The sensation of dying was far more terrifying than Zhao Zhi had ever imagined. The suffocating struggle, the endless darkness, the desperate, choking dread—it all filled his heart with crushing regret. If he could go back, he would undo every decision that had led him to this miserable end.
As his consciousness drowned in despair and fear, he suddenly felt weightless. When he opened his eyes, he found himself floating in the air, looking down—at his own corpse lying on the execution platform.
His body was headless.
That realization had barely formed before his mind was swallowed by blackness once more.
He had no sense of time in that darkness. It could have been many years, or only an instant. Then—his eyes snapped open again.
He was standing once more upon the high platform. Below, Li Qingqiu was facing off against Immortal Master Jiang, while the Martial Enforcement Guards surrounded them.
Instinctively, Zhao Zhi looked down—and froze in horror when he saw his own headless corpse sprawled before his feet.
But his limbs didn't move. He couldn't move at all.
'Am I… in soul form now? So that technique really did work…'
His thoughts trembled. He turned his gaze toward Li Qingqiu, trying to hear what he was saying. Though they stood close, he suddenly realized—they were in two different worlds.
So this was what it meant to be separated by yin and yang.
He focused his mind, staring hard at Li Qingqiu. Slowly, sound began to reach him again.
"I'll give you one more chance," Li Qingqiu's voice came, cold and steady. "Show me what else you've got."
Hearing that, Zhao Zhi's ghostly lips curled into a sneer. "You arrogant fool," he muttered under his breath. "Go ahead and be proud. I'll wait for you to die and come join me. The Immortal Master can bring me back. But you? You'll be the one who dies in regret."
Immortal Master Jiang gave a thin smile, amused by Li Qingqiu's calm defiance. "Since you're so eager to witness my true power," he said, "then watch closely. I'll show you that my cultivation stands above yours."
He stepped back to the side of the massive black banner and gripped its staff tightly with one hand. The flames below licked at his sleeves, but he didn't flinch. The heat didn't seem to touch him at all.
Everyone's eyes fixed on him—the man who had bewitched the Emperor and plunged the realm into chaos. Fear filled every gaze.
"Master Li! Kill him now—don't give him time!" one of the prisoners shouted in panic.
But Li Qingqiu didn't move. His expression remained calm, his focus unwavering.
Immortal Master Jiang began to chant, fingers weaving through complex hand seals. His lips moved swiftly as ancient words flowed from his mouth.
In an instant, the black banner trembled violently. From within it poured a dense flood of ghostly energy that coiled around him like a storm. Within that miasma, countless spirits took form—men and women, old and young—all with twisted faces and hollow, screaming mouths.
The air filled with faint, dreadful wails that made the hair on everyone's neck stand on end.
Ministers stumbled down from the platform, fleeing in terror.
Watching from beyond, Zhao Zhi's lips twisted into a cold smile. Now that the pain of death had passed, his arrogance and cruelty returned. In his eyes, Li Qingqiu looked utterly foolish.
Too stupid, he thought. You'll regret ever standing against me. I'll enjoy seeing the fear on your face when your death comes.
A faint giggle broke the silence behind him.
Zhao Zhi stiffened and turned sharply.
A woman stood there—her hair disheveled, her white robes fluttering soundlessly. Her face was pale and beautiful, but her lips were curled in a strange, greedy smile.
The sight made Zhao Zhi's scalp crawl. He could feel hunger radiating from her eyes.
"Who are you?" Zhao Zhi demanded.
The woman tilted her head. "You're already dead," she said softly. "Do you have anything you wish to say to your people before you're gone completely?"
Zhao Zhi snorted coldly. "Say what? Those worthless peasants only live because of my will. I sought immortality, and they cursed me for it. When I'm revived, I'll see that they pay for their insolence."
The woman—Nangong E—shook her head slowly. "They are not worthless," she said, her tone faint but filled with scorn. "Before you, they were the ones my father cherished most in all the world."
As she spoke, her neck stretched unnaturally long, her head rising toward the sky. Her face distorted, beautiful features warping into something monstrous and serpentine.
Zhao Zhi looked up, terror spreading across his face. His body wouldn't move.
"What are you doing?" he stammered, his voice shaking.
Nangong E's enormous, contorted face loomed above him. "Those people," she hissed, "are not your slaves. They are my father's people—the ones he loved more than his own life."
Then she lunged downward, her mouth opening impossibly wide. In one terrible bite, she devoured Zhao Zhi's spirit whole.
He didn't even have time to scream.
Li Qingqiu, standing with his back to the scene, smiled faintly. His eyes never left Immortal Master Jiang, and that slight curve of his lips was filled with mocking amusement.
Around Jiang, the ghostly energy grew thicker and darker, spreading outward until it became a shroud of swirling mist. The entire square trembled under its presence.
Suddenly, one of the Martial Enforcement Guards clutched his chest and gasped. Before he could even speak, others followed—Divine Martial Soldiers and guards alike grabbing at their chests, their faces twisting in agony.
Thud!
One guard fell to his knees, trembling violently as if his soul were being torn from within.
The ministers, soldiers, and prisoners all broke into panic. No one understood what was happening, and the fear of the unknown made their terror spread like wildfire.
Some prisoners seized the chance to fight back, shoving aside the guards that held them down and bolting for escape. Chaos erupted across the plaza.
But Immortal Master Jiang ignored the panic. His eyes locked on Li Qingqiu, a mad grin spreading across his face. "Li Qingqiu!" he shouted, his voice echoing with wild delight. "Soon, you'll pay for your arrogance. My Soul-Refining Banner is complete! Prepare to meet despair!"
He spread his arms wide as the black banner pulsed violently behind him. "When you die, every soul in this city will die with you. And when they do, this world will fall into chaos! I will roam across the Nine Provinces and Fourteen Lands, and all their souls shall feed my banner! I will ascend beyond the mortal realm—I will become the one true cultivator, the only immortal among men!"
His laughter grew louder, wilder.
"I will achieve eternal life! I will become the only immortal and god in this mortal world! From this day forth, all kings and nobles will bow to me, and the people of the world will worship my name! Those who follow me shall prosper—those who oppose me shall perish!"
His laughter rang madly through the square, his ambition fully revealed. The ministers and prisoners, pinned down by terrified soldiers, could only curse him through gritted teeth, rage and hatred burning in their eyes.
Li Qingqiu didn't look surprised at all. He simply stood where he was, quietly watching, still not making a move.
All around the square, the Martial Enforcement Guards and Divine Martial Soldiers collapsed one after another. Their souls were forcefully ripped from their bodies, drawn toward the Soul-Refining Banner that fluttered above the stage.
Just as I thought.
Along his path of slaughter through the imperial city, Li Qingqiu had already sensed the strange spiritual imprints hidden within those soldiers' souls. He had guessed they were connected to the Martial God Pill, the Yin Ghost Pill, and a third unknown elixir.
Those pills, disguised as tools to strengthen warriors, were in fact designed to harvest their souls.
So Li Qingqiu had deliberately allowed Immortal Master Jiang to proceed—partly to expose the truth, partly to bring punishment upon these corrupted guards and soldiers. Whether they had chosen this path willingly or not, they had killed too many under Zhao Zhi's orders. It was time for them to face their retribution.
More and more souls poured into the mist surrounding the Soul-Refining Banner. A terrible spiritual pressure radiated outward from the flag, suffocating the entire plaza.
It wasn't just the soldiers here. All across the imperial capital, souls began to drift upward—visible even to living eyes—as they were pulled toward the black banner.
Countless spirits flew over the city, wailing in unison, filling the skies with an eerie glow that made the citizens and nobles alike shudder in terror.
Howling winds swept across the execution platform. The prisoners began crawling frantically, desperate to escape down the stairs.
True Person Qingxiao, still kneeling on the ground, looked up at Li Qingqiu's back and croaked hoarsely, "You… what is your relation to Lin Xunfeng?"
His voice was rough and ragged, like a blade scraping against his throat.
Li Qingqiu tilted his head slightly, catching the old man in the corner of his vision. The frail, skeletal figure before him was a shadow of the once-mighty master of Qingxiao Sect.
True Person Qingxiao opened his mouth again, but the words caught in his throat. Guilt filled his chest until he couldn't speak at all.
Li Qingqiu turned back toward Immortal Master Jiang.
Jiang's confidence faltered for a moment when he realized Li Qingqiu still hadn't struck. But then he remembered what the ancient texts had written about the power of the Soul-Refining Banner, and his arrogance returned tenfold.
A twisted grin spread across his face. The ghostly energy wrapped tighter around his body, and his pupils turned crimson, giving him the look of a deranged demon.
Then—
A figure suddenly moved past Li Qingqiu and charged straight at Immortal Master Jiang.
It was True Person Qingxiao. He still had inner energy left!
Pa!
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, freezing him mid-step. He turned his head and saw that it was Li Qingqiu who had stopped him.
"My time's almost up," True Person Qingxiao said through gritted teeth. "Let me help you one last time…"
Li Qingqiu spoke calmly. "Your time isn't up. When I bring you back to Qingxiao Mountain, you'll recover."
His hearing was sharp enough to catch every whisper from earlier—he already knew who this old man was.
Though Li Qingqiu felt no deep affection toward this grandmaster of his sect, he couldn't deny the bloodline of Qingxiao.
He gently pulled True Person Qingxiao behind him. The old man stared blankly, confused, and asked, "Then what are you waiting for?"
Li Qingqiu's eyes stayed fixed on Immortal Master Jiang. "That banner," he said slowly, "isn't bad. I think I'll take it."
True Person Qingxiao's eyes widened in shock. His heart trembled violently. For a moment, he wondered if his judgment of Li Qingqiu had been completely wrong.
Immortal Master Jiang's face darkened instantly. He hadn't expected Li Qingqiu to covet his Soul-Refining Banner.
"You dare to touch my Soul-Refining Banner?" he snarled. "Then feel the wrath of the Ghost Dao!"
With a furious roar, he swung the massive banner. In an instant, waves of black energy surged toward Li Qingqiu and True Person Qingxiao. Countless vengeful spirits burst forth from the mist, clawing and screeching as they dove toward them like a tide from the deepest hell.
True Person Qingxiao froze, eyes wide, his body trembling as if pierced by cold steel.
But Li Qingqiu didn't retreat.
He raised his sword and strode forward through the storm.
Every ghost that touched him shattered instantly into fragments of light. His mere presence tore through the ghostly miasma, splitting the sea of spirits like a blade through water.
Immortal Master Jiang's eyes bulged in disbelief.
"That's impossible…"
He swung the banner again, pouring every drop of power into it. More and more ghost energy surged forward—only to collapse each time they touched Li Qingqiu.
"Impossible… impossible… this can't be happening!"
His movements grew faster and more frantic. Sweat dripped from his brow, his face twisting in panic.
Step by step, Li Qingqiu advanced.
When he finally stood before Immortal Master Jiang, the man trembled uncontrollably, clutching the banner across his body like a shield.
"When you cultivate," Li Qingqiu said coldly, "do you often feel like you can't control your own energy? When you cast spells, does it always feel like something's missing?"
Immortal Master Jiang's face went pale. "How… how do you know that?" he stammered.
Li Qingqiu snorted. "Because your cultivation aptitude and comprehension are both pathetic. Even after all the lives you've destroyed, you've only reached the third layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm. You do have some talent in alchemy, though."
The insult struck deeper than any sword. Immortal Master Jiang's rage boiled over. With a furious scream, he swung the banner down at Li Qingqiu's head.
Puchi!
A flash of sword light.
Immortal Master Jiang's head flew through the air, still twisted in a mask of rage and disbelief.
Li Qingqiu caught the falling Soul-Refining Banner with his left hand. As he gripped it, he felt the immense spiritual power swirling within. His expression flickered slightly.
The flag pulsed with an overwhelming demonic presence—wild, hungry, and dangerous.