Return, O Soul The Phantom of the Great Sage, Han Zhen Dies

Behind the chaotic battlefield, a series of ferocious roars echoed, as if reverberating from ancient times to the present.

Dozens of terrifying calamity beasts surged across the battlefield, most of them Great Demons, with even a few Demon Kings among them!

A nine-headed bird shrouded in black clouds flapped its wings, the howls of vengeful spirits and the moans of the damned faintly audible within the storm. The earth trembled and split as a Great Demon burrowed beneath the surface. A colossal avian beast whipped up endless gales, ravaging the battlefield...

"Hahaha! That brat is mine!"

"These humans are so weak—they can’t even withstand a mere flicker of will. Guess it’s up to us!"

"Leave me a bite of his flesh! I want to taste that fire-forged golden body—bet it’s crispy!"

These high-tier calamity beasts were beings capable of sowing chaos, toppling cities, and annihilating nations.

Now, they surged forward like a tide, indiscriminately crushing everything in their path—friend or foe. The arrival of these "reinforcements" inflicted devastating losses on the enemy forces first.

The scene was nothing short of apocalyptic.

Even the Greenwood defenders on the city walls exchanged uneasy glances, their resolve wavering.

"If calamity beasts like these had attacked on the first day... would we have been wiped out instantly?"

"Can Young Hero Li and Commander Qu really break through such a siege?"

"I shot an arrow earlier—one that could pierce solid stone—but before it even reached that colossal avian beast, the wind tossed it aside like a dead leaf..."

"Can we... still win?"

High-tier calamity beasts seemed to wield an innate terror over humanity.

For countless years, they had been revered as gods, towering above all living things—both the cause and the result of their dread.

Their appearance alone heralded catastrophe.

They were the root of disaster, the embodiment of fear.

Many of the Greenwood defenders had been recruited locally, their bones steeped in generations of terror toward these beasts.

"Young Hero Li is still fighting on the front lines, and here you are spouting cowardice?!"

Wu Lang, his teeth broken and mouth bloodied, spoke with a lisp as he glared at the wavering soldiers, halting the spread of panic.

"Heaven never seals off all exits."

"If I’m not running, what are you afraid of?!"

Huang Donglai appeared on the battlements, dust-covered and weary. He had been deep in thought—what would Brother Li do in this situation?

"If we strap Thunderfire Pills to crossbow bolts..."

"Even if the bolts don’t pierce the enemy, the explosions should still do some damage."

Wu Lang’s eyes lit up at the idea.

But after searching frantically...

Huh?

Where were the remaining Thunderfire Pills?

......

"Young Hero Li, charge ahead without hesitation."

Qu Sheng, astride his snow-white steed, began radiating the aura of an External Manifestation cultivator.

Internal Manifestation could form a domain.

But External Manifestation allowed one to truly project their inner world, altering reality itself.

Li Mo stared in awe as Qu Sheng’s wild black hair suddenly frosted over mid-sentence.

"Who says a general’s glory is built without remembering the names of the fallen?"

"I remember them all..."

Qu Sheng remembered every fallen comrade.

Born into poverty, he had enlisted young, starting as a child soldier tasked with collecting corpses and cleaning battlefields.

It was a lucrative job—pilfering valuables from the dead and pocketing them, with squad leaders turning a blind eye as long as they got their cut.

But fate was unkind.

Time and again, he stumbled upon soldiers who hadn’t yet breathed their last.

He inherited their dying secrets, their regrets, and their legacies—propelling his cultivation to new heights. Through their stories, he learned how to survive the brutality of war.

And so, he remembered their names.

Names that never made it onto casualty lists.

One phrase echoed in his ears countless times:

"Live for me too."

Eventually, "Little Qu" became Squad Leader Qu, Company Leader Qu, Battalion Leader Qu...

His breakthrough to Divine Perception came naturally.

The collective legacy of his fallen brothers forged the Greenwood Army’s mighty commander.

One, then dozens, then hundreds, until thousands—the sound of hooves transformed from sparse clicks into a thunderous storm. Though his troops were gone, Qu Sheng now rode with an army of the dead.

The fallen had returned as blood-soaked battle spirits, rallying behind him once more.

"Spirits, return!"

This was his External Manifestation.

"Today, we die together—fulfilling the greatest regret of my life!"

"Shall we march into the underworld as one?!"

Commander Qu Sheng of Greenwood commanded over fifty thousand spectral soldiers.

A Divine General of this era!

The tide of war spirits surged across the battlefield, clashing violently with the calamity beasts.

The beasts were savage, but the spirits were already dead—how could "fearless" even describe them?

They even carried Thunderfire Pills!

The moment their forms began to dissipate, they would hurl themselves at the beasts and detonate.

For a time, even the high-tier calamity beasts were stalled.

"Commander..."

Li Mo, mounted on his cloud-steed, silently swapped his hammer for an identical one—unnoticed by all.

A warrior who could wield the power of a hundred armies...

What if he added the force of a world?

The World Force within him had long since evolved beyond a mere seed—it was now a nascent realm.

Still below Internal Manifestation, he couldn’t project it outwardly.

But merely channeling its power unleashed earth-shaking might.

Li Mo endured the strain in silence, his formidable body pushed to its limits.

His eyes were locked on one target.

"Han Zhen!"

A Great Demon blocking his path was obliterated before it could react.

Emerging from the bloody mist, the golden radiance around him faded.

Every battlefield sigil dimmed beneath the shadow looming above him.

A hush fell over the battlefield.

The path before him cleared—no enemy dared stand in his way. His aura alone was enough to paralyze the bravest warriors.

Gods?

Even gods could die.

When the invincible, disaster-wielding deities they worshipped were halted, slaughtered—faith crumbled.

Someone fled first.

Then another.

Until the entire army collapsed in disarray.

"To think... you actually made it this far."

"What kind of power is this...?"

Han Zhen’s scalp prickled with dread, his composure as the revered State Preceptor shattered.

But he knew fleeing meant certain death.

"The blood sacrifice isn’t complete..."

The crimson arm grafted to him writhed uncontrollably, its gaping maw lunging and biting into his abdomen.

Han Zhen paled.

An organ was devoured.

He formed an ancient hand seal, and the bronze divine tree behind him continuously collapsed and vanished, while a blood-red shadow emerged from within.

Han Zhen, arms outstretched toward the sky, wore a sickly fanatical grin on his face:

"Blood God has granted me immortality—what can you possibly do to kill me?!"

"I am the Grand Preceptor of the Great Shang Dynasty! And you... just a mere tomb guardian..."

A terrifying, ancient aura descended.

Countless shades of crimson gradually enveloped Han Zhen.

It was as if some unfathomable existence was using him as a vessel to manifest.

From the unseen void, a gaze locked onto Li Mo, brimming with boundless malice and greed.

"Grand Preceptor of Great Shang?"

Li Mo didn’t even glance aside, staring straight at the man who once believed himself the master of heaven and earth, the wielder of the Great Dao, second only to the emperor and above all others.

He spat out a mouthful of blood-streaked saliva.

"Go to hell!"

BOOM—

The Rumbling Tribulation Star Hammer roared with excitement—the hammer treasure could finally unleash its full might, devouring all power like an insatiable vortex.

"Die!"

Han Zhen faced the hammer head-on, every inch of his skin peeling away to reveal the raw flesh beneath.

He had no room left to cast any secret arts.

Likewise,

Li Mo, in this brief moment, could no longer summon that indestructible, golden-glazed radiance that defied all laws!

"If I can just survive this strike..."

The blood-red shadow behind Han Zhen let out a restless, furious howl.

That unnaturally muscular arm, having devoured endless blood qi, twisted grotesquely free from Han Zhen’s shoulder, stretching endlessly like a monstrous growth.

Then, layer upon layer of fleshy cocoons wrapped around him, forming a squirming mass of flesh as tall as a city wall.

Li Mo wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Eighty strikes—right on time!

Why were the stars getting closer?

No—it wasn’t the stars.

The sky was falling!

Sky-Overturning Hammer!

The might of the army formation, the Heaven-Defying Battle Secret, the seven profound elixirs, the power of the world—all converged into this single strike.

BOOM—

He plunged into the mass of flesh. Before him stretched mountains of corpses and seas of blood, dismembered limbs fused into bone roots embedded in the flesh, even faces of the recently dead—foes and comrades who had fought alongside him mere moments ago.

Piercing through countless barriers of flesh, his treasured armor was corroded beyond recognition, his hands burned with crimson scars, but he finally broke through.

A dull thud.

The fleshy cocoon exploded, and a figure wrapped in the blood shadow was sent flying through the air.

Midair, Han Zhen’s eyes still held disbelief.

For a fleeting moment, Li Mo’s form overlapped with the divine will of one who battled heaven and earth, overshadowing him completely.

The Blood God’s phantom behind Han Zhen evaporated like dew under the morning sun.

"Blood Phoenix Essence... Ancestral Spirit... Blood God... Save me!"

Han Zhen’s fear meant nothing.

His ambition to restore the dynasty was never firm—only a selfish desire to reclaim power under the guise of loyalty. Now, it all turned to nothingness under this hammer.

The battlefield air seemed to freeze.

Han Zhen.

Dead.

Li Mo watched as his enemy dissipated.

Finally, his vision darkened uncontrollably. He barely managed to retract the hammer treasure but dared not let go of the last shred of willpower in his heart.

He had accomplished the feat of slaying the leader amidst ten thousand.

But he was still surrounded by countless enemies.

Wolves circled him.

Yet now, "Little Li" could barely stand—not a single finger could move, let alone summon the Somersault Cloud.