The soul-shattering melody had begun to lose its grip. The affected cultivators' divine senses stirred, slightly breaking free from the Mind-Control Demon Tune—but not enough to regain clarity.
Instead, they turned on each other with bloodshot eyes.
No tactics. No defense.
Just throat-slashing and heart-stabbing in a grotesque ballet of mutual destruction.
The Mind-Control Demon Tune was terrifying against those with weaker divine sense—like puppets on strings. Wang Yu could wield it only because of his overwhelming advantage in soul power.
But against Core cultivators, this tier-two secret art was reaching its limit. Unless he could evolve it to tier-three, it wouldn't hold.
Compared to the legacy of the ancient Heavenly Soul Sect, Wang Yu was actually more curious about the origins of the Crow Hermit's inheritance. But now wasn't the time to ponder.
The battlefield had quieted.
Wang Yu swept in, absorbing all the lingering souls into the Ghostcry Flute, waiting for the artifact to refine them into tangible Soul-Eating Crows.
He gathered the storage pouches and corpses, murmuring:
"Armor and artifacts both need souls… not enough to feed them all~"
His gaze shifted to the two remaining Core Formation battlefields.
The Tier-Three Iron Puppet and the Lunar Ghoul Corpse were locked in combat—holding their own, but slowly losing ground.
Qingyang, however, was in dire straits.
He'd only just reached Core Formation first layer. His life-bound artifact was newly forged, his divine art not yet inscribed. He was also multitasking—sealing the battlefield and controlling the puppet.
His scholar's robe was in tatters. One shoulder was bleeding, half his body frozen by ghostly frost. He was close to collapse.
Even if Wang Yu joined now, their odds of victory were slim.
He had to shift the tide.
This wasn't the time to hold back. Saving Qingyang came first. They'd fought side by side through life and death—Qingyang was the person Wang Yu trusted most in Spiritridge.
With a thought—
The Lunar Ghoul Corpse ignored its opponent and bowed toward Qingyang's battlefield.
Corpse Curse: Lunar Suppression!
The ghoul turned, bowing to the moon. A terrifying corpse-path curse descended from afar.
The Nether Spring Core cultivator attacking Qingyang froze.
Moonshade Affliction—his essence, spirit, and soul were all weakened by 50%.
His relentless assault faltered.
Qingyang seized the moment. He spat a mouthful of blood onto his artifact—the Crownbrush of Elixirs—unleashing its full power.
Using the void as canvas, he attempted to draw ink marks directly on the enemy's body.
He didn't have time to channel his ancestral treasure, so he gambled on his unfinished divine art: Divine Ink Technique.
The brush fell like a comet, aiming to sever the connection between the enemy's head and body.
A terrifying ability—worthy of its ancient imperial lineage.
But the enemy was a Core cultivator of Nether Spring Temple.
He had inherited a portion of the sect's true legacy. At Core Formation third layer, he was far beyond Qingyang's reach.
Ghost mist surged from his body, blocking the ink marks.
He roared:
"Rogue scum! Today I'll show you what real divine arts look like!"
Suddenly, the sky darkened.
The clouds summoned by Snowjade were swallowed by a greater vortex. The Core cultivator raised his arms, summoning pale flames from the heavens.
A colossal skull—over a thousand meters tall, like a mountain—materialized in the sky.
Wang Yu recognized it instantly.
Nether Skull.
A lesser legacy of the Bone Demon God Aspect—a divine art required for Soul Formation cultivators. This man, like Wang Yu, had chosen the path of divine aspects.
Even without becoming a true disciple, breaking through to Core Formation granted access to elite sect techniques. They weren't the highest tier—but they were enough to crush rogue cultivators and build a solid foundation.
Far superior to flashy techniques like Three-Pill Flame Spit. Though both were third-layer Core cultivators, the gap was vast.
Wang Yu finally understood the difference.
He and Qingyang had slain three Core cultivators before—including the old Earth Puppet Demon. It had made Core cultivators seem manageable.
But those were rogues and second-rate sect members.
Now, even an unknown Core cultivator from Nether Spring Temple was overwhelming.
"Qingyang—run!"
This wasn't salvageable. Wang Yu stopped thinking about victory. Survival was the priority.
"Run? You think you can?!"
The Core cultivator laughed maniacally. The Nether Skull spewed bonefire. Qingyang, already wounded, had no strength left to resist.
Just as despair set in—
Wang Yu's Tier-Three Melee Puppet appeared, grabbed Qingyang, and hurled him away.
Qingyang understood instantly.
He said nothing and fled, heart full of gratitude.
The puppet, meanwhile, was engulfed in bonefire, melting rapidly.
But Wang Yu didn't hesitate.
He activated its self-destruct protocol.
Unlike flesh-and-blood cultivators, puppets were built to explode. Wang Yu drove it forward, charging through the bonefire.
As it neared the Nether Skull—
BOOM.
A ten-li radius was engulfed.
Wang Yu, prepared in advance, used the Lunar Corpse Coffin to retrieve the ghoul.
Snowjade, clever and agile, had been skirmishing nearby. It dove into its spirit pouch.
Wang Yu leapt into the coffin and plummeted into Thunderfall Abyss.
The second Core cultivator didn't pursue. He grabbed Qingyang's Iron Puppet and fled the blast zone.
He'd gained enough. No need to risk the explosion.
Then—
A thunderous boom echoed across Spiritridge.
The earth was plowed layer by layer, forming a massive crater. When the dust settled—
A cough rang out.
The Nether Skull user was bleeding. The corpse curse still lingered. He turned to his companion ten li away.
Voice hoarse, eyes furious:
"Qi Sheng—I'll chase Qingyang. You go into Thunderfall Abyss and capture Wang Yu. Alive."
Qi Sheng didn't argue. Thunderfall Abyss was dangerous—but manageable for a Nether Spring Core cultivator.
He knew more about the abyss than any rogue.
They needed Wang Yu alive—he knew about Elder Dizang.
Qi Sheng nodded. "Got it. Hurry. This commotion is too loud. The surrounding cities belong to Blood Reversal. If we're caught…"
"Don't remind me. Just figure out how to catch him in that maze."
With that—
Ghost mist swallowed him. He vanished.
Qi Sheng tapped his spirit pouch. A pink-nosed bat emerged.
"Fragrant Snout Bat—track the owner of this scent."
The scent wasn't Wang Yu's—it belonged to the Lunar Ghoul Corpse.
The Fragrant Snout Bat's sense of smell was a thousand times stronger than canine beasts. It could track targets across thousands of li. Its perception far exceeded ordinary bats.
Even in Thunderfall Abyss, it wouldn't get lost.
With this beast, Qi Sheng had no fear of losing Wang Yu.
—
—
Bottomless Pit.
Wang Yu dove in, dodging the puppet's explosion. He summoned the Lunar Corpse Coffin and activated his Frostmoon Wings, diving deeper.
He'd planned this the moment he saved Qingyang.
No matter the outcome—
The City Lord's Manor would be razed by the enraged Nether Spring Core cultivator.
The trapped enemy would try to escape.
The commotion would alert the entire city. With the central district in ruins and only Tianbao Pavilion left, Wang Yu had no choice but to notify the Blood Reversal Sect.
Fortunately, he and Han Jia were close.
If Han Jia sent word to Yunling Capital, and it coincided with Wang Yu's earlier message, they might even dispatch a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Crisis resolved.
It was summer—hot and dry. Thunderstorms were rare. Thunderfall Abyss was relatively safe.
Wang Yu knew its depths were a maze of lightning-carved caverns—perfect for hiding. That's why he jumped.
If Nascent Soul reinforcements arrived, he only needed to hold out for a few days. If only Core cultivators came… he could last weeks or months.
All things considered, the risk was low.
Wang Yu had always favored stealth. Hide-and-seek was his specialty.
Time passed.
In the endless dark, only his eyes glowed with moonlight. The abyss's lightning suppressed his Lunar Ghost Eyes—he could only see a hundred meters.
As he fell, he saw countless irregular caves—carved by lightning. Terrifying.
A breeze blew through the caverns.
It carried the wails of vengeful spirits, adding a chilling atmosphere.
Finally—
He landed.
He cast Invisibility and Silent Curse, then used Phantom Step to create nine clones.
This time, he infused them with stronger aura signatures.
They fled in nine directions.
Meanwhile, Wang Yu used his accumulated treasures to set up a concealment array, layered with talismans and traps.
Wang Yu vanished into the labyrinthine dark, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his presence. The concealment array shimmered once before fading into the ambient gloom, its layered talismans and traps lying in wait like a coiled serpent.
He didn't stop moving.
The deeper he went, the more oppressive the air became. The walls of the abyss pulsed faintly with residual lightning energy, casting eerie glimmers across the jagged stone. The scent of scorched minerals and ancient decay lingered in the air, mingling with the occasional gust of wind that carried whispers—whether echoes or spirits, he couldn't tell.
His breathing slowed. His heartbeat steadied.
He was in his element now.
The Thunderfall Abyss was a place of death and mystery, but to Wang Yu, it was a sanctuary. Here, his mastery of stealth, misdirection, and terrain manipulation could shine.
He paused at a fork in the tunnels, placing a faintly glowing Soul-Tracking Decoy Talisman on the wall. It would emit a subtle spiritual signature mimicking his own—just enough to mislead a pursuer with a keen nose or a tracking beast.
Then he slipped into the narrower tunnel, one that twisted downward like a serpent's gullet.
Behind him, the Fragrant Snout Bat flitted through the air, its nostrils twitching. Qi Sheng followed at a measured pace, his expression calm, confident.
He had no doubt he would find his prey.
But Wang Yu had no intention of being found.
He moved like a shadow, weaving through the maze with practiced ease. Every few hundred meters, he left behind another trap, another decoy, another illusion.
He wasn't just hiding.
He was preparing a battlefield.
A place where the hunter would become the hunted.
A place where the might of Core Formation could be tested against the cunning of a cultivator who had survived by outwitting stronger foes time and again.
As he descended deeper into the abyss, the air grew colder. The lightning-infused stone began to hum faintly, resonating with the energy in his body.
The Frostmoon Wings folded behind him, and he crouched at the edge of a vast cavern.
Below, the darkness churned like a living thing.
Wang Yu smiled.
"Let's see how well you handle a game of ghosts and shadows, Nether Spring."
(End of Chapter)