txolops Chapter 42 Destroying the Ancestral Hall
Chapter 42 Destroying the Ancestral Hall
Huang Chen pressed the Black Wind Bag down tightly, his toes lightly touching the damp tree roots, and using the mountain's momentum, he headed west in a large circle, first cutting off his own energy flow, and then cutting off his own path of origin.
Half an hour later, he stopped at the foot of a rocky slope, squatted down on one knee, and ran his fingertips through the soil.
The soil is loose.
There are animal claws, snake tracks, and boot marks on it.
It's very mixed.
Huang Chen didn't rush to leave. He closed his eyes for a moment, used the Breath Concealment Technique, and gradually drew his blood and energy into the depths of his muscles and bones.
His breathing slowed down. His heartbeat also subsided.
When he opened his eyes again, even the barely suppressed murderous aura in his eyes seemed to have sunk into the water.
Three days.
He did not make a move for the next three days.
During the day, they hid in the mountain crevices, and at night they used animal skin maps and maps showing the distribution of power in the Ten Thousand Mountains to change their routes, sometimes going upstream against the stream, and sometimes walking along the cliff face, stepping on the shadows of the precipice.
Midway, they deliberately led a pack of night wolves to a place where a demon clan was patrolling, mixing up the scent of those pursuing them from behind.
Late on the third day, the ancestral mountain of the Xuantian Sect finally came into view.
The night sky was low and the mountain peaks looked like pieces of inverted black iron.
Zushan is the highest.
It wasn't the mountain's height that was impressive, but the oppressive aura it exuded. The entire mountain gate was shrouded in a pale golden light, with palaces stretching along the mountainside, long lanterns hanging from the eaves and brackets, and cloud bridges spanning the mountain streams. Occasionally, patrolling swords would streak across the mountain, their cold light trailing behind them, as if slicing back and forth in the darkness.
The mountain gate was excessively quiet.
Huang Chen lay on a horizontal branch of an old pine tree on a cliff behind the mountain, staring at the ancestral mountain for the full time it takes for an incense stick to burn, several miles away.
Zao Wou-Ki is here.
Or rather, that aura couldn't be hidden even from such a distance.
Like a red-hot iron pressed deep within the sect, heavy, fierce, and carrying the scent of torture.
"They're watching so closely."
Huang Chen uttered a low, emotionless sentence.
The more this is the case, the more sinister the ancestral hall seems.
He took out the tattered animal hide map and then the ancient animal hide map, spreading both on his lap. By the moonlight and the distant mountain gate lanterns, he compared them bit by bit. He couldn't touch the main gate of the ancestral mountain, he couldn't touch the cloud bridges on the left and right, and he especially couldn't touch the place where the spiritual veins in the mountain's belly converged.
The only place we could attack was the back cliff.
There, the abyss is strong, the wind is fierce, and the stone bones are exposed, but the restrictions there may not be the strongest.
Because nobody thought anyone could force their way in from that place.
Huang Chen put away the diagram, took out the Nine Netherworld Breaking Nail, and pressed the cold nail against his palm, as if he were holding a piece of frozen bone.
The next moment, he slid down the tree branch and clung to the mountain shadow as he made his way to the back cliff.
The closer you get, the stronger the wind becomes.
The back cliff is no ordinary cliff; the entire mountain wall looks as if it were cleaved by a giant axe, plummeting thousands of feet vertically. Below, black mist churns, and occasionally, the echoing sound of falling stones lingers for a long time.
Several fine, gossamer-like golden threads are embedded in the cliff face, barely visible on ordinary days. Only when the wind blows and the golden threads tremble gently do they reveal the large net they form.
Prohibition.
Huang Chen lay hidden behind a protruding rock, not making a move immediately.
He first put the wind-fixing pearl under his tongue.
The wind suddenly weakened by half, and the hem of her clothes stopped flaring around her.
He then pressed a wisp of spiritual energy into the Nine Netherworld Breaking Nail.
The nail went dark for a moment, and then the fine, dark patterns on its surface lit up one by one, like ghostly eyes suddenly opening in an underground morgue.
Huang Chen raised his hand, but didn't smash it.
Instead, it slowly pierces into the thinnest point of the golden line on the cliff face.
laugh--
The sound was so soft it was almost inaudible.
The golden netting seemed to have been pierced by a needle, leaving a small indentation before spiderweb-like cracks appeared in all directions. Huang Chen's eyes remained fixed, and with a twist of his wrist, the Nine Netherworld Breaking Nail plunged half an inch into the ground.
The cliff face trembled.
In a side hall near the distant mountain gate, a copper bell rang softly.
Huang Chen's heart sank, but he moved even faster. He pressed his other hand and fingers together on the edge of the crack, and the brute force of the Witch Clan Battle Body tore the crack open to both sides.
Click.
Click click click.
Three of the gold threads broke.
A chilling, damp wind blew out from the crack, carrying the smells of incense ash, wax, and musty, damp wood.
It became.
Huang Chen shrank back and slid into the narrow gap that only allowed one person to pass through.
First, everything went black.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet gave way to emptiness.
He didn't fall for long. He flipped his hand, grabbed a protrusion on the rock wall, and used the momentum to flip himself onto a narrow stone path.
The stone path is inside the mountain.
The ceiling was low, the walls were damp, and the sound of dripping water was intermittent.
In the distance, faint lights burned, their light fragmented by the thick stone walls and array patterns, illuminating only a section of dark blue ground. The smell of incense in the air grew stronger, mixed with the stench of blood—old, dried, layered upon new.
Huang Chen stood still and listened.
There were two shallow breaths about thirty paces to the left, most likely from the night watch disciples.
There are flowing patterns above, like water slowly gliding by.
Deeper inside... there was a sound of crying.
wrong.
It's not crying.
It was because too many remnant souls were crammed together, unable to express their resentment, leaving only a soft, grinding sob.
Huang Chen's expression gradually turned cold.
He walked along the stone path, his steps so light they seemed not to touch the ground. After turning two corners, a half-open bronze door appeared ahead.
A dim red light shone through the crack in the door. Two disciples stood guard outside, their heads nodding as they drifted off to sleep.
Huang Chen did not draw his sword.
Before either of them could react, he got close.
The moment one man turned his neck, Huang Chen's hand gripped his chin and twisted it sharply. Snap.
The other person had just opened his eyes and hadn't even opened his mouth when the black iron knife was already slid in diagonally from under his ribs, straight through his heart.
He casually dragged the two corpses into the shadows.
The bronze door was pushed open a crack.
The sight inside made Huang Chen's knuckles turn white instantly.
Soul Treasury.
The entire mountainside was carved into a giant cave.
The four stone walls were inlaid with soul tablets, row upon row, column upon column, densely packed, standing from the ground all the way to the dome, like walls built of bones. Each soul tablet was burning incense, and the wisps of ash gathered in the air, were swallowed by an upside-down bronze furnace, and then sent along golden and red cauldrons to the ancestral hall above.
Those are not just the life tablets of Xuantian Sect disciples.
Huang Chen looked up and immediately recognized several familiar names.
A passing immortal.
Xuantian Sect Pursuer Armor.
Xuan Tian Sect pursuers, number B.
Chu Yunfei.
Xuan Tian Sect Steward A.
Those names were nailed to the corners, the edges of the spirit tablets were blackened, as if they had been hollowed out and then forcibly stuffed with something else.
The causal threads trailing from behind the cards were also unclean, entangled with grayish-white resentment, and their ends were stuck into a bunch of blurry, twisting human figures.
Those are the vengeful spirits of humans.
One, two, ten, dozens...
It was refined into a substitute soul tablet.
When a disciple of the Xuantian Sect dies, human souls are used to make amends.
As long as the incense continues to burn, so too does their fate. They can even use this dirty thing to cover up most of the clues that the sect is trying to find when their disciples go missing.
Huang Chen stood at the door without saying a word.
But a fire suddenly surged up in his chest.
He recalled the first passing immortal who died at his hands, the two Xuan Tian Sect pursuers who came down the mountain to investigate in the night of Chapter Ten, the arrogant faces of Chu Yunfei and his two companions when they broke through the formation, and the human corpses in Blood Valley, flying boat, spirit mine, and the interlayer of ancestral veins, all of which had had their souls extracted and refined.
So that's where they all send their goods.
"good.
'
Huang Chen stared at the wall of souls, his voice extremely low.
"Very good."
'
He could no longer tolerate it.
He slammed the Wan Sha Chong Cheng Talisman directly onto the center of the bronze gate.
After the talisman was pasted on, there was a moment of silence.
The next moment, all the resentment in the entire Soul Treasury exploded like a pack of wolves smelling blood.
The four soul tablets trembled violently, the bronze furnace shook violently, and tens of thousands of gray-white vengeful spirits rushed out from the tablets, like pus and blood that had accumulated for hundreds of years bursting open, shrieking as they rushed towards the dome.
Who goes there!
'
"Something's happened at the Soul Vault!"
A startled shout finally rang out from the distant passageway.
Huang Chen stepped into the center of the Soul Treasury and grabbed the Soul-Destroying Chisel Remnant.
This thing is short, heavy, and completely black, like a piece forcibly broken off from some ancient weapon.
It may seem inconspicuous on ordinary days, but when it is truly infused with qi and blood, the broken lines on the chisel will light up inch by inch, as if it has come to life.
With his first strike, Huang Chen slammed into the central altar.
boom!
Half of the stone platform collapsed, and rubble and wood chips from the memorial tablets flew everywhere.
Just as the golden statue of the patriarch enshrined on the altar began to emit a protective aura, it was struck in the head by the second chisel.
The golden body exploded with a piercing cracking sound.
Cracks crawled from between his eyebrows all the way to his chest.
The third time.
Fourth time.
Huang Chen was smashing a piece of rotten wood, swinging his arm, bringing down the chisel, swinging again, and smashing again.
Each strike carried the brute force of an early-stage Earth Immortal's body, along with the almost savage explosive power of the Witch Clan's battle physique. The golden protective aura shattered layer by layer, and the ancestral spirit dharma images emerged one after another, only to be forcefully smashed apart.
One statue.
Two statues.
Three Venerables.
The array patterns above the Soul Treasury began to extinguish in patches.
"You audacious wretch!"
A furious roar came crashing down from above, shaking the entire mountainside.
Just as Huang Chen shattered the third layer of the Ancestral Spirit Dharma Image, the stone roof above his head suddenly exploded. Countless wooden beams, bricks, and tiles mixed with incense ash crashed down, and a tall figure wrapped in golden light of Dharma seals pressed directly into the center of the Soul Treasury ruins.
Zao Wou-Ki.
He was fiercer than when I last saw him on the airship, as if he had just been pulled out of a rage.
He wore a long, dark purple robe over a suit of golden armor from the Hall of Punishments. Half of his face was tinged blue by the falling incense ash from above, and his eyes burned with murderous intent.
He glanced at the fragments of the patriarch's golden statue scattered on the ground, and his noodles twitched violently.
"Huang Chen!"
These two words were practically spat out from between his teeth.
Huang Chen flicked the gold fragments off the Soul-Destroying Chisel and looked up at him.
"You recognized it quite quickly."
'
"You're asking for it!"
Zhao Wuji raised his hand and performed a hand seal.
The seal wasn't large, but after being released, it swelled in the wind, instantly transforming into a dark green mountain shadow. Bearing the dual pressure of suppressing the soul and crushing the flesh, it crashed down with a deafening roar. The ground beneath Huang Chen's feet cracked first, and the rubble bounced wildly under the pressure.
Huang Chen did not back down.
The crimson light of the Twelfth Grade Karmic Fire Red Lotus instantly enveloped his body, and crimson flames exploded one after another, forcefully blocking the oppressive power of the Dharma Seal.
He stomped his foot hard, charging forward against the magic seal, not even using the Asura Blood Blade, and directly swung his fist.
The fist and the hand seal collided.
boom!
The dull thud was like a hammer striking an ancient bell, making one's eardrums tingle.
Huang Chen's entire right arm gushed blood on the spot, with several deep gashes tearing open the flesh. Zhao Wuji was also shaken, causing his hand seals to falter and his expression to change.
He clearly hadn't expected that a mere early-stage Earth Immortal would actually dare to use his physical body to directly challenge his Punishment Hall Seal.
"Your physical body has been trained to resemble that of an animal."
'
Zhao Wuji's voice turned cold, and he pressed his five fingers together, forming a seal that pressed down once more.
Huang Chen grinned, his mouth filled with the taste of blood.
"Your ancestors were pretty resilient."
"brute!
'
Zhao Wuji flew into a rage. His Dharma image unleashed behind him, and a phantom wielding chains and a whip rose from the ruins, raising its hand to strike Huang Chen. Before the chains even reached him, the ground was already raked into a deep trench, and the air was filled with the smell of burning.
Huang Chen dodged to the side, not even taking the Rock-Shattering Hammer, and instead unleashed a Seven-Style Witch Kill: Sky-Splitting Strike, directly aimed at Zhao Wuji's waist.
Zhao Wuji raised his elbow to block.
boom!
A shockwave erupted between the two, and the already crumbling Ancestral Hall could no longer withstand it.
The upper altar, beams, pillars, and the broken base of the golden statue crashed down one after another. Even worse, the resentment ignited by the Ten Thousand Evils City-Piercing Talisman was still growing wildly. The ancestral hall, which had accumulated incense offerings for countless years, was now as if it had been uprooted, and the backlash began.
First, the bronze furnace exploded.
Then, those causal lines broke off in large sections.
With each broken incense stick, a stream of foul incense smoke would rush back into the main hall of the Ancestral Master's Hall, like scalding hot oil poured into a fire. All the offering tables, banners, and memorial tablets in the Ancestral Master's Hall spontaneously combusted.
The fire wasn't red, but a dark reddish-black, making the wood creak and groan as it burned.
Just as Zhao Wuji was about to press down the magic seal again, his face suddenly turned pale.
The backlash severely disrupted the flow of energy within him.
Huang Chen had been waiting for this moment.
"Smash it!"
He roared, fully activating his Witch Clan Battle Body. His bones and muscles crackled and popped, and he was like a fully drawn bow, smashing through the heavy pressure of the magic seal and closing in within three steps of Zhao Wuji.
Soul-Destroying Chisel - The First Strike.
It wasn't a head-smashing blow.
Instead, he struck hard on Zhao Wuji's chest, where the protective aura was thinnest.
puff!
The layer of divine light pierced through it on the spot.
Zhao Wuji grunted and slapped Huang Chen's shoulder with his backhand. The force of his palm penetrated to the bone, causing Huang Chen's left shoulder to collapse by half an inch. He was sent flying and crashed into two beams burning with black flames.
Before he even landed, he kicked off hard with his heel.
They bounced back using the collapsed timber beams.
The Seven Forms of Witchcraft, the Second Form: Mountain Severing.
The third move, Collapse of the Meridian.
The two attacks came in quick succession, with the fist, elbow, and shoulder striking Zhao Wuji's chest and abdomen almost simultaneously. Zhao Wuji roared and unleashed a whip strike with his Executioner's Form, tearing Huang Chen's skin and flesh from the back, even cracking his Xuanhuang armor.
Huang Chen seemed not to feel any pain.
Or rather, the pain was long ago suppressed by the murderous intent in his chest.
He delivered the final blow at point-blank range.
Qi, blood, spiritual power, and karmic fire were all poured into this Seven Forms of Witch Killing, and the explosive sound brought out by the fist ripped open the surrounding flames.
Zhao Wuji didn't have time to retreat completely, and could only barely turn half of his body away.
boom!
The force of the punch traveled from his left shoulder, shattering half of his Dharma body on the spot. Blood, bones, spiritual light, and fragments of the Dharma form mixed with black fire sprayed out, smashing across half of the ancestral hall ruins.
Zhao Wuji staggered backward, half of his body almost rotten, and for the first time, his face showed uncontrollable shock and anger.
"you--"
Huang Chen was also feeling bad.
After delivering that punch, he felt a sweet taste in his throat, blood trickling down his chin, and his right leg bones trembled. But he didn't stop, stepping on the burning fragments of the memorial tablet, closing in step by step.
Just then, a system notification suddenly rang out in my mind.
【Ding!
The host has successfully destroyed the core sacrificial system of the Xuantian Sect's Ancestral Hall!
【Ding!
The host severed the foundation of the soul-binding incense offerings, releasing a large number of imprisoned vengeful spirits!
【Ding!
Gain a huge amount of karma points!
【Ding!
Gain a huge amount of merit points!
As soon as the notification sound ended, the bells of the entire Xuantian Sect suddenly rang out loudly.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!Boom!
Alarm bells rang simultaneously from the main peak, side peaks, the Hall of Punishment, the Pill Hall, and the mountain gate archway, creating a chaotic scene as if the sky itself had been shattered. The ancestral vein emitted a muffled rumble deep within the mountain, the ground undulated in waves, stone steps crumbled, and temple corners collapsed. In the distance, the angry shouts and screams of the patrolling disciples blended together.
"The Ancestral Hall has collapsed!"
"Hurry and close the mountain!
'
"Grab him!"
Light rose from all directions.
Huang Chen looked up.
If we don't leave now, we'll be surrounded and killed by the entire Xuantian Sect.
Zhao Wuji was still standing, half of his body a bloody mess, but his eyes were so venomous they seemed to want to devour Huang Chen alive.
"run?"
He was breathing heavily, his voice hoarse, "You think you can get away—"
Before he could finish speaking, Huang Chen kicked up a burning ancestral tablet on the ground.
The memorial tablet slammed into Zhao Wuji's face.
Sparks flew everywhere.
"Keep your life to chase after them."
He turned and left.
It's neither towards the outer gate nor towards the mountain path.
Instead, he stepped directly onto the still-burning offering table and ancestral tablets in the ruins, onto the half-collapsed beams of the hall, and leaped out of the broken dome of the Ancestral Hall.
The night wind suddenly filled my robes.
Behind him, the entire Xuantian Sect was in chaos, filled with the sounds of bells, fire, roars, and collapses. Below, the Ancestral Hall had been burned into a large, blackish-red crater, with incense ash and flames shooting upwards, as if an opening had appeared in the earth.
Huang Chen's figure twisted and turned several times in the night sky, and the black wind hood fluttered loudly in the wind.
A fragment of the ancestral tablet, still burning, tumbled down from beside my feet.
The firelight illuminated half of his bloodied face, and in the next instant, he disappeared into the churning night behind the Xuan Tian Sect.