavy, oppressive storm clouds materialized from nothing, sealing the heavens.

“Senior Brother, careful! The Grand Formation is fully active!” Su Shan warned, feeling the sudden shift in atmospheric pressure.

The air grew heavy and stagnant. They were now isolated in a self-contained domain, cut off from the natural Qi of the world. They could no longer replenish their reserves from the environment; every spell cast would drain them permanently.

Above the temple, the black mist coalesced into a colossal, ghoulish face. It opened a maw wide enough to swallow a mountain and devoured the incoming Fire Rain. The flames flickered impotently within the darkness before being snuffed out.

Su Shan glanced back at the four Qi Condensation disciples. “Senior Brother and I will hold off the creature! You four must infiltrate the temple and destroy the Formation Core!”

The disciples nodded, their faces pale but determined.

“Senior Brother, strike now!” Su Shan cried.

Sun Ju nodded, and the two Foundation Establishment cultivators accelerated.

“Junior Sister, Fireball Art—Full power!”

Once again, their hands moved in a blur of synchronized seals. Their bodies glowed with radiant light as their combined Spiritual Power poured into the space between them. A single, massive fireball roared into existence, expanding rapidly until it resembled a miniature sun.

“Go! Annihilate!”

The ten-meter-wide sun hurtled toward the black mist, radiating heat that warped the air.

“Keh-keh! You think a petty Fireball Art can harm me?”

The black mist churned violently, condensing into a terrifying humanoid form. It stood clad in phantom iron armor, blue-faced and fanged, with four arms sprouting from its back.

One of the spectral arms raised a long, jagged spear. With a thunderous boom, the creature hurled the weapon. A shockwave rippled through the air as the spear met the fireball head-on.

BOOM!

A catastrophic explosion tore through the sky. Wild streams of energy lashed out, shredding nearby trees. The ghostly spear disintegrated in the blast.

“The weapon broke!” Sun Ju noted sharply. “Its quality is low—no better than a mid-grade magical instrument.”

“Junior Sister! Great Sword Art!”

They wasted no time. Charging through the smoke, Sun Ju and Su Shan formed new seals. A gigantic blade of pure spiritual energy, five zhang in length, materialized above them.

With a unified shout, they brought the spectral greatsword crashing down.

The four-armed ghost raised a massive shield to block.

CLANG!

The impact shook the mountain. The shield held for a moment, the two forces locked in a contest of raw power.

“Junior Sister!” Sun Ju roared, veins bulging on his neck.

“Break!”

They shoved their hands forward, pouring the last of their immediate momentum into the strike.

The ghost’s shield shattered into motes of black light. The greatsword cleaved downward, slicing through the mist-creature’s torso and driving it violently into the earth.

The creature crashed into the temple complex, smashing through the main hall’s roof and demolishing a swath of buildings. Dust and debris billowed outward.

“Junior Sister! Ice Rain Art!”

Hovering high above the ruin, the duo switched elements without pausing for breath. A frost-white array bloomed behind them. Countless razor-sharp icicles shot downward like a storm of diamond daggers.

The ghost, struggling to rise from the rubble, was hammered by the barrage. As each icicle shattered against its form, it released a burst of glacial cold.

Frost spread rapidly across the monster’s limbs. Within seconds, the struggling black mist was encased in a prison of thick, transparent ice. The four-armed giant was now a frozen statue.

Seeing their chance, the four Qi Condensation disciples dove past the battlefield, heading straight for the temple ruins to find the core.

“Hahahaha!”

A booming, powerful voice erupted from the ice sculpture—a voice distinctly human, stripped of the earlier ghostly distortion.

“The joint-attack arts of the Joyous Union Sect truly live up to their reputation! To think you could wring such power from basic spells.”

CRACK.

The massive ice sculpture detonated. Shards of frozen mist flew like shrapnel.

From the center of the explosion, a figure rose, riding the wind with casual arrogance.

It was not a ghost.

It was a man in black robes, holding a staff topped with a fluttering banner. His face was pale and handsome in a cruel, sharp way, his eyes dancing with malicious amusement as he looked at Sun Ju and Su Shan.

“You… you are human!” Sun Ju gasped, his face draining of color.

The black-robed cultivator stretched his neck, cracking it loudly. He flicked his wrist, and the banner in his hand unfurled.

The sky screamed.

The dark clouds above began to churn violently. Countless twisted faces pressed against the fabric of the mist, wailing in agony. Thousands of Vengeful Spirits howled, desperate to escape the banner’s control, yet bound by its dark magic.

“Of course I am,” the man sneered, gesturing to the spot where the monster had been. “That was merely my Ghost General.”

He pointed the banner at the two horrified cultivators.

“Today, none of you shall leave. Be honored—you will become fresh nourishment for my Thousand Soul Banner!”