Chapter Sixty-Nine: Why Slit the Throat to Bleed the Pig?

Amidst their fierce struggle, the green ghoul was clearly showing signs of defeat, and the group’s attacks grew swifter and more relentless. Zhou Bai, however, held back with every strike, calculating in his mind—the head of this specter would be worth quite a number of points, and he had no intention of letting the opportunity slip away.

The green ghoul’s attacks became increasingly frenzied until finally, Hou Bocheng seized an opening and pinned its right arm with a vice-like grip, causing the creature to freeze for a split second. The specter lashed out in desperation, its left arm hammering against Hou Bocheng’s back with a metallic clang. Hou Bocheng only grunted. There was a reason he claimed his powers countered ghouls: once his whole body had transformed into metal, physical blows rarely harmed him.

Yu Jun took advantage of the moment, landing a brutal blow to the ghoul’s neck and leaving a wound so deep the bone was visible.

The green ghoul hunched over, its head drooping.

Zhou Bai acted then. He unleashed another slash, this time without restraint, pouring all his strength into the attack. The blade cut through the air, a cold glint flashing in an instant.

The slaughter blade struck the ghoul’s neck heavily, grating against bone and producing a piercing screech. Zhou Bai’s brows knitted together; he could feel the resistance as the blade wedged itself in the bones, stuck fast in the crevice.

The green ghoul, enraged, its muscles swelling, slammed its head into Zhou Bai’s chest, sending him flying as the blade remained embedded in its neck.

Zhou Bai crashed to the ground, rubbing his chest. The blow was powerful—while his bones remained intact, his skin was badly bruised, and he could feel hairline cracks forming in the bone.

The specter, now desperate, struggled to break free from Hou Bocheng, but the latter wouldn’t allow it. Streams of molten iron flowed from Hou Bocheng’s body, transforming into chains that bound the ghoul tightly. No matter how strong the creature was, it was now helpless.

Even when some chains snapped, more would wind around the green ghoul, binding it with crushing force.

Yu Jun launched another assault, targeting the ghoul’s legs to prevent it from regaining its footing.

Even Daoist Hou, emboldened by the situation, approached and landed a few punches on the specter. Though all his talismans were spent and his ghostly arts unmastered, he could at least get in a few jabs for good measure.

Seeing such an opportunity, Zhou Bai was not about to let it pass. The green ghoul’s immense stature meant he couldn’t reach its neck unless he found higher ground—unlike Yu Jun, whose true form could match the ghoul’s size.

Zhou Bai planted his feet on the ground and, using his momentum, leapt up to land squarely on the ghoul’s shoulder.

He spat into his palms, gripped the hilt of the slaughter blade with both hands, and summoned all his strength.

The slaughter blade was tightly wedged in the bone, but the demon head on the hilt had long been thirsting for blood. As Zhou Bai gripped the handle, the blade released a faint, eager hum.

A sudden memory surfaced in his mind: the scene of his father butchering pigs—an inherited memory, locked away until now. In the Zhou family, butchery had been passed down through generations, always favoring decapitation.

When asked why, his father explained that it was an ancestral tradition, unlike ordinary butchers. It made sense—the Zhou ancestors were executioners. After turning to butchery, their lethal skills had no outlet. Were they to resort to mere throat-slitting like others?

No. One word: decapitation!

Under Zhou Bai’s full strength, the serrated edge began to move, tearing flesh and bone to fragments, the grating sound oddly pleasing to the ear.

What did it matter if the green ghoul’s body was as hard as steel? Before this three-foot slaughter blade, it was nothing.

Suddenly, the resistance vanished and the blade felt light in his hand.

Zhou Bai landed back on the ground, the slaughter blade resting on his shoulder as he turned his back to the ghoul. Behind him, the specter toppled over, its head severed from its body.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. This specter had been a formidable foe, but the members of the Underworld Registry were no ordinary men; their combined powers had brought down the green ghoul with only minor injuries.

“Fall back…”

Zhou Bai alone wore a different expression—his face hardened, brows furrowed. He retreated a dozen steps, putting himself safely away from the corpse.

The others, unsure of his reasoning, instinctively followed, especially Daoist Hou, who dashed away at remarkable speed.

“What’s wrong? Is the green ghoul not dead yet?” Yu Jun asked in confusion. Some specters could survive decapitation, but with their strength and coordination, killing it again wouldn’t be difficult.

“It appears to be dead, but…” Zhou Bai shook his head, then nodded. With his Yin-Yang eyes, he could see the ghoul’s aura had dissipated completely—it was dead beyond doubt.

Yet, his system panel had not registered the kill, which left him unsettled.

“I feel something’s off as well,” Daoist Hou said, clutching his chest nervously. Noticing the group staring at him, he added, “My heart is pounding like crazy—I’m scared out of my wits…”

Before he could finish, a chill wind swept in from the direction of Hangdu—so fierce it whipped their clothes, and even small saplings were torn from the ground.

The wind was gone as suddenly as it came, but its passing marked the beginning of a cataclysm in Hangdu.

The earth began to tremble faintly, and every house in the city flickered with candlelight.

Residents emerged from their homes, faces etched with inexplicable fear.

The refugees, already traumatized by the disaster in Yuzhou, were even more panicked—signs of chaos spread swiftly.

A chill crept from the tiles along the ground and up the walls, soon coating everything in a thin layer of frost.

Yin energy seeped up from beneath the earth, and suddenly, cracks began to appear, snaking across the ground from the heart of the city.

A crisp sound echoed as fissures spread, toppling people and horses alike, though fortunately the cracks were only a finger’s width and did not bring buildings down.

In a matter of breaths, the fractures webbed across Hangdu and into the surrounding countryside, including the area where Zhou Bai and his companions stood.

“This is bad!”

Daoist Hou shrieked in panic, foaming at the mouth, looking half-mad.

“This is a spirit formation! What kind of ghostly array could cover an area this vast?”

Yu Jun was so stunned he instinctively reverted to his human form.

Only Hou Bocheng remained expressionless, his body encased in iron, but the faint tremble in his fingers betrayed his anxiety.

Zhou Bai was utterly shaken. The others could not see what he did—the overwhelming tide of Yin energy that seemed to turn the mortal world into hell itself.