Chapter 118: The Great Formation of the Threefold Suffering and Fivefold Torment of Yin Blood and Fiendish Energy

A sea vessel sailed in from the far side of the great river.

In truth, the boundary between good and evil was not so clearly drawn.

Most of the halls on Wanxiang Island maintained dealings with factions both to the north and south.

Many hard-to-obtain supplies were mostly transshipped through Wanxiang Island.

Moreover, the environment there was harsh, teeming with all sorts of creatures and people, making it difficult for any sect to manage.

Thus, this place became an ideal buffer zone among powers, fostering its own prosperity.

A ship cleaved through the dense mist and waves, entering the waters.

At this moment, the river surface was calm, the usual thunderstorm had gradually subsided, yet a greater storm was brewing.

Onboard, Ji Yan, the transport steward, felt uneasy, as if something was about to happen.

Lingbo Tower was not composed solely of body-refining cultivators.

For instance, Ji Yan himself was a late-stage Spirit-Nurturing practitioner specializing in Condensed Sha and refined energy.

The intuition of someone at this stage was sharper than that of body-refiners, seldom without cause.

Such impulses were never mere whims; masters at this level almost never conjured baseless thoughts.

Where there was such an omen, trouble was sure to follow.

Thinking this, Ji Yan glanced back at the steward and said, “Go down and check the cargo again—better to avoid any mishaps.”

Recently, the notorious demonic thief cultivators had gone silent, showing no activity, but Ji Yan did not believe they had reformed; perhaps they were watching him closely, though the chance was slim.

Only he, as the sole sea transport steward, knew the ship’s route and time of arrival.

Besides, the ship was protected by a grand formation, unmatched by any small sect’s warehouse.

“No abnormalities,” his subordinate reported.

“Hm, stay vigilant. Once docked, it’s no longer our concern,” Ji Yan replied.

---

Hidden Dragon Cavern.

Night enveloped the place.

The forge room was thick with black smoke and sinister energies.

The candle flames, tainted by the gloom, flickered a ghostly green, casting a terrifying aura.

Amidst the murky mist, several paper effigies with strange expressions drifted faintly.

A black-robed Taoist sat cross-legged before a coffin.

The pitch-black coffin exhaled a strange, eerie mist, radiating profound malevolence.

Bang!

The coffin lid slammed open.

A corpse stood upright.

Its face was identical to Lu Qian’s, with pale-yellow skin shimmering with an inexplicable metallic luster.

The skin had no pores, and when it stepped on the ground, it sounded like metal striking metal.

Whoosh!

The corpse flew out the window, sweeping its arms straight ahead.

Crack!

A tree, as thick as a bowl, snapped instantly.

Its hands were not only immensely strong but as hard as steel.

Lu Qian surveyed his body with satisfaction.

He reached out, grabbed his right hand, and yanked it off sharply.

The severed hand fell to the ground, dissolving into a puddle of flesh.

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