Pale blue light streamed down from the dome, illuminating the dim expanse before them.
Ancient stone walls, etched with the passage of countless years, were now choked by massive tree roots. These roots had carved out numerous niche-like hollows, each resembling a memorial hall.
Within these hollows, statues sat cross-legged. Some glared with wide, furious eyes, while others smiled with narrowed gazes. Their bronze bodies were adorned with golden battle armor, glinting in the pervasive darkness.
Below, where their collective gaze converged and the pale blue light was swallowed, lay a colossal, seemingly boundless pit. This chasm was filled to the brim with innumerable, stark white skeletons, dominating the entire view.
Thousands upon thousands of them stretched into the distance!
Amidst this bone-white ocean, many bizarrely shaped skulls were scattered—clearly not belonging to humans alone.
As Mo Yuan beheld this scene, a particular record, long circulated within the Shadow Guards, slowly resurfaced in her mind.
It detailed an incident that had occurred decades ago in central Huaxia. An ancient seal had been inadvertently broken by a rogue archaeological team excavating an imperial tomb.
The “Demonic Abyss,” originally sealed within Mount Li, was unleashed. It swallowed a five-kilometer radius centered on the Huaqing Palace, before the Human Emperor and the Lord of Kunlun personally joined forces to reseal it deep underground.
Legend had it that the Demonic Abyss was a sunless, hellish crucible, teeming with tens of thousands of undead zombies. They had been sealed for an untold number of years, their faces twisted with resentment, savagery, hunger, hatred, and greed.
Churned together by the slow rotation of the abyss, they formed a maelstrom of endless agony.
Black, tangible resentment and malevolent energy surged skyward, like a solid entity. From that day forth, the true Huaqing Palace vanished from Huaxia’s map. The current Huaqing Palace and its surrounding structures were merely reconstructions based on the memories of those who came before.
People had always spoken of the Demonic Abyss’s horrors, yet these were just empty words on paper. No matter how vividly described, without truly facing it, how could one grasp the extent of that so-called terror?
Mo Yuan felt her breath catch in her throat, staring at the scene before her. From her vantage point, she could perceive countless streams of black resentment, almost solid in form, rising from the boundless ocean of white bones.
They surged like rolling waves, crashing in all directions. One grotesque, suffering ghostly head after another tumbled, struggled, and roared within the black malevolent energy.
At the very center, a colossal crystal gate stood tall, sacred and radiant, like the first light of dawn. Yet, for reasons unknown, Mo Yuan felt an even deeper terror emanating from it—an inexpressible fear that resonated from the depths of her very soul.
“Amitabha! Alas…”
A long, drawn-out Buddhist chant echoed once more.
Following the sound, they saw an old monk, clad in a golden-red kasaya, sitting peacefully atop a mountain of bones, directly in front of the crystal gate.
The old monk held prayer beads, his expression benevolent and kind. A faint golden Buddha-light emanated from his body, making him appear exceptionally sacred.
The three Shaman Immortals, who had been repelled earlier, swiftly retreated to the base of that bone mountain.
Lin Xuan couldn’t help but marvel inwardly at the magnificent and imposing sight before her.
‘Is this the kind of game wealthy elites play? Tsk, tsk, tsk, the graphics, the visuals—they’re simply top-notch!’
‘Indeed, the game developers truly understand the tastes of Huaxia’s nobility! With such superb production and realistic gaming experience, how could they fail to extract funds from the rich?’
‘Even a free-to-play player like me feels a little tempted!’
“Outsiders, you should leave!”
The old monk, seated upon the pile of corpses, slowly opened his eyes. Beneath his wrinkled eyelids, his hollow eye sockets resembled two abysses, threatening to suck one’s soul into them, condemning it to eternal damnation.
“It is still not too late to depart…”
‘This AI is quite polite,’ Lin Xuan thought.
Lin Xuan looked up at the old monk on the bone mountain. She noticed that the sacred golden light enveloping his body was intertwined with numerous streaks of black, much like the two-tone shredded bread she often ate for breakfast.
The two colors mingled, not blending, yet inseparable, creating an odd sense of discord at first glance.
“Senior, this monk likely possesses Arhat status!” Mo Yuan quickly warned from behind her, recalling the images she had seen during the puzzle.
Almost the instant her words left her lips, Lin Xuan had already taken a decisive stride forward.
“No need. Even if the King of Heaven himself were to descend today, I would still deliver all of you!”
His hearty laughter, at this moment, sounded incredibly arrogant. As his foot fell, a thunderous rumble echoed.
Boom!
With Lin Xuan and their entrance as the boundary, ancient murals, moving counter-clockwise, began to decay and crumble at a visible rate, as if they had endured eons in a single instant.
Roar!
A earth-shattering roar erupted, threatening to rupture eardrums. Mo Yuan quickly covered her ears with both hands, her body already trembling uncontrollably at the sight before her.
A tide! A tide composed of countless ancient Shaman corpses surged in from all directions. A rough estimate suggested they were at least a dozen times more numerous than the ones they had just fought.
“Senior, these monsters cannot be fought head-on!”
This was common sense. While a change in quantity often had little substantial effect before a true powerhouse, beyond a certain threshold, it would inevitably lead to a qualitative transformation.
A single Colonel-rank zombie could be dealt with easily; ten might be challenging, but if a hundred came, even a peak Colonel would have to flee.
Moreover, these Shaman corpses were completely different from ordinary zombies; each possessed combat power nearing that of a Colonel.
And behind them, there were Shaman Immortals and…
“Amitabha, goodness, goodness!”
The old monk, seated on the bone mountain, now rose to his feet. His entire being was solemn and dignified, radiating both compassion and divinity.
As he advanced, the golden light around him intensified dramatically, and golden lotus flowers bloomed beneath his feet with every step.
Wherever he passed, the boundless sea of malevolent energy was covered by the golden light, and the wildly surging zombies quieted in unison.
They stood still, gazing up at the sky as divine flowers, formed of Buddha-light, descended from above.
Then, one by one, distorted black shadows rose from the ocean of white bones. They twisted in the air, howling in immense pain.
All were restrained mid-air by an invisible, mighty force, compelling them to sit cross-legged.
Then, these soul entities, with voices filled with suffering and resentment, collectively began to chant:
“Namo, Ratna-trayāya, Namo, Āryā, Valokite-śvarāya, Bodhisattvāya, Mahāsattvāya, Mahā, Kāruṇikāya, Oṁ, Sarva-bhava-bhavāya…”
Initially, only the resentful residual souls chanted, but slowly, the Shaman corpses standing motionless also began to recite.
Their voices were deep and hoarse, like worn-out bellows.
“Sthāna-bhāva-bhāvāya, Namo, Siddha-kṛta, Idaṁ Āryā, Valokite, Śvara-laṁ-dhava, Namo, Nīlakaṇṭha, Hṛdaya-mahā, Padmā-śame, Sarva-atha, Duḥ-sahā, Ajeyaṁ, Sarva-sattva…”
Mo Yuan felt her mind on the verge of exploding. A voice within her continuously tempted her to join the chanting. She resisted with all her might, forcing her eyes wide open to witness the scene before her.
The majestic and solemn figure, like a legendary Mingwang, stepped down through the void. Golden lotus flowers bloomed, and the endless black sea of malevolent energy churned beneath his feet. Demonic chants continuously emanated from the earth and the air.
From all directions, the entire world seemed to be reciting a demonic incantation designed to make all beings fall.
Mo Yuan felt her soul tremble wildly, rapidly descending into depravity. This was no ordinary Arhat status.
This was, in a sense, a decree by word, an Immortal! Even if he hadn’t reached the legendary true decree by word, one foot had already stepped into the threshold of the Immortal Dao.
Immortal and Mortal, though just one character apart in Chinese, represented a difference as vast as clouds and mud!
This was practically a death trap. Despair—no other word could better describe Mo Yuan’s feelings at this moment.
“Hah!”
A cold laugh, like a celestial melody, resonated in Mo Yuan’s heart at that instant. It pulled her soul back from the brink of utter damnation.
Cold sweat poured from her body, instantly drenching her clothes. Mo Yuan felt her legs weaken, and she collapsed to her knees.
“Boundless Heavenly Venerate, a thousand years of accumulated grievances, all karmic causes and effects, let them be settled today!”
As he spoke, Lin Xuan activated the upgraded Golden Stamp “Domain” she had drawn from Mo Yuan.
‘Let me see how powerful this skill is, consuming 200 Stamp Points for a single use!’
His foot gently descended.
Boom!
A boundless sea of blood surged forth, engulfing everything in its path—the roaring corpses, the black malevolent energy filled with endless karmic grievances—all were submerged in an instant.
The sea of blood was both ethereal and real, seemingly emanating from the depths of hell, imbued with countless karmic retributions and hellish power.
Mo Yuan’s expression froze completely as she witnessed the scene. In her line of sight, a majestic and enormous nine-headed divine lion emerged from beneath the boundless sea of blood, standing behind the Daoist in green robes. Its nine massive heads were lifted towards the heavens.
“Allow this humble Daoist to deliver salvation to the world!”
Roar!!!!!!!!
The terrifying sonic wave instantly sent the three Shaman Immortals stumbling backward, one after another, all the way to the crystal gate. Even the monk’s forward steps were halted mid-air, and the usually placid expression on his face began to ripple.
One after another, beautiful and enchanting red lotuses, like crystal, bloomed in this crimson lotus pond!
Mo Yuan swallowed hard, her throat feeling painfully dry. The gulp of saliva only brought more stinging. Yet, she was oblivious, as deep in her memory, a eulogy, long faded into the annals of time, slowly began to echo in her ears:
“The Realm of Qinghua Chang Le, the Palace of Dongji Miaoyan. The Seven Treasures Fragrant Forest, the Nine-Colored Lotus Throne. Within the embrace of myriad truths, amidst billions of auspicious lights… A wondrous Daoist body, a purple-gold auspicious form. Responding to needs, boundless vows. Great Sage, Great Compassionate, Great Merciful, Great Vowed. Manifesting in ten directions, universally saving sentient beings. Through countless eons, saving immeasurable numbers. Responding to calls…”
Swallowing hard once more, she uttered the final line in a slightly hoarse, trembling voice:
“Taiyi… Savior Heavenly Venerate, Qingxuan Jiuyang Supreme Emperor.”