The silver starlight and the gentle moonlit glow intertwined, steadily protecting everyone on the raft.
A dark current formed a whirlpool, trapping the Empty Return Raft.
For a while, the Empty Return Raft could only spin in place, making everyone on it more anxious and nervous.
Thankfully, the whirlpool soon vanished, and the Empty Return Raft set off again.
Above the Wangchuan River, the ghostly wind stirred, the waves roared, and the wailing of fallen ghosts echoed. Yet, inside the raft, it was tranquil, starkly different from outside.
However, this tranquility neared dead silence, offering no comfort at all.
The longer everyone stayed, the more they felt sadness creeping into their hearts, growing heavier. At the same time, they felt something missing inside, like there was a void, devoid of any sense of life, everything seemed uninteresting.
Past regrets and lost pain were magnified invisibly, yet there was nowhere to confide, tormenting everyone on the raft beyond words.
The Wangchuan River seemed endless, and everyone’s sense of time became extremely blurred. Perhaps only thirty minutes had passed, yet it felt as if they had drifted for a millennium. All around were boundless ghostly winds, turbid waves, and resentful souls, with only the Empty Return Raft beneath their feet casting a small but steadfast light domain, like the only floating ark in a desperate abyss.
In such a repressive atmosphere, the raft gently trembled, and the moon-white light shield enveloping the Empty Return Raft quickly faded and disappeared.
Everyone on the raft was extremely astonished, for they discovered they had already arrived at Wangchuan Immortal City.
More accurately, it was the foundation of the Immortal City.
Countless unimaginably colossal black pillars, like the tusks of ancient beasts, broke through the turbid Wangchuan River water, winding or straight, piercing the sky.
The place where the Empty Return Raft docked could barely be counted as a "port" — a few levels of uneven, extremely slippery stone steps extended from below the pitch-black waterline, disappearing into the shadows of the stone pillars.
Just underfoot, the turbid waves surged and crashed, the filthy spray almost splashing onto their feet, while the mournful cries of resentful souls mixed with ghostly winds, constantly echoing between the stone pillars.
As Sun Lingtong stepped out of the Empty Return Raft, he was enveloped by the biting ghostly wind.
He moved cautiously, climbing the stone steps, ascending all the way.
There were no railings on the stone steps, they were narrow and slippery underfoot, while beside them flowed the Wangchuan River of turbid waves. The higher they climbed, the tenser everyone became, for any carelessness might lead to a misstep, plunging into the depths of the river, where redemption seemed impossible.
Once they climbed over half the height, the ghostly wind became more fierce, roaring past, cold as a knife.
Strange gray-white mist floated everywhere, capable of absorbing human spirit and physical strength.
The closer they got to the Immortal City, the more vibrant it became — the vines grew increasingly abundant, capable of entangling ankles, even ghosts and soul bodies were not spared.
The wind-eroded white bones scattered in the crevices of the stones silently told the tales of the fate of those who failed to climb.
When Sun Lingtong and his party first set out, they numbered ten.
As they reached the endpoint, only four remained.
Sun Lingtong felt as heavy as lead, his mind filled with fear, despair, and other negative emotions, leaving him utterly exhausted.
The old man kept his promise, assisting Sun Lingtong multiple times during the climb.
Upon reaching the massive city gate, Sun Lingtong lay on the ground, too tired to move, gasping for breath.
The other three weren’t in much better condition.
The stone platform was vast and icy. The Wangchuan Immortal City walls towered high, like iron curtains hanging from the sky.
Rumble...
Sensing Sun Lingtong and the other four newcomers, the heavy city gate slowly opened.
Above the city gate hung a treasure mirror.
An ancient bronze mirror, tarnished with iron-gray patina, emitting a green-red tint. The mirror surface resembled murky mercury, vaguely showing gray-black sand slowly swirling, exuding a ghostly green phosphorescence.
Indeed, it was the Evil Mirror.
Whether lying on the ground or sitting, the four cultivators watched the Evil Mirror intently as they caught their breath.
For a long time.
The one who recovered first stood up and formally stepped towards the open gate.
Buzz—!
The ancient bronze mirror suddenly vibrated, its buzzing almost shrill, tearing into the silence.
The Evil Mirror’s surface suddenly burst forth with a green light, making one’s eyes swell with pain.
"Ah..."
The ghost cultivator hit by the beam let out a scream, dark red flame erupted from his body, then the fire quickly dissipated under the green mirror light as snow meets the blazing sun.
Sun Lingtong and the others’ pupils shrank sharply, shocked.
The deceased ghost cultivator possessed Golden Core Cultivation, yet was utterly powerless against the green light, more fragile than a newborn.
Once triggered, the Evil Mirror did not pause.
After annihilating the first ghost cultivator, the eerie blue beam swept over to the old man who had assisted Sun Lingtong.
The old man originally sitting bowed his head immediately, as if an invisible mountain pressed upon his neck.
He exerted all his strength to endure, his entire body emitting wisps of white smoke in the mirror light, trembling violently.
While Sun Lingtong and the fourth ghost cultivator were observing, unexpectedly, the blue beam expanded, enveloping both of them.
Sun Lingtong’s heart leapt to his throat.
At that moment, he felt as if he was stripped bare and placed in a frozen wasteland, every sin of the past laid bare!
Just as he was feeling it was all over, a breath from within his body suddenly surged, enveloping him completely.
This breath emanated from Buddhist Doctor Meng Yaoyin!
Under the blue glow, the breath displayed a regal golden radiance, along with shades of blue and white, like auspicious clouds rising.
Originally cold and harsh, bearing judgment and destruction, the eerie green light became gentle and warm over the golden clouds and auspicious clouds.
The Evil Mirror sensed merit, purity, its buzzing mellowing, seeming to acknowledge this.
The old man transmitted thoughts using his Divine Sense: "My heavens, young one, just how many good deeds did you accomplish in life?"
He was nearly at his limit and covertly stole a few wisps of breath, adding them to himself.
The blue light covering him and Sun Lingtong swiftly dissipated.
The lingering blue light still covered the fourth individual, lasting for a moment, causing severe injury and unconsciousness, before it gradually faded.
The old man looked at the fourth individual with lingering fear and explained to Sun Lingtong: "Although he didn’t pass, his sins are not deep, sparing his life. Once he recovers, he can travel back along the same route, taking the Empty Return Raft back to the other shore."
Sun Lingtong squinted, scrutinizing the old man.
The old man waved at him: "Confounded, confounded, young friend, I’ve benefited from your fortune once again. Once inside the city, I will surely repay you greatly."
Sun Lingtong nodded, then turned his head away.
He walked ahead, the old man followed behind, the elder and youth thus walked through the city gate, formally entering Wangchuan Immortal City!
Meanwhile, another route.
The sound of hooves thundered like a storm, a troop of Netherworld cavalry marched mightily.
The cavalry were all ghosts, either with blue faces and sharp teeth or with red hair and ghostly eyes. But the bone blade war flags flying in the wind, the gleaming Crescent Moon Great Sabers, the compressed Sky-splitting Spears of Talisman Paper, and the black blood paper horses revealed their true identity — the Qing Jiao Army!
Since parting ways with Sun Lingtong and Buddhist Physician Meng Yaoyin, Ning Zhuo, Qing Chi, and others set out for the battlefield.
The reason they could transform into various ghostly forms was due to a spell unique to the Qing Jiao troops, called [Human Ghost Face].
The soldiers could thus become entirely Human Clan or completely ghostly.
However, their war flags, weapons, etc., remained uncovered, thus containing flaws.
Fortunately, their march route was quite secluded, encountering only scattered ghosts and soul cultivators posed no major threat.
"Above us should be the altar for the Heavenly Ghost Transformation Sacrifice Ceremony!" Ning Zhuo, following Buddhist Physician Meng Yaoyin’s guidance, arrived at the correct location.
He and Qing Chi looked up, seeing dense black clouds, with an occasional flash of scarlet, akin to lightning in a storm.
Qing Chi felt troubled: "The altar is high up, how do we ascend?"
Few among the Qing Jiao Army possessed the ability to fly.
Yet Ning Zhuo felt confident; he had already conceived a solution during the march. Without delay, he said: "This is easily solved, using the Festival Camp will do."