Chapter 502: The Zhang Family’s Patriarch
Chapter 504: The Zhang Family’s Patriarch
All preparations complete, Yang Jishan spoke in a low, steady voice:
“Tomorrow we mobilize our forces and gather the cultivators. At the hour of the Rabbit the day after, we begin suppressing the Lu Clan and exterminating the corpse mine!”
Everyone’s expressions hardened.
The day war began would be the day torrential rain struck.
Nanyue City trembled under storm and wind.
And what they would face was the deep-rooted Lu Clan…
A boundless sea of corpses…
And that Corpse King—born with the qualifications of a Dao-Sin!
A killing aura filled the air.
…
Inside the corpse mine, Lu Chengyun suddenly frowned.
A vague unease stirred in his chest.
Something extremely dangerous seemed to be happening… but he had no idea what it was.
What danger could there be?
Lu Chengyun calmed his thoughts.
Zhang Quan was dead, and with that, control over the Corpse King was gone.
In this world, the only person still capable of controlling the Corpse King…
was himself.
Mo Hua had already been offered up as a sacrifice, fed to the visualization diagram.
Once his Divine-Sense was fully devoured and his body reduced to an empty shell, Lu would refine him into a little zombie to keep at his side—smart, obedient, and quite the helpful kid.
After all, the child was clever and adorable; Lu Chengyun was rather fond of him.
Shame he knew too much about formations.
The corpse mine mattered too greatly—linked to the Lu Clan’s fate and his own future Dao path. He had no choice but to eliminate every potential risk.
Children who are too smart… can’t be kept.
One Zhang Quan. One Mo Hua.
Both were burned after crossing the bridge—disposed of without hesitation.
Aside from them, who else could threaten him? Who could stir this inexplicable unease?
His fingers tapped the table stiffly.
After a moment, he flipped open a stack of intelligence reports.
These were gathered by Lu Clan cultivators—clues about recent movements in Nanyue City and around the corpse mine.
Lu Chengyun depended on these reports to gauge the winds in Nanyue City.
“Traffic of cultivators has increased…”
“Faces are unfamiliar; their cultivation is hard to detect…”
“Nanyue Sect has grown distant from our Lu Clan—they no longer accept the spirit stones we give…”
“The Dao Court Division still accepts spirit stones as usual… and keeps frequenting brothels.”
“The Division’s overseer has been indulging in pleasure, and just abused another female cultivator to death…”
…
Lu Chengyun’s gaze deepened.
“Nothing particularly unusual…”
“Am I overthinking things?”
“More wandering cultivators means more customers. Within hundreds of miles, only my Lu Clan’s Jinhua Street is luxurious enough to satisfy them. Every woman they bed is just another spirit stone delivered to us…”
“The Dao Court Division shows nothing unusual.”
“If higher authorities were truly acting, there’s no way the local Division wouldn’t know. Even if they didn’t warn me, they’d at least restrain themselves.”
“Nanyue Sect is just pretending? Trying to squeeze more spirit stones?”
Lu Chengyun let out a cold snort. “Their sect master must be tired of living.”
He read the reports again. Something still felt subtly off… but he couldn’t tell what.
“Could… the corpse mine plot have leaked?”
He thought for a bit, then shook his head.
Impossible.
Only Zhang Quan and Mo Hua knew the truth.
Zhang was dead; Mo Hua had been fed to the diagram.
The corpse cultivators knew only scraps—none of the core secrets. Not the Ten-Thousand-Corpses Formation, not the Spirit-Pivot Array, not the Corpse King in the altar.
Even if they confessed, it didn’t matter.
Just find a scapegoat. The Dao Court wouldn’t bother digging deeper.
Still uneasy, he muttered:
“…Should I personally go to the city?”
But after a pause, he shook his head again.
The Ten-Thousand-Corpses Formation still needed tending. Such a large, long-term composite formation required constant inspections—to ensure the core nodes, array pivots, and runes remained functional.
Besides… Mo Hua had constructed parts of the formation.
Some of the ideas were bizarre yet ingenious. The Qi circulation was delicate and complex—far more subtle than he had expected.
Even Lu Chengyun himself found it taxing to maintain.
As for the other array masters under him… they could barely understand any of it.
He sighed in regret.
“That little Mister… I killed him too early…”
Now he had to do everything himself.
Still uneasy, he gave orders:
“In these days, strengthen the defenses. Patrol day and night. Report any anomaly immediately.”
The corpse cultivators obeyed.
Soon, the entire corpse mine became tightly guarded.
The Dao Court had prepared meticulously; the corpse mine braced for impact.
War hung on a single spark…
Inside the white coffin, in Mo Hua’s Sea of Consciousness, the final enemy was arriving:
The Zhang Family’s Corpse-Dao Patriarch.
These days, Mo Hua had been “fishing” without pause.
By now, he had lured every single elder and disciple of the Zhang family into his Sea of Consciousness.
He had taken them out one by one—letting iron corpses gang up on them, letting them slaughter each other, exhausting their tricks, weakening themselves. Then Mo Hua swooped in to finish them.
The elders he kept—controlled by the Spirit-Pivot Array.
The disciples he refined—used as nourishment for the elders’ recovery.
The strongest among them had been the Grand Elder.
Mo Hua had spent tremendous effort and even sacrificed two iron corpse elders to subdue him.
After reaching the limit of how many iron corpses he could directly control, he learned from Lu Chengyun:
He drew the same Spirit-Pivot Array as the Corpse King on the Grand Elder, then inscribed high-authority sequence runes. The other elders were given lower-authority runes.
Control the Grand Elder → command the normal elders.
Instantly, his burden lightened; the iron corpse control grew precise and easy.
Now Mo Hua possessed eleven iron corpses.
These were all the elders the Zhang family had left.
Once loyal to the Zhang Patriarch—now puppets under Mo Hua’s command.
From being outnumbered… he had flipped the board.
Using their own people against them.
Mo Hua grinned with great satisfaction.
“Truly… I am a genius.”
He arranged the eleven iron corpses in a neat battle formation, waiting respectfully for the Zhang family’s Patriarch.
Mo Hua himself hid to the side, conserving strength, ready to watch the Zhang clan fight itself to death—and collect the winnings.
Zhang Quan, watching this, was devastated to the point of spiritual constipation.
He should never have provoked this little devil!
If only he’d died of anger earlier… he wouldn’t have been used, and wouldn’t have dragged his entire ancestral line into disaster.
Now the whole Zhang family had become this “little tiger demon’s” pack of evil ghosts—about to attack their very patriarch.
The Patriarch… was in grave danger.
Mo Hua was far more terrifying than Lu Chengyun.
Zhang Quan was anxious and terrified.
But as a puppet… he could do nothing.
…
After an unknown amount of time, Mo Hua suddenly opened his eyes.
The walls of his Sea of Consciousness trembled.
Something powerful was approaching.
A moment later, mist swirled.
An elder descended, treading on cloudlight.
His hair and beard were snow-white, his bearing immortal-like and dignified—the very Patriarch depicted in the ancestral diagram.
Mo Hua’s eyes lit up. A sly grin tugged at his lips.
…
The Zhang Patriarch arrived.
He had no choice.
The Zhang family was empty.
One by one, they had vanished.
In half a day, his lineage was wiped out.
The once bustling ancestral diagram now held only… himself.
If he didn’t come, the Zhang family’s corpse-dao lineage would go extinct.
Someone was clearly plotting harm.
This concerned his descendants—his bloodline, his lineage.
He would find the culprit.
He stepped inside—and froze.
What pure Divine-Sense!
This place brimmed with spiritual richness.
Had his disciples gotten addicted to this paradise of Divine-Sense and decided not to return?!
He frowned and checked the surroundings.
No strangers.
No evil entities.
Only eleven elders… standing in a row like wooden poles.
He scowled.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The elders stared blankly. No response.
A chill crawled up his spine.
He stepped forward—
A sudden gust.
The Grand Elder attacked from behind—razor claws dripping corpse poison.
“A sneak attack?!”
The Patriarch grabbed his wrist, stopping the strike.
But then all the other elders lunged—aiming for heart, eyes, crown, joints…
Every move lethal.
The Patriarch was furious.
They disappeared, then returned only to rebel and attempt to kill him?!
“You unfilial beasts!”
He parried, but alone against many—even he suffered torn robes, ripped sleeves, plucked beard hairs…
His expression darkened.
During the exchange, he noticed something wrong.
“They’re controlled?”
By what?
Spell?
Illusion?
Brainwashing?
He swiftly chanted—his voice echoing like Daoist bells:
“The Patriarch is present—why do you not return?”
“Return to the Sect… and seek the Dao of Immortality…”
“Return… seek the Dao…”
The words echoed, carrying a force that lured the mind.
Mo Hua’s Divine-Sense wavered for an instant before snapping back.
The iron corpses’ eyes filled with longing.
But the Spirit-Pivot Array bound them. Whatever their hearts wished, their bodies obeyed Mo Hua.
Their attacks didn’t stop.
Their eyes said “Patriarch!”
Their claws said “Die, old man.”
The Patriarch’s heart trembled.
What kind of control technique was this?
“Which expert has set this trap?”
To control eleven iron corpses at once and ignore his Dao-voice?
Only a fearsome master could do this.
Mo Hua stayed silent.
Best outcome: he didn’t need to fight at all.
Let them kill each other.
Let the Patriarch die confused.
Small risk, big profit.
He tightened the iron corpses’ formation.
The Patriarch grew more battered and increasingly furious.
He didn’t want to harm his own descendants, but soon realized he’d die otherwise.
His immortal demeanor vanished.
Corpse Qi roared forth.
His eyes turned vertical—greenish-copper in color.
His Daoist robe burst apart, revealing bronze-tinted skin, bulging blue veins, and a towering frame.
Long, blade-like copper claws gleamed.
A terrifying Copper Corpse.
Mo Hua sucked in a breath.
A Copper Corpse!
A second-rank zombie—Foundation Establishment mid-stage strength, possibly late-stage if perfected.
Judging from his aura, he was just a breath from late-stage.
But because Mo Hua had slaughtered or puppeted all his descendants, his incense blessings collapsed—weakening him.
Right now, he was mid-stage.
Still extremely strong.
Mo Hua made a quick estimate.
A direct fight?
Probably a loss.
Maybe 40–50% chance of surviving—if luck gave him a kiss first.
Copper Corpses were thick-skinned, fast, vicious, and terrifying.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to fight him myself…”
He commanded the eleven iron corpses:
“Go!”
“Beat your old ancestor!”
“Kill him and you become the old ancestor!”
…
Eleven iron corpses versus one copper corpse.
The battle was brutal.
Fist to flesh.
Claw to bone.
Blood splattering.
A savage clash.