Chapter 38: The Ancient Locust Reveals Its True Form in the Ghostly Cavern

“In that case, tonight we make our move and settle things once and for all with the Black Cloud Patriarch.”

Zhao Wuji’s eyes glinted like twin blades, thick with murderous intent.

Night had fallen, and the sky was shrouded in darkness. The moon was obscured, the wind whistled, and all was silent within Lanhua Temple.

The two men and the fox left the temple, heading straight for the mountain behind. There, a dense forest lay shrouded in heavy mist, exuding a faint, sickly stench.

No sooner had they neared the forest’s edge than eerie laughter, curses, and voices filled with hatred drifted toward them from afar. The cacophony merged into a nightmarish chorus, enough to set one’s head pounding.

“Demonic Illusion Sound? Such petty tricks dare show their fangs!”

Hearing the sinister sounds, Zhao Wuji burst into hearty laughter. At once, the sword on his back sang out, its light flashing like a silvery ribbon as it sliced into the mist.

At the same moment, Xu Xuan unleashed his Scarlet Mist Blade, following close behind and striking into the fog.

Instantly, a multitude of terrified, wrathful voices rose up. Where the sword-lights flashed, the bizarre cries vanished as quickly as they arose.

The mist was filled with fiendish spirits and wild ghosts, all enslaved by the Black Cloud Patriarch. They wreaked havoc in this place, often taking on forms to harm those at Lanhua Temple.

Countless innocent souls had perished at their hands. Among these wandering ghosts were many who had been killed here; their grievances transformed them into vengeful spirits, unable to reincarnate.

Unable to escape, they were forced to join the ranks of these wicked ghosts, preying upon the living, drinking blood to replenish their yang energy, and roaming these haunted mountains in a daze.

Now, as the sword-lights cut through them, the fiends grew frantic with fury. With their lives at stake, they flung themselves from the mist in a reckless assault, determined to tear Xu Xuan and his companions limb from limb.

“How reckless!”

The Fox King let out a cold laugh, flicked his sleeve, and blades materialized from thin air, cutting down two humanoid phantoms at once.

Several white-faced children, dressed in black aprons and sporting high pigtails, charged at Xu Xuan.

But golden light burst from Xu Xuan’s body, his Armor of Golden Scales gleaming like a beacon in the dark. A wisp of true solar fire swept forth, instantly reducing the locust tree imps to ash.

The two men and the fox pressed onward, cutting down monsters and specters as they advanced deeper into the forest, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake.

Xu Xuan had not expected to find so many fiends lurking in this forest—it was as if they had stumbled straight into a den of demons and ghosts.

Just then, a shadowy specter lunged at Xu Xuan, only to be cleaved in two by his sword. In its dying moments, the ghost’s eyes burned with hatred as it cursed loudly before vanishing in a wisp of blue smoke.

Clad in the Armor of Golden Scales, the Scarlet Mist Blade shining in his grip, and true solar fire swirling faintly around him, even Xu Xuan’s eyes blazed gold. He looked every inch a divine general descended to the mortal realm, awe-inspiring and indomitable.

The golden light radiated outward, forcing the surrounding mist to recede. As it grew brighter and stronger, it burned the fiends and spirits, eliciting shrill, agonized screams as if they were being scalded by boiling oil.

Beside him, Zhao Wuji radiated a vigorous, masculine energy, as if his very body were a blazing furnace. The ghosts and spirits could not withstand the overwhelming aura of slaughter and bloodlust, and scattered in terror.

As for the Fox King, he fought with mounting ferocity, transforming into his true form—a blue fox over ten feet long, moving with lightning speed. Wherever he passed, goblins and ghosts were torn to shreds.

At last, even the red-robed woman and the old crone—who had earlier spoken with Jade Maiden at Lanhua Temple—appeared.

Both possessed centuries of cultivation, far stronger than the ordinary wandering spirits. Yet their fate was the same: death. Against a martial saint, they could not last a single exchange.

And this time, Zhao Wuji had not come alone. With Xu Xuan and the Fox King beside him, their strength was overwhelming.

The forest was soon filled with the sounds of battle—shouts, curses, and the clash of arms. The weaker creatures were obliterated before they could even scream.

Even the stronger fiends wailed in agony before dissipating into wisps of blue smoke.

Venturing deeper, the stench of blood and rot grew stronger. The ground was littered with corpses, mangled remains, and half-decayed flesh, resembling a field of mass graves.

As for the goblins and spirits, they had been so thoroughly routed that even the survivors dared not show themselves, cowering in fear.

At last, a massive locust tree came into view.

The tree was enormous—so thick that five grown men could not encircle it. Its lush, dense foliage cast a deep shadow, and the bark was patterned like scales, entwined with green vines that resembled serpents.

Two crow’s nests perched among its branches, where several crows with scarlet eyes fixed Xu Xuan and his companions with unblinking stares.

Beneath the great tree lay heaps of white bones—beast and human alike—piled so densely that it resembled a scene from purgatory.

“Stop, young master!”

A delicate voice suddenly called out. Jade Maiden’s frail figure stepped before Xu Xuan.

Zhao Wuji’s brow furrowed. This demoness was no ordinary creature, to have approached so closely without them noticing.

Seeing that she knew Xu Xuan, Zhao Wuji refrained from attacking, but his gaze was as sharp as a sword, sweeping over Jade Maiden and sending a chill through her soul.

Her face turned ashen, her slender form trembling like a solitary blade of grass in the wind—so pitiable it would soften any heart.

“Jade Maiden, why do you block my path? Have you grown tired of living?”

Xu Xuan had initially intended to spare the peach demoness, but now that she had appeared to bar their way, his patience wore thin.

“A hundred years ago, Jade Maiden was nearly captured by demon hunters. The Patriarch saved my life, and to repay that kindness, I willingly became his servant, though it has cost many innocent lives.

“I know my sins are grave. Today, I am willing to die to atone. I beg you, young master, show mercy to the Patriarch.”

With these words, Jade Maiden knelt before Xu Xuan, her expression pitiful and mournful.

A faint smile touched Zhao Wuji’s lips. This demoness was intriguing—unable to save herself, yet still pleading for the old demon’s life. At least she was loyal.

Xu Xuan shook his head, a flash of killing intent lighting his deep eyes. He sternly refused:

“The Black Cloud Patriarch has committed countless crimes—today, he must die. If you leave now, I will spare you. But if you persist in your folly, do not blame me for being ruthless.”

A true man acts decisively. Once the decision is made, it must be carried out without wavering—how could he abandon his resolve for the sake of a demoness’s plea?

Suddenly, a chill wind swept through the air, sending the leaves of the great locust tree rustling.

At the same time, black lines split open across the leaves, growing wider until they became clusters of eyes, cold and black, hanging from the branches.

These eyes stared icily at Xu Xuan and the others, but when they turned to Jade Maiden, a hint of tenderness flickered within them.

Ghostly flames flickered around the massive trunk, illuminating the surroundings in an eerie emerald glow.

As the ghost fires drifted, shadowy figures appeared beneath the tree, stacked atop one another like children playing leapfrog.

These figures all had the faces of children—white-powdered cheeks, black aprons—mocking, weeping, cursing, and struggling to break free from the base of the tree.

They were a horde of locust tree children—sinister and terrifying. Had any mortal witnessed this, they would surely have died of fright on the spot.

The countless black eyes on the tree blinked in unison, and then a voice, neither male nor female, rang out:

“So, my hour has finally come. I knew this day would arrive, but I did not expect it to come so soon.”

As the voice faded, a figure materialized beneath the tree—a black-robed elder with a head of white hair. Though his face was bloodless, it could not conceal his wicked allure.

At last, the Black Cloud Patriarch revealed himself.