It seemed the intrusion of living persons had been discovered, and rotting corpses came flooding in ceaselessly. The Great Clam knew this could not go on — Qingxuan’s cultivation was insufficient, and he could not hold out much longer. If Rong Chen Zi were here, he might have been able to fight on for days and nights.

She concentrated her mental power and cast a wide-area Ice Freezing technique, encasing an enormous nearby mass of rotting corpses all at once. It was the first time Qingxuan had witnessed immortal arts beyond the Daoist teachings, and he found his horizons utterly expanded. Unfortunately He Bang did not possess Rong Chen Zi’s patience and meticulous care: “Damn it all, what are you staring at? Run — let’s go find your Master.”

The two ran deeper into the mountain’s interior. Yet Lingxia Mountain’s mountain range stretched for a hundred li, and now with poor visibility and demons and evil creatures running rampant, finding one specific person was easier said than done. They had not searched long before they found a Daoist priest — but it was not Rong Chen Zi. This person wore a pale blue Daoist robe with a wine gourd hanging at his waist. Drawing closer, they discovered he was also a corpse. His left eyeball dangled out of its socket — he had clearly been dead for quite some time.

Qingxuan murmured a prayer and moved to sever his four limbs. To his surprise, this cultivator suddenly swept out his hand and unleashed a flying sword! If not for He Bang’s quick eyes and quick hands — deflecting the flying sword with one of her pearls — Qingxuan would have lost half his head!

Qingxuan broke into a cold sweat. The Daoist’s rotting fingers were actually forming hand seals! This left not just Qingxuan but even He Bang in an amused state of bewilderment: “This Daoist is interesting!”

She traced her index finger through the air and began to murmur an incantation under her breath. A moment later, the Daoist stumbled over to He Bang as though in a daze. He Bang stopped Qingxuan who had been about to cut off the dead man’s arms: “He’s on our side now. Let’s go.”

Qingxuan’s eyes went wide. Sure enough, the dead Daoist silently walked ahead of He Bang, and upon encountering other corpses that approached them, he even drew corpse-suppressing talismans to ward them off! Qingxuan’s entire worldview shattered: “How… how…”

He Bang followed behind the Daoist, feeling somewhat more secure, and finally spoke: “Nothing more than a soul-entrancing technique. As long as he has spiritual awareness he can be made into a puppet. It’s just that it’s too taxing on one’s mental energy, so I normally don’t use it.”

With this Daoist leading the way, the pressure on Qingxuan was greatly reduced. He Bang had no interest in killing monsters, and kept looking left and right, only wanting to find Rong Chen Zi. At this moment the mountain’s power was far too aggressive, making it impossible to use spiritual sense to probe the area. Ancient mountain ranges and rivers with spiritual energy all have their own temperament, much like the joy and anger of a person.

In ordinary times it would not manifest, but once provoked, the resulting momentum was terrifying. Recklessly activating one’s primordial spirit while the mountain’s power raged so intensely could easily provoke it further and cause injury to oneself.

The two living persons and one corpse pressed forward. Suddenly, the withered leaves ahead were swept upward, and a tremendous surge of white surged toward them like a great wave. He Bang grabbed Qingxuan and retreated rapidly several paces, then picked up a dry branch and drew a circle, telling Qingxuan and the puppet corpse both to step inside it.

As the white surge drew near, Qingxuan realized it was not waves at all, but white serpents — countless small white snakes wound together, each approximately the length of two fingers, hissing and flickering their forked tongues. What was most unnerving was that every single snake had only one eye, positioned directly in the center.

Qingxuan began to feel genuinely alarmed: “The temple’s hidden restrictions — I wonder if they can ward off these venomous creatures.”

The serpent-surge came crashing forward. He Bang’s expression changed instantly: “Though that foolish Fuya might count as a top-tier shaman, her shamanic power alone could never produce such force!” She abruptly crushed the blood-red pearl in her hand and blew lightly on the fragments. The red specks of light scattered in all directions, then after a moment became as substantial as material objects, drifting off to track in one particular direction.

He Bang wasted no further time. She grabbed Qingxuan with one hand, formed a seal with her right hand, and a ripple of water patterns shimmered around them. Qingxuan felt his vision go dark, followed by a wave of searing pain through his body. He looked around in all directions and cried out in astonishment: “Water Escape technique!”

He Bang followed the trail of red light and soon arrived at Qixia Peak of Lingxia Mountain.

Signs of battle finally began to appear all around them, but the scale of it clearly was not what one would expect from a one-on-one fight between Rong Chen Zi and Fuya alone. The Great Clam’s expression grew grave. As she passed one mountain stream, she found the entire creek had turned black. She glanced at Qingxuan, who walked ahead following the trace of red light, then suddenly slipped sideways into the tumble of rocks beside the mountain stream.

The ground here was relatively flat by mountain standards. Stone slabs half a person’s height lay piled here and there at random angles, as though someone had intended to build a temple or shrine but never began construction. He Bang followed the scent of blood and soon found it — behind a section of granite.

A person, a woman, leaned against the rock, gasping violently. Her clothing was soaked in blood. A dry branch had pierced straight through her left chest. Her face was covered in a dense web of red threads, crisscrossing like a spider’s web, making for a terrifying sight at first glance.

Sensing a living person’s presence, she desperately clutched the soul-summoning bell in her hand. When she recognized who had come, she released it in despair: “It’s you…” She coughed up a trace of black blood — it was indeed Fuya.

He Bang brushed off her sleeve, with no intention of killing her nor any intention of saving her: “Yes, it’s me…” Even her voice carried a smile. “How pitiful.”

Strange sounds began to emanate from within Fuya’s body — like silkworms eating mulberry leaves, a continuous rustling. Her eyes bulged outward, and her right hand continued to draw blood curses on her chest without stopping. He Bang was in no hurry at all, leaning against a stone slab, leisurely remarking: “Almost everyone knows immortal flesh is something wonderful, but very few people actually know how it should properly be eaten.”

Fuya’s chest heaved violently, yet her expression was that of someone who could no longer draw in any air. The Great Clam simply sat down on the stone slab, swinging her pair of jade-like translucent small feet with ease: “All true gods recorded by the heavenly dao are protected by the heavenly dao — even killing them by force is a crime of god-slaying that no one can bear.” She smiled radiantly and spoke with unhurried deliberation: “But if a true god has some flaw in their character, they will fall to become a degraded immortal, and at that point consuming their flesh would actually be considered an act of upholding the heavenly dao.”

The red threads on Fuya’s face grew increasingly pronounced, as though about to lacerate her skin. He Bang slowly rose and approached, stopping five paces away from her, then slowly formed a seal with her right hand. A thread of blue water patterns slowly permeated Fuya’s body. Fuya seemed to feel some relief, but very quickly realized something was wrong — the moment the water entered her body, it immediately agitated her life-bound venomous insects and her life fire!

Rong Chen Zi focused his mind and gathered his concentration, giving his full attention to the fight against his opponents. The moment he entered the mountain he had sensed something amiss. He was deeply familiar with formation arrays, and through careful observation these past days had formed a general measure of Fuya’s abilities. The moment he entered the mountain he had found Fuya’s formation eye — but breaking the formation had instead stirred up Lingxia Mountain’s own power even further.

At that point he had already suspected that an entire southern frontier shamanic sect had come out in full force.

On Qixia Peak, demonic flames and Daoist talismans crackled and intersected in a hail of flying sand and stones. Suddenly a shout came from outside: “Master?”

Rong Chen Zi’s heart seized in alarm, and he immediately exposed an opening. His opponents were formidable — they instantly moved to block him while sending someone to seize Qingxuan, who was lingering halfway up Qixia Peak. With no choice, Rong Chen Zi had to switch from defense to offense and break through the encirclement to rescue his senior disciple.

The eight shamans encircling him were all highly skilled, and were not about to let such an opportunity slip by. Countless venomous insects surged toward him like a tide, throwing themselves fearlessly against his protective barriers. In his urgency to aid Qingxuan, the breathing rhythm he had maintained so carefully became somewhat disrupted.

Within a grove of purple bamboo beside an ancient pine, Fuya was pale as a ghost, but her spiritual awareness still lingered: “You brought his disciple here just to throw him into disorder? Are you truly helping him, or helping us?”

The Great Clam leaned against a bamboo, her white skirts flickering like a moth in the night: “Helping who? This sovereign does not help anyone.” She watched Rong Chen Zi in the formation array, his command of the situation gradually beginning to falter, her expression utterly languid and relaxed. “If those shamans kill him, heaven be thanked — this sovereign can simply take the corpse away. If those shamans are killed by him… this sovereign will just have to endure a few more days at Qingxu Temple.”

Fuya suddenly felt a flicker of hope: “If this Daoist dies, will you agree not to kill me?”

The Great Clam did not even glance at her: “Too late. You were wounded in the lungs and viscera by Rong Chen Zi’s Celestial Firmament Demon-Subduing Curse — you are, in fact, already dead. I do not understand Daoist arts, but at most I can protect your life-bound venomous insects and keep your consciousness alive a while longer. However, though your body is dead, you can still do one thing for me. Those several from your sect look impressively terrifying, but I have always felt uneasy about them. If Rong Chen Zi wins, I’ll have him conduct rites to help you pass on — and then you’ll reincarnate into a good family, I promise it will be far better than this existence you’ve had.”

Fuya placed her hand on her chest. Sure enough, there was no longer any heartbeat there. The red threads on her face had already faded away without a trace, and her skin, as though nourished by water, had become supple and luminously fair beyond all imagining — who could ever guess that such a body was already dead?

He Bang was rubbing her belly — she was hungry!

The two were speaking, but things were not going well for Rong Chen Zi on his end. Countless venomous insects surged toward Qingxuan. He took a deliberate blow from a shaman’s staff and broke through the encirclement, using Daoist mystic arts to drive back the shamanic insects — but the blow from that staff seemed to carry a terrible poison, and he kept drawing talismans over the wound in an attempt to suppress it. In his anxiety to rescue Qingxuan, the breathing rhythm he had so carefully maintained all this time became somewhat irregular.

The Great Clam had no snacks, and her belly grew increasingly empty: “Damn it all! Don’t go and damage the meat, you hear!”

The situation in the field had reached a critical point. Several shamans surrounded Rong Chen Zi and his disciple, sitting down to shake their soul-scattering bells, while the human-bone death staffs in their hands hummed with resonance. Rong Chen Zi’s expression turned mildly stern as he reached into his treasure pouch and produced purple-colored talismans.

In the Daoist mystic arts, talismans are divided into five grades: gold, silver, purple, blue, and yellow — in ascending order of power from yellow to gold, though each level accordingly requires far greater magical power to use.

He Bang, while not versed in Daoist arts, was generally familiar with common knowledge. This is why she had previously felt that Rong Chen Zi had everything well in hand — she had seen him continuously using yellow talismans up to that point.

An eerie chanting sound rose up. Qingxuan leaned close to Rong Chen Zi and said something — Rong Chen Zi’s brow furrowed deeply, as though he had sharply rebuked him once. After that his attacks no longer showed any restraint.

Sand and stones obscured the air ahead as both sides fought to the death. The Great Clam stood atop a bent bamboo, stomach growling with hunger, growing somewhat impatient: “Finish this quickly — I’m exhausted just watching.” She muttered to herself, “And starving — hurry up and get back to the temple so the little Daoist can make a late-night snack.”

Fuya stood in place. Her body temperature still lingered, but her pulse, breathing, and heartbeat had all ceased, yet there was no sign of her spiritual awareness dissolving. She had been in contact with corpses for many years, and she felt a hidden fear, along with a faint excitement about death.

He Bang pulled a conch shell from her robes and blew it lightly. All at once, a sound like wind swept through the entire mountain forest, with a strange musical cadence woven within — like the sound of camel bells. Everyone could sense their magical power draining at a perceptible rate. The shamans assumed it was a Daoist supernatural ability of Rong Chen Zi’s; Rong Chen Zi assumed it was southern frontier shamanic arts.

After approximately three quarters of an hour, both sides were drenched in sweat through their layered clothing. Fuya looked toward the battle and saw that all her master-uncles had become disoriented, as though they had forgotten how to chant their spells. Rong Chen Zi, however, bit through the tip of his tongue, using the pain to concentrate his mind, and with a sudden clear shout, unleashed golden-colored talismans from his hand — immediately striking six of the shamans with heavy blows.

He Bang shook her head and put the conch shell away: “As expected — the gap in power is far too great. Counting on them is hopeless.” She turned back to smile brilliantly at Fuya, and said softly, “It’s your turn, dear. Go.”

Fuya only felt that those eyes were as blue as the sea, and her spiritual awareness sank into those pupils as if caught in a great wave. She walked forward in a somewhat dazed state. Rong Chen Zi had expended too much physical strength, and the inexplicable drain of magical power just now had left him physically depleted. Qingxuan had long since collapsed to the ground and could not rise.

Seeing Fuya approaching, he pursed his lips slightly and casually performed a Celestial Silkworm Venomous Insect technique, intending to destroy Fuya’s life-bound venomous insects. Fuya seemed dazed and did not even attempt to dodge — she simply fell prostrate at Rong Chen Zi’s feet.

Rong Chen Zi knew that shamans generally kept life-bound venomous insects, and that after the body’s death, the life-bound insects would not immediately perish but would follow the host’s residual soul consciousness to fulfill the host’s dying obsessions — so at this moment he paid her no further attention.

He unleashed another blue talisman and was midway through forming seals and chanting an incantation when Fuya, who had shown no breath of life beneath his feet, suddenly burst upright again. Her figure moved like a ghost, and with a single palm strike she drove directly into his Lung Shu acupoint, directly disrupting his energy flow. Rong Chen Zi could not dodge in time and immediately stumbled, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Though Fuya was already dead, that body suddenly radiated a strange and bewitching light. She began removing her clothing one garment at a time. In the dark mountain forest, talisman-fire flickered in and out. Her face bore an expression of near-childlike bewilderment, and her body in the faint light was lustrous white as jade.

Rong Chen Zi had just received that blow, and his energy was in disarray. Seeing the situation, he hastily chanted a Mind-Gathering incantation, drawing his spiritual awareness together and steadying his mind and energy. But the two remaining shamans had their attention divided, and Rong Chen Zi seized the opportunity to strike — no longer holding anything back. He unleashed a silver talisman, and spat out another mouthful of blood.

The silver talisman’s power was immense. The two shamans’ magical power had been repeatedly suppressed and could no longer resist — they fell dead on the mountain.

Fuya continued to draw slowly closer, entirely unclothed by now. Rong Chen Zi had always detested demonic and evil arts. He merely furrowed his brow slightly, calmly wrapped the protective gauze vambrace from his wrist around his eyes, opened his Celestial Eye, and brought his treasured sword down from above — with one stroke, Fuya was instantly severed head from body.

The Great Clam had not anticipated that he would break the bewitchment technique in this manner, and hurriedly withdrew her puppet technique.

The formidable enemies had been repelled, yet Rong Chen Zi could not rest — he still needed to climb Qixia Peak to pacify the earth god, suppress Lingxia Mountain’s power, and deal with the ground full of corpses and venomous creatures. He clutched his chest and abdomen, coughing lightly and repeatedly. Fuya’s palm strike had been extraordinarily vicious — clearly his heart and lungs had been injured. He kicked Qingxuan to his feet, his breathing unsteady, his voice slightly winded: “Where did you become separated from her?”

Qingxuan was completely spent. Rong Chen Zi had no choice but to grip his arm: “Lead the way!”

The Great Clam took a long moment to realize he was asking about herself.

She leaped down from the bent bamboo. As Rong Chen Zi walked, he continuously suppressed the venomous insects and pinned down the corpses along the way. He Bang did not dare casually use her arts, fearing he would sense them. But the puppet Daoist from earlier was still wandering in the mountain forest — she subtly prompted him, and the Daoist began moving toward Rong Chen Zi. Qingxuan pointed at the corpse of that Daoist and had not yet spoken when Rong Chen Zi also fell for this trick.

This Daoist must have been some ancestor of Daozong, who had found a cave dwelling on Lingxia Mountain when he passed away. Now provoked by the mountain’s power, his corpse had been awakened, and his instincts still lingered. Before he had even reached them, he had already unleashed a Five Thunder Curse on Rong Chen Zi.

Rong Chen Zi was caught completely unprepared and had no choice but to take the full brunt of it. He could not bear to destroy the remains of a predecessor — and in the end, this upheaval of Lingxia Mountain had started because of him. So he only drew a Corpse-Suppressing Talisman and immobilized the Daoist’s corpse.

The Five Thunder Curse was a common enough incantation. Normally it could not have hurt so much as a hair on him, but applied to him in his current state it was like adding frost atop snow. And he still had to worry about that Great Clam.

The great battle had come to its conclusion. All that remained were the menial tasks of clearing the battlefield. He Bang had no more interest in watching — she returned to Qingxu Temple, fetched something to eat from the dining hall, then leisurely made her way back to Rong Chen Zi’s sleeping quarters.

In the days prior, Rong Chen Zi had performed some protective house-securing arts in his room, and the room had been continuously burning demon-repelling incense throughout. At this moment the room showed nothing out of the ordinary. She sat down on the bed with her food, seemed to think of something, then removed a white pill from her waist, lifted the lid of the incense burner, and casually dropped it inside.