Chapter 359: The Ghost Gate Opens, Hell on Earth

A slender, crystal-clear beam of light shot in from outside the door, like a flying needle too swift to see, sinking into the brow of the man-headed serpent demon.

Ning Ning Qingchen, clad in a pale ink-blue robe, stood outside the door, her finger still poised as if plucking a string; with her right hand, she pulled as if tugging an invisible thread, drawing forth that thread of sword-light. Within the ice needle, the chilling aura of Ice Soul Cold Light erupted violently, freezing the demon serpent born from the Sacrificial Buddha into a statue of ice.

Daoist Zhao Boyan seized the opportunity to strike with a Jin Guang Spell, shattering the ice statue.

A skull the size of a fist rolled onto the ground, coming to rest at the feet of Master Master Fa Xin.

The monk looked up, clasped his hands in greeting, and chanted a Buddha's name: "Namo Saddharma Pundarika Sutra—thank you, virtuous lady, for your aid!"

Zhou Zheng, with a sidelong glance at the soul-snatcher's shattered yin spirit, felt his heart sink and said gravely over the team channel: "That single thread of cold light shattered the ghost envoy's yin spirit—do any of you recognize this divine art?"

Daoist Zhao Boyan chuckled: "It must be one of the Ten Greatest Divine Lights of the Universe—Ice Soul Cold Light!"

"Ice Soul Cold Light!"

Everyone was startled; Zhou Zheng's expression flickered, but he quickly masked it.

"I never thought the Soul-Snatcher would die so easily!"

Zhou Zheng recalled their last ambush on the Black Robe Ghost Envoy, ranked lower than the Soul-Snatcher—how perilous it had been, nine deaths and one survival—and his emotions were complex beyond words.

But this time, to kill the Soul-Snatcher, they had a military cultivator rivaling a Golden Core True Person, whose swordplay had reached sainthood, standing at the front; a Buddhist elder who had attained the Sari realm; plus Zhao the old Daoist, a top-tier orthodox Daoist; Zhou Zheng himself had intervened multiple times; and finally, they relied on the supreme divine art of Ice Soul Cold Light—striking unexpectedly, catching them off-guard.

The Soul-Snatcher could truly be said to have died where he deserved to!

Seeing the tide turn, the bat demon flapped its wings, twisting nimbly through the air to flee afar—when suddenly, an ordinary-looking cloud in the sky descended, sweeping down to snatch the bat demon, transforming into a Bagua Cloud Silk Handkerchief that wrapped it tightly.

The Bagua rotated, and a flash of cold light appeared.

With a crack, the bat demon froze into an ice statue, fell from the cloud, and shattered upon hitting the ground.

"Little sister's learning bad habits!"

Brother Qian Chen still suppressed the Jade Spider Scorpion with his zither music.

Rolling thunder reverberated, trapping the ghost realm within, its boundaries shrinking ever tighter; the spider-women born from the ghosts were shattered by the thunderclaps, falling from their webs in pieces.

Ning Ning Qingchen's skill in ambushing with hidden artifacts—she learned it from whom? No need to ask.

With the Soul-Snatcher slain, no one had time to breathe easy before a crash echoed from within the Red Building—a door shattered, and someone tumbled inside. They turned to see Yan Shu struggling to rise from the ground, blood trickling from his lips—he had suffered severe internal injuries.

Brother Qian Chen whispered: "Brother, just act it out. No need to go all out!"

"Shut up…"

Yan Shu, embarrassed, said: "That Ox-Head is a Mingshi of the Underworld—a ruthless one—and another even more ruthless one's coming behind!"

Ning Ning Qingchen spoke: "Brother Yan!"

The other Lunhuizhe understood at once, thinking inwardly: "Of course!"

Ning Ning Qingchen's call confirmed her identity; the group rushed to reinforce. Though the four Lunhuizhe claimed to be holding the line, they had only ever engaged the Lute Ghost Envoy and the Soul-Snatcher, leaving Yan Shu alone against the Ox-Head. So his collapse was no surprise—unlike Ning Ning Qingchen and Brother Qian Chen's unexpected intervention.

Yan Shu himself felt ashamed and irritated, warning aloud: "Watch out—another even fiercer opponent's coming, stronger than the Ox-Head!"

"And another!"

Master Master Fa Xin's expression darkened—stronger than the Four Ghost Envoys? Could it be the White Bone Demon King himself?

The Lunhuizhe exchanged glances—Yan Shu had only been defeated under the combined assault of two Ghost Envoys; such cultivation was rare in the mortal world. Brother Qian Chen's team clearly revolved around him.

At that moment, silent and unseen, rolling demonic clouds blotted out the moon, plunging the scene into darkness; beyond the Red Building's windows, all turned pitch black.

The faceless Lunhuizhe leapt up the second floor of the Red Building, his right finger pointing—a streak of fire shot forth like a writhing fire serpent, illuminating the darkness ahead.

In that darkness, countless shadowy figures shuffled forward.

Tree-spirits with twisted trunks, hanging with corpses; ghostly mountain demons with blue faces, fangs, and blood-red eyes; skulls the size of houses, wrapped in dripping hair, mouths gaping like doors; one-eyed goblins leaping and cackling; hideous creatures from the Hungry Ghost Realm; half-human, half-demon ghost-beasts; spirit artifacts that had become ghostly through slaughtering too many lives; and Daoists with mangled corpses.

More still wore Ming Dynasty military armor—undead corpses, and ghostly flames drifting through the air.

"Yin Troops on the March!"

"Hundred Ghosts' Night March!"

Yan Shu and Brother Qian Chen spoke simultaneously—Yan Shu used the Central Plains term for this scene, while Brother Qian Chen's phrasing bore the imprint of his past life.

But they meant the same thing.

Yin and yang inverted, two worlds reversed. The Ghost Gate opened—the Yin Troops crossed over!

This phenomenon arose only when the mortal order collapsed utterly, when yin energy surged to its peak, and demons and ghosts roamed unchecked—it was a terrifying natural disaster. During the final chaos of the Immortal Qin in the Central Plains, ten households out of twelve lay empty; wartime Yin Troops appeared in broad daylight, ravaging the land—no matter the Daoist sect, none could withstand their advance; all were slaughtered.

Dozens of Yuan Shen True Immortals of the Central Plains perished in this calamity.

Of course, that previous Yin Troop invasion was led by a Demon Lord-level ghost deity; the hundreds of thousands of ghosts from the Changping battlefield were all at least Golden Core. Ordinary Yin Troop invasions were merely a ghost ritual. Once these demons and ghosts formed the Yin Troop ritual, what had been scattered, easily swept away by Brother Qian Chen and Yan Shu's strikes, would coalesce into a unified, indestructible force—reborn with every surge of ghostly energy, becoming true "Yin Troops!"

Eradicating them then would no longer be simple.

"The Ghost Gate opens—hell on earth!"

Master Master Fa Xin gasped: "So that's it! The White Bone Demon King is forcing his hundreds of thousands of demons and ghosts to perform rituals, aiming to make them bear his ghost realm, turning every place these spirits tread into hell!"

"And he himself will be the Lord of Hell—nearly invincible within this ghost realm!"

Yan Shu nodded slightly: "It seems the death of the Wise Wolf King has made him wary and desperate. This demon is truly ruthless—to risk such a move."

"Once he commands the Hundred Ghosts' Night March, slaughters the wasteland settlement, and sacrifices hundreds of thousands of human lives, he can truly invert yin and yang, reverse the two worlds."

"Then the place where these million demons gather will become a hell on earth. Within it, he can draw upon the power of ten thousand ghosts to protect himself—and…" Brother Qian Chen paused his zither music, his voice grave.

"This demon doesn't merely want to use the Yin Troop ritual to forge a hell on earth—he intends to use the Yin Troops to attack Guzhu, turning the last pure land of humanity into a ghost realm, establishing a terrestrial ghost kingdom! If he succeeds, even the Peacock Demon King would be powerless against him within his ghost kingdom!"

Master Master Fa Xin's brow was set in grim resolve.

Facing the hundreds of thousands of demons ahead, his expression showed not a trace of retreat; the Sari bone on his brow blazed with radiant light—a pure, unattached, enlightened glow illuminated a halo behind his head in the darkness.

"Little demons dare forge a hell on earth and establish the foundation of a ghost kingdom?" Yan Shu sneered. "If he succeeds, he'll leap straight to Yang Shen—and perhaps even reach Yuan Shen, like the Ghost King of Heishan! These goblins and specters dream too big…"

Among the ruins of the wasteland before the Red Building, demons and ghosts moved through broken walls and rubble. Behind them, across the wilds, countless Yin Troops and demonic ghosts stretched like an endless army, advancing toward the settlement.

The Ox-Head Ghost Envoy, wielding a great blade, halted outside the courtyard, staring at the people within the Red Building.

The Lute Ghost Envoy seized the chance to shift his spiderweb ghost realm beside it; a single web transformed thousands of night-walking ghosts into spiders, the ghost realm reformed and expanded dozens of times, completely engulfing the rear of the Red Building.

To the Ox-Head Ghost Envoy's left stood a plain-looking female entertainer—her beauty, compared to the Lute Ghost Envoy and the Red Building's mistress, was merely average.

She held a round fan, half-covering her face.

"The Qi of the Mortal World!"

"The Myriad Phenomena!"

To Master Master Fa Xin and Brother Qian Chen's eyes, this sight was utterly inconceivable—for on this woman, they perceived a poison to the Dao-heart: the most complex, most dangerous qi, so perilous even orthodox divine spirits dared not touch it—the Qi of the Mortal World!

A hazy crimson aura entwined her body.

This was the first poison of cultivation: "Three thousand feet of mortal dust—immortals dare not touch."

Divine cultivation draws spiritual energy from human nature and emotion, called "spiritual feeling." But true spiritual feeling must be pure and clear; all love, hate, emotion, karmic entanglements, the bitter-sweet tastes of mortal life, countless distractions, the seven emotions and six desires—all these impurities are the "three thousand feet of mortal dust," capable of dragging even immortals down.

The Yin Troops on the March is a ritual of inverted yin and yang; the Hell on Earth is a grand ghost art.

Since ancient times, few have ever mastered it. Brother Qian Chen had been puzzled—how could the White Bone King possibly achieve such an art?

Seeing this woman, he understood at once: a ghost tainted by mortal dust was the perfect offering to confuse yin and yang.

With this ghost presiding, she could unify the myriad chaotic resentments and infinite posthumous hatreds of countless spirits, naturally forging them into a single, solid foundation for the ghost realm.

Beside the worried Master Master Fa Xin and the grimly focused Brother Qian Chen, Luo Sen stared at the figure, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"Would you be willing to become part of this hell on earth?"

The woman spoke calmly: "Mortal life is already so hard—what difference does it make to be a ghost?"

Master Master Fa Xin raised one palm, nodding slightly: "Precisely because the mortal world has become a sea of suffering, we must hold up a pure land for all beings, so they need not suffer even after death under the rule of demons and ghosts."

"Humanity is the most stubborn!" sneered a Daoist with blood-red eyes, whose true form was a wild dog. "You're clearly among the strongest of the human faction! You've killed one and captured one of the Five Ghost Envoys—quite impressive. But the tide is with our demonic side…"

"Look behind you! Where are the rest of the human faction? Hiding like turtles. No one dares step forward to join you—they're probably already planning how to escape this disaster!"

"But our demonic factions have united…"

As he spoke, dozens of demonic Lunhuizhe appeared beside him—riding spirit artifacts, wielding divine arts, clearly distinct from the native demons and ghosts.

On Brother Qian Chen's side, besides the original four Lunhuizhe who led the operation and Brother Qian Chen's own group of opportunists, no other Lunhuizhe appeared.

Clearly, the scale of the Hundred Ghosts' Night March had frightened them into retreat.

"Human faction here!"

A shout came from afar.

A scholar in blue robes, headband tied, holding a bamboo scroll, carrying a book chest, rode slowly toward them on a blue-furred donkey.

Seeing the countless demons ahead, the donkey halted halfway, hesitating; the scholar kicked it in frustration, but the donkey only brayed and backed away.

The scholar had no choice—he dismounted, shouldered his book chest, and marched forward without fear.

"Confucius said: Achieve benevolence. Mencius said: Uphold righteousness. Only when righteousness is fully fulfilled does benevolence reach its peak!"

"From now on, I may finally be without shame!"

As the scholar spoke each phrase, characters on the bamboo scroll blazed with light; the righteous qi surged upward, piercing the demonic clouds above and letting moonlight pour down! The righteous qi pressed forward, halting the onrushing demons and ghosts; with a few sharp shouts, the scholar reduced dozens of fierce ghosts to ash.

Though the demonic clouds quickly reformed and the righteous qi was pushed back by the boundless yin energy of the ghost realm, his cultivation was undeniably extraordinary.

"Confucian cultivator?" Brother Qian Chen was surprised—Confucian Dao had once been known in the Earth Immortal Realm, one of the Hundred Schools, but because it cultivated only nature, not life, and thus lacked longevity, it had gradually declined in the Central Plains.

Only the Spring and Autumn Pavilion among the Central Plains Daoist sects and a few Sage lineages still preserved it.

Behind them, chaos erupted—the awakened wasteland settlement saw many demon hunters startled by the towering demonic aura, bursting from their doors. Many, seeing the endless demons ahead, turned and fled without hesitation; but many others grabbed swords and spears and rushed toward the battlefield.

An arrow pierced the night sky like a falling star, striking deep into the demons.

Immediately, a massive fireball exploded, shattering scattered demons—but against the endless tide of ghosts, it was but a drop in the ocean.

A hunter, bow on his back, held his bow in his left hand, arrows pinched between his right fingers; as he rushed forward, he drew and loosed arrows in rapid succession, slaying dozens of demons.

One arrow even struck the Lute Demon; the Jade Spider Scorpion swept it away with her sleeve, glared at the archer, and flew into rage—plucking her lute, she unleashed a storm of chaotic ghostly sounds toward him.

Brother Qian Chen plucked a string, suppressing the ghostly sounds, and cast a cold glance at the Lute Ghost Envoy—causing it to instantly calm, restraining its urge to strike.

More human Lunhuizhe emerged from the wasteland settlement—a black bear demon roared, reared on its hind legs, and charged the Red Building wielding a wolf-tooth club as thick as a porch pillar; Yan Shu gripped his sword pellet, ready to strike—when suddenly, a figure flipped down from above, scattering golden light that pierced the bear demon's body with countless holes.

The golden specks flew back into the man's hand, forming into golden copper coins that coalesced into a copper coin spirit sword.

The gourd pendant on Brother Qian Chen's waist, transformed from the Gold and Silver Children, twitched slightly—clearly coveting those copper coins.

Brother Qian Chen tapped his waist, calming them down.

"This archery technique has a touch of the Wu tribe's flavor, and the copper coins are all spirit-penetrating talisman coins—this time, the human faction's depth is indeed remarkable!" Brother Qian Chen nodded inwardly.

A Daoist in a robe flew in from afar, summoning a gourd artifact that spilled countless yellow beans, each transforming into hundreds of spirit soldiers.

Amid the swarm of bean soldiers, he surged forth from the left.

Someone rode on clouds, unleashing a sword slash to part the demonic clouds above—three times he did this; seeing the ghostly realm forged by the Hundred Ghosts' Night March could not be pierced by qi, he landed his swordlight within the Red Building Courtyard—a young cultivator.

A small jade vial emitted the light of transcendence, sucking in a cluster of demonic ghosts and turning them into pus.

Guo Fei, who had once met Brother Qian Chen and his companions, also appeared, giving a slight nod to the group: "Brother Qian Daofriend, Yan Daofriend, we meet again!"

For a moment, though the human faction's Lunhuizhe were fewer than the demonic tribe's, nearly ten stepped forward.

Just from this, one could see that humanity's dominance over the myriad realms was no accident.