Chapter 14: Ancient Artifacts

When Ye Yijian summoned the ancient artifact, the Dragon Abyss Sword, an immense pressure descended from the heavens, forcing all those below to feel an overwhelming sense of oppression. From the Dragon Abyss Sword emanated a formidable aura of dragon might, and it was this very aura that pressed upon their bodies.

Especially among those from the Ghost Realm, fear was etched across every face. Under the weight of the dragon’s might, their own energies grew chaotic, as though the dragon’s aura was specifically suppressing the ghostly qi within their bodies—a natural nemesis to them.

In contrast, the disciples of Mount Mao, though they too felt the sword’s oppressive force, wore looks of pride and satisfaction. To them, now that the sect master had revealed the Dragon Abyss Sword, victory over the Ghost King was assured; justice would finally be served.

After all, the Dragon Abyss Sword ranked second among the ten greatest ancient magical artifacts; its power was immense and certainly not something the Ghost King could withstand. In that moment, they almost saw the Ghost King dying miserably beneath the blade.

But the Ghost King merely looked at Ye Yijian and laughed coldly, “So what if it’s an ancient artifact? There’s nothing extraordinary about it. I too possess a magical weapon.”

With that, the Ghost King’s hands formed strange seals, and the space before her rippled with bizarre, black waves. A long sword, black as ink, materialized, its blade covered in uncanny ghostly symbols and runes.

As this sword appeared, an aura of pure evil spread, causing the very air to tremble as though fearing such malign energy. Clearly, this was also a powerful artifact.

Ye Yijian’s face grew grim. He stared at the ink-black sword in the Ghost King’s hand and spoke coldly, “What evil weapon is this? It carries such a dense, wicked aura.”

“Evil weapon?” the Ghost King replied, her eyes chilling. “This is the Soul-Devouring Sword, forged from countless resentful spirits. Though it is not one of the ancient artifacts, its power rivals the ten greatest magical weapons!”

“Is that so? Then let us see which is stronger—your Soul-Devouring Sword, or my Dragon Abyss Sword.”

Ye Yijian’s expression hardened. With a swing of the Dragon Abyss Sword, a golden blade of light burst forth, slashing toward the Ghost King.

“A mere sword strike? Watch how I shatter it.” Unfazed, the Ghost King sneered, her face cold as she raised her own sword and struck.

Instantly, boundless centuries-old ghostly energy surged from the Soul-Devouring Sword, howling like a thousand ghostly faces. The sky shook, as if the void itself could not withstand this unspeakable evil.

Below, the disciples of Mount Mao looked up at the strange spectacle in the sky, terror etched across their faces. Even the wailing cries alone chilled their bones, as if they were plunged into hell, beset by a legion of ghosts.

They could hardly imagine, if that river of ghostly energy were aimed at them, they would be utterly consumed, nothing left but white bones.

Ye Yijian himself could no longer remain calm as he watched the torrent of ghostly energy sweep across the heavens like a flood, his face full of horror.

Such terrifying techniques—truly the most dreadful of demons. Only now did he realize he had completely underestimated the Ghost King’s power.

“How can your weapon be so powerful?”

Under his horrified gaze, the river of ghostly energy quickly eroded the golden sword light he had unleashed, then surged toward him.

“Damn it.”

Watching the countless fierce ghost faces rushing toward him, Ye Yijian cursed aloud. Though he feared the Ghost King’s strength, as the sect master of Mount Mao, how could he retreat now?

His eyes grew dark and fierce. Suddenly, he formed seals with both hands, spitting blood and growing pale.

“Dragon Abyss Sword Spirit, arise! Eradicate all enemies!”

A low, deep voice escaped Ye Yijian’s lips, and from the Dragon Abyss Sword, a dragon’s roar echoed, shaking the heavens.

A massive golden dragon, ancient and majestic, appeared, its body coiling above Ye Yijian’s head, gazing down upon the world like a sovereign.

“My god! That—that’s a dragon!” As the golden dragon appeared in the sky, all those below felt a shock deep within their souls, their faces lit with utter astonishment.

A true dragon—something thought to exist only in ancient legends. Had they not seen it themselves, who could believe such a thing?

Ye Yijian’s face twisted with ferocity. He looked at the Ghost King and sneered, “Ghost King, no matter your cunning, you cannot stand against the sword spirit. Today is your doom!”

“Oh? Is that so? I would like to see the might of this Dragon Abyss Sword Spirit.” The Ghost King replied, cold and disdainful, her eyes full of contempt.

After all, the Ghost King had cultivated for thousands of years; she had seen true ancient dragons before, and would not fear a mere remnant spirit.

“Ghost King, do not be arrogant. Today I will see you die by the sword spirit, so you may never bring disaster to the world again.” Spurred by the Ghost King’s scorn, Ye Yijian’s anger flared. He spoke coldly, then swept the Dragon Abyss Sword in his hand.

“Go, Dragon Abyss Sword Spirit! Crush all enemies!”

The golden dragon seemed to understand, roaring fiercely, then surged toward the river of ghostly energy like a pillar of gold.

Under the dragon’s assault, ghostly faces emerged from the river, attempting to devour the dragon’s body. Yet, before they could touch it, the ancient dragon aura obliterated them, dissolving them into black smoke.

After utterly smashing the river of ghostly energy, the golden dragon’s power waned, though it remained formidable.

It roared furiously, then opened its maw to attack the Ghost King, as if intent on swallowing her whole.

As the golden dragon rushed forth, ghostly energy swirled in the Ghost King’s eyes. Suddenly, her hands formed intricate, twisted seals. She shouted coldly:

“Soul-Devouring Hand!”

At once, the space before her shattered, forming a black vortex like a bottomless abyss leading to the unknown.

The world trembled, the heavens thundered, as if resisting whatever was about to emerge from the dark abyss.

A massive, grotesque ghost face howled out of the abyss, then transformed into a hundred-foot-long, ink-black hand.

Upon closer inspection, countless souls swirled about the hand, and a terrifying, chilling aura spread from it, like a cold tide drowning the sky—an eerie, shocking sight.

The endless dragon energy crashed against the hand, only causing it to tremble before dissipating entirely.

Ye Yijian’s brow furrowed, his face grave. He murmured, “She has unleashed the secret art, Soul-Devouring Hand… She must be seeking a swift end to this battle.”