The Heroine Fell Deeply For Her [Quick Transmigration] 185

Chapter 185: I’ll Support You By Handing Out Flyers Part 30

On the mountaintop, the rain caused by the rampaging yin energy continued, obscuring the sunrise.

The sky showed no sign of clearing, the dark clouds blocking the sunlight, plunging the mountain into darkness.

The flashlights had long since malfunctioned due to the changes in the magnetic field, the only light sources being the cultivators’ spiritual energy, fortunately, they had sharp senses, unfazed by the wind and rain.

Cultivators in various attire stood in formation, their hands moving rapidly, forming seals.

The protective barrier shimmered faintly, a shield against the onslaught of vengeful spirits.

As the formation was being reinforced, the ghost king, seizing an opportunity, broke through the weakened barrier, releasing all its remaining ghost servants, a gruesome assortment, almost overwhelming the younger disciples.

“Is this a corpse exhibition? They’re all so ugly they belong in a museum, wearing clothes from every era!”

As if to emphasize his words, a disemboweled ghost suddenly lunged at the barrier, its intestines splattering against it, every gruesome detail visible.

As if that wasn’t disgusting enough, it grabbed a screaming ghost baby with its intestines and shoved it into the arms of a female ghost in red, who slapped the baby, silencing its cries.

The young disciple, although not scared, his face paled, feeling nauseous.

He said, “I swear, I’m not eating any pig intestines for the next three months.”

Hearing this, the other disciples also felt sick: “You look like a pig intestine yourself, still thinking about food at a time like this.”

Another young disciple: “No wonder the Bureau forbids the Yu clan from keeping ghosts without permission, I thought it was too strict, but they have so many, and they’re all out now!”

“They’re clearly not lacking resources, yet they always complain about the strict rules, claiming it hinders their cultivation, what a sacrifice.”

Zhen Xuelan, channeling her spiritual energy, her lips white with exertion, also cursed under her breath.

A Zhen clan disciple, trying to distract himself with chatter, turned to her: “What do you think, Xuelan?”

Zhen Xuelan, her hands glowing brighter, nodded firmly: “Yeah!”

Below the mountain, the river raged, its waves crashing against the rocks, like boiling water, something beneath the surface about to emerge.

But every attempt was suppressed by a stronger force.

Their efforts throughout the night weren’t in vain, the rampaging yin energy gradually subsiding, the rain lessening, the sky showing signs of clearing.

They slowly withdrew their spiritual energy, the floating artifacts descending, the danger seemingly averted.

Fu Guanyue, holding the Shanhe Brush, her gaze fixed on it, didn’t put it back in her hair, remaining silent for a long moment.

A question she had long wanted to ask, if this was a ghost king suppressed for millennia, its power should be immense.

Why was it so easily subdued every time?

Was a powerful being truly willing to be trapped, without any resistance?

An elder, seeing Fu Guanyue lost in thought, worried she was injured, called out, “Guanyue, are you alright?”

Fu Guanyue closed her hand around the cool jade brush, looking up: “I’m fine.”

Just as they were about to relax, planning to cleanse the area and return, a furious roar, like a clap of thunder, echoed: “Who?! Who killed my avatar?!”

The sound was deafening, almost shattering their eardrums and even their internal organs.

Many, caught off guard, coughed up blood, quickly using their spiritual energy to protect themselves.

“What’s happening?”

This was everyone’s first thought.

Although the ghost king was suppressed beneath the mountain, they had never heard its voice, seen its true form, or even knew its origins.

If it weren’t for its lingering yin energy and occasional outbursts, they wouldn’t even know if it still existed.

Today, they finally witnessed the legendary ghost king.

A dense, black aura erupted, the dispersing clouds returning, engulfing the mountaintop.

The mountain groaned, the cracking of rocks echoing, and the cultivators’ hearts sank, the repaired formation crumbling.

They watched in horror as a giant hand emerged from the earth, slamming against the ground, another hand struggling to break free, like an ancient giant awakening.

The tremors almost made them lose their balance, and they used their artifacts for support.

It was too late to attack, to prevent the ghost king’s emergence, its head now visible.

They finally understood why such a large mountain was needed to suppress it, the ghost king itself was massive, requiring a large tomb.

Its figure almost blotted out the sky, its eyes glowing red, as it looked down: “Which one of you killed my avatar?”

They couldn’t understand its words, their panic growing, unleashing a barrage of attacks, their artifacts flying towards it.

Artifacts could be replaced, but not their lives.

“What avatar? What does it mean?”

“Zhen clan, activate the barrier!”

The Zhen clan members, helpless: “We already did, but it’s a thousand-year-old ghost king, I’m trying my best!”

The ghost king, enraged by their silence, raised its hand and slammed it against the spherical barrier.

The vengeful spirits outside, as if finding their leader, roared and clawed at the barrier, those who were destroyed instantly replaced by others.

Some turned away, thinking this was the end.

As the giant hand approached the barrier, a calm voice echoed: “I killed your avatar, you haven’t changed, still hiding in the shadows, still consorting with painted skin ghosts.”

A sword, faster than the voice, sliced through the ghost king’s wrist, severing the hand that had resisted their combined attacks.

Easier than cutting through sugarcane.

Then, to their surprise, the sword continued, aiming for the ghost king’s forehead, its massive figure seemingly dispersing.

But it was just an illusion, the sword having destroyed the ghost king’s physical form, severely injuring it.

Another avatar destroyed, the ghost king shrieked again, and even though they were prepared, the impact was still considerable.

The weakened barrier shattered, and countless ghosts swarmed in, the cultivators raising their artifacts to defend themselves.

A furious roar echoed: “Ruining my plans again and again, who are you?! How dare you! I’ll kill you!”

Ignoring the blood trickling from their lips, they looked up at the sky.

A figure descended, a white-clad swordsman, a sword returning to her hand like a shooting star.

She landed gracefully, her spiritual energy erupting, instantly destroying a circle of ghosts.

Her arrival gave them a chance to breathe, and they looked at her, stunned, an unfamiliar face.

Only a few recognized her.

Tao Ning, holding the Broken Edge, said impatiently, “Always talking about fighting and killing, I’ve only heard you yell, never seen you actually fight, your former master thought you would avenge him, I waited for centuries, thinking you were too cowardly.”

She scoffed: “So you were imprisoned, no better than a coward, even more pathetic.”

Her arrogant words made them anxious, afraid of provoking the ghost king further.

But after a while, the world quieted down, the ghost king not even reacting, not even regenerating its severed hand.

They were puzzled, what was happening?

Was the ghost king dead?

Impossible, right?

A disciple, knocked to the ground by the earlier impact, landed behind Tao Ning, the Broken Edge right before his eyes.

His first thought: What a beautiful sword!

His second: Such steady hands.

Since her arrival, Tao Ning had been holding the sword, its gleaming blade reflecting in his eyes.

And it hadn’t moved an inch.

She was clearly a master swordsman.

Before he could ask, a familiar voice, filled with rage and disbelief, echoed: “Xu Cun! You’re still alive?! Who released you?!”

Tao Ning, using her spiritual sense to locate the ghost king’s true form, replied, “You gave up too early, you didn’t know that even the combined forces of all cultivators couldn’t kill me, I’ve been causing trouble for millennia.”

“…” This answer stunned the ghost king.

Having been suppressed for so long, it had been plotting its escape, its power enough to conquer the mortal world.

Who would have thought a dark horse would appear?

And this dark horse’s voice was familiar, triggering not anger, but fear, a desire to escape.

But seeing a familiar face, the ghost king couldn’t resist taunting her: “Hahaha! Indeed, indeed! Even the Heavenly Punishment couldn’t kill you, how could a mere siege?”

Tao Ning’s eyes flickered: “I came here specifically to ask about the rumors you spread, claiming I sent your master to infiltrate the cultivation world and then killed him.”

As she uttered the word “killed,” her sword was already drawn, its tip aimed at the fleeing ghost king.

Who would have thought that the fearsome ghost king was actually so ordinary-looking, just green skin, red eyes, and a tattered black robe?

This wasn’t about fighting, but the deep-seated fear Tao Ning had instilled in the three realms, everyone knowing Xu Cun, their first instinct being to run.

Even its former master, a painted skin ghost capable of mimicking a Mahayana cultivator, had died at her hands.

Although it had survived for millennia longer than its master, the memory of that defeat was deeply ingrained in its soul.

Its fighting spirit gone, fear taking over, a true example of winning without fighting.

The ghost king, finally remembering that Xu Cun was a great demon, quickly pleaded, “I’m willing to serve you, Master, let’s wreak havoc together!”

After all, wasn’t that what great demons did?

That’s what everyone called her, although it couldn’t recall any specific acts of villainy from Xu Cun.

Tao Ning extended her hand: “Shanhe Brush, come!”

Hearing the familiar name, everyone looked at Fu Guanyue, whose Shanhe Brush glowed brightly, flying towards Tao Ning’s outstretched hand.

The brush-shaped hairpin expanded, becoming a foot long, its tip radiating an unprecedented amount of spiritual energy.

This was the Shanhe Brush’s true power, only its true master could unleash it.

“I can’t think of a suitable punishment, so you might as well die.”

Behind her casual words, a giant, purple-gold talisman was already formed, no incantation needed, just a push.

Tao Ning’s eyes were cold: “Sun Talisman, go!”

The sun-like talisman descended, and the ghost king couldn’t escape.

Who would have thought that the common Sun Talisman, in Tao Ning’s hands, possessed such power, its yang energy even scorching the surrounding cultivators.

The vengeful spirits on the mountainside, unable to even scream, were also destroyed.

A disciple muttered, “A casual ultimate move, so cool,” then immediately received a smack on the head.

This had all been a grand scheme. The ghost king couldn’t break through the formation completely, but it also didn’t want to remain trapped.

So it came up with a plan, if it couldn’t emerge as a whole, why not in parts?

Over the long years of its imprisonment, it had carefully chosen collaborators, the Yu clan’s reclusive Grand Elder being one of them.

And the Yu clan outcast, also nurtured by it, had indeed damaged the barrier, creating an opportunity.

But its avatar had been killed, its connection to the mortal world severed, and it was severely injured.

This opportunity lost, the next one unknown, it decided to force its way out and cultivate in the mortal world.

It would have succeeded, if not for Tao Ning.

Under the Sun Talisman, the ghost king shrieked, its soul scattered, its existence erased, the lingering yin energy around Deep Sky Abyss finally dissipating.

The sky finally brightened.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating Tao Ning from behind, her figure like that of a celestial being.

She said casually, “Broken Edge, return.”

The sword flew back to her hand, disappearing.

Everyone was even more shocked, she even had a spatial storage artifact.

At the same time, an electronic voice echoed in Tao Ning’s mind: [Ding! Storage successful!]

Tao Ning, holding the Shanhe Brush, finally remembered what she had just done, having summoned it instinctively.

Her secrets were being revealed one after another, her heart pounding.

Someone finally recognized her, their gaze filled with reverence.

“Xu… Xu Cun? Could it be…?”

It did seem likely.

The names Tao Ning and Tao Fuan couldn’t exist, but the title Xu Cun was well-known, thanks to Fu Chengbi, the Fu clan’s ancestor, who always proclaimed that the creator of the Soul Seizing Technique wasn’t her, but Ancestor Xu Cun.

She had even incorporated the name into the incantation, making it known to every cultivator who used the technique.

Xu Cun, a name only mentioned in the Soul Seizing incantation, a figure who seemed to not exist, yet did, shrouded in mystery.

But there was always a way.

Since records couldn’t be kept, but the Soul Seizing Technique could, then existing as its creator was also a way to leave her mark.

This was Fu Chengbi’s solution, a way to honor her benefactor, and she had succeeded.

A figure from millennia ago, now standing before them.

The thought alone made their knees weak, and they knelt.

Truly knelt.

Tao Ning turned around, seeing a sea of kneeling figures.

They bowed in unison: “Greetings, Ancestor Xu Cun.”

As the sun rose in the east, illuminating the sky, Tao Ning’s vision went black.

This was why she hadn’t wanted to reveal her identity.