Immortality Through Array Formations Chapter 2014 Chapter 967: Vengeance Has a Source_3

"I have no idea what you're talking about... What masterpiece of the Shen Family?" Shen Qingsheng’s expression betrayed a flicker of unease.

"Your father just finished recounting the entire story in great detail," Mo Hua replied.

Stunned, Shen Qingsheng asked, "What exactly did my father say?"

Mo Hua’s eyes narrowed slightly as he realized something. When Shen Shouxing had been confessing the Shen Family's scandals, Shen Qingsheng appeared to have been suffering from a "Planting Devil in Taoist Heart" state. He had been so dazed that he likely heard nothing at all.

It appeared the son was truly ignorant of the sins his father had committed in the past.

Mo Hua remained silent and continued walking.

Shielded by the Divine Mist Formation, the pair traversed further. The exit of the Taoist Field grew closer, and the dragon-head gate of the Great Wilderness Divine Temple began to emerge from the haze in the distance.

However, the surrounding yin aura was becoming increasingly suffocating.

Perhaps because Shen Qingsheng was on the verge of escaping the Taoist Field unscathed, the vengeful souls sensed through the unseen threads of fate that their century-old grievances and blood feuds might never be settled. They were consumed by a violent rage, letting out shrieks of pure hatred.

They fought desperately to tear themselves away from the bronze men. Even as their spiritual forms were shredded and their spectral bodies were ripped apart, they refused to stop.

The entire Taoist Field began to shudder as the resentment of the ghosts surged forward like a rising tide.

Suddenly, a sharp snapping sound echoed.

A vengeful soul broke free from its bronze restraints. Though its body was severed at the waist, leaving only its torso, it lunged toward Mo Hua with a monstrous snarl.

This was merely the first. Soon, a second followed, then a third...

The sounds of breaking bindings erupted everywhere.

More vengeful souls liberated themselves, congregating into a shrieking wave of darkness.

Hidden by Mo Hua’s Divine Mist Formation, they were unable to pinpoint their "enemy," leaving them to thrash about in a blind, murderous frenzy.

Black clouds swirled above, blotting out the sky.

Drawn by the pull of karma, a massive, fanged Third Grade Fierce Ghost slowly manifested within the dark clouds.

The senses of a Third Grade Fierce Ghost were far superior to those of common spirits; it could faintly discern the two figures concealed within the Divine Mist Formation.

Overwhelmed by the terrifying shadow of death, Shen Qingsheng’s heart trembled with pure dread.

"Run!"

With a shaky voice, Shen Qingsheng bolted into a desperate sprint.

Mo Hua followed closely behind.

Sensing a slight ripple in the air, the vengeful souls in the sky began to drift toward them.

But they were too slow.

Within thirty minutes, Shen Qingsheng had sprinted out of the Taoist Field and onto the steps of the Divine Temple, moving beyond the reach of the ghosts.

Shen Qingsheng exhaled a long breath of relief before turning back to Mo Hua. Suddenly, his face twisted in horror as he screamed:

"Mo Hua, look out behind you!"

Startled, Mo Hua began to turn, but before he could see his attacker, a sword tip burst through his chest.

A blade had pierced through the Divine Mist Formation patterns on his body, skewering his torso.

Mo Hua slowly turned his head to face Shen Qingsheng.

Shen Qingsheng’s face was now contorted into a vicious, mocking grin. "Die, you little brat!"

Mo Hua looked genuinely confused. "Why..."

"Why?" Shen Qingsheng spat back with a sneer. "What do you mean why? I’ve wanted to kill you for ages. Did you think I was just playing around? Besides, I don't care what my father told you, but since you know the Shen Family's secrets, you can't be allowed to live..."

Mo Hua’s pupils contracted. "So you knew about the Shen Family’s past all along?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Shen Qingsheng snorted with disdain. "My father actually thought he could hide it from me? Did he think I wouldn't find out?"

"It’s just killing people. What’s the big deal?"

"They were nothing but lowly Mining Cultivators. Why should I care?"

"Are the lives of servants even considered lives?"

Mo Hua asked softly, "Did your father teach you this?"

Shen Qingsheng laughed mockingly. "Does one even need to be taught such things?"

"Who do you think I am? I am a direct descendant of the Shen Family, born to be superior to everyone else!"

"And being superior means having the mindset of a ruler."

"Those peasants deserve to grovel at my feet. Even if they are dogs of the Shen Family, they must obey my every whim."

"My father worked his whole life so I could live like this, didn't he?"

"The irony is that my father, a man with hands soaked in blood who killed his way to the rank of a Powerful Elder..."

"...actually spends every day telling me to follow the Righteous Dao, to be diligent in Cultivation, to be kind to others, and to pity the weak."

Shen Qingsheng sneered again. "I have no idea what he's trying to achieve. Aren't those hypocritical words a joke coming from him?"

"Those pathetic Loose Cultivators are poor their whole lives. There is nothing about them worth pitying."

Mo Hua’s expression turned cold. "The wealth of your Shen Family and your decadent lifestyle were built entirely upon their suffering."

Shen Qingsheng blinked, then scoffed:

"Then it's their own fault for being weak. Whether they are poor or miserable, that is simply their fate and their own failure. What does that have to do with the Shen Family?"

As those words left his mouth, the vengeful souls gathered in the Taoist Field began to howl with renewed fury.

The massive Fierce Ghost fully took shape.

With the sword still lodged in Mo Hua’s chest, Shen Qingsheng shoved him violently back into the Taoist Field—right into the heart of the rampaging ghosts and thickest yin aura.

"Since you care so much about these starving ghosts from Solitary Mountain City, why don't you go feed them yourself..."

Shen Qingsheng chuckled.

Mo Hua’s Divine Mist Formation shattered, leaving his aura completely exposed. With the sword through his chest, he seemed unable to flee.

The small boy was quickly encircled by thousands of predatory spirits, their ranks closing in.

Behind Mo Hua, the giant, hideous Fierce Ghost loomed, opening its blood-stained maw.

Shen Qingsheng’s smirk widened with triumph.

But in a heartbeat, his smile vanished, replaced by shock and terror.

Before his eyes, the swarm of vengeful spirits circled Mo Hua like a terrifying tsunami, yet not a single one dared to actually touch him.

Even the massive Fierce Ghost, after lunging at Mo Hua, seemed to sense something terrifying. Its bulging eyes filled with fear as it began to back away.

The sky was filled with the frantic dancing of ghosts.

Yet the small boy stood his ground, untouched and unbothered by the legion of spirits.

It was as if he were a young Yama, a lord of the dead suppressing the Netherworld itself.

A wave of ice-cold dread washed over Shen Qingsheng. His pupils dilated as he desperately tried to turn and run.

Suddenly, a streak of golden light cut through the air.

A golden sword whistled through the wind, impaling Shen Qingsheng’s thigh and pinning him to the earth.

Shen Qingsheng thrashed in agony, but the more he moved, the worse the pain became. He looked back in terror.

Mo Hua, looking perfectly composed, pulled the longsword from his own chest. He pinched the blade between his fingers, and it crumbled into fine dust.

"Your Taoist Heart is already beyond saving..."

Shen Qingsheng’s face went pale with fright.

Mo Hua reached out with his pale hand and made a grasping motion in the air.

A blue, blood-streaked mist of evil qi rose up, forming a suffocating Water Prison Technique. It bound Shen Qingsheng tightly, dragging him inch by inch back into the Taoist Field, toward the waiting mouths of the vengeful souls.

"Go and pay back your father's debts first..."

Within Solitary Mountain City, the countless spirits who had died in agony let out a collective, excited shriek, the yin winds howling with a dark, vengeful joy.