CLANG!

Metal met claw, showering the dim hall in a cascade of blinding sparks.

Emperor Wulie’s fingernails, reinforced by a century of condensed necrotic qi, possessed a hardness rivaling a Mid-Grade magical artifact. To the shock of the onlookers, the ghost’s claws caught the blade of the [Seven Star Sword], halting the strike in mid-air.

“You have some skill,” Qin Lu muttered, eyes narrowing.

He wasted no time. With a mental command, he surged his spiritual energy, channeling it from his dantian to his fingertips, and finally into the steel of his weapon.

Whoosh.

A soft, lethal luminescence enveloped the blade. The air around the steel warped and hissed.

[Cutting Technique].

“Try this!”

Qin Lu roared, his wrist snapping with explosive force as he drove the sword sideways.

Shhhk!

The reinforced blade sliced through the air like a hot wire through wax. Wulie’s indestructible claws were sheared off instantly, the severed tips spinning away into the darkness.

“ARGH!”

A scream of absolute agony tore from the Ghost Emperor’s throat. The pain of ten severed fingers—phantom nerves connected directly to the core of his soul—sent him reeling backward in terror.

The man before him was not prey. He was a reaper.

Wulie scrambled back, desperation taking hold, but Qin Lu refused to break the momentum. He cast the [Object Control Technique] on himself, an invisible force hoisting his body into the air to give chase.

Two figures blurred across the vaulted ceiling of the main hall.

Qin Lu’s mastery of the [Object Control Technique] was profound, but using it for self-levitation was akin to a puppet master pulling his own strings. He lacked the fluid, instinctual flight of a true ghost.

He couldn’t close the gap alone.

Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.

Below, Gu Can and the others unleashed a barrage of support fire. Beams of spiritual light and exploding talismans crisscrossed the air, forcing Wulie to weave and dodge.

hemmed in by the suppression fire, the Emperor’s speed plummeted. Disheveled and cornered, Wulie let out a desperate, ear-splitting howl.

“ROAR——!”

The sonic blast hit Qin Lu like a physical hammer, making his ears ring violently. Instinct took over; he flared his Qi to shield his eardrums, dampening the scream.

“What are you barking at, mongrel?!”

Qin Lu pushed through the noise, accelerating violently. The [Seven Star Sword], now a streak of pure light, thrust forward.

Bang!

Unable to dodge, Wulie turned to guard. He summoned a wall of dense black mist to intercept the strike.

It was futile. Against the [Cutting Technique], the spectral defense was as fragile as parchment.

Rip!

The sword tore through the mist and slashed across Wulie’s chest. The ghost shrieked again, his form flickering and dimming. He was a spent arrow at the end of its flight.

“Now!” Qin Lu’s eyes lit up.

He prepared the killing blow, but his senses suddenly spiked a warning. He arrested his momentum in mid-air.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Dozens of ghosts erupted from the stone walls, swarming toward him like a colony of starving bats.

“Summoning help? Pathetic.”

Qin Lu sneered. He didn’t even flinch. His [Heavenly Eye Technique] had already assessed these minions; individually, they weren’t even a match for an Early-Stage Qi Refining cultivator.

He charged forward, sword in his right hand. He raised his left hand, palm facing the ceiling.

Purple light coalesced in his grip, crackling with the scent of ozone.

He clenched his fist.

BOOM!

Arcs of violet lightning erupted from his fingers, expanding outward in a terrifying, omnidirectional web.

[Lightning Strike Technique]—Grandmaster Level.

Zzzzt!

The wave of electricity washed over the swarm. The lesser ghosts didn’t even have time to scream; they popped like bubbles, their souls scattered and destroyed instantly upon contact.

Qin Lu, wreathed in a corona of purple lightning, descended upon the Emperor like a thunder god.

“This… this is…” Wulie’s face twisted in horror.

Crackle!

The edge of the lightning field brushed against the Emperor. His spectral form convulsed, paralyzed by the high-voltage spiritual energy.

He stood frozen, helpless.

“Die.”

Qin Lu drove the [Seven Star Sword] home.

Thunk!

The blade pierced the ghost’s chest, exiting through his back. The gentle yet destructive sword qi detonated inside, shredding the remaining necrotic energy holding Wulie together.

Poof.

The black mist composing the Emperor’s body evaporated.

Simultaneously, a barrage of spells from Gu Can and the others slammed into the ghost. Wulie convulsed violently and plummeted from the air.

Thud.

He hit the flagstones hard. The once-mighty Ghost Emperor staggered, gasping for breath he didn’t need, his eyes filled with venom as he glared at the cultivators. The darkness in the room receded, rushing back into his failing form.

“You… you… lowly peasants!”

Wulie trembled, fighting to keep his knees from buckling, his pride the only thing left intact.

“Hmph. Still talking trash?”

Gu Can sneered, walking slowly toward the fallen monarch. His silver spear dragged slightly, the tip gleaning with killing intent.

Wulie watched death approach. There was no fear in his eyes, only a bottomless, maddening dissatisfaction.

“I do not accept this! I was meant to reign for a thousand generations! I was meant to live forever!”

Whoosh!

Gu Can lunged, the silver spear blurring toward the Emperor’s forehead.

“Try the next life!”

Bang!

The spear tip, infused with lethal Qi, pierced Wulie’s skull. The ghost exploded, detonating into shards of black light that dissolved into nothingness.

With the Emperor’s death, the remaining minions in the hall let out a collective wail and vanished, their anchor to this world severed.

Silence returned to the mausoleum. The oppressive chill lifted, replaced by the stale, dry air of the underground.

“It is done.” Qin Lu sheathed his sword, his breathing steady.

Cao Yunxi looked at the empty spot where the Emperor had stood. “He sought immortality and found only ruin. In a way, he was pitiable. We did him a favor.”

“Pitiable?” Lu Xuan shook his head, his face cold. “The eighty young girls he butchered for ingredients were pitiable. This tyrant got exactly what he deserved.”

“Enough,” Qin Lu cut in. “Check the area. If there’s nothing left, we leave.”

The group swept the hall.

This time, without the threat of death hanging over them, they found the treasure trove. The fleeing Evil Cultivator had left behind a fortune: rare medicinal herbs, small magical artifacts, finished pills, and tome upon tome of alchemy notes.

They quickly divided the spoils.

Qin Lu claimed the prize of the collection: the bronze alchemy cauldron. Given his decisive role in the battle, no one contested his claim.

“Let’s move.”

They retraced their steps, leaving the silence of the tomb behind.

Outside, the air was fresh. They reunited with Qi Xiaofeng and the others, exchanging brief nods. Without looking back at the mountain that had imprisoned an Emperor for a century, they summoned their flying artifacts and soared toward the horizon.

The nightmare of the Imperial Mausoleum was over.