Mortal: Supreme Being of the Ghost Path

On the ground, the scattered piles of bones, the broken altars, and the collapsed architectural ruins flashed past Qin Han's divine sense one after another.

There was no unusual aura, no fluctuation of restrictions, and no trace of demonic beasts.

Qin Han hovered in mid-air, slowly turning his body and scanning the surrounding area with his divine sense again and again.

On the first pass, no abnormalities were found.

The second time, still nothing.

On the third attempt, he finally sensed a faint fluctuation of energy from a great distance. However, the fluctuation was extremely subtle, and it would have been almost impossible to detect without his deliberate and repeated probing.

Qin Han's gaze sharpened, and his figure instantly transformed into a long black rainbow, rushing towards the direction from which the fluctuations originated.

A moment later, he landed in front of a low mound.

But on the mound, not a blade of grass grew, only a few scattered stones.

That faint fluctuation of energy was coming from beneath the rubble.

Qin Han raised his hand and waved it, and a wisp of black energy swept away all the rubble, revealing a cave several feet square below.

The cave wasn't deep, and inside huddled a small, grayish-white beast, about the size of a jackal, exuding a faint aura of death.

Qin Han raised an eyebrow. It turned out to be a corpse rat! The lowest-ranking Yin-attribute demonic beast in the Ghost Path, it feeds on rotten flesh and death energy, and its strength is not even at the Foundation Establishment stage.

Although this beast posed no threat to him whatsoever, just to be on the safe side, Qin Han was unwilling to let it roam freely under his nose. So he simply raised his hand and unleashed a black beam of light, instantly killing the corpse rat.

He then withdrew his gaze, rose again, and continued to survey the air.

After another half hour, Qin Han finally finished exploring the entire area within a radius of several hundred miles.

Apart from some low-level Yin Beasts and a few remaining fragments of restrictions, there was nothing else worth mentioning.

Qin Han landed back on the ground, found a place with higher ground and a wide view, and sat down cross-legged.

He did not start cultivating immediately. Instead, he took out several array plates and set up several layers of protection around him.

For example, various restrictive formations such as stalking, concealment, and isolation are layered upon each other, completely obscuring this area.

After doing all this, Qin Han finally let out a long breath.

"In this way, there should be no chance of anything going wrong..." He closed his eyes, made hand seals, and began to circulate his magical power.

Although the Yin Gathering Pool is located within the world of the cauldron, the dense corpse energy of the Corpse Nourishing Ground can still be used by him.

He planned to first adjust his magical power to its optimal state here, then use the corpse energy here to completely transform his magical power before preparing for the formation of his nascent soul.

……

Meanwhile, on an unnamed island in the open sea.

The island is filled with spiritual energy, covered with exotic flowers and rare herbs, and shrouded in a thin mist that never dissipates.

Inside a cave in the center of the island, a gloomy-looking, hook-nosed, long-bearded cultivator sat cross-legged, surrounded by swirling dark mist, clearly practicing some kind of technique.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and his expression changed drastically.

Without hesitation, the long-bearded monk raised his hand, and black energy flickered in his palm. A slightly yellowish gray-white brocade handkerchief appeared out of thin air and floated in front of him, exuding a faint, sinister aura.

The handkerchief was about a foot square, made of soft material, with a faint ripple emanating from its surface. It was exactly the same handkerchief that Qin Han had accidentally obtained in the secret chamber of that cave!

This one, however, looks much older, with some wear on the edges, clearly indicating that it is much older.

The long-bearded monk stared intently at the brocade handkerchief, his breathing becoming slightly rapid.

On the surface of the handkerchief, the originally dim runes and markings were now slowly wriggling, as if they had come to life, with a faint ancient and vicissitudes of yin energy flowing within them.

"Two hundred years..."

The long-bearded cultivator murmured softly, his voice hoarse and trembling slightly, a burning glint in his eyes.

"This thing has finally reacted again!"

He gripped the handkerchief tightly, his withered fingers trembling slightly, and took a deep breath, as if making some kind of decision.

……

Thousands of miles away, in the depths of a pitch-black sea.

A desolate and dilapidated island lies quietly on the seabed, covered with silt and coral remnants, showing no particular features.

However, directly beneath the island lies a sizable tomb.

Inside the tomb, a chilling atmosphere prevailed, and all was deathly silent.

In the very center, a massive bronze coffin, emanating an eerie aura of death, lay horizontally on the ground. The coffin was covered with dark green rust and its surface was engraved with dense runes. These runes flickered on and off, emitting a strange magical fluctuation.

Suddenly, the giant bronze coffin trembled slightly and emitted a low humming sound.

Immediately afterwards, the coffin lid slowly slid open, making a harsh scraping sound.

A hand with grayish-white skin, black fingernails, and a skeletal appearance emerged from the coffin and gripped the edge tightly.

A grotesque-looking corpse sat up from the coffin.

The corpse was entirely grayish-white, its skin like dried tree bark, deeply wrinkled, with sunken eye sockets and dull, lifeless eyes.

Its fangs protruded from its mouth, its face was ferocious and terrifying, and its whole body exuded a thick, foul stench that was nauseating.

This person is actually a corpse cultivator, a rare find in the cultivation world!

Moreover, judging from the spiritual pressure emanating from his body, his cultivation level has already reached the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm.

However, the spiritual pressure was extremely unstable, fluctuating greatly, indicating that his cultivation level was not yet stable and he must have recently formed his Nascent Soul.

The corpse cultivator slowly raised one hand, and its black-fingered, pale claws suddenly plunged into its own chest, forcefully pulling out a rib.

The ribs were completely black, with faint flashes of blood-red light on their surface, and they emitted a strong, foul stench of death.

With a breath, the rib turned into a ball of gray light, which floated in mid-air.

Within the ball of light, a grayish-white handkerchief was faintly visible, emitting an eerie glow.

The corpse cultivator stared at the brocade handkerchief in his hand, his lips slowly parting to reveal a set of jagged fangs, and he let out a series of eerie "hehehe" laughs.

"Good things come in pairs... I never expected that place would be born so soon after I formed my nascent soul."

It put away the brocade handkerchief, lay back in the coffin, and the coffin lid slowly closed.

"I'll explore this place again once I've stabilized my cultivation level!"

The tomb was once again deathly silent.

……

Deep in the open sea, a massive island lies across the dark surface of the ocean.

This island was unlike any other; dark clouds loomed overhead year-round, shrouding the entire island in gloom.

This is the location of the Ghost King Sect!

A streak of dark blue light sped over and landed directly in front of the main hall in the center of the island.

The light faded, revealing a pale-faced, sinister-looking young man, none other than the Ghost King Sect's young master, who had been beaten by Qin Han to the point of having only a wisp of his soul escape.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the main hall.

Inside the hall, the old man with a long beard was still sitting cross-legged in the meditation room. The soul lamp in front of him had been relit, and the ghostly blue flames danced on the wick, illuminating the entire meditation room with flickering light.

"Father."

The young master in black robes approached, bowed, and spoke with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

The old man slowly opened his eyes, his dim gaze sweeping over the young man, his tone flat:

"How are your injuries and cultivation level recovering?"