Chapter 91: Xiong Family Nightmare, Unstoppable Sweep

Yin Mountain Ghost King, Xiong Sanqi.

The Xiong Village, hidden among mountains and rivers, seemed like a boat untethered in a storm.

The moment that man stepped onto the village’s edge, every soul trembled, sensing a chill, a unease, a fear…

The younger generation of the Xiong family grew up listening to that man’s lawlessness.

The elders of the Xiong family watched his unchecked tyranny and remained powerless.

Now, ten years have passed in a flash, and he has returned to this land.

“The Yin Mountain Ghost King… he’s back.”

“Such oppression doesn’t manifest through spells, yet crushes all souls with sheer spiritual pressure…”

“Above High Merit!”

Inside the Xiong ancestral hall, whether Xiong Qianshan, Xiong Qianxing, or Xiong Ba, all felt the spiritual oppression—a fear as if bound by blood, same lineage yet dwarfed beneath an overwhelming presence gazing down upon them like ants.

“Uncle Sanqi!?” Zhang Fan stirred, his gaze sharpening into a thread, instinctively turning toward the hall’s entrance.

…

At the village entrance, Xiong Sanqi stood alone, like a celestial gate.

The entire Xiong family stood ready, as if facing a dire enemy.

“Xiong Sanqi, you swore an oath never to set foot in Yujing City again.”

Xiong Baoping’s face was icy, his eyes brimming with deep wariness.

“All things arise from the mind; words are never truth…”

Xiong Sanqi grinned faintly: “A Daoist knows no taboos. If you cannot see through illusion, how can you comprehend the True Mystery?”

“Xiong Baoping, you’re still so naive. No wonder your cultivation has barely advanced these past years.”

“You—”

Xiong Baoping’s face instantly turned purple as a boiled pig’s liver, flushing red then blue. He, the head of the Xiong family, sat in high authority, his word heavier than nine tripods, his dignity immense—when had anyone dared speak to him like this?

“No need to argue. A man like him is bound by no oath…”

At that moment, Xiong Guanchen raised his hand to cut off the meaningless quarrel.

“Words are the weakest illusion.”

“Ten years have passed. Why have you returned?” Xiong Guanchen cut straight to the point.

“I’ve come to retrieve what I left in trust with the Xiong family,” Xiong Sanqi said calmly.

“The demonic god!?”

Before he finished speaking, Xiong Baofeng’s brow twitched and he blurted out: “That’s impossible!”

“That demonic god has merged with our Xiong family’s destiny, seized ten years of great fortune—how can you simply take it back?”

At these words, the Xiong family’s senior leaders all nodded in agreement.

That object was indeed vital to the Xiong family.

“Sigh. Weasels giving birth to rats—each generation is worse than the last,” Xiong Sanqi shook his head.

Ten years of fortune had elevated the Yin Mountain Xiong family to one of Yujing City’s top-tier clans, yet they remained unsatisfied, still clinging to that demonic god to suppress their fate.

If one can grow wings of one’s own, why cling to a ladder in the clouds?

Such a clan is doomed—without future, without hope.

Thinking thus, Xiong Sanqi gave no glance to the crowd, stepped forward, and entered the Xiong Village.

Hum…

In an instant, all felt an unprecedented pressure.

“Sanqi…”

At that moment, Xiong Guanchen spoke: “You are still Xiong blood. Can you not feel even a scrap of ancestral kinship?”

Facing the Yin Mountain Ghost King, even Xiong Guanchen had to play the emotional card.

“I gave the Xiong family a mouth of the Yellow Springs, concealed the demonic god here, seized ten years of great fortune—I’ve already repaid every debt I owed…”

Xiong Sanqi’s expression was calm, his deep gaze fixed on the old man before him.

“Uncle, have you forgotten?”

“No birth, no death, no father, no mother—you’ve only ever obeyed that man,” Xiong Guanchen’s voice turned icy, ancient eyes finally sparking with killing intent.

“Xiong Sanqi, don’t be arrogant. Do you forget where you are? This isn’t ten years ago.”

At that moment, an elder of the Xiong family shouted, voice urgent, thick with rage.

“Then let me see what’s changed,” Xiong Sanqi murmured softly, like a drop falling into a deep pool, sending ripples outward.

Hum…

In the sky, dark clouds churned, thick as ink.

Though it was the height of summer, a bone-chilling wind surged. Faces turned pale. The once-thriving Xiong Village instantly became a desolate graveyard—rows of rotting mounds, bones scattered everywhere, flocks of crows soaring, pecking at corpses like grains.

“Ten Thousand Ghosts Born from Corpses!”

“This is an Outer Scene!?” Xiong Guanchen’s aged face trembled violently.

In Daoist combat, if the scene manifests within the body, it is an Inner Scene—the form of flesh, sinew, organs, and soul.

If it manifests outside the body, one may witness ten thousand forms of Outer Scenes.

Xiong Sanqi’s cultivation was terrifying—his soul stirred in an instant, drawing all into a transformed realm, revealing this Outer Scene.

In an instant, corpses littered the ground, icy winds howled, countless wails of ghosts filled the ears of all.

“This… what is this? So many dead… so many dead…”

Someone could no longer bear it, clutching his head, screaming and sobbing in terror.

Before his eyes, it was hell on earth—people dying before him, countless beyond counting.

Daytime deaths, no need to count, the sun’s light dimmed beneath sorrowful clouds.

Three walked less than ten steps before two suddenly dropped dead across the path.

Nighttime deaths, no one dares cry, plague ghosts exhale, lamps flicker green.

Suddenly the wind rises, the lamp vanishes—men, ghosts, corpses, and coffins share the same dark room.

…

This atmosphere crashed upon them—men turned to ghosts, mingling with the mortal world, chaotic and indistinguishable.

Even Yin Mountain Daoists had never seen so many dead, so many vengeful spirits…

“This is an illusion of the Outer Scene.”

Xiong Guanchen roared, his hands forming seals, stepping the Great Dipper’s path. A wisp of black qi rose from his crown, forming a great banner in the chilling Outer Scene—its runes twisted and eerie, like gnarled bones, with four ancient seal characters at the top:

Yin Mountain Ancestor!

The Yin Mountain Sect revered the Yin Mountain Ancestor as its founder; this banner was Xiong Guanchen’s life’s work, the core of his Dao and cultivation.

Boom…

The Yin Mountain Banner shook violently, the icy wind howled, sweeping away and shattering the sky of ghosts.

The Xiong family instantly felt a slight relief.

“Uncle, you’ve lived half a lifetime and still don’t know what a ghost is,” Xiong Sanqi murmured softly.

The Dan Books say: even those who achieve Dao still die, leaving their withered bones in the mortal world—no matter how high their attainment, they remain lowly ghosts. Hence, they are called ghosts.

The living are endless; so too are the ghosts.

Boom…

Xiong Sanqi stood unmoved, his Outer Scene growing ever more vivid—dense figures appeared around him, nearly filling the entire village, as if they had always lived here, crawling from graves, rising from bones, rotting flesh teeming with maggots, neither alive nor dead…

Crows cawed endlessly, dogs whimpered at intervals.

Men bore the hue of ghosts; ghosts stole men’s spirits.

By day, many men met were ghosts; at dusk, ghosts encountered were mistaken for men.

Corpses littered the ground, human smoke overturned; human bones slowly aged beneath the wind…

Though standing in the mortal world, his eyes were filled with the dread of hell—ghostly shadows wailed across the sky, corpses piled in jagged heaps, the surging ghostly qi instantly tore the trembling [Yin Mountain Banner] to shreds.

“Ah…”

Finally, an elder of the Xiong family could no longer bear the Outer Scene—his soul shattered, his body stiffened and collapsed, breath hanging by a thread.

“Xiong Sanqi, are you going to slaughter us all?” Xiong Baoping formed a seal, guarding his spirit, his face twisted in agony.

Clearly, within this Outer Scene, he suffered immensely—but as others fell beside him, he had no choice but to roar.

“Inner demons breed outer scenes,” Xiong Sanqi said expressionlessly. “Your cultivation is still insufficient.”

“So powerful… the Yin Mountain Ghost King lives up to every legend.”

“Can this man truly sweep all before him?”

The only place untouched in the vast Xiong Village was the ancestral hall—as if Xiong Sanqi deliberately spared it, to let Zhang Fan act freely.

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At this moment, whether Xiong Qianxing, Xiong Qianshan, or Xiong Ba, all were plunged into deep shock.

Though they had not fallen into the Outer Scene, they sensed its reality through their souls.

That man, alone, had seized control of the entire Xiong family—his Outer Scene born, conjuring demonic forms, leaving not a single soul able to break free.

The legends were true. No wonder this man had thrown the Xiong family into chaos ten years ago.

Now it was clear—the Yin Mountain Ghost King knew no taboos. No Dao lineage, no clan, no blood, no ancestral ties… to him, all were empty.

One thought stirred, and heaven and earth overturned; another thought stirred, and divine power reigned supreme—nothing could halt his steps.

“Perfect chance, Fan-ge, go inside. I’ll handle this.”

Xiong Ba instantly snapped awake—such a rare opportunity was one in a million; only now could Zhang Fan enter the Xiong family ancestral hall without hindrance.

“Can you do it?” Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow; he didn’t know how long the external barriers would hold.

“Relax—I haven’t been wasting my time with you these days,” Xiong Ba licked his lips, his eyes blazing with unprecedented determination.

He had suppressed himself too long—possessing Daoist arts yet unable to act freely. Now was the perfect moment to unleash his power and prove his past gains.

“Good.”

Zhang Fan nodded firmly, showing no hesitation. He stepped forward, leaving behind a lingering afterimage as he shot toward the depths of the Xiong family ancestral hall.

“Die.”

Xiong Qianshan’s face darkened instantly; he lunged forward to block him.

“Xiong Qianshan, your opponent is me.”

At that moment, Xiong Ba stepped ahead, placing himself between Xiong Qianshan and Zhang Fan.

“Xiong Ba, you worthless fool—do you think mastering a few scraps of Yin Gathering and Evil Formation techniques in secret gives you the right to show off before me?” Xiong Qianshan sneered.

He was no fool like Xiong Qianxing; his cultivation among the younger Xiong generation was already exceptional.

Hum…

Without a word, Xiong Qianshan’s body trembled slightly; true yang surged, reversing into yin, flowing through his limbs and bones in a complete circuit, transforming into mysterious, dark evil qi that instantly coated his skin.

The surrounding temperature dropped sharply; this ominous aura made even Xiong Qianxing recoil.

Yin Refining into Evil—compared to this, what Xiong Ba had shown that day was negligible by comparison.

“Don’t retreat, and you die!” Xiong Qianshan said coldly.

Screech…

At that instant, Xiong Ba shed his outer robe and formed hand seals.

“Huh!?” Xiong Qianshan’s gaze darkened as he saw the seals Xiong Ba formed; a chilling expression crossed his face.

“This isn’t Yin Mountain Sect’s Dao art.”

“A true incense burns in fierce flame, golden boy and jade girl descend from the Jade Realm. May this incense reach the Azure Palace, petitioning the Great Yi, Savior of the Dying.”

Xiong Ba stepped the Heavenly Gang, his expression solemn, softly chanting; when he finished, true yang surged like fire, blazing upward toward his crown.

“The Great Yi Method—the Soul-Transcending Rite!?”

At that moment, Xiong Qianshan’s pupils shuddered violently; for the first time, genuine gravity appeared on his face.

…

At the village entrance of Xiong Family Village.

The crowd remained trapped in the external scene, struggling desperately; many had already collapsed, but only Xiong Guanchen’s expression suddenly changed—he turned instinctively toward the ancestral hall.

“That brat entered the hall…”

As he spoke, Xiong Guanchen’s face turned grim as he stared at Xiong Sanqi.

“You came for him? Who exactly is that brat?”

At these words, even Xiong Baoping showed a startled expression.

Xiong Sanqian was a tyrant who feared nothing—his heart held no loyalty to clan or blood. Yet now, for the sake of a mere child, he was willing to break his vow, return to Yujing, and pressure the entire Xiong family alone.

It was simply unbelievable.

“Uncle, when you grow old, it’s wiser to be foolish—otherwise, you die sooner,” Xiong Sanqi said calmly.

“Do you really think I can’t control you?” Xiong Guanchen said coldly.

“Then what are you waiting for? For your coffin to be made?” Xiong Sanqi said flatly.

“Soul-Stealing Child, ten thousand ghosts descend to the underworld.”

“Above, spread the Heavenly Net; below, lay the Earthly Web.”

“Refined by soul-glory, return the bones, summon death.”

“Yin Mountain’s Ancestral Patriarch, command the demonic spirits.”

…

A black mist surged from Xiong Guanchen’s third eye, instantly forming a talisman; he formed hand seals, chanting softly.

Suddenly, a terrifying roar erupted from the ancestral Daoist temple of the Xiong family.

Immediately, a bizarre figure shot skyward like a black cloud; icy winds howled, murky waves surged, and two enormous hands reached out—like ghostly claws—tearing and shattering the external scene.

“This is…”

“Ghost General!!!”

“It’s done… our Xiong family’s legacy is now complete.”

The crowd rejoiced wildly—their sect’s core art was ghost-refining.

Over the years, the Xiong family had poured all their resources and sacrificed countless costs, even exhausting the Yellow Springs that Xiong Sanqi had once left behind, all to forge this Ghost General.

This thing was a nightmare even for high-level Daoists.

In the sky, the pitch-black figure churned like a cloud of ink; though it was broad daylight, the heavens were dark, and the wailing of ghosts never ceased, chilling the hearts of all who heard…

The atmosphere of “Summoning ghosts with wine and cups, mountain spirits feasting while men freeze” overwhelmed the air.

“Xiong Sanqi, ten years ago, I forged this Ghost General to prepare for today,” Xiong Guanchen said gravely.

Ten years ago, he had never taken oaths seriously—he had foreseen this day.

To that end, he spared no cost, mobilizing the entire clan to forge the Ghost General, solely to counter Xiong Sanqi.

“What do you have to say now?” Xiong Guanchen said with full confidence.

“Excellent… excellent…” Xiong Sanqi clapped slowly, gazing at the swirling ink-cloud in the sky with approval.

“Over the years, the Xiong family has indeed improved…”

At these words, Xiong Baoping’s face instantly lit up with pride; no longer fearful, he now looked utterly unshaken.

“But…”

At that moment, Xiong Sanqi changed tone abruptly: “I have twelve of these…”

As he spoke, Xiong Sanqi’s body trembled violently; thick black mist poured from his body, as if night had descended, accompanied by twelve terrifying spectral shadows.

(End of Chapter)