Chapter 7 Traces

The ghostly old man still felt unsatisfied. Red blood vessels bulged in his deep green eyes from anger as he slowly extended his withered hands. With great force, he pulled out a sharp dagger from his robe and sliced open his black nails, from which a liquid flowed.

Dripping a few drops of unknown liquid onto the mangled wound of the Qingling Emperor, a strong putrid odor emanated from the fingernails, accompanied by several thin, wriggling insects. As the liquid touched the wound, it burned his skin, and the wriggling insects seemed ecstatic, voraciously devouring his flesh until they transformed into small, chubby worms the size of soybeans. Satisfied, the ghostly old man withdrew his hand.

Excruciating pain erupted, assaulting every part of the Qingling Emperor's body, making him writhe in agony on the cold ground. Nearly half of his face had been gnawed away by the insects, leaving behind a horrifying sight of exposed bones and oozing blood mixed with decayed flesh. Countless maggots crawled out of the deep pits, adding to the terror.

At that moment, a silver light flashed from the teleportation formation, and a black entity burst out, emitting a foul stench along with oozing black liquid, indicating a significant injury. The ghostly old man frowned, extending his withered hand and chanting an incantation. A dense aura of death surged from him, enveloping the black entity.

In an instant, the wounds of the black entity healed as if it had been reborn, restoring its peak strength. It rejoiced ecstatically, rubbing against the ghostly old man like cotton candy, seemingly enjoying the touch of its master. Holding the bone staff, the ghostly old man's gaze turned icy. "This black entity was created by the Ghost Witch Master from thousands of grievances and his own blood. It can transform into countless indestructible tentacles for attack and directly absorb the souls and flesh of living beings. It's immune to all physical and elemental attacks, and it can traverse various formations and barriers. Although its abilities are average, it is vulnerable to attacks from the holy light of the spiritual race."

"How do you justify this, Qingling Emperor? If it weren't for your negligence in losing the formation token and letting Princess Qingzhi escape, the resurrection plan of the Ghost Witch Master wouldn't have been interrupted." With that, the ghostly old man limped over to the Qingling Emperor, lifting his right foot and forcefully stepping on the Emperor's palm. Leaning close to the Emperor's ear, he murmured, "This is a warning. You can choose freely, but your life is at my mercy!"

The agonized Qingling Emperor could only bow his head. "Yes, under your command."

"Hmph, useless!" The ghostly old man sneered contemptuously, then, leaning on the black entity, he limped away, leaving the teleportation formation.

Just as the Qingling Emperor's dark eyes gradually lost sight of the ghostly old man's figure, a sinister and terrifying voice came from afar: "I almost forgot to remind my respected Qingling Emperor, that coffin girl; I've already handed her over to the Ghost Witch Master. Surprised, aren't you?"

Trembling with difficulty, the Qingling Emperor rose to his feet, his eyes filled with resentment and anger. Even his facial wounds no longer felt pain. With a surge of power from his right hand, countless spirits clung to it.

Taking aim at the teleportation formation in front of him, he struck it forcefully. With a deafening roar, the earth shook, and the once radiant formation ceased its operation, with some runes on it almost falling off. However, after a short while, the teleportation formation resumed its operation, emitting light once again.

The burning pain on his cheeks continued to assail the nerves of the Qingling Emperor. Enduring the pain, he dragged his heavy body slowly towards a nearby pond. Through the reflection on the water's surface, he saw his once stunningly handsome appearance now transformed into a grotesque and ghastly visage.

Raising his right hand, he grabbed the wilted skin of his face and tore off half of it, discarding it into the pond. As the fish caught the scent of the strong blood, they turned into ferocious ghosts, swarming to chase after the piece of heavily wounded skin. It was one of the few sources of food in the pond, and in an instant, the fish devoured it completely. Then, the Qingling Emperor took out a bottle of potion from his robe to cleanse the wounds inflicted by the insects. The wounds instantly scabbed over, but a large depression and numerous cheekbones were clearly visible. He then retrieved a golden mask from his robe, which he had prepared in advance.

When he put on the golden mask, it was unclear whether he felt joy or sorrow. Only a sigh of loss echoed in the sky: "My dear, are you still angry with your father?"

In the dim night, the once bustling palace became quiet, with only a few bright lanterns swaying under the eaves, waiting silently for the sunrise from the east.

In the guest room, a dim yellow candle illuminated the entire room, casting a faint glow. Some partially burned wax tears slid down from the base of the candle, forming a layer of yellowed and dried wax.

As the candlelight flickered, a figure appeared before it—a woman in green attire. She removed her thin veil, revealing an exquisitely beautiful face, untouched by makeup, with a beauty that rivaled that of heavenly fairies, captivating and stunning.

She leaned weakly on the table, her eyebrows furrowed as if she couldn't figure something out. She murmured to herself, "Why did Father lead the Spirit Clan into such a dangerous situation? Does he have some undisclosed reasons, or is he being threatened by the Ghost Witch? And that coffin girl who suddenly appeared ten years ago—why does she look so similar to me? Could she be the key to breaking the curse on the Spirit Clan? But her soul has long been lost, leaving only one hidden in the bell to prevent her body from decaying. For ten years, I've been nourishing her weak body with my spirit blood, giving her the conditions for resurrection. With the necromancy of the Ghost Witch, she will surely be revived, but..."

A series of questions exploded in her mind, leaving her troubled and unable to find answers. She spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep or find peace. She muttered, "Ah, so annoying!"

Until she remembered what her father had once told her—that restraining the Ghost Witch required finding the Soul-Capturing Rod. But where in the vast world could she begin searching? Moreover, the Soul-Capturing Rod was an ancient artifact, originally used to suppress the ghost clan, and had long been lost to time.

Sighing involuntarily, her voice melodious and melancholic, she took out a fist-sized jade-like token from her robe. It was covered with densely engraved runes, which shimmered with energy as they circulated. It was the only key to the teleportation formation. She murmured softly, "Father entrusted it to me, and let me go with Tian Kuang. He must be facing a lot of trouble again, right?"