Entering Yashan—how many years had it been?

Since awakening from the desolate grave on that isolated island in the human realm, Jian Chou had become inextricably connected to Yashan.

From an ordinary mortal to Yashan’s eldest senior sister.

She still remembered the first time she heard the words “Yashan” from Fudao Shanren’s mouth; still remembered the first time she mentioned to others that she was a disciple of Yashan, and those surprised looks; also remembered the first time she stood on Fudao Shanren’s Wujian sword, crossing half of the Nineteen Continents to gaze upon Yashan from afar, and that overwhelming feeling…

Of course, she also remembered the Thousand Cultivator Tombs.

At that time, she didn’t yet understand what those mounds covered in wild grass on the riverbank outside the mountain truly meant—they only left a deep impression.

After all, how could there be such a strange sect in the world?

Yashan’s cable bridge crossed a tributary of Nine Head River, and the entire area was Yashan’s front mountain, directly facing Yashan’s renowned Moon-Grasping Hall.

Such a prestigious sect had thousands of grave mounds standing before its mountain gate!

Countless times passing by on Yashan’s cable bridge, or standing atop Return-Scabbard Peak looking down, all she could see were those silent tombs. She had never imagined there would be such a day: in this extreme realm ghost world so different from Yashan, she would personally witness those heroic souls of a thousand cultivators who should have been sleeping peacefully among the tombs!

When people die, swords return home!

But these thousand departed souls were permanently imprisoned in this strange foreign land, unable to find peace even in death!

Following the ghost cultivators ahead, Jian Chou stepped toward the massive mortuary shrouded in miasma on the riverbank.

Dark red soil accumulated on the ground, but her footsteps left no trace when she walked across it.

The Yellow Springs surged and flowed past, the sound of water remarkably similar to the tributary of Nine Head River that flowed by Yashan.

The closer she got, the clearer she could see.

The mortuary built from accumulated white bones resembled the depictions of the eighteen levels of hell’s tragic scenes in murals, appearing even more sinister due to the miasma’s shroud.

Those thousand-plus dark red blood coffins—ninety percent were behind the mortuary, ten percent inside.

The blood coffins were all covered, but at a glance, they didn’t seem to be made from any actual existing material. Instead, they gave off a sense of illusory flow.

That color was extremely similar to the dark red Yellow Springs water!

Clearly, they had condensed Yellow Springs water into coffins, using the mortuary’s miasma as a cage!

More than ten people had been waiting in front of the mortuary for some time. Seeing that their robes were all embroidered with skulls, they were undoubtedly ghost cultivators from the Ghost King clan.

The leader was an elder.

Standing in the center of the entrance, dressed entirely in deep black, he was extremely thin, like a skeleton draped with a withered piece of skin. His drooping eyelids almost covered both eyes completely. When everyone had arrived, he lifted them with considerable effort.

In that instant, everyone gasped!

Because this withered and terrifying old man’s eyes were completely white—only the whites visible, no pupils at all!

When he raised his eyes to look at people, they were lifeless and dim.

His cultivation was not low—by extreme realm standards he would be “Dao Union,” by Nineteen Continents standards “Worldly Entry.” The moment Jian Chou saw this person, she felt a chilling ghost aura and heavy death qi emanating from him, making her very uncomfortable.

This person’s cultivation method was definitely sinister.

She frowned inwardly.

But with this Ghost King clan elder’s cultivation level, he couldn’t detect Jian Chou’s disguise. He only opened those eyes—whether they could actually see or not was unclear—turned his head toward Fu Chaosheng, and said: “Lord Brother Lihan, I have been waiting for quite some time.”

This was also Fu Chaosheng’s first time coming here, but being Lord Qin Guang’s judge after all, he understood the situation here fairly well. His expression remained calm as he replied: “Following His Highness Lord Qin Guang’s command, I have selected these hundred-plus elite ghost cultivators from the ghost clans as the elder requested, for the elder’s use. War has begun and matters are urgent. His Highness Lord Qin Guang awaits my return to report after completing this task, so I entrust all remaining matters entirely to the elder. I hope the elder will proceed swiftly.”

“Naturally so.”

Unlike Elder Li Yan from Fengdu City earlier, this Ghost King clan elder was not particularly respectful to Brother Lihan. He replied flatly, then turned to look at the newly arrived one hundred and three ghost cultivators.

“All of you, come in.”

The ghost cultivators were all somewhat apprehensive.

Though they lived in Fengdu City and had all seen the Yellow Springs, and despite having considerable cultivation and being people of some standing, they had never known that such a place existed downstream of the Yellow Springs—a mortuary with a thousand coffins!

When the elder told them to enter, they all hesitated briefly before walking through the entrance.

The wind outside was quite fierce, but after stepping into this enormous mortuary, all wind sounds ceased, the air seemed motionless, carrying a somewhat oppressive suffocation.

Under the pale light, hundreds of coffins were arranged in rows.

The old man with only white eyes walked along the narrow paths between the blood coffins, saying to them: “The affairs of this place have always been our extreme realm’s absolute secret. You are fortunate to come here today and learn of this, and to contribute your efforts to this cause—this is good fortune that couldn’t be cultivated in eight lifetimes. There are over a thousand blood coffins here, each containing a soul puppet.”

The term “soul puppet” was extremely rare in the Nineteen Continents, but if one spoke of “puppets,” everyone would understand. However, in the Nineteen Continents they used human bodies as puppets, called “human puppets,” while in the extreme realm they naturally used souls as puppets, called “soul puppets.”

All the ghost cultivators could understand.

However, with over a thousand blood coffins here, didn’t that mean over a thousand soul puppets? This number was somewhat terrifying.

Hearing this, Jian Chou’s entire body trembled.

All the ominous premonitions she’d had since arriving here had come true. Just hearing the words “soul puppets” filled her with unbearable oppression, much less the faint pride hidden in this old man’s tone?

She gripped her fingers tightly, holding back from erupting.

The elder was completely unaware that an outsider had already mixed in among the ghost cultivators. He even let out a sinister laugh: “You should know, these aren’t ordinary soul puppets—each one is incredibly powerful. Their soul bodies all come from the Yashan cultivators who perished in the battle between Yin and Yang realms eleven cycles of sixty years ago!”

Everyone listened in horror and gasped!

But the elder seemed to be caressing some precious treasure, using his wrinkled hand covered in dry skin to stroke the blood coffin beside him, saying: “Back then, this was a brilliant method devised by His Highness Emperor Song—truly a superb strategy, making ‘the best use of everything’! You don’t know that since ancient times, Yashan cultivators have had the hardest bones. Even after death, these thousand souls refused to obey. His Highness Emperor Song came up with a wonderful method—he ordered people to forcibly shatter these thousand souls, using karmic fire burning techniques to eliminate the will stored within their souls, then using puppet refinement arts to refine them, reassembling them into new souls. Thus their power remained, their essence like old souls but actually new puppets, able to obediently serve our extreme realm!”

Shatter souls, burn with karmic fire, eliminate their will, piece together new souls!

Jian Chou walked at the very back, walking alongside these unopened blood coffins, feeling a tide of blood-soaked, tear-filled fury surge like massive waves through her chest, wanting to break through her body and transform into towering sword light to strike down this complacent old wretch!

Between her brows, that half-inch blood line had quietly begun to glow!

But a hand nearby quietly reached over, pressing against her tensed fingers that had already formed sword seals.

Fu Chaosheng turned to look at her.

Though he couldn’t truly comprehend what Jian Chou, as a disciple of Yashan, would feel at this moment, even just reasoning it out, he could imagine it must be what people called “agony.” The moment his palm covered her fingers, he easily sensed the enormous power surging within her body and that almost desperate killing intent!

But now was not the time!

After going through all this trouble, what they needed to do wasn’t simply coming to this mortuary and eliminating the threat of these soul puppets.

This was the plan Jian Chou had set—she should understand this better than he did.

So that surging, magnificent power finally gradually receded from her fingertips, and the blood line that had suddenly appeared between her brows slowly dimmed, once again hidden in the depths.

Even her body and blood cooled down.

Jian Chou’s expression became frighteningly calm. She simply lowered her hand and said lightly: “I’m fine.”