Chapter Sixty-Three: The Daoist Hou Bears the Blame While Lying Down

Due to her imposing size, Yu Jun attracted a swarm of monstrous fish, but with her cultivation in her true form, she handled their onslaught with ease. Zhou Bai, nimble and agile, darted through the water, his butcher’s blade drinking deeply of blood, undergoing a subtle transformation that made it especially effective against the strange fish. Each swing of his blade spelled instant death for the creatures, yet Zhou Bai showed no desire for prolonged combat, focusing solely on protecting himself.

As time slipped by, Yu Jun’s breathing grew labored—a sign of oxygen deprivation. Her eyes turned crimson, and her demonic power began to radiate uncontrollably. As she shielded Wang Sheng and launched attacks, her strikes became increasingly forceful, causing the entire house to tremble.

Within Zhou Bai, the ghost tree produced a steady stream of oxygen, keeping him safe for the moment, but he knew he had to find the key within this chamber. The monstrous fish in the blood-filled water appeared endless; it was impossible to slay them all.

He dove to the deepest part of the pool, parrying the fish as they lunged, scanning every corner with his spirit sight, hoping to uncover whatever was hidden. Unfortunately, the blood-clouded water severely hampered his vision, rendering his spirit sight nearly useless.

Seeing him trapped, the ghost tree in his dantian sent forth an urgent impulse, as if yearning to emerge. Zhou Bai, sensing this, summoned the ghost tree from his dantian. The little tree had grown considerably since last he saw it, its branches now reaching the ceiling, over two meters tall.

Once in the blood water, the ghost tree became exceptionally lively, stretching its countless roots. It didn’t absorb the blood, but instead captured the faint threads of yin energy within. The chamber reached its breaking point—the trembling flesh became ever more unstable. Partly this was due to Zhou Bai and the ghost tree, but more so to Yu Jun’s relentless attacks, each blow carving out a vacuum.

The flesh in the room could no longer repair itself as quickly as it was destroyed; the blood water gradually began to clear, allowing Zhou Bai to finally see his surroundings. In a corner of the room, he noticed that a flower of flesh had blossomed, unnoticed until now, no larger than a commoner’s pinky finger, emitting a faint aura of yin energy.

“Found it,” he murmured.

Zhou Bai kicked through the water toward the flower, the ghost tree entwined around him, its branches waving to propel him faster. When he was within half a meter, he swung his butcher’s blade downward, stirring up a wave. A visible arc of blade energy surged toward the flower of flesh.

It went more smoothly than he’d anticipated—the blade energy flashed, instantly slicing the bud into fragments. The rest of the flower dissolved in the water, revealing a blood-stained silver coin at its center.

Zhou Bai’s heart leapt—he knew he’d found the right target. Before he could swing again, the room shook even more violently, with most of the flesh already vanished. Cracks appeared on the walls, blood water spurting out through them.

Moments later, with a thunderous crash, the entire house collapsed into a heap of ruins, torrents of blood carrying the silver coin away. Zhou Bai, wary of further changes, kept his gaze fixed on the coin and quickly gave chase.

Under his spirit sight, the coin began to transform—gradually morphing into a fat, white maggot. Zhou Bai hurled his butcher’s blade with all his strength; the blade struck the maggot’s body at lightning speed.

A faint, agonized screech sounded, and the maggot was reduced to a pile of shredded flesh, swept along with the blood toward a nearby spot. Zhou Bai breathed a sigh of relief—he’d spent too long underwater and was growing exhausted.

Yu Jun was in even worse shape, having borne the brunt of the attacks and protected Wang Sheng throughout. When the battle ended, she could only sit on the ground, gasping for air.

Just then, in the distance, Daoist Hou let out a shriek—his limbs had been dislocated, leaving him helpless on the ground as the blood water surged toward him. Getting soaked was hardly a concern, but the maggot’s shredded flesh landed directly on his face.

“Zhou Bai, curse you…” he spat.

Then the most terrifying thing happened: the maggot’s flesh still held a trace of life, inching across his face, crawling into his mouth and nose. Once the blood water subsided, the maggot’s remains had completely disappeared into Daoist Hou’s mouth and nose. He collapsed, utterly defeated.

It was only now that Daoist Hou noticed his dislocated joints slowly shifting back into place.

Zhou Bai, wrapped in the ghost tree, hadn’t noticed Daoist Hou’s predicament, while Yu Jun was tending to the unconscious Wang Sheng’s injuries.

Both of Wang Sheng’s arms had been slashed, and he’d lost much blood—his face was ghastly pale, lips tinged blue.

Upon seeing Zhou Bai approach, Yu Jun pulled out a small bottle of pills and tossed it to him, then pointed to her ear.

After Zhou Bai took the pill, his damaged eardrum quickly healed. He looked at the gravely injured Wang Sheng.

“How are his wounds?”

Yu Jun waved dismissively. After bandaging Wang Sheng, she spoke calmly, “It’s fine—the fact he survived is already extremely fortunate. If he reaches the true form and has a chance to reshape himself, even severed limbs can be restored. Heaven never shuts all paths.”

Zhou Bai nodded, gaining a deeper understanding of the mysteries of the true form.

As they spoke, the ghost tree on Zhou Bai’s body curiously explored its surroundings with its roots, appearing remarkably intelligent.

“That’s your life-bound ghost artifact, isn’t it?” Yu Jun had been meaning to ask; the little tree was simply too eye-catching.

Its gray-white trunk bore blood-red veins, and though it had only nine leaves, each was as large as a grown person’s palm. One leaf even displayed a pattern resembling an eye.

After absorbing much yin energy from the blood water, the ghost tree had grown noticeably larger in such a short time, demonstrating the immense potential of Zhou Bai’s life-bound ghost artifact.

The butcher’s blade was similar. During battle, it had absorbed much blood energy; though it hadn’t digested it all, the blade was visibly sharper, especially the handle, where the fierce pattern seemed alive, ready to break free.

“You forged your life-bound ghost artifact directly from spiritual materials?” Even Yu Jun was astonished at Zhou Bai’s fortune.

Most at the Underworld Registry forged their life-bound ghost artifacts from their own body parts; only a few chose alternate paths. External objects carried many uncertainties—of all the people she’d met, only Wen Meng and Zhou Bai had succeeded.