Chapter 509: Omen

Chapter 511: Omen

Yang Jishan pondered for a moment and sighed. “If there really are over forty Iron Corpses and five thousand Walking Corpses… then this must be Lu Chengyun’s final stash of resources…”

His gaze swept across the crowd as he spoke in a deep tone:

“This is the final battle. Whether we can suppress and kill Lu Chengyun and exterminate the Corpse King depends on this fight. I ask everyone—stop holding anything back.”

Holding anything back?

Mo Hua blinked.

The crowd’s expressions shifted.

Someone protested, “Commander Yang, why do you say this? We’ve been fighting wholeheartedly. The casualties are heavy. How can you accuse us of hiding things?”

“That’s right!”

“Your words chill our hearts…”

Yang Jishan, however, remained firm:

“Many of you here hail from great clans and sects of Dao province, Qianxue province, Kun province, or are tied closely to the Dao Court’s Seven-Star Pavilion. Your foundations are deep—so naturally, you each have trump cards.”

“Some come from your family legacies, some from your personal encounters. And unless pushed to desperation, no one would use them.”

At this, everyone fell silent.

All cultivators have fortunes and trump cards. That much was undeniable.

Yang Jishan continued:

“We’ve now reached the most critical moment of suppressing the Corpse King.”

“If we win, all rejoice.”

“If we lose, if Lu Chengyun escapes, if the Corpse King survives… the Dao Court will punish us. I, Yang, will certainly be the first one dragged to answer before the Dao Court Division. But as for you all…”

He looked around sharply. “You won’t escape responsibility either.”

His eyes darkened. “If the Dao Court holds you accountable, your families and sects will have their advancement rank delayed by a century.”

“And among you, those from Dao Province with ties to the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion—you should understand very well what it means for the Corpse King to survive.”

“If this operation fails, the consequences are severe. The Dao Court will pursue your clans!”

“Will your clans resent you? Strip your elder positions? Cut your resources? Reduce your authority?”

Yang Jishan’s voice turned cold. “And that isn’t even the worst outcome…”

“The worst case is Lu Chengyun losing all sanity and letting the Corpse King go berserk, triggering a true large-scale corpse tide—destroying Nanyue City and perhaps this entire state.”

“When that happens, the state becomes a corpse domain. All living beings perish.”

“And if, within the corpse tide, a few Iron Corpses undergo chance corpse mutations and transform into Bronze Corpses… then among all of you present—few will escape alive from this Little Wilderness Prefecture.”

Yang Jishan’s voice sharpened. “When that time comes, your trump cards will only be used to decorate your coffins.”

“Or you may not even have coffins—either eaten alive with not a bone left, or reduced to roaming corpses, which is hardly different from no bones left…”

His words drained the color from everyone’s faces.

Though he exaggerated somewhat… none of it was impossible.

“Commander Yang, what do you propose?” an elderly cultivator asked.

He was old, white-haired—not worrying for himself, but for his family’s younger generations.

If they won, his merit could help the clan rise in rank within a century. His disciples would be favored in turn.

If they lost and were punished, their advancement would be delayed, wasting generations of effort. His lineage would lose all influence.

So even if he died here—they must win.

Yang Jishan’s expression hardened.

“Rely on your clan foundations. Hold nothing back. Use every trump card. Kill Lu Chengyun, exterminate the Corpse King, and end this corpse disaster!”

He pulled out a long spear from his storage bag.

The entire spear gleamed gold, with gilded patterns and surging spiritual power radiating a terrifying aura.

At its appearance, many knowledgeable cultivators paled.

Yang Jishan declared, “This is my Yang Clan’s second-grade superior spirit weapon—the Sunset Spear!”

“This spear is precious; its forging method is unique. Its power is immense. When paired with the Yang Clan spear arts, a single strike has the strength of a Golden Core late-stage peak—however, it consumes itself rapidly and can only be used three times.”

He looked at the golden spear with visible reluctance but still said solemnly:

“This Sunset Spear was a life-saving treasure given by my grandfather. I was forbidden to use it unless at the brink of death.”

“But this battle leaves no divide between victory and death.”

“In a life-and-death battle, I’ll use this spear to slay Lu Chengyun and see the Corpse King fall!”

The crowd was moved.

Mo Hua was stunned as well. Though he didn’t know the spear’s background, the reactions told him enough—it was no ordinary treasure. Even winning the battle might not be worth its value.

With Yang Jishan leading by example, the other cultivators fell into deep thought.

He came from the Yang Clan, commanded Dao soldiers, and was experienced in battle. If he had to use his trump card, then without swift, overwhelming force, disaster was inevitable.

This was absolutely not the time to be stingy.

Otherwise, they might die “economically.”

After a moment, someone finally spoke:

“Since the commander says so… I will not hide anything either.”

With a turn of his hand, he produced a black jade box. Proudly:

“I am from the Tang Clan. This is a second-grade spirit tool—the ‘Storm Pear Blossom Needles.’ When opened, the spiritual power bursts like rain, the needles scatter like blossoms. Against strong cultivators it may fall short, but amidst corpse hordes, its lethality is tremendous…”

Once someone took the lead, the rest followed.

Even those who initially denied hiding anything began revealing trump cards.

“I’m from the Han Clan. I have an Ascension Spirit Pill—after taking it, my cultivation will rise to mid Foundation Establishment for one incense’s time…”

“Zhang Clan, Zhang Zifan. My ancestor gave me a ‘Blazing Heavens Burning Array’ set…”

“Dou Clan, Dou Changbao. I have a second-grade Spirit-Binding Net, capable of restraining four Iron Corpses at once…”

“My family is small, but I obtained a second-grade high-tier Spirit Explosion Talisman once. Has the spell power of a late Foundation Establishment cultivator…”

…

“I have a Clearwind Shield. It repels… second-grade Iron Corpse poison…”

Someone snapped, “And you didn’t bring that out earlier, you bastard?!”

“It’s my life-saving treasure! How could I bear to?!”

“Stingy bastard!”

“I wasn’t going to lend it to you anyway…”

“Wait—my good brother! My dear elder brother! I was… talking nonsense. Ignore it…”

…

Amid the chaos, every cultivator from every state, clan, and sect revealed at least a trump card or two.

Yang Jishan silently noted each, nodding.

He knew they still held back more—human nature. No one ever gives literally everything. But what they revealed was already enough.

Mo Hua’s eyes were wide with amazement.

No wonder earlier battles felt like these clan disciples were… underwhelming.

Now he understood:

One, group battles limited many personal techniques.

Two, everyone had been running their own little calculations and clutching their treasures tightly—not planning to blow them on a corpse mine.

Now he finally understood.

This was like shearing sheep—if you pull, there’s always wool.

If Commander Yang hadn’t forced the issue, he’d never have known.

Mo Hua felt his horizons expanding yet again…

…

The cultivators’ trump cards varied: spirit armaments, pills, talismans, formations, spells…

Yang Jishan organized and categorized them one by one.

His goal—use every method at the perfect moment, one decisive strike, wipe out the corpse hordes, kill the Corpse King.

Once arrangements were done, the next step was studying the topography of the Grave Mountain.

Several Foundation Establishment cultivators with strong Divine-Sense from the Dao Court began sweeping the mountain.

But even after a long time—they found little.

Like the mine, it was heavy with filth, blocking Divine-Sense.

And it was riddled with formations.

Their auras were obscure, entwined with the filthy vapors, making them indistinguishable.

Thus, the resulting topographical map was crude—only rough outlines, corpse-heavy areas, suspected formation zones, guesses at formation types…

It wasn’t much help.

Yang Jishan frowned. Then he remembered Mo Hua.

Taking the crude map, he went to Mo Hua. “Little brother, can you tell what formations are on this mountain?”

“Let me see…”

Mo Hua took the map, glanced at the gray, eerie mountain in the distance, and activated his Divine-Sense to begin deriving.

While calculating, he muttered, scribbled, erased, corrected.

The page filled with things Yang Jishan couldn’t understand in the slightest.

He stayed quiet and watched.

After a long time, Mo Hua’s eyes brightened. He began marking the map.

He noted formation names, grades, runic patterns, formation cores, pivots, and catalyst requirements.

He even roughly marked the number of Iron Corpses and Walking Corpses in areas with thick corpse aura.

The entire Grave Mountain became clear at a glance.

Yang Jishan was stunned.

He wanted to ask how Mo Hua could tell—but realized asking too much would make him look ignorant.

And even if Mo Hua explained… he probably wouldn’t understand.

He sighed inwardly. Use those you trust, trust those you use.

Thank heavens this little cultivator was here. Otherwise, the corpse mine extermination operation wouldn’t have gone nearly this well.

After Yang Jishan left, Mo Hua frowned.

There was something deeply puzzling.

The mountain was full of corpses. Walking corpses aside—where did all these Iron Corpses come from?

Every nearby state was second-grade. Foundation Establishment was the limit.

Where did Lu Chengyun get dozens of Foundation Establishment corpses to refine into Iron Corpses?

And they were clearly refined long ago—the older the corpse, the more toxic its corpse poison.

Mo Hua’s brows tightened. Suddenly—his heart jolted.

The Little Lingyin Sect!

He remembered Instructor Yan saying the Little Lingyin Sect was once a powerful formation sect with many Foundation Establishment cultivators, but later fell into decline.

Afterward, Lu Chengyun betrayed the sect, killed his master, stole formation methods—the sect disbanded.

But the sect’s graveyard remained.

And within it—corpses of generations of Foundation Establishment elders and sect masters.

At this realization, Mo Hua shivered internally.

Over the past days, he had observed the Iron Corpses—their bodies weren’t particularly strong. Their arms were slender, their fingers long.

Clearly, they were formation masters who worked with brushes in life…

Lu Chengyun’s betrayal was not a moment of impulse—it was a long-laid scheme.

A scheme that included not only the Spirit-Pivot Formation… but also refining his own sect’s ancestors after the sect’s decline.

Killing his master, destroying his sect, and using the ancestors’ corpses as refining materials…

Mo Hua’s gaze chilled.

“Lu Chengyun… courting death!”

…

After receiving the detailed map and formation notes, Yang Jishan began planning the final operation—kill the Corpse King and end the corpse disaster.

Everything prepared, Mo Hua suddenly approached Yang Jishan:

“Uncle Yang, I’m coming too.”

Yang Jishan froze. “Why would you come?”

“I want to help.”

Yang Jishan blinked, warmth rising in his heart.

Such a good child—capable and kind. No wonder Fifth Brother praised him so highly.

But he still shook his head.

“I want to bring you, but this is a life-and-death battle. We’re facing the Corpse King, plus so many Iron Corpses. Too dangerous. Even I might not survive—I can’t guarantee your safety…”

Mo Hua replied, “Don’t worry, Uncle Yang. My Little Senior Brother and Little Senior Sister will protect me.”

Yang Jishan hesitated. “Your senior brother and sister… are only Qi-Refining…”

“They may be Qi-Refining, but they’re very strong,” Mo Hua said proudly.

Yang Jishan still refused. “Life-and-death slaughter against zombies is different…”

Mo Hua: “If it gets too dangerous, I’ll go invisible and run.”

Invisible—

Yang Jishan stared.

No wonder.

No wonder Mo Hua could sneak around the corpse mine and gather intel—he had a concealment technique.

Mo Hua had never mentioned this before, so Yang Jishan didn’t know.

Yang Jishan’s eyes sparkled.

Invisibility?

At his level?

Excellent…

But then he hesitated. “You’re only Qi-Refining. How did your concealment fool Lu Chengyun?”

Mo Hua narrowed his eyes and smiled silently.

Only then did Yang Jishan realize his mistake—one should never ask about a cultivator’s secrets.

He immediately apologized. “Sorry. That was rude.”

Mo Hua asked, “Then can I go?”

“This…” Yang Jishan was still torn.

Then he froze. An odd sense flashed in his heart.

“You… have another reason for going to the mountain?”

Mo Hua didn’t hide it. He nodded. “I have a personal grudge with Lu Chengyun. I want to watch him die.”

Yang Jishan blinked.

A personal grudge?

Was it from when he was trapped in the corpse mine, or was there something else?

His expression deepened.

Regardless, he did not want Mo Hua risking his life. He even considered sending him away from Nanyue City altogether. If they lost and the city fell, Mo Hua would be in mortal danger.

Subduing the corpse disaster was the Dao Court’s mandate—not Mo Hua’s obligation.

A talented, kind-hearted formation prodigy—he must not be thrown into a death trap.

Yang Jishan nodded slightly—resolute.

Just as he was about to reject Mo Hua—

His heart suddenly trembled violently.

A vision flickered through his Sea of Consciousness:

The sky stained red with blood.

Lu Chengyun dead.

But every cultivator present… also dead.

He himself—arm severed—crushed beneath a zombie’s foot, eyes full of despair.

That zombie’s figure was massive, its pupils blood-red with streaks of dark gold, aura terrifying.

It raised its arms and roared toward the heavens.

Across the mountains, tens of thousands of zombies bowed in submission…

…

In the next instant, everything vanished.

Yang Jishan’s back was already drenched in cold sweat as a wave of immense terror surged through his heart:

“What… was that just now?”

Was it the intuition of a veteran who had fought countless battles?

A hidden omen from the unseen?

Or… was someone letting me witness that scene?

Yang Jishan’s face turned pale, his eyes trembling with fear.

“Uncle Yang?”

A tender voice snapped him back to himself.

Yang Jishan looked up and saw Mo Hua’s concerned expression.

“Uncle Yang, what’s wrong?” Mo Hua asked anxiously.

Yang Jishan thought for a moment, then forced a smile. “It’s nothing, just a bit tired…”

Mo Hua immediately apologized:

“Then Uncle Yang, please rest well. I won’t disturb you.”

Yang Jishan gave a slight nod. Just as Mo Hua was about to leave, he suddenly called out to him.

“Mo Hua.”

Mo Hua turned back, confused.

Yang Jishan’s gaze sharpened slightly. “You may come.”

Mo Hua froze for a heartbeat, then lit up with joy. “Really?”

Yang Jishan nodded. “But be careful. Stay close to me. Don’t wander off. Even if you see Lu Chengyun, you must not act rashly.”

“Mm-hmm!” Mo Hua nodded rapidly, smiling. “Thank you, Uncle Yang!”

Mo Hua happily skipped away.

And from the moment Yang Jishan agreed to let Mo Hua come along…

That bloody, terrifying, despairing vision in his Sea of Consciousness vanished completely.

The terror in his heart gradually calmed as well—no longer did his limbs feel icy cold.

It was as if some dreadful strand of karma… had been severed.

Yet Yang Jishan’s heart could not settle.

He watched Mo Hua’s departing figure, his gaze trembling as an incredulous thought rose within him:

“Mo Hua… just what is the identity of this little cultivator?”