Chapter 187: Submerged into the Soul‑Guiding Banner

Zhou Yi gazed at the swirling clouds and mist of the Tai Qing Realm, his fingertip brushed the jade talisman at his waist and whispered.

Grand Master Miao Le brought him here to see the Saint; it seemed merely a usual discussion of the Six Realms of Reincarnation, but that was the Tai Qing Sheng Ren who commands the Heavenly Dao, and the Saint can alter the world's Qi with a snap of his fingers—he would never act without purpose.

The sandalwood incense lingering in the Jade Pure Hall still clung to his nostrils, and Zhou Yi caressed the Reincarnation Stone gifted by the Hou Tu Ancestor Shaman in his sleeve.

When the Saint mentioned "There should be a supreme method for the soul's return," he clearly saw the Tai Chi diagram on the table rotate half a breath faster.

This Dao Ancestor, seated beyond the thirty‑three layers of heaven, had likely already seen through the Ancestor Shaman's secret of turning his body into the cycle of reincarnation.

"Tranquil non‑action is nothing but the reflection in a water mirror." Zhou Yi stepped down the cloud steps toward Xiajie, his sleeves fluttering with a whistling gust of fierce wind.

The world only sees the Tai Qing Sheng Ren's aloof pose, eyes lowered in contemplation of the Dao, but they do not know that when the Chaos Azure Lotus manifested in the world, this Dao Ancestor was the first to tear the void and act.

Now the merit of the Six Realms of Reincarnation is about to be fulfilled, and the Yin‑Yang Twin Fish will surely stir the winds again.

Upon first stepping into Human Race territory, the jade tablet at his waist emitted a golden glow. The instant Zhou Yi crushed the jade talisman, Yu Qiang the Ancestor Shaman's cold laugh, tinged with ice shards, rang in his ears: "Jieyin those two bald donkeys' disciples, they have erected three hundred sixty‑five merit lotus platforms outside the Reincarnation Well."

At the entrance of the Six Realms of Reincarnation, Buddhist chants thundered, eight hundred members of the Western Sect formed a formation and chanted sutras, and the golden lotus phantoms carried countless wronged souls straight into the cycle.

The leading alchemist, holding a Seven‑Treasure Marvelous Tree, solemnly explained to the encircling Wu Clan: "Hellish tortures harm the harmony of Heaven; we are willing to use a hundred years of cultivation to help the dead souls erase their karma."

Kṣitigarbha rode the Divine Beast of Attentive Listening, approaching slowly, and the fiery red lotus beneath his feet continuously blossomed and withered: "For every hundred thousand wronged souls we liberate, the resentment of the Reincarnation Well lessens a bit."

With a raise of his hand, the ghosts that were destined to suffer the mountain of swords and sea of fire turned into fleeting light and entered the human realm, prompting the heavens and earth to shower down a drizzle of merit golden rain.

The Reincarnation Disk in the Hou Tu Hall suddenly trembled, and the totems of the Twelve Ancestral Witches lit up in succession.

Yu Qiang watched the Western Sect shrouded in merit golden clouds, and his dark ice staff thudded heavily: "They do know how to exploit loopholes in the Heavenly Dao!"

Frost spread along the ground, but when it reached the golden lotus formation, it was dissolved by a gentle Buddha light.

At the entrance of the Six Realms of Reincarnation, blood‑filled mist churned, and Yu Qiang the Ancestor Shaman, barefoot, shattered white bones, puffed up and tugged Zhou Yi's sleeve: "Those bald donkeys chant at the gate every day; my ears are about to form cocoons!"

Along the banks of the Sea of Blood, the twelfth‑grade golden lotus phantoms flickered, and the Western Sect disciples this time mastered the practice; they sat cross‑legged three zhang beyond the Yellow Springs boundary, chanting sutras, neither crossing the line nor pausing.

The previous two times the opponent crossed the border and entered, the Wu Clan seized them by the handle and left them looking like ash‑covered faces; this time it was like an iron fist striking cotton.

Zhou Yi's fingertip twined around the phantom of the Book of Life and Death and laughed: "They are stealing merit."

Each time a wandering soul is liberated, heaven and earth drop merit golden flakes like tiny fireflies; they seem insignificant, but the Sea of Blood produces ten‑million wandering souls daily, and over years this becomes a torrent of auspicious destiny.

"I'll now overturn their lotus platforms!" Yu Qiang the Ancestor Shaman's aura condensed into ice frost around his body.

"Hold on," Zhou Yi raised his hand to block, "they're just waiting for us to act."

Beneath Maitreya's robe, a Seven‑Treasure Marvelous Tree was hidden, and the alchemist had a Jieyin Divine Banner hanging from his waist, clearly waiting for the Wu Clan to break the rules first.

In Zhou Yi's palm a Six Realms of Reincarnation projection appeared: "Tomorrow you will lead three thousand Wu soldiers to the Sea of Blood…" Before he could finish, Yu Qiang was already snapping his fingers and counting: "First squad, ice‑cutting; second squad…"

"Stop!" Zhou Yi, half laughing, half crying, suddenly realized the Ancestor Shamans always act straightforwardly, and quickly rephrased: "You only need to have the Wu soldiers loudly sing the 'Wu God Formation‑Breaking Song'," he said, forming a hand seal that conjured a thunderous, earth‑shaking battle‑dance scene.

Yu Qiang's eyes lit up: "This one's good!" He turned and transformed into his hundred‑zhang true form, the true body of an Ancestor Shaman, and the nine‑dark cold wind wrapped his side as he charged toward the Sea of Blood with battle song.

The next day, the Western Sect disciples' chanting was shattered by the Wu Clan's war cries, the liberated wandering souls broke free from the Buddha light's shackles, and the Jieyin Saint's golden lotus phantoms trembled on the edge of collapse amid the hostile aura.

The Netherworld was filled with a bluish‑gray mist, and from the depths of the Reincarnation vortex came the wailing of countless souls.

Zhou Yi's fingertip brushed the gluttonous beast pattern on the bronze sword hilt, and his dark battle robe rustled in the chilling wind.

His gaze pierced the layers of fog, fixing on the realm where Buddhist chants swirled around the barrier.

The twelfth‑grade lotus platform phantoms rotated beneath Kṣitigarbha's feet, and the diamond formation of eight hundred bhikkhus was transmuting the dead spirits.

Whenever the script of the "Rebirth Mantra" glowed golden, the souls lingering on the banks of the River Forgetting shed their scarlet hostile aura, turning into specks of firefly light that slipped into the Reincarnation passage.

A few newly ordained novices could not hide their joy; the merit seals on their foreheads were solidifying at a visible speed.

"Venerable Kṣitigarbha, at this rate…" the arhat wielding the demon‑subduing staff began, but before he could finish, the entire netherland quaked violently.

The waters of the River Forgetting surged backward, and tens of thousands of ox‑headed shadow soldiers rose from the Sea of Blood, the clash of dark iron chains shattering the peaceful Buddhist chant.

Kṣitigarbha's nine‑ring tin staff emitted a clear resonant tone, and he gazed at the chaotic vortex at the heart of the Reincarnation, murmuring, "Finally ready to reveal the trump card?"

The golden threads on the robe flickered with the ebb and flow of spiritual energy, and the Six Realms Treasure Wheel phantom slowly rotated behind him.

As night cloaked the Netherworld, the Western Sect disciples had already cast a celestial‑earth net outside the Six Realms of Reincarnation.

Their day‑and‑night practice of the "Gold Cicada Shedding Its Shell" technique had reached consummation, awaiting any movement from the Wu Clan to instantly transform the suffering victim into a heavily wounded, fallen soul.

These celestial cultivators paid meticulous attention to the angle of a fall; the back must raise three inches of dust, and when rolling sideways the crown must tilt without falling off.

Even the wailing's pitch was divided into seven levels and twelve intervals, ensuring it could evoke compassion while retaining an immortal's elegance.

When the sound of clanking iron chains echoed from the depths of the underworld, the leading Brother Yuanjue's fingertips trembled slightly.

Three hundred disciples simultaneously summoned protective golden light, yet they pressed all their cultivation into the spring point at the soles of their feet, ready that when the Wu Clan's fist wind gathered, they could use the momentum to launch themselves nine zhang outward.

Unexpectedly, the ox‑headed and horse‑faced shadow soldiers formed a formation and emerged, surprisingly bypassing the cultivators like a water divide.

The dark iron chains whipped up a shadow wind, directly assaulting the wandering lone souls behind.

The frontmost bright‑heart junior brother had already assumed the Xizi‑holding‑heart pose, now frozen in place, looking like an unfinished clay statue.

"This… this is not what was promised!" Venerable Kṣitigarbha's prayer beads suddenly halted, the sandalwood beads sweating fine moisture in his palm.

The ox‑headed ghost envoy shook open the soul‑snaring rope, and where the mourning staff struck, ten thousand specters turned into blue smoke and merged into the Jieyin Divine Banner.

In his haste, Brother Yuanjue stepped forward and shouted, "What do you all intend?"

Before his words fell, the horse‑faced shadow commander turned, revealing stark white fangs: "We are officials of the underworld; capturing wandering souls is our duty. Yet you immortals set up formations here—are you trying to impede the underworld's business?"

The Western Sect disciples exchanged puzzled looks, the carefully prepared indictment still tucked in their sleeves, the tragic drama's lyrics stuck in their throats.

Behind the formation, three hundred sets of "Severe Injury Makeup" now appeared especially comical, some with vermilion powder still wet on their foreheads, others with fresh blood on their collars.