Just A Daoist Who Occasionally Kicks Ass-Chapter 398: Arrangements! The Young Prince! False Realm? Efforts in Vain!? When the Ghosts of the Underworld Descend!
Li Yanchu’s movements were merciless and swift. The Jiaoslayer was impossibly sharp, and nothing could withstand its edge.
With his current refined body and boundless vitality, he could wield the saber endlessly. He could cut from the Southern Heaven Sect to Mount Huaguo, watch the carnage for three days and three nights, and never once blink an eye.
Within the sealed chamber, the air was filled with agonized screams, and soon after, the floor was littered with corpses.
***
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The clear sound of ritual chimes echoed through the Taixu Temple, the grand ceremony had begun!
Many renowned Buddhist temples and Daoist sects had sent envoys to offer congratulations, celebrating the Taixu Temple’s Celestial Maiden Ziyun, who had successfully condensed her Yang Spirit and stepped into the third realm. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎
The entire mountain was filled with joy and celebration. Disciples bustled about, and incense smoke curled upward, a scene of divine festivity.
Far away, the Wrath Lord stood hidden within a patch of wilderness. He silently observed the Taixu Temple’s proceedings, using secret arts to project his divine sight over the mountain.
But strangely, from the beginning to the end of the ceremony, there was no report of chaos in the nearby counties, no news of demons wreaking havoc, nor pleas for masters to descend the mountain to slay monsters.
His expression, though hidden behind the bronze mask, was clearly one of confusion.
Beside him, an elderly scholar in plain robes furrowed his brows.
“Wrath Lord,” he said in a deep, cold tone, “did you not arrange for your men to cause turmoil throughout Xuzhou Prefecture? Why, then, have we heard nothing?”
The Wrath Lord’s hoarse voice rumbled behind the mask. “Mr. Zhao, do not be impatient. Something must have gone wrong. I will return and investigate it myself.”
The old Confucian’s face darkened. “Hmph. The young prince placed his trust in your White Marsh Demon Kingdom, and this is how you deliver? It will be difficult for me to explain this failure!”
Wrath Lord’s tone grew heavy and cold. “This plan has been long prepared. I personally recruited many powerful demons and promised them Transformation Pills, and gathered them in Qingmu County. There should have been no mistake.”
“Should have been?” the scholar sneered.
He reached into his sleeve and drew out a golden-edged scroll. Upon it was written a single shimmering word: Sacrifice!
The moment the scroll appeared, a surge of immense, oppressive power filled the air.
Wrath Lord’s eyes flickered beneath the mask. “That’s... the Heroic Spirit Talisman?”
He took a wary half-step back as the scholar’s expression turned icy.
“I told the young prince long ago that demons are unreliable. If we had relied solely on you, today’s effort would have been nothing but wasted breath!”
The Wrath Lord fell silent as his gaze lingered on the Heroic Spirit Talisman in the scholar’s hand. It was a forbidden Confucian artifact, capable of summoning a heroic spirit of immense might.
Such talismans were no righteous art, for Confucians cultivated righteous energy that defended against evil. To forge a Heroic Spirit Talisman, one must sacrifice a thousand human souls. Without that, the talisman could never be completed.
They say demons are cruel as they kill and eat men, Wrath Lord thought darkly, but men who kill men... are far crueler.
He said aloud, voice like grinding metal, “Mr. Zhao, rest assured. I will uncover the truth of this failure and deliver the young prince a proper explanation.”
With that, his figure blurred and vanished into a swirl of demonic wind.
The scholar stood alone, sneering faintly, “Hmph. Demons”
At once, the old scholar activated the Heroic Spirit Talisman, that forbidden relic forged with the souls of a thousand men.
A chilling, merciless aura seeped out from the golden scroll, filling the air with deathly silence.
***
At Taixu Temple...
The sacred Daoist sanctuary, once brimming with ethereal serenity, was suddenly shrouded in a mass of black clouds. The clouds churned and spread wider and wider, waves of yin qi rolling through the heavens.
“Eh?”
A visiting cultivator looked up with a frown, and his heart trembled. The yin wind howled, and the sun and moon seemed to dim.
From within that wind came voices wailing, whispering, and pleading. He heard voices of men and women quarreling, the sigh of the elderly, the crying of children, the dull sound of bones being chopped, the roar of fire, and the gurgle of drowning. The voices all murmured close to the ear, dragging the heart into suffocating despair.
Amidst the rolling darkness, countless shadowy figures loomed, their cold, indifferent eyes fixed upon the Taixu Temple.
“This... this is the aura of the Underworld’s gods and ghosts! Activate the Mountain-Guarding Formation, quickly!” Daoist Spiritual Master Xuanji, head of Taixu Temple, gave a sharp command.
Disciples in flowing robes flew into the air, each guided by senior elders to their formation posts. All of their faces had a heavy and grim look.
The Mountain-Guarding Formation was a divine formation laid down by their founding ancestor, Celestial Maiden Ziyun. It was a forbidden defense, only to be used in moments of utter catastrophe. Not once in centuries had it been activated, until now, because the yin aura above the mountain was too overwhelming, too unnatural.
***
ROAR!
A chorus of vengeful shrieks tore through the sky, ghostly energy erupting upward like black fire. Out of the writhing mist, a slender female figure stepped forth.
Her hair cascaded like ink down her back, her eyes bright and mocking, and she had a faint, cruel smile curling on her lips.
“A mere Ghost King dares to contend with me for this chance?” she said softly, her voice ringing like silver bells. “Ah... the scent of the living, how nostalgic.”
The old scholar’s brows furrowed deeply.
He didn’t know what kind of being he had summoned with this talisman, but from her tone, it was clear that she had destroyed the Ghost King that was meant to be called forth and taken its place instead.
“Presumptuous fiend! How dare you trespass upon the mortal realm!” The Celestial Maiden Huayang’s voice rang out, sharp and cold.
In a flash, she rose into the sky, sword light blazing like a falling moon.
The wide Daoist robe billowed in the wind, its flowing fabric tracing out a striking, breathtaking figure beneath, but at this moment, no one had the heart to admire it. Because everyone knew that if that terrifying being, wreathed in endless yin qi, were to defeat Celestial Maiden Huayang, the result would be a massacre beyond imagining.
Not just the Taixu Temple, even Qingmu County, and the entire Xuzhou Prefecture, would fall into ruin and become a ghost domain.
When yin and yang reversed and ghostly qi filled the skies, it would spawn countless vengeful spirits and malevolent wraiths.
“A Profound Yin constitution... and a false realm, is it? Heh... ignorant woman. You don’t even know that your efforts are all in vain[1], and yet you dare to challenge me?”
The young woman from the underworld spoke with a cold, mirthless smile.
Celestial Maiden Huayang’s brows knit slightly, but she said nothing.
Below, Daoist Spiritual Master Xuanji’s expression changed in shock. She could not help but whisper inwardly, “Who in the world is this woman? How can she see straight through Huayang’s secrets?”
Her heart churned like a storm-tossed sea.
“Go!”
Huayang was a sword cultivator devoted to slaying demons and purging evil. The Moonshadow in her hand flared with dazzling brilliance and shot forth like a comet.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sword struck again and again, but each blow was repelled by the woman’s vast, oceanic magical power, a power so immense it distorted the air.
“Hmm?” Huayang’s eyes flickered in surprise.
The Moonshadow returned to her grasp in a streak of light. She stood poised with her sword in hand, her icy grace unmatched under heaven.
Boom!
Huayang urged the Moonshadow again, sending out several radiant arcs of swordlight. They collided head-on with the woman who had stepped forth from the rift to the underworld.
BOOM! BOOM!
The woman’s boundless yin qi surged upward, coalescing into a giant spectral hand that crashed down upon the Mountain-Guarding Formation of Taixu Temple.
The golden radiance of the formation dimmed at once, its brilliance fading.
Even while fighting a Yang Spirit Daoist cultivator of the third realm, this mysterious woman still had spare power to assault the temple itself.
Had Li Yanchu been there, he would have recognized her immediately. It was the same young woman whose corpse the old farmer Wang Xue’an once summoned in Mount Youming through forbidden arts, a being already terrifying beyond comparison.
Later, in the Fengdu Ghost Domain, she had regained consciousness, and in that instant, rose as a peerless underworld sovereign of the third realm.
Her name was Su Shunqing.
1. The saying “为他人做嫁衣” (literally, “to make a wedding dress for someone else”) is a Chinese idiom meaning to labor in vain for the benefit of others, to put in great effort, only for someone else to reap the rewards. Its literal image comes from the act of sewing a bridal gown for another woman, and it originates from the Tang dynasty poet Qin Taoyu’s poem “The Poor Girl” (《贫女》). In the poem, a poor young woman toils to make wedding clothes for others, lamenting her hard work and devotion that yield no return for herself. ☜
