Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Master of the Divine Vault

Even though Wang Zhenling and Chen Wu each guarded a separate direction, they could only manage two fronts at most, leaving the other directions completely undefended. As a result, the local militia kept falling victim to the ghosts, and if things continued like this, the entire squad would surely be wiped out.

At that moment, Wang Zhenling shouted, “This can’t go on. Brother Chen Wu, you must break through and seek reinforcements!”

Chen Wu hesitated briefly, then looked deeply into Wang Zhenling’s eyes and said, “Hold on. I’ll return with help soon.”

“Very well,” Wang Zhenling replied.

Since Chen Wu was to fight his way out alone rather than clear a path, his swordsmanship shifted dramatically. From the wide, sweeping strikes that felled dozens of ghosts at once, he now restrained his movements, striking only to wound the spirits directly in front of him. Yet, with swift footwork, he steadily broke through the barriers, vanishing from Wang Zhenling’s sight within just a few paces.

After Chen Wu departed, Wang Zhenling drew a deep breath. He had just conceived a plan but felt it inappropriate to reveal it before Chen Wu. Now that Chen Wu was gone, Wang Zhenling decided to test whether this method could save their lives.

If it failed, he would have no choice but to abandon the squad and flee alone.

With this resolve, he swiftly retrieved several talisman papers from his bosom. Arranging them deftly, he began chanting incantations while focusing his mind.

Suddenly, the talisman, folded into the shape of a gold ingot, ignited in his hand, transforming into a massive golden ingot that radiated an irresistible glow.

Instantly, countless wild ghosts turned their gaze toward it, eyes brimming with greed, rushing forward eagerly to seize the ingot.

Witnessing this, Wang Zhenling felt no panic—rather, a quiet satisfaction. He thought to himself, “It should have been this way from the start. Money makes the ghost grind the mill; why resort to slaughter?”

With that thought, he casually tossed the golden ingot forward. Immediately, the spirits scrambled over each other, clawing and fighting fiercely for possession.

Though a single gold ingot attracted a large crowd of ghosts, the spectral realm was vast and teeming with spirits, so it was impossible to draw them all away.

Wang Zhenling repeated the ritual, visualizing the ingot’s brilliance, shaping the talisman accordingly to manifest as a gold ingot in the eyes of the ghosts.

These wild ghosts were all destitute spirits—those who had been commoners, bandits, or refugees in life, with no ancestral grounds to return to after death, drifting as lonely, wandering souls.

In contrast, the city’s ghosts enjoyed the protection of the City God, and even some neighborhood deities maintained their own ghostly domains for guardianship.

But these vagrant ghosts had no affiliation, no sanctuary—starving spirits in the wilderness.

Naturally, when presented with such a treasure, these ghosts could not help but be envious, scrambling and brawling over it.

At last, the chaos among the ghosts allowed Wang Zhenling and the militia to evade immediate peril.

Yet, if they remained trapped in this spectral domain, annihilation was still inevitable.

What was the way out?

Though he carried several potent lightning-fire bombs, Wang Zhenling lacked the confidence to blast open the ghostly realm. Even his official seal held no sway here.

His bombs were not consecrated through divine rituals, their power limited, unlikely to carve a path to freedom.

Moreover, even if he did manage to escape, explaining the situation to Chen Bushi would be difficult.

Just then, a sharp shout rang out: “Open for me...!”

A thunderous explosion followed, as if heaven and earth themselves were shattering. The oppressive dark clouds abruptly tore apart, and the setting sun's rays streamed down.

It was late afternoon, with the sun sinking toward the horizon—an evening scene of breathtaking splendor, yet tinged with the melancholy of approaching dusk.

But now, the sunlight poured forth like countless golden arrows.

In an instant, thousands upon thousands of wild ghosts fighting over the gold ingot below were pierced by these beams, shrieking as they caught fire and burned to ash.

Few who had not witnessed it firsthand would believe that the ordinary sunlight we encounter daily could wield such fatal power against shadowy creatures.

As the ghostly barrier shattered and the sunlight bathed the realm, countless spirits were doomed to perish in the blazing inferno.

Wang Zhenling’s heart leapt. “Reinforcements have arrived—and so quickly!”

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Chen Wu’s voice rang out, urgent and concerned: “Lord Wang, are you still there? Reinforcements have arrived!”

Chen Wu’s tone revealed his anxiety and care—naturally, he held Wang Zhenling in high regard, sensing the latter’s respectful attitude toward him, unlike the usual condescension.

Wang Zhenling called out loudly, “I’m fine...”

Barely had he spoken when a black whirlwind, like a towering tornado, stirred up dust and stones, battering his face and causing sharp pain.

As the whirlwind settled before him, an elderly man stood revealed.

“A master from Shen Cang!” Wang Zhenling exclaimed involuntarily.

The old man looked no different from a living person at first glance.

But upon closer inspection, he was not flesh and blood, but rather a figure composed of faint, shimmering light.

This was the hallmark of a Shen Cang master—their primordial spirit condensed into a form resembling a living being.

Of course, “resembling a living being” was somewhat overstated; the energy form was still distinguishable from a true human body.

Nonetheless, if this was a Shen Cang master, it explained how the ghostly realm had been shattered.

“I am Wang Zhenling. Thank you for your timely aid!” Wang Zhenling bowed respectfully.

The elder’s spirit gazed at him a few times, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, not bad. So young and already at the Qi Consolidation stage. It won’t be long before you break through to Out-of-Body. If you encounter difficulties in the future, feel free to seek me out.”

With that, the figure swirled up the dust and vanished.

Wang Zhenling maintained his bow until the elder disappeared, but inwardly he mused.

This old man’s insight was questionable—had he not noticed that Wang Zhenling’s spirit chamber already spanned half an inch? He was effectively one foot into the Out-of-Body realm.

But then again, Wang Zhenling understood. The cultivation system in this world was crude and primitive. The truly refined arts were held by those who had traveled across worlds.

Moreover, Wang Zhenling cultivated the Nine Heavens Primordial Yang Eternal Creation Diagram from the Juntian Sect’s fundamental teachings. This diagram forged his Spirit Chamber Moon Wheel Heavenly Palace—a secret beyond this elder’s comprehension.

Still, this elder was clearly the reinforcements summoned by Chen Bushi...

No wonder cultivators in this world were so hard to eradicate. Even the powerful Chen clan of He River colluded with them.

Thus, Chen Bushi’s interest in the Wuju Mountain must not stem from hostility toward cultivators, making his motives all the more intriguing.