The verdant hills of the Heavenly Ancient Corpse Burial Ground were silent once more, save for the gentle rustle of wind through grass that had been fertilized by the blood of fifty cultivators.
Xu Pei was trembling, her hands clutching her skirt as she stared at the fresh patch of disturbed earth where the Blazing Sun Sect had just been mulched.
Beside her, even the usually fearless Chen Baojiao's face was pale, her breathing shallow.
Li Shuangyan, the icy goddess of the Nine Saint Demon Gate, stood rigid, a chill tracing its way down her spine that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.
"That... that was an Enlightened Being," Chen Baojiao whispered, her voice barely audible. "A Sect Master of a reputable heritage. Instantly killed. He didn't even have time to burn his Life Wheel."
The brutality of the cultivation world was known to them, but this was different. This was efficient, emotionless extermination.
"Those corpses," Ling Feng said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, devoid of the fear that gripped his companions. He adjusted the collar of his grey Ancient Heavenly Corpse Adornment, the fabric shimmering with ghostly runes. "They were likely Holy Lords or Sect Masters when they were alive. In death, they are stripped of their ego, but they retain something far more dangerous: muscle memory and the instinct to kill."
He turned to his women, his expression shifting from casual to serious. The playfulness in his eyes was replaced by a sharp, admonishing glint.
"They retain their Merit Laws. And here, connected to the veins of this Burial Ground, they have infinite stamina. That is why you don't touch anything. You saw those guys? They were merely the janitors."
Ling Feng gestured vaguely toward the deeper, mist-shrouded peaks where the auras were heavy enough to crush the sky.
"The Treasure Lords deeper in? The old monsters sleeping in the Feng Shui Treasure Lands? Some of them are strong enough to slap a Godking in the face and live to brag about it."
'I could rob them,' Ling Feng mused internally, his gaze piercing through the illusionary beauty of the landscape. 'With the Red Chaos Emerald, I could probably smash a few coffins open. But if I wake up something on the level of a Virtuous Paragon or an Eternal Existence... I can survive, but I can't guarantee the girls won't get caught in the splash damage. Not worth the drama.'
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "We're not here to disturb the retirees. We're here for specific targets."
He closed his eyes.
"Chaos Sense."
In his Inner Void, the Green Chaos Emerald pulsed. An invisible wave of emerald light rippled out from his body, bypassing the visual spectrum and scanning the very fabric of reality. Unlike a cultivator's Divine Sense, which aggressively scanned for energy fluctuations and could provoke a backlash, the Chaos Sense read intent, history, and emotional resonance.
It filtered through the noise of millions of dead souls like a high-speed search engine.
'Not you... too broke. Not you... too angry, don't feel like dealing with a tantrum. Ah... jackpot.'
Ling Feng opened his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. He pointed toward a distant peak that was shrouded in a heavy, violet mist.
"Found him. The Violet Cloud Sect Master. Old guy has been hitting the snooze button for thirty thousand years."
Li Shuangyan frowned slightly, trying to recall the name from her sect's archives. "The Violet Cloud Sect? They perished eras ago. We are going to trade with him?"
"We're going to make him an offer he can't refuse." Ling Feng hefted the Frightened Corpse Gong in his left hand. "Follow me. And remember: let me do the talking. Or, well, the bonging."
The group moved through the treacherous landscape, guided by Ling Feng's precise steps. They arrived at the foot of a small, unassuming mountain. It lacked the grandeur of the main peaks, but the geomancy here was incredibly dense. The earth energy pooled like a whirlpool, nourishing the summit.
At the very top sat an ancient stone coffin. It was simple, unadorned, but moss had grown over it in complex patterns, suggesting it had been part of the landscape for eons.
Ling Feng stopped about fifty paces away. He held up a hand, motioning for the girls to stay back.
"Watch and learn," he winked, though the shadow of the Grim Reaper hood obscured his face, making the gesture more ominous than playful.
He stepped forward. His demeanor underwent a terrifying transformation. He was no longer the casual, modern man from 2020. His spine straightened, his shoulders hunched slightly forward, and he walked with a heavy, rhythmic cadence—mimicking the ancient, sorrowful gait of the Earth Messengers who ferried souls to the Underworld.
He raised the mallet.
CLANG!
He struck the Frightened Corpse Gong.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was profoundly deep. It didn't travel through the air; it traveled through the earth, resonating in the marrow of one's bones. It was a frequency that commanded the dead to listen.
CLANG!
CLANG!
Three strikes. The standard greeting of the Underworld.
"The Earth acknowledges the Sky," Ling Feng intoned. He infused his voice with the Yellow Chaos Emerald, layering the sound waves with a hollow, metallic timbre that sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a grave. "The Messenger brings the cycle."
Rumble.
The ground shook. The stone coffin lid slid open with a grinding noise that set teeth on edge, the sound of stone scraping against stone echoing through the quiet valley.
A figure sat up.
It was an old man, preserved by the mystical properties of the burial ground. His skin was like dried parchment pulled tight over bone, his hair wispy and white. He wore the flowing robes of the Violet Cloud Sect, the fabric faded but intact.
His eyes snapped open. There were no pupils, only swirling pools of grey mist—the obsession of wanting to live, the refusal to pass on.
The Earth Corpse stared at Ling Feng. Its gaze shifted to the grey cloak, then to the gong.
Slowly, the corpse nodded. It accepted Ling Feng's identity. The disguise was flawless. To this creature, Ling Feng was an official bureaucrat of the Burial Ground, a functionary of death come to conduct business.
The corpse lifted a withered hand. A small, violet light floated up from its palm.
It was a cauldron. The Violet Diamond Cauldron. Even from fifty paces away, Li Shuangyan could feel the heat radiating from it, distorting the air. It was a treasure capable of refining heaven and earth.
The corpse made a dry, rasping sound. It was the language of the dead. It wanted life. It wanted time.
Ling Feng didn't flinch. He reached into his Inner Void and pulled out an item he had swiped from the Gu Clan shop earlier: The Heavenly Ancient Corpse Core.
To the living, it was an ugly, stone-like object that radiated toxicity. But to an Earth Corpse, it pulsed with the concentrated essence of the Burial Ground—a shot of pure adrenaline mixed with the promise of extended existence.
Ling Feng tossed the core with a casual flick of his wrist.
The Corpse caught it with terrifying speed. It brought the core to its nose, sniffed it, and a look of grotesque ecstasy crossed its withered face. Without hesitation, it threw the Violet Diamond Cauldron to Ling Feng.
Trade one complete.
But Ling Feng wasn't done. He took a step closer, the pressure mounting.
CLANG!
He hit the gong again. A demand for more.
The Corpse froze. It looked annoyed, its grey eyes narrowing. Greed clashed with the rules of the dead. But the authority of the Messenger was absolute. Reluctantly, slowly, the Corpse reached into its robes and pulled out an old, yellowed scroll.
The Grass Sword Attacking Immortal Law.
Li Shuangyan's breath hitched. This was an Emperor-level technique created by a Virtuous Paragon who had observed a blade of grass severing a star. It was an offensive technique of supreme destruction, lost to the River of Time.
Ling Feng pulled out a small vial from his pocket. Inside swirled half a cup of Demonic Blue Spring water, liquid that shimmered with a ghostly luminescence.
He tossed the vial. The Corpse caught it, its grey eyes widening—if that were possible—with sheer avarice. It threw the scroll immediately, clutching the vial as if it were its own child.
Trade two complete.
Ling Feng caught the scroll and tucked it into his sash. He took one final, daring step.
CLANG!
The Corpse actually growled. A low, guttural sound that caused the surrounding grass to wither. It knew it was being fleeced. It knew this "Messenger" was bleeding it dry. But the transaction had begun, and the dead were bound by contracts deeper than blood.
With a movement that seemed physically painful, the Corpse reached into the coffin itself, beneath where it had been sleeping.
It pulled out a sword.
The temperature on the mountain dropped fifty degrees instantly. Frost began to creep over the green grass, turning the lush hill into a winter wasteland in seconds.
The Frost Dragon Sword.
It was a blade forged from the spine of an Ice Dragon, tempered in the Absolute Zero abyss of the North. It was transparent, like crystal, with a dragon soul sealed within that roared silently against the confines of the blade.
Ling Feng pulled out the final item. The Ancient Stone Fruit.
He tossed the fruit. The Corpse caught it, shoved the fruit into its mouth immediately to secure the lifespan, and then—in a fit of pique—hurled the sword at Ling Feng with the force of a collapsing mountain.
WHOOSH!
The sword tore through the air, creating a sonic boom, aiming straight for Ling Feng's chest.
Ling Feng didn't dodge. The Red Chaos Emerald in his Inner Void flared. Trait: Absolute Force.
He raised his hand and caught the sword by the hilt.
BOOM!
The impact force was enough to pulverize a boulder, but Ling Feng stood immovable. The kinetic energy dispersed harmlessly against his skin, absorbed and neutralized by the Chaos energy.
The Corpse, having eaten the fruit, looked satisfied. It lay back down, pulling the stone lid over itself.
Bang.
It was over.
Ling Feng turned around, the Frost Dragon Sword in one hand, the cauldron and scroll tucked in his sash. The terrifying, ancient aura of the Messenger vanished instantly, replaced by his usual, shit-eating grin.
"And that, ladies, is how you do business. Zero drama...mostly."
He walked straight up to Li Shuangyan. She was staring at the sword in his hand, her Pure Jade Physique resonating with it violently. She felt a calling deep in her soul, a magnetic pull she couldn't explain.
"Here." Ling Feng held the Frost Dragon Sword out to her, handle first.
"Young Noble?" She blinked, her usually icy composure cracking. "This... this is a supreme treasure. An Ancestral Life Weapon. You're... giving it to me?"
"Matches your eyes," Ling Feng said, his tone dropping the joking facade for a moment of genuine warmth. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And your physique. The Pure Jade Physique is cool, very aesthetic, but it lacks bite. This sword gives you teeth. Take it."
Li Shuangyan reached out, her trembling fingers wrapping around the hilt. The moment she touched it, a dragon's roar echoed in her mind. The sword didn't reject her; it purred. It had found a master. The frost on the blade receded, acknowledging her physique.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining with an emotion she usually kept buried under layers of ice. "This is too precious..."
"Nothing is too precious for my girlfriends," Ling Feng smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
He turned to look at Baojiao and Xu Pei, who were watching with wide eyes.
"Don't worry, I didn't forget you two. This Violet Diamond Cauldron is for the Sect, but mostly for you, Pei. With your fire control, you can use this to mass-produce Dan pills. You're going to be the sugar mama of the sect."
Xu Pei giggled, touching the warm surface of the cauldron reverently. "I'll do my best, Feng! I won't let you down!"
"And this," he held up the scroll. "The Grass Sword Attacking Immortal Law. It's a bit archaic. The coding is messy. I'm going to run it through my comprehension filter, clean out the bugs, and then teach a modified version to all of you. It's good for clearing out trash mobs and clean one-shot kills."
"Trash mobs?" Baojiao tilted her head, her saber eyebrows knitting together.
"Weaklings who travel in packs," Ling Feng translated, waving his hand dismissively. "Basically, it'll let you cut down armies like you're mowing the lawn. Now, let's get going. The mall is closing soon."
The mist of the Heavenly Ancient Corpse Burial Ground swirled like grey soup, thick with the aura of death and time. For most cultivators, this was a land of terror where one wrong step meant eternal damnation. For Ling Feng, it was a flea market where the currency was obscure items and the shopkeepers were corpses.
After securing the Frost Dragon Sword, Ling Feng didn't stop. He was on a roll, and his Chaos Sense was pinging like crazy.
"Alright, ladies, keep up. The discount aisle is this way," Ling Feng quipped, adjusting his reaper cloak.
He led them deep into a valley filled with broken steles. He stopped before a dilapidated pagoda half-buried in the dirt.
CLANG!
The Frightened Corpse Gong rang out.
An Earth Corpse crawled out, hideous to behold. It was missing half its face, the bone exposed and blackened. It held a small, spinning pagoda. The Mysterious Ancient Pagoda. It was a suppression artifact, heavy enough to crush a mountain range into dust.
Ling Feng tossed a piece of Rotten Nether Wood—useless to the living, but like fine wine to the dead. The corpse snatched it with a skeletal hand and hurled the pagoda.
"Thanks, handsome," Ling Feng muttered, catching the heavy artifact with one hand thanks to his Red Emerald's Absolute Force. He tossed it into his Inner Void alongside the others.
Next stop: A dried-up lake bed where the ground was cracked and parched.
CLANG!
This time, the corpse that emerged was covered in iridescent scales, a cultivator who had practiced a beast transformation art to the point of mutation. It offered a mirror that rippled like water. The Dragonfish Transformation Mirror. It could create illusions so real they fooled the Heavens, and allow the user to transform into a massive fish to traverse the void.
"Here, have a snack." Ling Feng tossed a concentrated ball of Death Qi he had compressed using his Chaos Force. The corpse chattered its teeth in gratitude and surrendered the mirror.
Finally, they reached a ridge where the killing intent was so thick it felt like physical needles pricking the skin.
CLANG!
A corpse in rusted crimson armor rose from a mound of bones. It held a tattered banner that fluttered in a wind that didn't exist. The Murdering God Banner. Just looking at it made Xu Pei feel like she was drowning in a sea of blood.
"Chill out, edgelord," Ling Feng said to the corpse, rolling his eyes at the overwhelming display of angst. He traded a chunk of Hell Iron Ore for it.
"Three for three," Ling Feng dusted his hands off. "Easy money."
"Young Noble," Chen Baojiao breathed, her chest heaving slightly from the sheer pressure of the artifacts Ling Feng was casually handling. "These are items that Ancient Kingdoms would start wars over. You're collecting them like... like vegetables at a morning market."
"That's the vibe," Ling Feng grinned. "Why fight a war when you can just barter with the dead? They have better prices. But the main event is up ahead. And this one... she's different. Fix your hair, look presentable. We're meeting royalty."
They ascended a lonely, majestic peak. Unlike the other graves, which were overgrown or ruined, this one was pristine. A single stone coffin lay under a withered tree, surrounded by a strange, melancholic silence.
Ling Feng walked up, his expression sobering. He didn't strike the gong. He stood there, respectful, waiting.
Creeeeak.
The coffin lid slid open without the gong.
A woman sat up.
She was breathtaking. Even with the pallor of death, her beauty was peerless, possessing a regal, noble air that demanded submission. She wore a royal gown that had not faded in millions of years, the embroidery telling the tale of a fallen empire.
The Middle Continent Princess, Bu Lianxiang.
She did not make a sound. She simply looked at Ling Feng.
"Whoa," Ling Feng whispered, genuinely impressed. "More amazing than I thought."
Her eyes locked onto him. There was no grey haziness in them, only a terrifying, abyssal clarity. It was a gaze that could annihilate the soul of a Virtuous Paragon.
Li Shuangyan and the others felt their knees buckle. The pressure was immense. This wasn't just an Earth Corpse; this was an existence that rivaled the apex of the world. A legend who had buried herself alive.
Bu Lianxiang didn't speak. In the lore of the Burial Ground, those at her level retained their memories, but the price of their burial often took their voice. She stared at Ling Feng, her intent broadcasting into his mind with the force of a tsunami: Leave. Or die.
Ling Feng didn't flinch. His Chaos Force flared, a green aura shielding him from her mental pressure.
"Hi," Ling Feng said, waving casually as if greeting a neighbor. "I know you're not big on talking right now. But I see you're holding onto something that doesn't really suit your outfit."
In her hands, she clutched a box. Within that box lay the Yin Yang Refining Immortal Mirror. A supreme treasure capable of refining bloodlines and stripping the essence from immortals.
"I need that mirror," Ling Feng said, pointing at it. "Just for a bit. I'll give it back. Promise."
Bu Lianxiang's eyes narrowed. The temperature dropped to absolute zero, colder even than the Frost Dragon Sword. She raised a hand. She didn't need a merit law. A simple wave of her hand would erase this entire mountain and everyone on it.
REFUSED. The intent blasted into Ling Feng's mind, a rejection absolute and final.
"Figured you'd say that," Ling Feng sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Look, I didn't want to bring up the ex, but you leave me no choice."
He stepped closer, ignoring the crushing pressure that was cracking the ground beneath his feet.
"I know about Chu Yuntian."
The killing intent stopped instantly.
Bu Lianxiang froze. Her hand trembled in the air. A myriad of emotions—sorrow, longing, regret, and ancient love—flashed through her silent eyes. The name struck her harder than any Imperial Weapon could.
She looked at Ling Feng, her gaze demanding an explanation. How do you know that name?
"I know the story," Ling Feng said, his voice dropping the playful slang. He sounded somber, respectful. "I know who that person really is. And I know that when your kingdom faced calamity, you took that mirror and buried yourself here, waiting. You've been waiting for an era, seeking him, hoping he would come to find you."
Bu Lianxiang stood up. She was shaking. She opened her mouth to scream, to ask, to beg for news, but no sound came out. It was a tragic, silent agony.
"Getting agitated is bad for your skin," Ling Feng said softly. "And it burns up your remaining lifespan. Chill out."
He gestured to the mirror.
"Trade offer: You give me the mirror. I tell you how his story ended. You can finally stop wondering. You can have closure."
She hesitated. She clutched the mirror tightly. It was the only thing she had left of her past era, the only link to the man she loved.
"He's gone," Ling Feng said brutally. "And in this era, nobody even knows the name Chu Yuntian. History erased him. Only I know."
Bu Lianxiang closed her eyes, her body faintly trembling. Tears, crystal clear and ancient, formed in the corners of her eyes.
She made a decision.
She extended her hand and placed the Yin Yang Refining Immortal Mirror into Ling Feng's palm.
Ling Feng took it. He didn't gloat. He looked her in the eye, his expression gentle.
"I'll say this, he had a complicated life," Ling Feng lied—or rather, told the version of the truth that would bring her peace. "He never married. He guarded the human race from the shadows until his blood dried up. He fought against the darkness until the very end. And in all that time, he never forgot the Princess of the Middle Continent."
It was a kindness. A fabrication of comfort to soothe a soul that had suffered for millions of years.
Bu Lianxiang nodded. A look of profound relief washed over her face. The terrifying aura vanished, replaced by the gentleness of a woman in love.
She pointed at the mirror, then at Ling Feng, then at the horizon. Keep it. Go.
"Thanks," Ling Feng said. "You should head back to sleep. The Underworld Boats are coming soon. Maybe you'll find a ticket to the next life. Who knows? Maybe he's waiting for you on the other side."
She seemingly ignored him, turning around and stepping back into her coffin. The lid slid shut, sealing the tragedy of the Middle Continent away once more.
Ling Feng stood there for a moment, weighing the mirror in his hand, feeling the weight of history within it.
"Young Noble..." Xu Pei wiped a tear from her eye. "That was... so sad. Who was she?"
"A woman who waited too long for a text back," Ling Feng said, breaking the tension with a shrug, though his eyes remained serious. "Let's go. We've got more to loot."