Chapter 95

A thunderous boom rang out; the protective grand formation of Tianwu City suddenly weakened drastically, and people's spiritual awareness and perception began to loosen. Zhou Shuo used corpse-controlling talismans to refine thirty Heaven Corpses and seventeen Witch Corpses, while Chan Yinsha stood to the side, gazing at the distant city center, where at this very moment at least ten ghost immortals and four or five martial saints were locked in combat, with yin winds surging and mighty roars echoing from time to time, clearly indicating the battle had reached its climax.

"Done!" Zhou Shuo focused intently on drawing the talismans, in one go refining forty-seven sturdy-bodied zombies; after busying for over ten minutes, he finally finished drawing all the needed talismans in one breath, his arm feeling sore and swollen.

"What should we do now?" Chan Yinsha looked at the distant city center shrouded in thick smoke and couldn't help asking Zhou Shuo.

"You stay here and lie in ambush; I'll go see if there's an opportunity. If there isn't, we'll withdraw." Zhou Shuo shook his arm to dispel the soreness, then lifted the suppression on the forty-seven zombies, together with the seven Heaven Corpses he had previously tamed, and his forces instantly gained a modest but extraordinary strength, no longer so isolated and weak.

All forty-seven zombies are of Heaven Corpse and Witch Corpse grade, equivalent to viscera-training experts, and they also possess the attributes of flight and iron-bodied strength, sporadically equipped with spears and halberds; even a novice martial saint ghost immortal would find it hard to defeat them quickly without sharp weapons or powerful destructive dao arts, and the mighty roars of martial saints that greatly restrain dao arts are useless against zombies—this is also the unique advantage of the Corpse-Refining Dao of the Witch Ghost Dao.

"That Sky-Shaking Bow, Ultimate Arrow, and Immortal Capital Jade..." Chan Yinsha, seeing Zhou Shuo had made his decision, couldn't help taking out the treasures she carried.

"No need for these; the bow and arrows can't be brought, and don't use the Immortal Capital Jade pendant casually—good steel belongs on the blade's edge, understand?" Zhou Shuo looked at the sister offering the treasures, quickly shook his head, and said that bringing these fifty-plus followers was already enough to hold the field, the Sky-Shaking Bow and Ultimate Arrow aren't meant for hand use, while the Immortal Capital Jade pendant is a lethal weapon to be used only at the right moment.

"Understood." Chan Yinsha nodded quickly.

"Then I'll go first—pah, I'll go in and have a look." Zhou Shuo, seeing his sister nod, instinctively said farewell, but feeling his words came out awkward, he quickly spat, called out, and led fifty-four Flying Corpses into the city.

The city center of Tianwu City is a vast plaza, now filled with black smoke, with violent roars echoing from time to time. Because Zhou Shuo suddenly interfered, the sneak-attack plans of both Yunmeng and Qian State failed; both sides had poured in great effort, not only beating up the Witch Ghost Dao members but also striking at each other, each vying to seize the Qiankun Pouch ahead of the other.

"You monsters, just watch this!"

Just as Zhou Shuo stood before the plaza, wondering whether to rashly charge into the smoke-filled square, a long whistle like a crane's cry suddenly rang out, followed by a burst of purple light; an orange-red mushroom cloud bloomed in the air above the plaza, instantly blowing away the black smoke that had blanketed the entire square and revealing the situation inside.

"Damn, the power of this violet thunder fire powder..." Zhou Shuo looked at the mushroom cloud above the plaza, his mouth twitching involuntarily; having read the Fangxian Canon and refined lead-mercury niter himself, he could naturally tell from the situation what it was—violet thunder fire powder, moreover condensed by experts into a golden sword or jade talisman, capable of blasting even a martial saint to death. The enemy had tossed it into the sky to detonate, obviously to avoid friendly fire, yet they used it so casually, showing they truly live up to the wealthy and grandiose Fangxian Dao.

The mushroom cloud instantly cleared the black smoke over the plaza, allowing Zhou Shuo to see inside: the plaza spanned several hundred meters, now a chaotic melee, yet he could at least tell the sides apart by their attire. The largest faction consisted of black-robed Daoists and bald-headed monks; the black-robed Daoists were naturally Witch Ghost Dao adepts, while those dozen or so monks were survivors of the Great Chan Temple.

The Witch Ghost Dao adepts and the Great Chan Temple survivors, intending to cooperate against the attack, aside from the armored minions wielding spears and halberds in battle formation, the Yunmeng side had three ghost immortals, one half-ghost immortal, and one novice martial saint. Zhou Shuo could barely identify them by their features, except for the previously seen Xingyu Immortal; the one wielding a great axe, his whole body encased in black iron armor, was the Manchurian giant Bi Shihua; the ghost immortal wielding black-and-white longswords was the Destruction Hall Master Nalan Yanluo; the ghost immortal holding a staff was the Black Magic Hall Master Nalan Hai; the remaining martial saint he didn't recognize, but judging from the purple-gold crown on his head, he should be a prominent figure of Yunmeng.

Compared to the Yunmeng side, the Qian side was no less formidable: a youth in splendid robes wearing a purple-gold crown, seemingly the leader, a martial saint, brought two ghost immortals—one a Daoist in silver robes with a purple sash, the other a Daoist in silver robes with a yellow sash who wielded a purple fire flying sword—plus two novice martial saints, both white-haired elders with egg-like faces; the elder in purple robes wielded a longsword as wide as a door panel, while the elder in gray robes held a pair of weapons resembling rulers in both hands.

Perhaps because they were too absorbed in the fight, no one noticed Zhou Shuo outside the arena, and he had time to watch the spectacle, carefully distinguishing who was who. The Qian side's leader youth was likely the Champion Contender, a suspected transmigrator; the Daoist in silver robes with a purple sash was Zhang Boheng of the Zhengyi Dao; the ghost immortal Daoist in silver robes with a yellow sash was probably Xiao Anran, sect master of the Fangxian Dao; the purple fire flying sword he commanded was likely the famed Yang Sword of the Fangxian Dao; as for the two elders, the one in purple robes wielding a blade was Wei Taicang, and the one in gray robes brandishing the ruler was Wu Wenhui, steward of the Marquis Wumen's manor.

Those present, aside from the information Zhou Shuo got from Chan Yinsha and the plot details from the book, could mostly be confirmed; among the Qian side there were still several Daoists in silver robes with sashes whom he didn't quite recognize, but he did know that the Champion Contender carried a spatial-travel treasure on his person, likely harboring two or three ghost immortals inside, and he wondered whether Yue Ting was among them.

Originally, the combined strength of Yunmeng and Qian should have surpassed that of the Witch Ghost Dao side, but because they were mortal enemies and also eager to achieve victory, the scene stalled for a while; flames, black smoke, and golden figures of light collided in the sky, while below, soldiers, monks, and Flying Corpses in various armors fought together in a struggle to the death.

"Damn, this three-way war—how am I supposed to get in? Once the balance is broken, it won't be fun." Zhou Shuo stood outside, watching the chaotic mess, his eyebrows jumping involuntarily; he felt the urge to show off but didn't know how to start, for if he messed up he'd be targeted by all and that would be the end; he now had some skill, but was still far from being indestructible.

"I thought I was pretty strong, but looking at this..." Zhou Shuo gazed at the battlefield, his lips twitching; having swept through everything lately, he'd considered himself a notable expert, yet seeing this melee, personal combat strength sometimes seemed hardly worth mentioning.

"Yang Yang Gang Dou Grand Formation." At the moment Zhou Shuo was observing and pondering the battle, a clear shout rang out; several Daoists of the Qian side began unleashing their ultimate move, seven Daoists with yellow sashes from the Fangxian Dao sat together, their souls converging, instantly transforming into a strangely ancient-looking figure holding a ruyi scepter, whose aura resembled that of a Dao Sovereign who evolves myriad things.

"Joining souls together—quite interesting!" Zhou Shuo gazed at the manifested Dao Sovereign, stroking his chin; he recognized it as the Primordial Yang Dao Sovereign of the Fangxian Dao, but the formation whereby those seven people instantly gathered their souls to contemplate seemed somewhat intriguing; he would ask Xiao Shaonan about it later.

After the Primordial Yang Dao Sovereign was visualized, it made no move; instead, its image trembled, then with a crack it shattered, and from the broken idol flew an ancient great axe, as large as a mountain, its both sides bearing sun, moon, stars, thunder and lightning, azure light and purple vapor, mountains and rivers, tracing a mysterious arc as if cleaving heaven and earth, it swooped down to chop at several ghost immortals of the Witch Ghost Dao.

"Yin Soul Chain." Faced with the Qian side's daoist experts unleashing their power, a gaunt, black-clad Daoist of the Witch Ghost Dao let out a harsh whistle; in an instant, a black energy like a dragon formed, and the ancient great axe instantly shattered into seven fragments that fell into the bodies of the seven Fangxian Daoists below; as they absorbed the shards, their faces turned pale, clearly having been ambushed, their souls invaded by yin spirits.

"Impudent!" Xiao Anran of the Fangxian Dao, who was dueling with the Black Magic Hall Master Nalan Hai—a ghost immortal wielding a staff and with four-pupiled eyes—saw his seven disciples injured and instantly grew anxious; his Primordial Yang Sword, like a purple dragon, slashed at the Yin Soul Chain, and purple fire and black smoke instantly collided in the sky.

"Champion Contender, we're both after the Qiankun Pouch; fighting like this is pointless—better to first kill these Witch Ghost Dao folks." Bi Shihua, wielding a great axe and draped in a fur cloak, called off Nalan Hai's pursuit and shouted across to the splendidly dressed youth.

"I, the Champion Contender, have come today solely to duel Master Jingren; Master Jingren, what do you think?" The youth, crowned with a purple-gold cap and clad in splendid robes, possessed an air of suave handsomeness; facing Bi Shihua's friendly gesture, his gaze fixed solely on the middle-aged monk standing with the Witch Ghost Dao, he spoke in a deep, resonant voice, while the monk he stared at—big-handed, big-footed, with a scarred mark beneath the stubble on his head—did not even glance at the youth's gaze.

"Master Jingren, you were once one of the 108 great bodhisattvas of the Great Chan Temple; I respect you and wish to fight you fairly." Seeing the middle-aged monk's silent, unresponsive attitude, the youth raised his voice.

"What do you propose as fair, Champion Contender? If this old monk wins, will you withdraw?" Master Jingren lifted his gleaming gaze, looked far off at the splendidly dressed youth, and bluntly asked.

"We'll talk after you win, Master!" Seeing Master Jingren's remote question, the Champion Contender gave a faint smile.