Pitch black, ice-cold, vast waters stretched out, with endless void above.
Below lay a river full of corpses and bones.
Ghastly green will-o’-the-wisps, like drifting clouds, floated over mounds of corpses on the water’s surface, burning eternally without change.
“Splash!”
The water was broken open.
A black ghost ship sailed past a corpse mountain a thousand metres high. The hull was flat and long, like a rectangular iron coffin; the part exposed above the water alone measured over two hundred metres in height.
Within the black array’s light curtain enveloping the ghost ship, Zhang Ruochen stood at the bow with hands clasped behind his back, gazing ahead intently.
This ferry had been borrowed by Wen Zhu from a great god in the City of Impermanence, using connections from the Yan clan of the Abyss of Darkness. The helmsman was a supreme-realm great saint named Nu Lan, one of the foremost figures in the mortal world of the City of Impermanence.
Crossing the river tonight via the spatial wormhole of the City of Impermanence, they would arrive at the Abyss of Darkness by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Xue Tu stood beside Zhang Ruochen, his heart surging with irrepressible excitement. He said, “Senior Brother truly lives up to his title as a mortal-world legend; even the Yanluo clan holds him in such high regard, dispatching a true god to escort him. Even when I, Xue Tu, apprenticed under a divine venerable, I never received such treatment.”
The moment he had laid eyes on Wen Zhu, Xue Tu’s admiration for Zhang Ruochen had reached an unparalleled peak.
When had the Yanluo clan ever shown such deference to a saint-realm cultivator?
This only underscored that the journey to the Abyss of Darkness was for momentous affairs.
Great undertakings brought great opportunities.
And Zhang Ruochen’s willingness to bring him along proved that this senior brother held him in deep affection and loyalty, truly regarding him as one of their own.
Zhang Ruochen’s gaze was grave. He said, “Go and invite True God Wen Zhu over.”
“Right away.”
Xue Tu turned and immediately spotted the figure of Prajna Divine Maiden striding towards them. Suddenly, his flesh and blood tightened; he lowered his head and hurried along the edge of the ghost ship.
Seeing that Prajna Divine Maiden showed no sign of anger, did not call out to him, and did not even glance his way.
Xue Tu was deeply surprised, inwardly speculating: could those wild ramblings he had spouted during the day actually be true?
He dared not think more, dared not speak more.
After all, Prajna Divine Maiden had broken through to godhood, while he, Xue Tu, had yet to endure the divine tribulation. The gulf in cultivation was plain; he had no choice but to yield.
“By the path of destiny, I have divined that tonight brings calamity to the three separations, an omen of utmost peril.”
Prajna’s voice came from behind.
In the end, Zhang Ruochen could not stop Prajna and Little Black from boarding the ghost ship together; they stuck to him like shadows and had also learned his destination was the Abyss of Darkness.
Zhang Ruochen’s eyes narrowed slightly. He said, “I have divined as well; tonight holds no auspicious signs. It seems word has leaked out, though I know not from whence the danger comes. Can we turn back to the Seven Misfortunes Sacred City in time now?”
Though Zhang Ruochen possessed the Supreme Holy Intent, compared to Prajna, this god proficient in divination, he still fell short.
Prajna shook her head gently, her gaze sharp and cold. She said, “This ghost ship carries four true gods. No matter how great the peril, we can force our way through. Retreat merely dodges the storm for a moment; the gale remains and will not vanish because of your withdrawal. Only advancing can ride the wind and cleave the waves.”
A flicker of unusual light passed through Zhang Ruochen’s eyes.
Tonight’s Prajna bore not a trace of frailty; that aura of fearlessness was enough to make cultivators across the world bow in admiration.
Footsteps sounded.
Wen Zhu approached and asked, “What has happened?”
Accompanying him was Nu Lan.
Zhang Ruochen said, “The cultivators on this ghost ship cannot be trusted.”
Wen Zhu’s expression shifted.
Nu Lan, both a supreme-realm great saint and a Nine Tribulations Ghost Emperor, said coldly, “What does Young Master Ruochen mean? Do you suspect disloyalty among the cultivators under this emperor’s command?”
Zhang Ruochen said, “There are three hundred and seventy-five saint-realm cultivators on this ghost ship in total. Can you guarantee that every one of them is reliable?”
“Each and every one is utterly loyal to this emperor.”
Nu Lan was greatly displeased. He bowed to the two true gods, Prajna and Wen Zhu, and said, “Rest assured, Your Divine Majesties. This Nu Lan dares guarantee that no cultivator on the ship has leaked any secrets. Should the slightest mishap occur, Nu Lan shall have no face to stand before true gods and will self-immolate upon this River of Three Crossings.”
Wen Zhu, of course, trusted Nu Lan and was about to inquire what had befallen Zhang Ruochen.
Suddenly, Zhang Ruochen’s face paled sharply, his skin rapidly shrivelling, his body caving inward.
“It is the power of a curse, the Blood Devouring Curse!”
Wen Zhu roared in fury. Without a second thought, divine energy erupted from his body in vast waves, enveloping Zhang Ruochen to block the mysterious and insidious curse.
But the Blood Devouring Curse was too potent; even the ghost ship’s divine patterns and arrays could not withstand it.
Wen Zhu sought to shield Zhang Ruochen, yet in mere instants, Zhang Ruochen had withered to skin and bones, his blood draining massively, as if he were turning into a charred mummy.
Prajna acted even swifter than Wen Zhu, raising the Gate of True Self.
Nu Lan, unaware of what was transpiring, was hurled away by the divine power bursting from Wen Zhu and Prajna, crashing into a corner of the ghost ship, unable to rise.
“Roar!”
Golden divine light surged from Zhang Ruochen’s body.
A heaven-shaking tiger’s roar exploded from within him, scattering the formless curse that had come from some unknown direction.
Even true gods like Prajna and Wen Zhu trembled in their divine souls at the roar, their visions dimming faintly.
Nu Lan, sprawled on the distant deck, fainted outright, blood streaming from all seven orifices.
Even a Nine Tribulations Ghost Emperor could not endure the roar of the Buried Gold White Tiger.
“Splash splash!”
In the air, threads of blood finer than strands of hair appeared, weaving into a net that flowed towards Zhang Ruochen’s body.
Moments later, Zhang Ruochen’s shrivelled, emaciated flesh ballooned back to fullness like an inflated sac. His skin gleamed with holy light, the curse’s power swept away clean.
In the distant reaches.
From the darkness and void came a startled murmur: “How is this possible? For a cultivator struck by the Blood Devouring Curse, how could the blood return to his body? This cannot be!”
The Blood Devouring Curse was one of the six most terrifying curses of the Nether clan, capable of silently draining the blood from any living being.
Its strangest trait was that even the caster knew not where the blood had flowed.
That Zhang Ruochen’s blood had drained yet returned defied belief; even Nether gods were shocked, pondering the study of his physique, perhaps to unravel the curse’s secrets.
“How bold! With this emperor here, what demon or ghost dares not show itself and meet its death?”
Little Black soared into the air above the ghost ship, extending his divine sense to probe all directions.
The graceful silhouette of Gu She Huan Huan materialised at the stern, her twin pupils’ demonic light transforming into visible beams that peered into the boundless waters.
Suddenly.
She spotted, in an extremely distant place, a thunderbolt mountain shaped like a human head.
The thunderbolt mountain drifted on the water’s surface, its erupting thunderbolts streaking like shuttles across a thousand li, slamming into the ghost ship. But the ship’s defences held firm, unscathed.
“This emperor sees you!”
From the long sleeves of Little Black’s black robe extended a slender hand; he crooked a finger and pointed forth.
A brilliant finger of divine fire shot from his fingertip.
The divine fire finger beam carried incomparable destructive aura, illuminating the waters and turning night to day; its heat surpassed that of a star nearing the ground.
“Swish swish!”
One hundred and eight stone swords flew from the distant thunderbolt mountain, shattering the divine fire finger beam.
One sword descended from above, slashing towards Little Black hovering in mid-air.
“Boom!”
Little Black raised the Grand Array of the Three Enclosures and Twenty-Eight Mansions to block it; the array morphed into a sky full of stars, interwoven with divine-level array patterns.
Yet it held for only an instant before the starry heavens were cleaved apart by the stone sword. Little Black plummeted heavily, his hood shattering to reveal a round, furry cat head.
The stone sword embedded half a chi deep into Little Black’s left shoulder.
Eerie patterns emerged on the sword’s body, converting to demonic qi that invaded Little Black’s divine form.
On the ship, every cultivator still conscious was horrified.
Little Black’s cat head was indeed eye-catching: triangular mouth, long whiskers, floppy ears, instantly ruining his usual air of cold menace.
But at this moment, no cultivator cared whether he bore a human head or a cat’s; all were cowed by the peerless foe lurking in the shadows.
Too terrifying!
Little Black’s cultivation was no trifling matter.
The defensive power of the Grand Array of the Three Enclosures and Twenty-Eight Mansions was at the divine array level.
Yet it could not even withstand a single sword from the foe!
And now, one hundred and eight swords were incoming.
“God King Talisman!”
Wen Zhu produced a white talisman, cradling it aloft and hurling it out.
Upon the talisman, powerful path of talismans patterns emerged one after another, forming a vast talisman seal that blanketed the ghost ship, fending off the assault of the remaining one hundred and seven stone swords.
This God King Talisman had been given to Wen Zhu by the Five Purities Sect before departure.
The stone sword lodged in Little Black’s body trembled violently.
Dense rule divine patterns and threads of flame light appeared on Little Black’s arms; he gripped the hilt and wrenched it free by force. But suppressing it proved difficult.
Little Black clutched the sword in both hands, swinging it uncontrollably across the ghost ship like a drunkard.
Xue Tu fled in terror, retreating at full speed.
Yet Little Black pursued him relentlessly.
“Cat God, where has this Xue offended you, that you seek my utter destruction?” Xue Tu unleashed every trick he knew to evade the slashes.
Still, several times he nearly met a bisecting end.
Divine blood poured ceaselessly from Little Black’s body; his heart seethed with frustration. He bellowed, “This stone sword is too potent; this emperor cannot hold it down! Who will lend a hand? Zhang Ruochen, aid this emperor!”
Zhang Ruochen retreated far off, not daring to approach.
What a jest; even true gods could not suppress it, so what aid could he offer?
But Zhang Ruochen discerned some clues, his gaze fixed on the demonic patterns upon the stone sword, sensing the familiar aura emanating from it.
“Crack!”
In the sky above, the God King Talisman upheld by Wen Zhu tore open a rent.
Wen Zhu’s face changed drastically. He said, “Disaster! If this god has not misjudged, it must be Wen Tong’s true body arrived, wielding the power of the Xing Tian Cauldron. Even the God King Talisman cannot hold for long.”
“Who? Wen Tong, could it be the great god Wen Tong of the Nether Palace?”
Xue Tu’s face turned ashen as a corpse’s.
An existence termed a “great god” was no foe for a few fledgling gods who had not even cultivated a divine realm.
Before a great god, the lives of saint-realm cultivators were cheaper than grass. Divine venerable disciples, mortal-world legends, all could be scattered to ash with a single breath.
