Chapter Sixty-Six: The Spirit of Shadow

Qingxu’s true form possessed only mid-tier Earth Immortal cultivation, and now, under the crushing pressure of the Three Yin Absolute Domain—Heaven, Earth, and Mortal Yin—he could barely muster thirty percent of his strength. Even his Early Taiyi True Immortal avatar found its mana sluggish and difficult to circulate; techniques that were once effortless had now become twice as hard to perform. He could not help but marvel at the ferocity of this Three Yin Deadland.

Hearing Qiongqi’s mocking voice, Qingxu was startled inwardly, but his face remained utterly unmoved. In such a perilous situation, panic was out of the question; only calm could meet this crisis.

He secretly probed with his primordial spirit, but he could not pinpoint Qiongqi’s location. Helpless, he turned his gaze to Youqiong, hoping to rely on his senses for assistance.

Catching Qingxu’s look, Youqiong understood immediately. With a bitter smile and a shake of his head, he indicated his own powerlessness.

“Don’t waste your strength! With your abilities, you’ll never find where I am,” came the sneering, disdainful voice from all directions.

“Hmph! Hiding in the shadows—what’s the point of that? If you have true skill, show yourself and face me in open combat. Let us settle this once and for all.”

“Hahaha…!” As soon as Qingxu finished speaking, thunderous laughter erupted from all around, making his ears ring.

“How laughable! You can’t even figure out where I am, yet you dare speak so boldly? You’re simply inviting ridicule. Since you’re so desperate to die, I’ll gladly grant your wish.” As Qiongqi spoke, Qingxu’s pupils contracted, for a bizarre scene unfolded before his eyes: from the void in every direction, four streams of inky-black mist appeared. At first glance, they seemed tangible; upon closer inspection, they were as if illusory—impossible to fathom.

The four currents of black mist swiftly coalesced, merging into one mass a mile in front of Qingxu, roiling and undulating. They morphed ceaselessly into skulls, scythes, axes, demons—grotesque and countless. It was a spectacle to behold.

“What is this?” Qingxu was bewildered. He prided himself on his knowledge, yet this semi-corporeal, semi-illusory dark mist left him completely at a loss.

[Lower-grade Shadow Spirit—creatures unique to the Nineteen Realms of Hell in the Netherworld, divided into lower, middle, and upper ranks, and under the command of the Southern Shadow Spirit King…]

At this critical moment, the Investiture System proved invaluable, flooding Qingxu’s mind with relevant information about the Shadow Spirits.

Since Pangu split open the primordial chaos, the world was divided into three realms. The upper realm was the Thirty-Three Heavens; the middle realm encompassed the Four Great Continents, the vast oceans, and myriad islands; the lower realm was the Netherworld, roughly divided into nineteen levels of hell. However, the nineteenth level’s very existence was the stuff of legend—even Da Luo Golden Immortals who ventured there found no trace, and most doubted its reality.

Each level of the Nineteen Hells was vast beyond measure, no less than a continent of the mortal world. Yet their environment was far more hostile, and they teemed with countless nether creatures—some so powerful that even Da Luo Golden Immortals would be threatened by them. For this reason, few of the great cultivators ever set foot in the Netherworld; those with insufficient cultivation couldn’t enter, and those who could lost interest after learning the general lay of the land.

As Qingxu knew, the infamous Blood Sea of the Netherworld, so renowned in later ages, was found in the thirteenth level of hell. To reach it, one would have to brave innumerable perils; without world-shattering divine powers, it was impossible to arrive at the Blood Sea.

Apart from the most mysterious bottom layer, the upper eighteen levels of hell were not truly secret. Anyone with some standing among the disciples of a sage would know of them, and Qingxu was no exception. As in myths of his previous life, the first hell was the Tongue-Pulling Hell; the second, the Scissors Hell; the third, the Iron Tree Hell; the fourth, the Mirror of Retribution Hell; the fifth, the Steaming Basket Hell; the sixth, the Bronze Pillar Hell; the seventh, the Mountain of Swords Hell; the eighth, the Mountain of Ice Hell; the ninth, the Cauldron of Oil Hell; the tenth, the Sheep’s Pit Hell; the eleventh, the Crushing Stone Hell; the twelfth, the Mortar Hell; the thirteenth, the Blood Pool Hell (the Nether Blood Sea); the fourteenth, the Wrongful Death Hell; the fifteenth, the Dismemberment Hell; the sixteenth, the Volcano Hell; the seventeenth, the Millstone Hell; and the eighteenth, the Saw Hell.

This was wholly unlike the later legend of Houtu, the Ancestral Witch, incarnating as the Six Paths of Reincarnation and the Celestial Sages establishing the Netherworld. The Nineteen Hells were innate, born with the world, their mysteries shaped by the Dao itself—so profound that even a Hunyuan Sage could not fully comprehend them.

As their names implied, the upper eighteen hells matched their titles, though Qingxu did not know the specifics. He lacked the power to journey to the Netherworld, and even among the incarnations of the Three Pure Ones, only his Taishang avatar possessed a shred of divine sense—yet even that could not breach the barriers between realms. After all, even his master, the Primordial Heavenly Lord, forbade him to go; Taishang would never help, for should anything go awry, it would be impossible to explain to Primordial. Thus, the Taishang Talisman was out of the question; with only an Early Taiyi True Immortal avatar, he could not even tear open the boundary between the worlds, much less venture into the perilous Netherworld.

“So, this is merely a lower-grade Shadow Spirit under the Southern Shadow Spirit King of the nineteenth level of the Netherworld’s hells? Truly unexpected. You abandoned your mighty beastly body to possess such a thing—forsaking your chance to advance for a momentary gain in power. Qiongqi, your foolishness astonishes even me!” A lower-grade Shadow Spirit was equivalent to a peak Mysterious Immortal, but it was almost impossible to improve, and its prospects could not compare with those of the Four Ferocious Beasts before their decline.

“How do you know about the Shadow Spirits? How could you possibly know?” An incredulous roar came from within the black mist. Qiongqi was thrown into confusion, realizing things were slipping from his grasp; Qingxu appeared fathomless, utterly inscrutable.

Qingxu, focused solely on the Shadow Spirit, did not notice the undisguised shock in Youqiong’s eyes behind him. Not only his expression, but his eyes themselves had turned completely blood-red.

“Where is the fierce beast body of Qiongqi?”

“Hmph, so that’s your aim—the body of Qiongqi, is it? If you want it, you’ll have to survive first! Since you know about the Shadow Spirit, you must be aware of its terrors. Add in the effects of the Three Yin Deadland—do you really think you can best me? Hahaha!” Clearly, Qiongqi’s confidence was unshaken, and with good reason. The Shadow Spirit was immune to both physical and ethereal attacks, and even had formidable resistance to soul assaults—virtually invulnerable. It could unleash physical, illusory, or spiritual attacks at will, adapting to each opponent’s strengths. Most fearsome of all, it could vanish and reappear without a trace; even Da Luo Golden Immortals would struggle to detect it when it chose to hide.

Having learned all this from the Investiture System, Qingxu understood just how troublesome the Shadow Spirit would be—especially here, in the Three Yin Absolute Domain. Still, he felt no fear and was ready for battle.