Chapter Two: Undying!
Atop the skeletal altar stood a raised platform, half a meter high and pitch-black, so dark that the surrounding light twisted around it. Its surface was densely etched with intricate runes. Suspended above the platform hovered a fist-sized mass of milky, flowing liquid, radiating a faint white glow. Its aura of sanctity was wholly out of place in such a setting.
In front of the platform, two figures were cloaked head to toe in black robes. One of them stretched out an arm as withered as a dead branch, holding a black box adorned with purple cloud patterns. Opening it revealed a bed of white silk, upon which lay a single black, curved hair. A hoarse, grating voice emerged from beneath the robe, reminiscent of fingernails scraping across glass.
“This is a hair from Zhou Tian. We lost several members acquiring it. Are you confident this will work?”
The other robed figure took the box and replied, “Zhou Tian is the only one in the Tian Qin royal family without cultivation, so he’s the least protected by the Dragon’s Fortune. If even he cannot be cursed and killed, all our efforts will have been wasted.”
After inspecting the hair inside, he asked curiously, “I’ve never heard that Zhou Tian’s hair is curved.”
The other robed figure stiffened, fell silent for a moment, then said, “It’s not his hair…”
“…”
The figure holding the box did not press further. If it wasn’t hair, what other part of the body could yield such a long strand? The answer was obvious, and he refrained from asking lest he disgust himself.
A jet-black energy enveloped the hair in the box and placed it into the irregularly flowing white liquid. A marvel occurred. The liquid shone brightly, ethereal chanting resounded in the void, and a white lotus blossomed—pure and noble, its fragrance refreshing the soul.
From the heart of the lotus, a humanoid shadow slowly took shape. Its features gradually clarified—it was Zhou Tian, eyes closed, encircled by a golden dragon shadow. The dragon’s majestic roar reverberated through the white lotus, causing it to tremble.
“This is the nectar of the Heavenly Blood Divine Lotus. It gathers the soul and can even resurrect the dead, yet it’s wasted here,” one of the robed figures lamented bitterly. The Heavenly Blood Divine Lotus was a rare treasure, capable of gathering a person’s soul using their blood and hair, even reviving those recently deceased. It was a treasure worthy of being the foundation of a sect, but here, it was used merely to establish a link with Zhou Tian’s soul, squandering much of its miraculous power.
“Enough. Don’t mourn its loss. Let’s begin. If we succeed, none of this will matter.” The other robed figure cast a series of mysterious, arcane seals toward the black platform. The first figure’s energy surged, and he too cast seals.
The black platform glowed; the dense runes carved upon it seemed to flow. Runes poured forth, covering the skeletal altar, then spread across the entire grand array.
The array began to operate, its patterns emitting a ghastly green light. Countless wailing souls howled within. The robed figures’ seals grew ever faster. A sinister wind blew away their masks, revealing skull-like heads, faces deathly pale, sweat dripping down in beads.
The souls within the array began to tear at each other, instruments of torture materialized from thin air and whipped them mercilessly. Strands of black energy were drawn out by the black runes covering the array—pain, rage, resentment, all negative emotions gathered together.
On the rune-covered platform, a shadowy black needle appeared, gradually solidifying.
As the lesser souls dwindled, stronger, fiercer souls emerged, releasing greater volumes of black energy. Finally, a towering soul, a thousand feet tall and formed from countless spirits, appeared. The concentration of negative emotion was so intense that a mere glance induced dizziness.
An army of black runes climbed its body, massed as densely as tadpoles. The colossal form began to shrink, expelling pale, unwanted energy. In less than a breath, the thousand-foot soul was absorbed by the black runes.
All the black runes contracted. With the last rune entering the platform, a tangible black needle took shape. Its surface appeared immaculate, but magnified ten thousand times, one could see myriad ferocious soul shadows etched upon it.
“This is our moment of truth!”
The two robed figures exchanged glances, their energy surging as runes erupted, a tide of baleful aura rising. Together, they directed the black needle toward Zhou Tian in the white lotus.
Where the black needle passed, the white lotus turned black, its petals sprouting hideous human faces, howling to escape.
The golden dragon shadow circling Zhou Mu seemed to sense something amiss, letting out a long roar and twisting its body toward the black needle.
The black needle was unassuming, but its power of corruption was immense. The golden dragon shadow barely touched it before a flicker of black flashed in its eyes. After a brief resistance, the entire dragon shadow turned black, its gaze now sinister, and it lunged toward Zhou Tian.
“It works!” The two robed figures showed delight. This black needle, forged from human negative emotions, was pure evil, capable of contending with the Dragon’s Fortune, itself born of the collective will of the masses.
With the dragon shadow gone, the black needle plunged directly into “Zhou Tian’s” forehead. Suddenly, his closed eyes snapped open, now entirely black.
With a bang, the shadow exploded, leaving only a sea of black lotuses.
“Excellent!”
“We’ve succeeded!”
Two voices cried out in excitement, yet deep within the black lotus sea, unseen by them, a white light struggled to gather, only to dissipate for lack of strength, signifying that the soul it sought to connect with had reappeared.
…
Meanwhile, as Zhou Tian walked, his vision suddenly went dark, his body weak, and he collapsed backward. Just before losing consciousness, a voice echoed in his mind.
“Undying System activated. Death count increased by one…”
When he regained awareness, he was already in a room, voices sounding nearby.
“…So Young Master Zhou was merely exhausted, nothing serious. Look—he’s awake. King Qin, you may rest assured.”
Zhou Tian was helped up from the bed. Before him stood a crowd, chief among them a tall, dignified middle-aged man, his face creased with worry—his father, Zhou Yi, King Qin of the Tian Qin Empire, famed for his strength and martial prowess.
Behind him was the old man who had called him from bed—the Zhou family steward, who had served three generations, including Zhou Tian. No one knew his true name; everyone called him Uncle Zhou, even his father.
Beside the bed sat an elderly man, three fingers pressed to Zhou Tian’s wrist, occasionally tapping and sending white runes into his body. The earlier statement had come from him.
There was also an unfamiliar, white-haired middle-aged man, accompanied by a young girl. Her eyes were bright, nose delicately upturned, skin snowy white, neck slender, waist barely a handful. She wore a purple dress, her fair thighs exposed, though her chest was somewhat flat. At that moment, she was watching him, her gaze holding a mysterious, indescribable expression.