SS CH71

Netherworld Valley is located in the Central Capital, surrounded by mountains and rivers. Outside lies the Misty Forest, perpetually shrouded in miasma and low-hanging gloomy clouds. Rigged with numerous confusing formations and traps, it is easy to enter but incredibly difficult to leave, earning it the moniker “Forest of the Dead.”

Since leaving Qingxue Village, Chu Xiwei had established contact with the northern branch of the Hundred Ghosts Sect. Traveling stealthily, their journey was perilous but ultimately safe, and they had finally arrived outside Netherworld Valley.

The Forest of the Dead wasn’t large, but it was perpetually hidden from the sun, making it dim and deathly silent. Stepping inside, Lu Mingyuan couldn’t help but frown, instinctively tightening his grip on his white paper folding fan.

Walking beside him, Qin Lanshang noticed this clearly. She reached out, patted his arm, and whispered, “Just follow us, you’ll be fine.”

He let out a slow breath, though his grip on the fan didn’t loosen. This forest was too dangerous; he constantly felt as though countless pairs of eyes were watching him, like thorns pricking his back. Ye Fusheng remained in the rearguard position. Looking impossibly lazy but actually completely invulnerable, he smiled at Chu Xiwei’s back. “This is quite a prime piece of geomantic land.”

Chu Xiwei paused his steps but didn’t reply. Qin Lanshang rolled her eyes, turning her head to say, “Uncle Ye, you really know how to joke. In all my life, this is the first time I’ve ever heard someone call a ‘Forest of the Dead’ a good place.”

Ye Fusheng brought an index finger to his lips in a shushing motion and said faintly, “Precisely because so many people have died here, it is a treasured land of feng shui.”

His words carried a chilling, ghostly undertone. Lu Mingyuan shivered inexplicably, snapped his white paper fan open with a swish, and peered weakly over the top of it with rabbit-like eyes. “W-why…”

Qin Lanshang was speechless. So useless.

A glint flashed in Ye Fusheng’s eyes. Lowering his voice even further, leaning almost directly into Lu Mingyuan’s ear, he whispered, “Because… the more people who die, the richer the soil becomes, which is exactly what it takes to nourish corpse ghosts!”

As if summoned by his jinxing words, a hand suddenly shot out from the rotting leaves and mud beneath them, grabbing Qin Lanshang’s ankle and violently yanking downward. Before she could even scream, the ground vanished beneath her feet, opening into a massive sinkhole that swallowed her whole!

“Miss Qin!” Pale with shock, Lu Mingyuan threw himself toward the edge of the pit. It was pitch black down there, so dark one couldn’t see their own fingers, giving the illusion of a bottomless abyss. Before Ye Fusheng could even speak, the scholar gritted his teeth and leaped down after her.

With such a massive commotion, Chu Xiwei couldn’t have missed it. When Ye Fusheng looked up, Chu Xiwei’s silhouette had already vanished. The surrounding fog thickened dramatically in that split second, becoming as viscous as paste, rendering everything completely invisible.

Sounds of combat drifted from ahead. Ye Fusheng had sharp ears; he caught Chu Xiwei’s faint shout mingled with the sharp clang of clashing blades. Frowning, he tapped his toes against the ground, utilizing his qinggong to dart toward the noise like a startled swan skimming the water.

Suddenly, Ye Fusheng’s body jolted. He forcefully twisted his waist in mid-air, stepped off the trunk of a nearby tree, and used the momentum to land safely on the ground.

On the exact path he had been traveling, multiple steel wires were strung between several large trees, ten feet off the ground. Woven together like a net, they were covered in densely packed, razor-sharp willow-leaf blades. Old bloodstains lingered on the edges, but the dense fog had concealed them perfectly, making it impossible to spot in time. If Ye Fusheng hadn’t stopped because he smelled the faint scent of blood, he would have added fresh blood to that steel net, turning into a pile of mangled meat to nourish this very land.

“What a sharp dog nose you have.”

A voice drifted from behind him. Without taking a single step, Ye Fusheng slid forward just enough to smoothly evade the opportunistic claw aiming for his back, only turning his head after securing his distance.

The fog was white, and the attacker was also dressed entirely in white. Even his hair was wrapped in a white cloth, topped with a pointed hat. Only his face was exposed, making him look exactly like the White Impermanence ghost of the underworld. But that face was far more terrifying than his outfit. He wore a mask of skin with no discernible facial features; one could only vaguely see the outline, as if some monster was bulging beneath the flesh.

Ye Fusheng blinked. “That thing doesn’t look very breathable. Don’t you feel suffocated?”

The newcomer replied, “Only the living need to breathe. Ghosts do not.”

When he spoke, there should have been puffs of warm breath in the cold air, but the skin mask showed no such signs. It seemed he truly wasn’t exhaling as he talked.

Ye Fusheng was highly intrigued. “Who are you?”

“White Impermanence.”

Ye Fusheng crossed his arms. “If you are a ghost, why are you resorting to violence when meeting the guests of your Sect Master?”

“The friends of the Hundred Ghosts Sect are all dead, but you are not.” White Impermanence chuckled. “When the Sect Master breaks the rules, he must be punished. As for you… we will handle the job for him.”

Before the last word even left his mouth, the man had closed in on Ye Fusheng. His right hand was severed cleanly at the wrist, replaced by a claw forged of fine steel. A dark gleam flashed across its tips, a clear sign that it was highly toxic.

Ye Fusheng had no intention of letting that thing rip his stomach open. Crossing his feet, his body executed a phantom sway, dodging the strike. His right fingers pinched together like a picking flower, clamping onto the man’s wrist. His left hand grabbed the man’s waist, while his left foot simultaneously kicked the opponent’s supporting right leg. Executing these three maneuvers simultaneously with calculated finesse, he used the opponent’s own momentum to throw the heavily built man flying.

White Impermanence’s footwork was bizarre. Slapping a hand against a tree, he flipped his body and pounced at Ye Fusheng again. Judging the position by sound, Ye Fusheng shifted his feet to dodge, but unexpectedly, a long black whip spiraled out from the side, instantly coiling around his left leg. A violent yank threw him off balance, sending him stumbling.

Seeing the deadly steel claws approaching, Ye Fusheng abruptly threw himself down, planting one hand on the ground. Raising and dropping his legs in a fluid sweep, he violently yanked the hidden attacker out of the shadows before she could release her whip. The steel claw couldn’t be retracted in time and raked across her body instead, drawing a streak of blood.

“So ghosts can bleed too. My horizons have been broadened.” Retracting his palm and standing up, Ye Fusheng noted that this person was dressed exactly like White Impermanence, only completely in black, and her petite frame revealed her to be a woman. He immediately laughed. “I see. You two shouldn’t be called Black and White Impermanence, but the ‘Male and Female Fiends’.”

Before his voice faded, the whip swept horizontally toward him like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, intent on strangling him. Ye Fusheng relied on his qinggong to dodge, but White Impermanence had already predicted his evasion path. As Ye Fusheng spun, he was forced to meet the attack with a palm strike.

A palm colliding with a steel claw should have resulted in a bloody mess of torn flesh. However, Ye Fusheng’s lips suddenly curled into a smile. Flipping the five fingers of his left hand to evade the sharp tips, he pinched the base of the iron claw. He raised his right palm to meet White Impermanence’s left hand. As their internal energy clashed, a sharp click echoed. Using the recoil, he flew backward, smoothly stealing the steel claw in the process.

“Thank you for the gift! We shall meet again!” Ye Fusheng let out a bright laugh, disappearing into the vast white fog.

Although he knew this was likely just a probe and Chu Xiwei wouldn’t be in true danger, he had grown accustomed to worrying about this child for years. Even though Chu Xiwei had grown into a full adult, in Ye Fusheng’s eyes, he had merely grown taller. Ultimately, he couldn’t just sit back and relax.

Though his vision was heavily obscured, Ye Fusheng followed the sound of combat. Relying entirely on his instincts, he managed to avoid crashing into trees or falling into pits. Just as the sounds of fighting drew agonizingly close and he steadied his footing, he heard a muffled groan. A figure was sent flying in his direction, accompanied by the thick scent of blood.

It was Chu Xiwei’s voice!

His heart skipping a beat, Ye Fusheng caught Chu Xiwei with one arm, stepping back to disperse the massive kinetic force until his back slammed heavily against a tree trunk. Before he could even speak, the piercing sound of rushing wind erupted again. Someone was charging forward with a palm strike, the sheer force behind it hiding the might of a thunderbolt. Ye Fusheng heard it perfectly clearly, but with Chu Xiwei in an unknown condition in his arms and his back pinned to a tree with no room to retreat, he had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he spun his body around, using his own flesh and blood to forcefully absorb the earth-shattering palm strike.

In his arms, Chu Xiwei’s pupils shrank. He reached a hand out from under Ye Fusheng’s armpit to intercept the strike, but alas, he was too late.

Losing his usual composure, he cried out involuntarily, “Yifu!”

That devastating, thunderous palm ultimately landed squarely on Ye Fusheng’s back. Yet in that very instant, he didn’t feel any pain. Instead, the impact felt light and airy, as if it was all loud thunder and little rain. But the very next second, a surge of internal energy penetrated straight into his lungs and organs, churning violently within him like a stormy sea. Ye Fusheng instinctively roused his own internal energy to resist, but shockingly, it was immediately entangled and assimilated by this bizarre foreign energy, vanishing instantly like a clay ox plunging into the ocean!

The internal cultivation of the Qilu Jing was divided into eight levels. Between the sixth and seventh levels lay a bottleneck as wide as a heavenly chasm. Chu Xiwei had been stuck at this bottleneck for nearly two years, yet this attacker had crossed it long ago, consolidating their foundation at the very peak of the eighth level for years!

Ye Fusheng’s body shuddered. The arms holding Chu Xiwei tightened involuntarily. A mouthful of blood rushed up his throat, and this time, he finally couldn’t hold it back; a dark trickle spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Chu Xiwei couldn’t see clearly, but he smelled the blood, and the fabric at his shoulder grew damp. His entire body trembled, his hands and feet turning to ice. He held his breath in that moment, his mind turning completely blank, naturally unaware that bloodshot veins were slowly creeping across his eyes.

An uncontrollable surge of fury and killing intent raged in his chest, seemingly ready to shatter the shackles of his meridians. But before he could unleash it, a hand reached out and delivered a solid, resounding smack straight to his forehead.

“One hit and your eyes go red, trying to get real with me? You haven’t even married a wife yet, but you’ve already forgotten your parents! Tch, you little brat, you have less conscience than a long-tailed magpie!”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Before Ye Fusheng could spit out his second mouthful of blood, he started coughing as if he were halfway to the grave.