Chapter Forty-Five: The Curse that Slays Demons

Monk Three Flames shook his head and took off his robe. “Amitabha, the living have passed on. Let’s end this today and send you on your way.”

The King of Southern Mountain snorted coldly, leaping from his meditation cushion. Mid-air, he transformed into his monstrous form—a giant tiger nearly ten meters long, its body covered in yellow-black stripes and its dark golden eyes brimming with savagery.

Before he could pounce, Monk Three Flames struck first. His entire body turned the color of bronze and gold, muscles rippling with definition, a glow of Buddhist light enveloping him—a golden-bodied Arhat.

The two collided, shaking the entire Great Hall of Treasures. Dust rained from the ceiling, and the statues of Arhats and Buddhas toppled with a crash.

Zhou Bai was not idle either. Gripping his butcher’s blade with both hands, his gaze sharpened as he surveyed the surrounding monsters.

He walked to the mangled remains of the salamander demon, searched the corpse, and retrieved a palm-sized pouch.

He let out a silent sigh of relief. Zhou Bai knew that, barring any surprises, the pouch contained the people captured by the salamander demon—Wang Lei and the others should be among them.

The monsters hesitated, weighing how to flee. Seeing the Underworld Registrar ignore them, they surged out of the hall, each transforming and darting into the mountains and forests.

Zhou Bai relaxed. Most of these creatures were miscellaneous demons; only three or four were minor spirits. Calmly, he held the butcher’s blade before him and took a deep breath.

“By the decree of the Supreme One, transcend the lonely souls; all ghosts and monsters, let the four forms benefit.”

He invoked the Killing Curse, runes streaming from his dantian, his body merging entirely with golden light.

Even as Monk Three Flames faced the King of Southern Mountain, he observed Zhou Bai’s actions. Seeing him unleash a second supernatural power beyond the Yin-Yang Eyes, he was secretly astonished.

He had already considered Zhou Bai to have impressive potential; newly appointed to the Underworld Registry, yet already capable of acting independently—a promising ally.

But now, he realized he’d underestimated him. Someone like Zhou Bai, possessing two supernatural abilities, was rare even among the Registrars.

Momentarily distracted, Monk Three Flames was struck by the King of Southern Mountain, a massive paw slamming into his shoulder. The wound was ragged, a palm-sized chunk of flesh sent flying.

Monk Three Flames paid it no mind; his expression remained unchanged. Buddhist light enveloped the wound, staunching the blood instantly, not hindering his movements in the slightest.

Seeing the monsters flee, Zhou Bai moved as well, stepping forward with his right foot. Cracks spread beneath him. With another step, he became a fleeting golden afterimage, flashing out of the Great Hall of Treasures.

The first strike.

Two fleeing deer demons were cleaved in half by the blade’s gleam; the saw-toothed butcher’s blade, when swung swiftly enough, cut far beyond imagination.

Before their bodies hit the ground, Zhou Bai had already appeared behind a horse demon. The cold gleam of the raised blade made its fur stand on end.

The horse demon’s four hooves clawed frantically at the earth. The last time it had fought so desperately was when it was still a beast, fleeing from a predator; a moment’s hesitation spelled certain death.

Since becoming a demon, it had never felt such terror. For a brief instant, it almost missed those days on the grasslands—an ordinary horse, at least carefree.

Even as a lowly minor demon, it had shed its beastly identity. Its scattered demonic energy instinctively gathered at its hooves, quickening its pace.

A gust of wind swept past, but the horse demon sensed nothing amiss. It felt immense relief, thinking it had dodged the Registrar’s strike, and that escape into the forest meant safety.

But after a few steps, pain erupted in all four limbs. The world spun, and it crashed heavily to the ground.

Zhou Bai’s strike was not so easily evaded. The Killing Curse had pushed his speed to the very limit his body could withstand.

With this second blow, the horse demon’s legs were severed, blood gushing forth; one more strike would claim its life.

Third, fourth, fifth strikes—the clearing before the mountain temple was stained crimson.

In just a few breaths, he had swept away the miscellaneous demons.

Zhou Bai held the butcher’s blade at an angle, blood streaming from the blade into a pit on the ground, splattering and dyeing his clothes red.

The remaining three demons were all minor spirits—a bull demon, a serpent demon, and the rat demon who managed the Great Hall for the King of Southern Mountain. They did not retreat, but stood together in tacit understanding, facing the intimidating Registrar.

The Killing Curse had ended in less than ten heartbeats. Zhou Bai felt a twinge of regret; the runes had only conjured one phrase, and the second would take much longer. Otherwise, he could have killed all three minor demons in one sweep.

“Honored Registrar, perhaps you could spare us. Why fight to the death?” The bull demon took a step back, speaking cautiously, terrified by Zhou Bai’s instant slaughter of dozens of demons.

He glanced at it, but the rat demon was more stubborn than expected. “If you don’t stay and help fight, once the king kills that bald monk, he’ll skin you alive.”

The bull demon’s face shifted from green to pale, the rat demon inflexible as a block of wood, leaving it caught between advancing and retreating.

Only the serpent demon remained silent, flicking its crimson tongue and studying Zhou Bai with vertical pupils. Sensing something, it ventured, “Honored Registrar, it seems your old power is spent and new power has yet to rise?”

No sooner had it spoken than the rat demon’s eyes flashed, its body leaping into the air, transforming into a five-meter giant rat and charging at Zhou Bai.

The bull demon tried to slip away, but the serpent demon’s tail wrapped around its leg. “Hold on. If we flee now, we’ll surely offend the King of Southern Mountain.”

The two demons exchanged glances, each retreating to a safer spot, observing Zhou Bai’s battle with the rat demon coldly.

Though he could no longer invoke the Killing Curse, Zhou Bai was not overly anxious. Facing the charging rat demon, he steadied himself, lowering into a horse stance.

The sapling in his dantian continued to absorb yin energy, the leaf’s pattern growing ever deeper.

His Yin-Yang Eyes were running at full power; the rat demon’s movements gradually slowed.

This supernatural power had great potential, far more than simply detecting demons and ghosts.

“Is this Registrar scared stiff?” The bull demon sneered, unable to fathom why the King of Southern Mountain feared the Registrar so much.

The serpent demon shot it a cold look, striking its head with its tail. “Watch closely. These Registrars are monsters themselves.”

When the rat demon was just five meters away—

Zhou Bai moved!