Heavenly Tier Foundation-Building Spiritual Object: Netherworld Blood Spirit Flower

"And that..."

The Demon Venerable's voice became deep, filled with an irresistible demonic allure.

"Do you see that coffin?"

"That is the Evernight Empress from three thousand years ago, who swept across the Eastern Region and whose name alone could stop children from crying—Tantai Jin!"

"As long as you follow the Blood Refining Method I taught you, taking advantage of the weakness of her true spirit to refine this body..."

"What you will possess is a Heavenly Corpse Puppet—one with the potential of the Soul Formation realm!!"

Boom!

It was as if a clap of thunder exploded in Mo Bufan's mind.

Soul Formation potential!

Heavenly Corpse Puppet!

These words were like hooked knives, viciously snagging onto his heart.

If he could refine this puppet...

What Li Feiyu? What Righteous Path Alliance?

When the time comes, the entire Eastern Region will tremble beneath his feet!

He would make that damn scar-faced bastard kneel before him and chew his bones to pieces bit by bit!

"Haha... Hahahaha!"

Mo Bufan let out a neurotic, maniacal laugh.

He violently wiped the blood from his face. Supporting himself on the ground with his mangled demonic arm, he charged up the altar like a mad dog.

"Mine! It's all mine!!"

The two stumbled to the front of the ice coffin.

The extreme chill instantly formed a layer of white frost on their eyebrows.

But they did not feel cold.

Because the fire of desire within them was about to burn them dry.

Mo Bufan sprawled over the ice coffin, his ugly, twisted face pressed tightly against the lid, greedily staring at the woman inside.

"Beautiful... so beautiful..."

The woman lying inside was so beautiful she did not seem mortal.

The black imperial robe woven with gold did not conceal her figure; instead, it made her prominent curves all the more breathtaking.

Especially at the slightly open collar, revealing a glimpse of cold white skin as dazzling as the peak of a snowy mountain.

Under the gloomy phosphorescent fire, that skin seemed transparent, fragile, yet full of deadly temptation.

"This is the Empress..."

"This is the Empress who once trampled all living beings beneath her feet..."

Mo Bufan's eyes were filled with twisted possessiveness.

"Now, you are mine."

"I will refine you into a corpse puppet that belongs only to me..."

The Demon Venerable shouted in Mo Bufan's mind.

"Do it!"

Mo Bufan shuddered and hesitated no more.

He bit the tip of his tongue and spat a mouthful of essence blood onto the ice coffin. His hands madly formed incantation gestures, striking out series of bizarre, blood-colored runes.

"Heavenly Demon Corpse Refining, heed my command!"

"Return, oh soul, and become my corpse slave!"

"Open!!"

Rumble—

Following his incantation, the ice coffin that had been silent for three thousand years suddenly let out a teeth-aching grinding sound.

The coffin lid slowly slid open to reveal a crack.

A cold current sealed for eons, wrapped in a dense imperial pressure, instantly spewed out!

"Ugh!"

Bearing the brunt of it, Mo Bufan was directly thrown to the ground by the blast of air. The freshly scabbed wounds on his face split open once more.

But he could not care about the pain.

He scrambled up in ecstasy, staring intently at the slowly opening sarcophagus.

At this moment.

The entire Immortal Burial Forbidden Ground seemed to fall silent.

Even the whistling yin winds in the abyss stopped.

Everything was awaiting the awakening of that monarch.

Thump.

A muffled heartbeat suddenly rang out.

Like a heavy war drum, it struck fiercely deep within everyone's soul.

Thump, thump.

The heartbeats grew stronger and faster.

Even the surrounding air began to resonate with it.

The phosphorescent fires on the altar danced wildly, as if in fear, or perhaps in worship.

"This pressure..."

Daoist Xueku was shaken by the terrifying heartbeat so much that he coughed up a mouthful of old blood.

"No, this isn't right..."

How did this aura resemble a dead person?

This was clearly an ancient ferocious beast that had just woken up!

Swish—!

Those eyes, tightly shut for three thousand years.

Slowly opened!

Those eyes.

The left eye was like ink, bottomless, as if it could devour all the light in the world; the right eye was crimson, swirling with demonic strangeness, as if mountains of corpses and seas of blood were bobbing within it.

This was absolutely not the hollow gaze of the dead.

But a god sitting high upon the nine heavens, looking down at the filthy ants beneath its feet.

"Thump."

The final heartbeat fell, as if putting a period to this long, three-thousand-year slumber.

In that suffocating deathly stillness, there were no stiff movements, nor any so-called monstrous roars of a mutating corpse.

The exquisitely beautiful body lying in the ice coffin merely engaged her waist and, as smoothly as flowing water—sat up.

Three thousand locks of black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, covering the back embroidered with a demonic dragon, yet unable to conceal the imperial might that made souls tremble.

"A... a corpse resurrection?!"

Daoist Xueku was the closest.

In his murky old eyes, greed was instantly replaced by extreme terror.

As a Golden Core cultivator, he instinctively sensed something was wrong. That was not the aura of death; it was a life-level suppression that, although weak, was so noble it made him want to prostrate in worship.

He wanted to flee.

His remaining, crippled leg kicked madly against the black jade ground, trying to get away from this bizarre ice coffin.

"Disturbing my sweet dreams."

A cold, clear voice suddenly echoed across the altar.

The voice was not loud; it was lazy and husky, yet it carried an unquestionable tone of judgment.

Like a sigh in the dead of night, it gently brushed past Daoist Xueku's ears.

Tantai Jin in the ice coffin tilted her head slightly.

Those heterochromatic pupils swept a faint glance over Daoist Xueku.

There were no spiritual energy fluctuations, nor any magical light and shadows.

It was merely—a single glance.

"No... spare me... Empress spare..."

Daoist Xueku's pleas for mercy abruptly ceased.

"Pop."

A soft sound, like a bursting bubble on the surface of water.

Daoist Xueku's crippled Golden Core realm body, along with the golden core inside him that had taken hundreds of years of bitter cultivation to form, in this instant, without any warning—disintegrated.

There was no flying flesh and blood, no continuous tragic screams.

He just abruptly turned into a cloud of extremely fine red blood mist, which was then swept up by the chill around the ice coffin, instantly freezing into countless red ice crystals that fell tinkling onto the black jade floor.

Beautiful, yet cruel.

"Gulp."

Mo Bufan, who had already retreated to the edge of the altar, swallowed hard.

Cold sweat rolled down his disfigured cheek, stinging the curled-up flesh, but he did not even dare to wipe it.

Dead?

A Golden Core Master, just glared to death like that?!

"Quick! Hold your breath! Conceal all your aura!"

In his mind, the Blood River Demon Venerable's voice was also trembling, "Don't move! Whatever you do, don't move! She is feeding! She is absorbing life force through slaughter to awaken her true spirit!"

Mo Bufan gritted his teeth tightly, lying motionless in the shadows like a toad playing dead.

Inside that ice coffin.

After killing the man, Tantai Jin seemed to find it somewhat boring.

She lazily raised her hand, resting her slender, long fingers lightly on the cold edge of the coffin. Her nails, painted with dark red polish, looked exceptionally bewitching under the gloomy blue phosphorescent fire.