Chapter 454: Zuoqianhu Becomes a Player
In the world of A Chinese Ghost Story...
With the death of the Tree Demon Matriarch, some of the pollution began to dissipate. A few corrupted, mindless beings gradually regained awareness.
Golden Throne Hall.
A lone figure, robed in crimson monk's attire embroidered with golden thread, sat solemnly upon the dragon throne.
On either side of him sat similarly robed monks in red.
At the head sat Pudu Cihang—his face pale and serene, radiating compassion like the reincarnation of a golden cicada. His dazzling red robes radiated heat, highlighting his presence like a noble of the Western Paradise.
Sacred Buddhist chants echoed throughout.
The air was thick with sandalwood incense, as if the hall had become a golden Buddhist kingdom.
Inside the Golden Throne Hall knelt countless officials and nobles, their expressions devout as they bathed in the sacred chants, seeking enlightenment.
The crowd extended all the way beyond the hall, filling the grand square outside.
From a glance, it was a sea of kneeling devotees.
Suddenly,
The moment the Tree Demon Matriarch died, the gray mist that shrouded the skies seemed to lighten ever so slightly.
One of the kneeling figures began to tremble, then slowly lifted his head as if waking from a dream.
"Pudu Cihang?"
Zuoqianhu shook his head, pain exploding behind his eyes.
The Grandmaster Pudu Cihang... sitting on the imperial dragon throne?
Audacity!
Instinctively, Zuoqianhu reached for his blade—but his waist was empty.
He was clad in the crimson robes of a disciple of the Grandmaster.
Looking left and right,
He saw that the entire square and throne hall were filled with similarly dressed disciples. Nearly all the kingdom's high-ranking officials were here, prostrate on the ground, worshiping the monk seated on the throne!
"That demon monk!"
Rage surged in Zuoqianhu's eyes.
Pudu Cihang.
A mysterious cultivator who, in mere months, had gained the emperor's trust with strange and wondrous means, and was appointed Grandmaster of the Ming Court.
With the emperor's favor came imitation. The court, following the emperor's lead, revered him.
Even Zuoqianhu had once been a devout follower.
But unlike the others, Zuoqianhu's loyalty to the Grandmaster had always stemmed from loyalty to the emperor. It was patriotism, not piety.
But now—
Pudu Cihang dared ascend the dragon throne. To Zuoqianhu, even royalty would be punished for such a crime—let alone a mere Grandmaster.
The endless chants in his ears
Could not wash away his fury.
"Demon monk, face judgment!"
Zuoqianhu surged to his feet, ripping off the crimson robes, and lunged at the nearest so-called disciple with a clenched fist.
"Who dares cause chaos in the True Dragon's domain!?"
The commotion was glaring among the sea of kneeling zealots.
One disciple, wielding a vajra staff and wearing a solemn expression, opened his eyes and stood. His lips stopped chanting, brows furrowing in righteous anger.
Wrathful Vajra!
A spiritual blast laced with evil intent enveloped Zuoqianhu.
His mind reeled.
Golden Buddhist light bloomed in his mind's eye. Seated at its center was the demon monk Pudu Cihang, murmurs of chants flooding his thoughts, trying to convert him.
"Traitor! Demon monk! Die!"
Zuoqianhu roared in defiance. His thunderous voice shattered the spiritual assault.
BAM BAM BAM!
The disciple's expression twisted in shock—he hadn't expected Zuoqianhu to resist his magic.
Before he could react, Zuoqianhu's fists landed.
He had no spiritual skills, but his body had been honed for years. He was among the top martial artists in all of Ming.
CRACK.
One fist shattered the red-robed monk's face, skull cracking with a sickening crunch.
The second crushed his chest, ribs piercing into his heart.
Blood spewed. The monk's eyes bulged as he collapsed lifeless.
Zuoqianhu had killed him with two punches.
But then—
The red-robed corpse began to change. Flesh melted like snow, revealing a pale skeleton.
Black centipedes crawled across the bones, each over two feet long.
The largest was red-tinged and as thick as an arm, coiled inside the skull.
It twitched its many legs, trying to burrow into the ground.
"A centipede? It mimicked human flesh perfectly?"
BAM!
Zuoqianhu stomped it, feeling a jarring numbness. The centipede's shell was hard as stone—nearly monstrous in toughness.
[Killed a low-level Centipede Demon. Reward Points: 20. EXP: 20.]
Note: First kill successful. Partial functions of the Samsara Game have been unlocked.
"Samsara Game... some kind of illusion?"
Zuoqianhu froze for a moment. But quickly shook it off.
Because inside the Golden Throne Hall,
Pudu Cihang had ceased chanting. He opened his eyes and looked toward the disturbance.
Hand raised in a serene gesture, he smiled.
"Who dares cause violence in the True Dragon's temple? Who dares slay my disciples?"
His voice was like a temple bell—vast and oppressive, crashing down like a mountain.
Zuoqianhu's instincts screamed. He covered his ears, but it was too late. His organs churned, and he spat blood.
He looked up.
Atop the golden throne, Pudu Cihang's pale face split open, revealing twin jagged mandibles.
A massive maw opened down to his gut, pale arms reaching out from within.
They were the officials and royals he had devoured—beings infused with the empire's destiny, used to fuel his transformation into a True Dragon.
"Monster…"
Zuoqianhu wasn't a fool.
The imperial palace was now overrun by demons. Hundreds of red-robed centipede spirits were closing in.
His weapons and armor were gone. Even with his strength, he couldn't barehandedly fight a hundred monsters.
Retreat!
He launched himself forward, stepping across the backs of kneeling devotees, bounding for the palace walls.
"Do you think you can escape, sinner? Only by joining us will your sins be cleansed!"
The voice echoed like a chasm.
Countless worshippers, now fanatical, tore at their own flesh in frenzied worship.
Zuoqianhu hesitated for a breath, then moved as if unaffected. He kicked off the head of a centipede demon, vaulted the wall, and vanished into the distance.
"He resisted [Death Chant]? Interesting…"
Pudu Cihang's face twisted, a blend of compassion and cruelty.
He grabbed a nearby devotee and casually tossed them into his mouth—crunching and chewing.
Zuoqianhu didn't stop running until he was far beyond the capital.
Inside a bleak, shadowed forest—
"That thing… even the imperial dragon's qi couldn't suppress it…"
Zuoqianhu gasped, slumping against a tree. He barely calmed his racing heart.
The whole capital was now a demonic stronghold, swarming with disguised centipede spirits.
He had once slain century-old monsters with strength and bloodlust alone.
But Pudu Cihang...
Not even a hundred of those monsters could compare to that presence.
A thousand-year demon.
Even if he fought to the death, it might mean nothing.
What now?
He dropped to his knees, dazed.
Then remembered—
While fleeing, something had protected him from that cursed chanting.
He fiddled around, and a glowing screen appeared.
[Name: Zuoqianhu]
Level: Lv.1
Stats: Strength 26, Agility 25, Constitution 25, Spirit 9
Class: [Martial Artist Lv.17]
Equipment: None
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