Chapter 92: The Divine One Splits into Three, Devours the Fierce God

The sun and moon burn away human life; the twelve ghosts rest still.

Look up and see the void; everywhere, ghostly curses echo.

Xiong Sanqi stood Hengli at the village’s edge, his towering form shrouded in mist; at this moment, his eyes glowed with terrifying brilliance, as if he were no longer human.

Behind him, within the mist, twelve terrifying shadows flickered unpredictably, as if each might leap free at any instant.

Of the twelve figures, some were hunched and bent, like ancient men on the brink of death, their long beards lashing the air like whips…

Others were massively built, over three meters tall, horns sprouting from their heads, grotesque and dreadful…

Some were slender and seductive, their waists swaying like flowing rivers, fingers twitching wildly like succubi…

…

Humans have a thousand faces; ghosts have ten thousand forms. He who masters the foremost of these forms is the Ghost Marshal.

Thump… thump…

A series of terrifying sounds emerged from the thick mist, like drums pounding, like a human heartbeat—yet within this Yin Ghost Form, vitality surged fiercely.

“Yin governs the earth, forming the Golden Core’s curse; by the River of Life and Death, ghosts hide their hearts.”

Xiong Guanchen’s aged face trembled violently; he stared fixedly at Xiong Sanqi, unable to believe his own eyes.

A Ghost Marshal—the aura behind Xiong Sanqi was unquestionably a Ghost Marshal, and purer, more terrifying than the one the Xiong family had ever forged.

And yet, there were twelve of them!?

“Impossible… how could this be?”

Xiong Baoping nearly screamed, desperately denying the reality before him.

The Xiong family’s foundation was immense; after expending the entire clan’s strength over decades, they had managed to forge only one Ghost Marshal, kept hidden within the clan as their ultimate weapon against Xiong Sanqi.

This was one reason Xiong Baoping had felt so secure.

Xiong Sanqi was no longer the Xiong Sanqi of old…

But neither was the Xiong family the same as it once was.

He had believed the gap between them had been erased; yet the truth was…

“He… how could this madman… how did he accomplish this?”

“Twelve Ghost Marshals… is he seeking to revive the Ancestor’s glory, to tower above the Yin Mountain lineage?”

“Xiong Sanqi… this monster… what kind of monster has the Xiong family birthed? Is this blessing or curse?”

Trembling voices rose from the Xiong family’s elite; at this moment, they felt an unprecedented despair—a despair like falling into an abyss, beyond redemption.

This abyss was Xiong Sanqi.

“I finally underestimated you…” Xiong Guanchen sighed.

Those words seemed to drain every ounce of his strength; his figure grew even more hunched, truly resembling an old man on the verge of death.

“That was the foundation of our Xiong family.”

Xiong Guanchen gazed helplessly at the swirling black mist above, as if pleading.

That Ghost Marshal consumed the Xiong family’s heart and soul; with him, the clan’s future was secure.

“Uncle, you’re old,” Xiong Sanqi said, expressionless.

Roar…

At that moment, a strange roar erupted from the mist behind him; one of the figures flicked its fingers, its nails elongating, twisting, curling into a vast net that swept toward the dark cloud above.

Hum…

The Xiong family’s Ghost Marshal sensed grave danger, coalescing into a single mass and turning to flee.

Almost simultaneously, the nail-net, wrapping from all directions, forcibly imprisoned the ink-cloud Ghost Marshal.

“You cannot—!” Xiong Baoping’s face turned ashen; he shrieked in shock.

Boom…

No sooner had the words left his lips than the twelve eerie figures behind Xiong Sanqi, like sharks scenting blood, lunged toward the condensed ink mass.

A chorus of chilling cries rose from the ink cloud—like tearing paper, mixed with women’s wailing, and beastly roars…

The Xiong family’s elite fell into eerie silence; they stared wide-eyed, their spiritual senses observing the scene, their eyes filled only with terror.

Splash…

Suddenly, the condensed ink cloud was violently torn apart, as if ripped by five horses; foul-smelling red fluid rained down onto the ground.

Upon contact with the soil, it turned black and charred; grass withered instantly; insects and worms beneath the earth scrambled out in frenzy, rotting away in moments, dissolving into blood.

In the sky, the twelve figures swayed like revelers at a feast, greedily absorbing the scattered, stinking fluid.

“It’s over…”

Xiong Baoping’s face turned deathly pale; he seemed to lose all spirit in an instant, staring at Xiong Sanqi, aging decades before their eyes.

He knew, for the rest of his life, he could never catch up to this man.

Though he had become clan chief, he would never reach this man’s height.

“Same old routine—slap him,” Xiong Sanqi said casually.

At these words, the Xiong family’s elite were stricken as if bereaved; the old nightmare surged back like a tide—but facing Xiong Sanqi’s cold gaze, a rapid series of slaps erupted: slap-slap-slap.

“You made such a spectacle… just to find that little ghost who entered the ancestral hall?”

Xiong Guanchen’s mood had sunk to its lowest; he had never imagined that over a mere child, Xiong Sanqi would break his vow, return to Yujing after a decade, and crush the Yin Mountain Xiong family with absolute dominance—destroying even the Ghost Marshal they had labored so hard to forge.

All this commotion… just for that child!?

“Who is he?” Xiong Guanchen gritted his teeth.

“Uncle, are you senile? The more you know, the faster you die.”

Xiong Sanqi’s gaze sharpened into a single line, fixed on the direction of the Xiong ancestral hall.

“Who he is… only he himself knows.”

“Ten years…”

Boom…

In the sky, dark clouds gathered; a thunderbolt split the heavens, its roar drowning out Xiong Sanqi’s quiet mutter.

…

At this moment, within the Xiong ancestral hall.

The moment Zhang Fan stepped inside, the bright candles flickered violently; the incense smoke scattered like mist.

“Ancestors of the Xiong family…”

Zhang Fan gazed at the countless spirit tablets, their dim lights casting an eerie, sinister glow.

Yet his gaze did not linger; it rose along the ancestral tablets to the highest shelf, where an ancient altar, long sealed in dust, rested.

Perhaps by some unseen pull, the instant he saw the altar, Zhang Fan’s breath quickened.

“When the great night remains unlit, the demonic god may be resolved.”

The signature read: Zhang Fan.

The note reappeared in Zhang Fan’s mind; he knew he was drawing closer to the truth…

The truth, once hidden in mist, rewritten by others.

“When the great night remains unlit, the demonic god may be resolved.”

Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened into a single line; his chest swelled violently; Yin Essence coalesced into a deadly aura, forming one qi, which he expelled with a sudden burst.

Crash…

A sharp crack echoed; the ancient altar at the highest shelf shattered instantly; the spirit tablets trembled violently; the candles all went out.

At that moment, thick black mist spilled forth.

“You’ve finally come…”

Suddenly, a voice—both familiar and alien—roared through Zhang Fan’s mind.

“Inner Spiritual Vision!?”

In that instant, Zhang Fan felt as if he had returned to that night ten years ago—total darkness, nothing visible.

Yet then, a faint light appeared before him, as if emerging from mist.

Immediately, a figure stepped forth; illuminated by the dim glow, his face was identical to Zhang Fan’s—yet his aura was colder, more ferocious, more chaotic.

“You…”

Zhang Fan’s spiritual form stared at the familiar-yet-alien figure, speechless with shock.

Xiong Ba was right—this demonic god truly looked exactly like him.

“Who are you?”

Zhang Fan spoke, instinctively raising his hand; as his trembling fingertip touched the demonic god, a flash of spiritual light surged—countless images, like data streams, flooded into him.

“When the great night remains unlit… when the great night remains unlit…” A cry shattered the night’s silence; before a desolate, ruined temple, an overturned incense burner sat, a boy seated cross-legged, his robes stained with blood, eyes tightly shut, black and white qi continuously leaking from his body.

“Li Changgeng… that little ghost was a disciple of Bai He Guan…”

Nearby, a burly man roared in shock—it was Xiong Sanqi.

He looked up sharply, toward a direction, and saw a white crane soaring into the sky, wings spread wide, carrying a boy on its back; his white Daoist robe was shredded, a grotesque wound covered in chilling black qi, nearly splitting his chest open, revealing his pounding heart, blood streaming endlessly.

“That little ghost from Bai He Guan won’t survive either.”

“Damn it—he triggered the Great Night Unlit!”

“Mutual destruction… mutual destruction…”

Heavy voices thundered through the night; no one had expected that this generation of Bai He Guan had produced such a prodigy—beneath the Divine-Demon Sacred Embryo, he had summoned the Eternal Night Calamity.

But he gained no advantage either; such wounds would have killed any ordinary person.

“Divine-Demon Sacred Embryo… if you live, one day we will meet again.”

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On the back of the soaring white crane, the boy’s breath grew faint as a drifting thread, and slowly closed his eyes.

“If that brat survives, he will surely become a great threat one day.”

In the darkness, a hoarse voice spoke, as if seeing far into the future, heavy with dread.

Roar…

At that moment, the boy before the dilapidated ancient shrine let out a pained roar; torrents of black-and-white qi erupted and scattered from his body, his aura growing ever weaker, his nascent soul sinking into stillness, as if falling into eternal night.

“The Divine-Magic Holy Embryo must enter the Great Night Unlit… His calamity has come,” growled Xiong Sanqi through gritted teeth.

“Zong Laoda isn’t here.”

Suddenly, another voice rang out through the night—mild yet urgent, unmistakably like Liu Fusheng’s.

“Even if he were here, it would do no good. The Divine-Magic Holy Embryo: the great devours the small, the strong overpowers the weak… They are father and son, each other’s calamity… This is the second calamity of the Divine-Magic Holy Embryo!”

That cold, hoarse voice came from the darkness.

Roar…

The boy grew more agonized; the black-and-white qi within him drained completely. His eyes grew dim, as if on the verge of entering the calamity.

“Is there no way? Not even a single way?”

“The Divine-Magic Holy Embryo belongs to legend… How could mortals lay claim to it? If this calamity were so easily overcome, it wouldn’t be the Divine-Magic Holy Embryo.”

Powerful auras surged through the boundless night, radiating intense anxiety.

They knew: once the Great Night Unlit arrived, there was no turning back, no escape possible.

This was the calamity of the Divine-Magic Holy Embryo—and also its curse.

Boom… boom… boom…

At that moment, the boy’s body convulsed violently; his nascent soul leapt upward, detaching from his body.

Mysterious, ancient patterns surfaced upon his nascent soul, like cracks.

In the sky, black clouds churned, thunder rumbled—as if heaven itself had erupted in wrathful punishment.

“This is…” Xiong Sanqi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Three Corpses Mirroring Fate, the Divine Separation Art… Li Linglong, how dare you pass this art to your son!”

Suddenly, a furious roar echoed from the sky; lightning flashed, and something colossal seemed to surge through the clouds.

“Chen Long!?”

In the darkness, the hoarse voice spoke again, sharp with lethal intent.

“Great treason against the heart! Great treason against the heart!”

In the sky, the furious roar grew even more terrifying; the colossal form surged through the clouds, scattering layers of lightning.

“The Twelve Zodiacs place humanity first—because humans possess the power to suppress the Twelve Zodiacs.”

At that moment, a light, casual voice emerged from the boundless night—gentle and melodic, yet unafraid of slaughter.

The next instant, the colossal form in the sky vanished as if it had never been.

Yet the black clouds churned more violently; bolts of lightning surged like wild dragons, tearing through the heavens.

Roar…

Before the ruined shrine, the boy’s nascent soul let out a pained roar. A bolt of lightning descended—like heaven’s wrath—striking the nascent soul directly, igniting waves of fire.

The blazing fire spread along the mysterious patterns on the nascent soul, carrying irreversible damage.

“The Divine Separation Art is no trivial matter. To cultivate it invites heavenly retribution—he cannot withstand it,” growled Xiong Sanqi.

The nascent soul is born primordially; to disrupt its natural order is to defy heaven itself—how could heaven allow it!?

This calamity, he cannot survive.

Boom… boom… boom…

At that moment, another bolt of lightning descended, striking the boy’s nascent soul directly. Its radiance dimmed further; in an instant, it would be consumed by the erupting flames.

“It ends here… Trying to evade calamity this way is far too difficult.”

All present wore expressions of despair; a funeral bell seemed to toll in their hearts, waiting only for the next thunderclap—no matter how they had cultivated the Divine-Magic Holy Embryo, the nascent soul could no longer be saved…

Death and the dissolution of the Dao stood right before them.

Boom… boom… boom…

Heaven’s wrath unleashed another bolt of lightning, shattering the heavens, hurtling toward the boy’s dimming nascent soul.

Crash…

At that moment, a muffled sound rang out—and an impossible sight appeared.

A frail figure materialized like a ghost, standing before the boy, blocking the lightning with nothing but flesh and blood.

“That… that is…”

Before the ruined shrine stood a girl, shielding the boy. Her short hair reached her shoulders; her eyes were ethereal, her youthful face set with stubborn resolve.

“Who is she?”

Boom… boom… boom…

Lightning continued to strike; the terrifying force nearly pierced through the girl’s body. Her flesh cracked like parched earth, light streaming from every fissure.

Yet she did not retreat. Her delicate hand slowly reached out—and plunged straight into the boy’s nascent soul.

“You’ll die…”

“Open!”

The girl was unbending; her gaze firm, she stood beneath the thunderous calamity without the slightest tremor.

“Who are you? Who are you really?”

“Jiang Lai!”

The girl whispered softly, as if expending every last ounce of strength. Crimson blood rapidly evaporated from her body’s cracks into the lightning. With a sudden wrench, she tore the boy’s nascent soul apart.

“Hahahaha… One splits into three… How exquisite.”

A mad voice echoed from one of the nascent souls.

“Wait for me to return!”

A steady voice came from another nascent soul.

“This is primordial ignorance!”

The final nascent soul grew utterly weak; it murmured softly, returning to the body.

Hum…

The next instant, the other two nascent souls shot skyward, flying in opposite directions.

“Seal!”

At that moment, Xiong Sanqi struck out—Taiyin transformed into Xuanyuan, forming a vast sack that caught one of the nascent souls.

Boom… boom… boom…

Countless lights shattered violently; Zhang Fan’s nascent soul returned to his inner landscape. He gazed at the figure before him—familiar, yet distant—and felt a sudden awakening.

“Our wills are one…”

“You are me, I am you…”

The two figures spoke in unison; their quiet words echoed through the eerie inner landscape, as if both empty and present.

Then, Zhang Fan’s nascent soul calmly stared at the monstrous figure before him, and slowly opened its mouth. The next moment, a strange chewing sound echoed within the nascent soul’s inner landscape!!

(End of Chapter)