Chapter 556

Chapter 556: The Netherworld Army

Witnessing his vast horde of zombies trapped and dissolving into clear water, You Youzi’s face turned ashen. He exclaimed in disbelief, "Damnation! How can this be? Those were Cursed Dead Zombies!"

Among all zombie breeds, Cursed Dead Zombies stood as the most malicious. While ordinary zombies were cultivated through earth energy and death qi, these abominations fed on tormented spirits and living flesh. You Youzi’s slaughter of over a hundred million beings had yielded merely a few million zombies – the rest became nourishment for their ravenous brethren.

Though their creation methods were vile beyond measure, the results proved formidable.

Firstly, their growth accelerated rapidly with sufficient flesh and tortured souls, unlike common zombies requiring centuries to mature. Secondly, these cursed beings possessed grotesque power. While sharing the sluggish movement of ordinary zombies, they exuded lethal Corpse Poison. Lower-tier specimens required physical bites to spread contamination, but advanced variants could transmit toxins through air alone.

When gathered in millions, their miasma grew so potent it could afflict victims within hundred-mile radius. This wasn’t mere poison, but curse-laden essence carrying dead men’s hatred – a lingering malady requiring no direct contact. Merely slaying these creatures would bind the killer with vengeful taint.

Normally, this million-strong army swept all before them. Even Thunder Tribulation Immortals avoided direct confrontation, for victory meant courting soul-deep corruption without proper curse-cleansing treasures.

You Youzi’s long-standing reign of terror endured precisely through these abominations’ protection. As Ghost Realm Sect’s prime Core Inner Gate Disciple, he naturally possessed extraordinary methods.

Yet now his infallible weapon met its counter. Only when his zombies melted did he recall Guan Yin water’s origins – named after the Bodhisattva’s Jade Bottle whose sacred liquid purged evil. Mo Lanyun’s Guan Yin Water Spiritual Root didn’t merely control water, but specifically annihilated wickedness, making it the perfect bane for his cursed legion.

Fuming yet powerless, You Youzi conceded, "Miss Mo, I yield. Will that suffice?"

His dread army represented thirty percent of his strength. Their complete loss here would be irreplaceable – where else could he sacrifice millions to rebuild? Better to retreat as Ghost Realm Patriarch had advised.

Mo Lanyun’s cheerful refusal chilled his blood. "Mercy? After your countless murders? Letting you live risks more innocents dying. For the world’s sake, perish here!"

The Celestial Platform Competition’s rules permitted ceasefire only by mutual consent. Between righteous and demonic factions, her stance brought acclaim rather than censure. Trapped, You Youzi faced annihilation.

Ghost Realm Sect’s crude resurrection arts promised revived existence at terrible cost – ruined talent, lost status, expulsion from core discipleship. Desperate, he turned to Ghost Realm Patriarch.

In better times, the sect leader would have abandoned a failed disciple. Now with depleted resources, replacement proved impossible. Reluctantly, the Patriarch contacted Mo Qianxun: "Dao friend Mo, must we be so absolute? Leave room for future encounters."

Mo Qianxun’s icy retort pierced through: "Did you show mercy when slaughtering Mo Sect’s elites? When hunting Fang Lie’s father with such enthusiasm? Name your terms."

"Enough prattle," the Patriarch growled. "State your demands."

"Enough prattle," Mo Qianxun mirrored coldly. "State your demands."

The same words carried two entirely different meanings.

Mo Qianxun was essentially forcing the Ghost Realm Patriarch to buy his life with money, all while sounding like he was offering charity.

The Ghost Realm Patriarch nearly exploded with rage but suppressed it, growling, "One Eighth-rank Treasure!"

"Scram!" Mo Qianxun snapped instantly. "Kill that brat, and we’ll claim all his Eighth-rank Treasures!"

The Celestial Platform Competition rules stated losers forfeited everything while winners kept the spoils.

Among righteous sects, they usually avoided extremes by returning treasures. Earlier, Fang Lie killed Ao Jianzi but returned his belongings to East Kunlun – an unspoken rule maintained for generations. Breaking it meant becoming enemies with all righteous factions.

But between good and evil? Keep whatever you take. No returns.

The Ghost Realm Patriarch’s wrinkled face flushed crimson. "Don’t assume your granddaughter’s victory is assured! Even if she wins, it’ll be a pyrrhic victory! She might sustain permanent heavy injuries!"

"Nonsense!" Mo Qianxun scoffed. "A minor demon hurting my granddaughter? You’re delusional!"

"You—!" The patriarch’s neck veins bulged like ropes. As a Semi-Immortal, his dignity had never been trampled like this.

Abandoning pleas, he snarled, "Arrogant Mo Sect! Let’s see how your whelp handles You Youzi!"

He secretly messaged You Youzi: "Mo Qianxun mocks you! Claims his granddaughter will slaughter you like poultry! Make her fear for her life – only then will they surrender!"

You Youzi’s face burned scarlet. Behind his cheerful facade hid a bloodthirsty madman. Being mocked by a girl? Unbearable!

Without warning, he unleashed his inherited true fire – the purple Netherworld Ghost Fire. Normal ghost fires stay green until consuming a hundred million souls, turning purple. This advanced form could sear souls and unleash forbidden arts.

Biting his tongue, You Youzi sprayed blood essence onto the flames and roared: "Ghost Gate rise! Ghost Fire ignite!"

The fire exploded into a ten-mile-wide Formation beneath his feet. Eerie ghost-fire patterns pulsed with sinister energy.

Standing at the Formation’s heart, You Youzi chanted: "Heaven and Earth reversed! Yin-Yang shattered! Netherworld Gate – OPEN!"

Space warped violently as the Formation shuddered. A colossal black gate materialized, spewing ghostly mist and agonized wails.

"Mo Lanyun!" You Youzi howled. "DIE! Netherworld Legion – ATTACK!"

Deafening ghostly shrieks erupted as nightmarish creatures poured through the gate:

Netherworld Cavalry – each three stories tall, wielding soul-burning blades. Their combat power matched Purple Palace Masters. Thousands stampeded forth.

Giant Tongue Ghosts, Soul-Eaters, Drowning Ghosts, and a three-hundred-meter Starving Ghost that devoured dozens of cavalrymen instantly. This monstrosity rivaled a Fire Tribulation Immortal, swallowing treasures and Flying Swords alike.

Thousands of these horrors surged toward the black cloud, forming an endless assault line across the Celestial Platform.

Spectators gasped: "The Ghost Realm Sect’s ultimate secret technique – Netherworld Legion!"

"Requires purple Netherworld Ghost Fire AND bargaining with a Netherworld Ghost King!"

"How did that boy bribe a Semi-Immortal-level Ghost King? Those greedy bastards never deploy armies lightly!"