Chapter Seventy-Two: The Eternal Mother of Creation, Homeland of Absolute Emptiness

The two exchanged a glance. Wen Meng, considering himself the elder, was just about to step forward and push open the door when Bai Wanming moved ahead of him. With a creak, the door swung open, revealing utter darkness within.

Bai Wanming did not rush inside. He opened his right palm, and a dozen tendrils unfurled. First, he took the lantern from Wen Meng, extracted the candle, and proceeded to light each candle inside the house.

The illumination grew, starkly contrasting with the darkness outside, and together they stepped inside.

At the center stood a coffin, black as pitch, much like the one in the courtyard.

Bai Wanming once again released his tendrils, removing the lid from the coffin. Peering in, they found Prefect Zhao lying within.

Yet unlike the others, his hands clutched a white jade seal, which emitted a faint yellow glow, enveloping his body.

Soon, freed from the coffin's constraint, Prefect Zhao slowly awakened.

Thanks to the seal’s protection, his mind was clear, and he retained memories of being trapped inside the coffin.

“What happened? Is Hangdu still safe?”

Wen Meng quickly explained, fearing Prefect Zhao would not believe such peril could arise, but to his surprise, the prefect seemed to have anticipated it.

Prefect Zhao pondered for a moment before speaking. “I understand. That thing is waiting for me.”

“Yes, it’s waiting for you,” Bai Wanming replied, eyes fixed on the seal. Only Wen Meng remained confused.

Prefect Zhao walked to his wooden desk and sat down, placing the seal upon it. “This seal is a magical artifact forged for officials by the Nether Ritual Bureau. Every town has one; it can absorb the collective willpower of the entire city.”

“No matter how we county officials rotate our posts, the seal always stays in Hangdu as its guardian. Should any demon or spirit threaten it, the seal will unleash its accumulated power in a single spell.”

Wen Meng’s expression was incredulous. He could not help but ask, “With such an artifact, how could any demon dare arrange a formation to sacrifice tens of thousands in Hangdu?”

Bai Wanming shook his head, regret in his voice. “I fear the seal’s power can only be released once. It seems tonight we are doomed.”

Prefect Zhao struck his chest forcefully. “For the demon in the shadows to set this formation, it’s a desperate gamble!”

He lowered his head, his face turning utterly desolate. “But I dare not gamble with it. From the very beginning, I have lost this game.”

Prefect Zhao picked up a small knife from the table and slashed his palm, blood dripping onto the seal.

The white jade seal was soon tinged red, and its aura slowly aligned with his own.

About half a cup of tea’s time passed. Prefect Zhao grew pale, and the seal ceased absorbing his blood, now transformed into a deep crimson.

Bai Wanming used his powers to staunch the wound, while Prefect Zhao stared intently at the open door and bellowed.

“I have seized control of the seal. Why do you still not show yourself? Are you too cowardly?”

No sooner had he spoken than a fierce wind blew, the sound of mournful music played on a horn, and the room’s temperature dropped.

Heavy breathing resonated, and the floor tiles began to shift, as if something were about to emerge from below.

Moments later, a blackish-blue coffin appeared, rising steadily until fully revealed.

Cold sweat poured from Wen Meng, but he forced himself to sit calmly.

Bai Wanming’s face remained unchanged, though his heavier breathing betrayed the boy’s inner tension.

Prefect Zhao clutched the seal, squinting. “Faced with an ownerless seal, if the blood sacrifice is triggered, the caster will die. Only with me in control does it dare to show itself.”

“Then why did you take control?” Wen Meng could not help but ask.

“Because it truly dares. It can gamble with me, but I cannot,” Prefect Zhao replied helplessly.

The coffin lid creaked open, and a hoarse, bizarre voice sounded.

“The mortal world is a prison; all beings suffer.
Reincarnation never ends, nor does worry.
Pity the people, and gods descend from heaven.
Mother of the Unborn, the homeland of true emptiness.”

Hearing this chant, Wen Meng immediately realized: “White Lotus”—the words sprang to his mind.

This cult, known as White Lotus, had secretly grown in the Nine Provinces for over a century. Its purpose was unclear, its members’ origins even more mysterious. All that was known was that whenever it appeared, blood and chaos followed.

A shriveled corpse climbed out of the coffin, skin stretched over bone, as if buried underground for decades.

The corpse ignored Bai Wanming and Wen Meng, fixing its gaze on Prefect Zhao.

“You can still unleash the seal’s power. Why not gamble? Can I trigger the blood sacrifice before I die?”

Prefect Zhao shook his head. “You’ve spent years arranging this, waiting for the Nether Ritual Bureau’s power vacuum. The seal itself is irrelevant. Even if I activate it, Hangdu will lack protection for a time. You must have prepared contingencies. These tens of thousands will remain in peril.”

The corpse chuckled. “You’re clever. In that case, let’s discuss terms. Surrender half of Hangdu’s population for my blood sacrifice, and the other half—including yourself—will survive.”

Though Prefect Zhao had prepared himself, he still found it hard to speak. His eyes dimmed as he opened his mouth.

The corpse grinned, then turned to Wen Meng and Bai Wanming. “His choice is his own. What about yours? Will you be among the living, or the dead?”

Wen Meng narrowed his eyes. “Where do you get the courage to provoke the Nether Ritual Bureau? Even if White Lotus succeeds in sacrificing Hangdu, do you not realize what kind of entity you’ll attract?”

“Heh heh heh, that’s why I’m offering you a way out. I give you a chance, and you waste it.”

The corpse reached toward Wen Meng, a suction force emanating from its palm as it seized his throat.

“To me, you’re nothing but worthless fish. You’d best beg for mercy.”

Wen Meng’s face flushed as the corpse’s grip tightened. Bai Wanming extended his tendrils, restraining its arm.

“Nether Ritual Bureau, Nether Ritual Bureau… what more can I say? Enough. Let it all be destroyed.”

With a yank, the corpse tore the tendrils in two. Flicking its finger, a tangible wave of dark energy shot forth, striking Wen Meng’s compass.

The compass shattered, and Wen Meng screamed, coughing up several mouthfuls of blood, barely clinging to life.

“Your life-bound ghost artifact is destroyed. Your companion is about to die.”

Bai Wanming stared coldly at the corpse, showing no intent to retreat.