"What are you panicking for?"
Song Wanníng's voice was calm, though her eyes were fixed on the towering structure behind them.
The closer she drew, the more intense that strange energy became—the kind that targeted the Primordial Soul itself.
What could be hidden inside?
"Dàrén, you may not know… This is the Eighteenth Level of Hell, where the most wicked spirits are imprisoned."
"There's a Soul-Scouring Formation inside. Even we ghost guards dare not linger there too long. Just our luck that we drew the short lot this time and were ordered to fetch this evil spirit. No one volunteers for such a task."
The two ghost guards wore identical looks of helplessness. Bad luck was bad luck.
"Dàrén, best keep your distance, or you might be caught up in it."
Their warning was well-meant. Most ghost cultivators had their own territories and rarely came to the Rebirth Valley. Outsiders usually didn't know much about this place.
"I see. Then, may I take a look inside?"
Song Wanníng could tell they weren't suspicious of her. She decided to probe a little further.
"This… you can, but we're afraid you might not be able to withstand it."
"If you truly want to go in, you could buy an umbrella from the Rebirth Pavilion over there."
"Costs only two hundred hell coins."
One of the ghost guards pointed toward the left. In the distance stood a pavilion shrouded in heavy clouds and coiling ghostly mist.
Hell coins?
Song Wanníng had never seen such currency, let alone possessed any.
She only smiled faintly and said nothing more.
The two ghost guards hurried off on their task.
Gazing once more at the Eighteenth Level of Hell, Song Wanníng decided to leave it for another day. When she had hell coins, she would come back and investigate.
She changed course with her ghost servant and headed toward the location of the Rebirth Flower.
The area where the flower grew was far more remote. She encountered no ghosts along the way, which made her frown in suspicion.
The ghost guards had said the path was dangerous, but now it seemed oddly peaceful. Clearly, something was amiss.
Song Wanníng grew more cautious. Yet before long, she found herself walking into a bank of ghostly fog.
Before she could grasp what was happening, the fog twisted and took shape—countless ghost beasts lunged toward her.
Her eyes narrowed. In the next instant, she raised her hand, and lightning flared from her fingertips.
The ferocious ghost beasts recoiled as if they were mice faced with a cat. Shuddering violently, they turned and fled in a blind panic.
In their haste, they collided with each other, tumbling over in a chaotic mess.
In less than two breaths, the fog was empty again.
Song Wanníng arched a brow. Lightning truly was the nemesis of such creatures, and its reputation was well deserved.
With this power, her safety in the underworld was far better assured.
She pushed through the ghostly mists and continued on. Several more ghost beasts tried to devour her, but the mere flicker of lightning was enough to send them scrambling. She didn't even need to strike.
The once-dangerous journey became almost leisurely. Within two hours, she arrived at the place where the Rebirth Flower bloomed.
Her relief vanished in an instant. Her expression hardened.
Not far away stood a figure she recognized—and he had already seen her.
There was no chance to hide.
It was the Mahayana cultivator who had opened the passage earlier.
In his hand was a freshly plucked Rebirth Flower. His robe was in tatters, as though ghost beasts had clawed at him.
Song Wanníng froze, every muscle tense. She could see the hostility in his eyes.
The Mahayana cultivator slowly stored away the flower, his gaze never leaving her.
His seemingly thin frame concealed a terrifying power far beyond anything she could resist.
Her mind raced for a way out.
But both were sharp enough to see the truth. The Mahayana cultivator, seeing the ghostly aura around her, would not risk her alerting other ghost cultivators. He would not let her leave.
Even if she declared herself a spirit cultivator, it would change nothing. He would still silence her. Opening the passage must have been a plan he had been working on for a long time.
Her only option now was to run.
Her thoughts shifted, and she moved at the same time he did.
From above, a massive ochre-colored palm slammed down. The air froze in place.
The crushing might of a Mahayana cultivator poured over her. Any other Out-of-Body cultivator would already be kneeling, unable to move, waiting for death.
Song Wanníng was different. Her Primordial Soul was strong enough to endure the pressure, if only barely.
The immortal furnace flashed into existence before her. The giant palm descended—and the furnace shot upward to meet it.
A deafening boom split the air.
The palm shattered. The blast scoured the land bare, turning stone and grass alike to ash.
Sand and dust filled the air, blotting out vision.
In that instant, Song Wanníng activated a space talisman. She and the furnace vanished from the spot.
It wasn't linked to a teleportation array, but leaping a hundred li was more than enough.
She was gambling that the Mahayana cultivator wouldn't dare chase her too openly. This was the underworld. If his identity was exposed, leaving would be difficult.
She was gone.
The Mahayana cultivator let out a faint sound of surprise. He stood in silence for a moment, then slipped the Rebirth Flower into his storage ring, face darkening.
"Consider yourself lucky. If I see you again, I'll grind your bones to dust."
An Out-of-Body cultivator… with an immortal artifact.
And not a low-grade one.
His heart stirred with greed. He was only a step away from ascension. With such an artifact, he could protect himself far better in the Immortal Realm.
But she had escaped.
His expression turned even gloomier. After cleaning up the traces, he turned and left in another direction.
…
"Phew! Sister, was that really a Mahayana cultivator's power? I could barely breathe when he attacked!"
Xiao Jin still trembled at the memory. In all his time with Song Wanníng, he had never felt such oppressive strength.
Song Wanníng's gaze was solemn. She kept scanning behind her as she moved, wary of an unexpected pursuit.
"He is on the verge of ascension, one of the most powerful in the Spirit Realm. Naturally, his strength is immense. If I hadn't activated the immortal furnace in time, I wouldn't have escaped. At best, I'd be half-dead."
She wondered, if Senior Dao Qing learned that she was using the immortal furnace as a defensive treasure, would he be exasperated beyond words?
===
Hell coins, it bring back memories.
If you didn't know what I mean, it was my other finished work titled Hellcoin Billionaire: My Ghost Shop Fuels My Cultivation. This also a cultivation story, but the setting is modern world and it have different cultivation system, not like traditional Xianxia genre. If you curious you can check it on my profile.