Chapter 870: Chapter 299: Yin Soldiers Attack the City
The altar for the Heavenly Ghost Transformation Sacrifice Ceremony is not upon the land of the Underworld.
It resembles a forgotten beast’s massive fang, floating alone amidst the firmament, deep within the ominous clouds.
Cold whirlwinds envelop the altar, the clouds are torn apart by the tempest, leaving only sparse soul dust upon the altar.
The structure itself is assembled from colossal, pallid bones riddled with cracks, whose fringes constantly shed fine bone fragments, then grind away completely in the whirlwind.
“So, at the last moment, it comes down to just me alone, doesn’t it?” The Lord of Wanchuan stands at the altar’s edge, clad in a dark black robe.
The fierce wind outlines his withered form ever more jaggedly, the wide sleeves of his robe cling closely to his arms, revealing an almost inhuman sharpness of silhouette.
Immediately, the aura of distraction in his eyes fades, revealing a fierce glint.
His painstakingly cultivated Wanchuan Underworld has reached the final juncture, forcing him to deploy his elite soldiers and various magic treasures to fend off troublesome factions.
Only five truly capable hands remain, stationed beyond the altar’s whirlwind, in the depths of the massive array within the clouds.
Aside from the five Nascent Soul Level Ghost Cultivators, there are over thirty thousand Forbidden Army soldiers of the Wanchuan Underworld.
Yet the Lord of Wanchuan knows fully well his power has been depleted by at least sixty percent.
There’s no choice.
The enemy targets the entire Wanchuan Underworld, he must respond.
The Underworld is both his wings and his shackles. As the Lord, entrusted with the King’s Order, he bears the fate of the state, sharing in its fortunes and defeats.
If ignored, he risks losing support, which would cause a backlash against him, significantly reducing his lifespan.
Preserving the power of the Underworld to the best of his ability is the true path.
“Though my strength has been diluted, it counters much of the enemies’ assaults.”
“All my hard efforts have indeed borne fruit.”
“Nearly a century of planning, everything hinges on this one endeavor.”
“Report—!” A subordinate’s voice, despite the whirlwinds, can be transmitted through the Array.
The Lord of Wanchuan gives a cold laugh in response, “What’s this calamity now?”
Throughout this period, he had heard far too much bad news, receiving substantial mental fortitude.
But surprisingly, the latest catastrophe is also a blessing.
An enemy demolished a dike, causing a section of the River of Oblivion to breach, yet the streaming floodwaters inadvertently curved around, fortuitously irrigating thirty thousand acres of fertile land belonging to Fire Grain.
The flood not only extinguished the flames but also enriched the farmland, making it more fertile.
One might consider it fortune born of misfortune.
The Lord of Wanchuan feels a slight stir in his heart, with a brief flicker of realization across his face: “This time, it is solely human harm that obstructs my path, without celestial disaster or blows of fate.”
“Indeed, by initiating the Heavenly Ghost Transformation Sacrifice Ceremony and offering tribute to the heavens of the Underworld, I have procured divine favor. Already being the master of the Wanchuan Underworld, I naturally possess the advantage of the earth.”
“Thus, it’s divine favor countering misfortune with fortune, balancing two cases of human conflict.”
The Lord of Wanchuan feels a slight easing, yet he remains vigilant, cautioning himself inwardly: “Even so, the balance of Heaven and Earth is significantly depleted, detrimental to my upcoming full assimilation of the Heavenly Ghost Skull.”
“I cannot delay any longer.”
The Lord of Wanchuan acts decisively, formally commencing the final stage.
He ascends the altar, standing rigid and upright. He gazes up at the Heavenly Ghost Skull suspended in the air, loudly chanting:
“O glorious heavens! O profound Houtu! Fleet Lord of Wanchuan, humbly I declare—”
“With Heaven granting presence, Wanchuan is my imperial tilt; carrying Earth’s virtue, myriad bones interlace as my foundation! The firmament bestows power upon me, to command souls and spirits, to govern the Netherworld; Houtu bears me with a mystical skeleton, to erect city towers and establish the Wanchuan monuments! Divine favor abounds, transforming calamity waves into temperings; the earth’s deep grace, collecting disaster as fertile source! Now with utmost sincerity, I feel the boundless sublime!”
…
“Now gathering remnants as torches, kindling soul flames as beacons! Converging eons of solitude into edge, forging billions of grievances into blades! Those who obstruct my path—though hellfire revisit, karmic hindrance coalesce, yet shall ravines be split, roots be consumed! In my name, in my unwavering testament—the oath to hold this bone, integrate it unto myself!”
“Heaven and Earth witness! My soul and will, Nine Netherworld can attest!”
…
As he continues chanting, the final phase of the Sacrifice Ceremony unfolds in dramatic fashion.
All at once, fierce gales sweep forth, clouds billow tumultuously, as if myriad dragons and pythons coursing incessantly within.
The power of the firmament gradually manifests upon the altar, the Heavenly Ghost Skull enters its final refinement.
The Lord of Wanchuan feels increasing resistance, his recitation slowing, each word carrying the weight of a thousand tons.
He understands the reason: “It is my insufficient tribute, the summoned celestial power remains inadequate.”
“The pivotal moment lies with the battle at White Paper Immortal City.”
Regarding this, he has long been prepared.
Mortal World.
White Paper Immortal City.
Ominous clouds press down like an iron curtain, under the dim light, the dreadful formations of the Yin Soldiers have been arrayed, encircling White Paper Immortal City four ways without escape!
As far as the eye can see, hordes of Yin Soldiers and ghostly apparitions nearly fill the entire horizon.
At each city gate, stands a battalion formation.
The foremost row is the Skeleton Army Formation. Rows of skeletal soldiers stand uniformly like a forest, densely packed, beyond measure. Within their hollow eye sockets burns ghostly green Soul Fire, their decayed skeletal hands grip colossal rusted bone blades or broken Bone Shields entwined with grievance.
On both wings of the Skeleton Army Formation, pulsates and flows the viscous “Water Ghost Tide.” Countless bloated, rotten drowned ghosts, draped with algae and mud, because of their abundance, the natural water vapor they bear merges together, forming a river upon the land.
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