Chapter 6: Netherworld March — The Living, Make Way!
The two brothers swallowed hard.
The shock in their eyes was beyond words.
The ghost army killed with deadly silence.
Hundreds of evil spirits, once monstrous and terrifying, were slaughtered like cattle—utterly defenseless before the three-thousand-strong ghost legion.
This army was cold, ruthless, and impossibly powerful. Their eerie presence carried a weight of unspeakable dread.
In less than a minute, all the demons were annihilated. Their ghostly bodies shattered beneath cursed blades, their souls utterly destroyed—no reincarnation, no escape.
From a distance, a figure streaked toward the Chen brothers like a comet.
Ghostfire danced around his legs, leaving afterimages in his wake.
It was Zach Mason—known in Hua City as the fastest ghost handler alive. No one else even came close.
But just as he was about to reach them, Zach's pupils shrank. A wave of bone-deep chill swept over him.
The ghost energy on his legs recoiled violently.
Smack—!
He stumbled and fell right at Damien Chen's feet.
His hand trembled as he pointed at the ghost army marching like they had emerged from the depths of hell.
"Is this... the true face of the Ghost Gate?" Zach's voice shook with panic and despair. Bloodshot veins spread across his eyes as his mind trembled under the weight of what he was witnessing.
In his heart, he saw it: Hua City, utterly devoured. Streets drowned in blood. His own inner specter, once fierce and unruly, now cowered in silence.
Even the weakest among these ghost soldiers could crush them all with ease.
"No!" Damien grabbed Zach's shoulder in a panic.
Any sudden movement might draw the attention of this merciless army.
Clink—clank—
After the slaughter was done, the ghost general sheathed his soul-forged chain. The rest of the ghost legion followed suit in perfect synchronization.
Not a single one even glanced at the three humans nearby.
Ghostly mist rose once more, the cold wind howled.
Under the pale moonlight, they moved on, silent as the grave—yet their formation exuded an unspeakable, regal dread.
Even the very void seemed to tremble as they passed.
Reinforcements finally arrived.
Dozens of ghost handlers from Hua City's bureau came in a hurry—but the moment they stepped near the battlefield, they froze.
As if plunged into a glacial abyss.
Connor Yu, head of the Ghost Bureau, felt his own specter's hand—usually resting calmly on his shoulder—begin to tremble violently.
His personal ghost was a Class B revenant, but in front of this death legion, it quaked in raw terror.
Even its soul began to scream.
"This... this is the darkness after the Ghost Gate opened..." Connor whispered, drenched in cold sweat.
He stared in disbelief at the silent army marching across the wasteland. Others, less powerful than him, collapsed to their knees. Some even showed signs of ghost awakening—their inner specters beginning to spiral out of control.
"Ghosts... forming a military unit without emotion? That's impossible! It's not supposed to be like this!"
None of them could move.
They stood frozen, utterly helpless—like livestock awaiting slaughter.
And then...
The army stopped.
Right in front of them.
Every step halted in perfect unison, like clockwork forged from death itself.
Chills surged down everyone's spines.
"Hua City is doomed!!!" someone shouted in panic.
"If the outside world doesn't learn of this quickly, and they move on to the next city—this will be a catastrophe unlike any before..."
"When will this godless, ghost-ridden age finally end?" Connor murmured. His knees buckled, his mind barely holding on.
As director of the Ghost Bureau, he had imagined a thousand ways to die—but never like this. Never before such raw, unchallengeable power.
Everything they had just witnessed felt unreal. Too overwhelming. Too terrifying.
And the worst part?
It might all be erased.
How long would it take for this army to erase Hua City?
Half an hour?
Ten minutes?
Just as despair was about to consume him, a voice—low, cold, yet filled with regal authority—echoed from within the ghost army.
"Ghost army marches..."
"The living, make way..."
The moment the words were spoken, every ghost handler regained control of their bodies.
Without hesitation, they stepped aside, clearing a path for the army.
Because the ghost legion wasn't heading toward Hua City.
The ghost mist swirled again. The army vanished into the darkness, as if nothing had ever happened.
Only the cold sweat soaking through everyone's clothes proved the nightmare was real.
"D-Did... did you get that on tape?" Connor's voice quivered, still in disbelief.
"Since we left the city... it's been recording automatically," one of the handlers stammered, handing over a small recording device.
No one knew it yet—
But that mere half-minute of footage...
Would soon shake not just Yanhuang, but the entire world.
Meanwhile, inside the City God Temple...
Lucian Graves sat cross-legged, his body bathed in golden light as waves of spiritual energy purified his bones.
Even the ghosts slain miles away by his army sent their karmic merit back to him.
"Power..." Lucian's lips curled into a faint smile.
His veins pulsed with new strength. The acupoints in his body, especially the crown chakra, burned with divine heat.
This single battle had elevated his physical body by two entire realms.
His karmic form was stronger. His spiritual lifespan now stretched five hundred years.
By some measures... he could already be called a god.