Chapter 13: The Assault on Mount Mao (Part Three)

Meanwhile, within the bounds of Mount Mao, as the protective formation began to collapse, a wave of panic swept through. Every disciple stared at the sky in utter disbelief.

There, they witnessed the mountain’s protective array rapidly dissolving under a surge of sinister ghostly energy. The formation had clearly been breached!

This left them pale with shock. In all the long history of the Mount Mao lineage, never had such a phenomenon occurred. The protective formation was a legacy of their founding ancestor, renowned for its formidable defense, yet now even that had fallen to the Ghost King. The sheer power of the Ghost King was enough to chill them to the bone with terror.

They wiped the cold sweat from their brows. Had the Ghost King turned her wrath upon them, they would all be lying dead and unburied by now.

Atop the mountain, one after another, the Taoist priests of Mount Mao emerged from their chambers, all wearing expressions of alarm and dismay. To their minds, the destruction of the protective formation could mean only one thing: a formidable enemy was upon them. To break the mountain’s shield, the invader must possess remarkable power and meticulous preparation. Otherwise, who would dare provoke Mount Mao? This was nothing less than a declaration of war.

A white-haired elder gazed up at the black miasma in the sky, and suddenly realization dawned on him. “The Ghost King is here!”

“What? The Ghost King has come?” The moment the old priest spoke, everyone present turned ashen.

The Ghost King’s name alone was enough to instill terror—it represented their deepest fear. If she truly was here to attack, a bloody battle would follow, and as Mount Mao’s masters, they would have to lead the defense, laying down their lives for their mountain.

“Hurry and inform the headmaster,” one of the elders quickly urged.

“Yes, notify the headmaster at once! Only the headmaster can face the Ghost King—how could we possibly withstand her?” echoed another.

Just then, a voice of commanding authority resounded from the rear, reaching every ear: “There is no need. I am already aware!”

At the sound, all eyes turned to see a man in priestly garb striding through the air above the temple. Every movement radiated supreme majesty.

This man was none other than Ye Yijian. He too had been deeply shaken upon sensing the breach of the mountain’s great formation. Though the formation, passed down from their ancestor, had waned somewhat in power over the centuries, it was still formidable; for the ghostly realm to break through so easily meant their foe came with considerable strength.

Behind Ye Yijian, another man in a dragon-embroidered robe followed in the air—Qin Shan.

Upon seeing Qin Shan at the headmaster’s side, all the elders greeted him with utmost respect. As the head of Dragon Tiger Mountain, and more skilled even than their own leader, Qin Shan could not be slighted.

Sensing their reverence, Qin Shan nodded faintly.

Ye Yijian’s gaze swept over the assembly below as he spoke in a deep, resolute voice: “The ghostly realm has come in full force to destroy us, but Mount Mao has stood unbroken for ten thousand years. The Ghost King will not bring us down so easily. Follow me down the mountain—we meet the enemy in battle!”

A chorus of voices erupted in response: “We vow to defend Mount Mao to the death! The ghosts will not set foot within our gates!”

...

“All disciples, to your stations! Form the Gang Qi Array! Let not a single ghostly fiend pass our threshold!” On the stone steps leading to the mountain’s entrance, Ye Qiuchen called out. The disciples rallied, brandishing their peachwood swords as a current of bracing energy surged forth, enveloping them in a protective aura.

Yet, at the sight of the array, the Ghost King merely waved her right hand. A vast wave of ghostly energy howled forth, shattering the Gang Qi Array in an instant.

As the formation broke, a tremendous force sent the disciples flying. Dozens were annihilated on the spot, while those who survived clutched their chests, coughing blood, battered and broken.

“To think a praying mantis could stop a chariot—how laughable for you to think you could stand against me,” the Ghost King’s cold voice rang out, leaving the disciples in utter despair.

How they longed for someone to descend from the heavens and shield them from the Ghost King’s onslaught. Yet that savior did not appear, and disappointment gnawed at them, tempting some to abandon the fight and flee down the mountain.

“Has the headmaster forsaken us?” a gentle-faced young woman, Su Xiaomei, asked through her pain.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Su Xiaomei! How could the headmaster ever abandon us? He must have been delayed by urgent matters,” Ye Qiuchen snapped, his anger flaring. “If you keep demoralizing the others, you’ll spend ten years in solitary confinement!”

Chastened by his fury, Su Xiaomei fell silent, but still mustered the courage to say, “What could be so important? Is anything more vital than the lives of his disciples?”

Ye Qiuchen’s face turned grim. Of course, he could not mention the headmaster and Qin Shan’s chess game. He replied coldly, “How would I know the headmaster’s concerns? Better to focus on how to deal with the Ghost King.”

Just then, the Ghost King sneered, “A pack of children thinks to oppose me? Laughable. I do admire your courage, but it will only bring you pointless slaughter. I am not one for senseless killing; send your headmaster out, and I will spare the rest.”

“Ghost King, enough with your false mercy! Was it not enough to kill hundreds of my brothers? I, Ye Qiuchen, will avenge them today, even if it costs me my life!” Ye Qiuchen’s eyes were cold and sharp as he prepared to charge at the Ghost King.

But a gentle force pulled him back.

At that moment, a stern voice cut through the air: “Stand down! You are no match for the Ghost King!”

Recognizing the headmaster’s voice, Ye Qiuchen hurriedly called out, “Headmaster, you’ve finally arrived! The Ghost King has slaughtered our brothers—she must not be allowed to leave alive!”

“Do you need to tell me that?” Ye Yijian replied with a frown. He turned a steely gaze on the Ghost King. “Mount Mao has never wronged you, Ghost King. Why do you assail us now and break our ancestral shield? Unless you give me a reason, you shall not leave alive.”

The Ghost King laughed coldly. “Ye Yijian, I thought you’d stay a coward forever. To think you have the nerve to come out and meet your death.”

“You—!” Ye Yijian’s fury burned. “Others may fear you, Ghost King, but I do not!”

“Is that so? Then come and try me!” The Ghost King’s chilling voice rang out as a vast sea of ghostly energy surged at her feet, condensing into ghostly faces the size of basins, wailing and howling as they materialized.

Seeing the Ghost King attack without hesitation, Ye Yijian’s expression hardened. With a swift motion, a golden longsword appeared in his hand; if one looked closely, the blade was etched with the pattern of a dragon.

As the sword was drawn, a dragon’s roar filled the air, as if an ancient true dragon was sealed within the blade.

A surge of draconic might erupted, a force capable—so it seemed—of banishing every ghost in existence.

Even the Ghost King faltered, her brow furrowing in shock. “So it’s the Dragon Abyss Sword, second among the ten greatest relics of the ancient age!”

“But if you think that sword alone can defeat me, you are sorely mistaken!”