The Years When I Was the Boss of the Evil Abyss

In the depths of Nanwu Mountain, the wind became sharp and thin, rising from all directions in an unrelenting wave. It was more eerie than the earlier howling wind, as if the entire Nanwu Mountain was wailing in agony.

Zhang Fuguai listened to the sounds coming from the distant river, involuntarily taking several steps back. The sound seemed to be accompanied by harsh, sorrowful wails, and even though Zhang Fuguai was a ghost, hearing that sound made him stagger back in fear.

Zhang Fuguai trembled, "Daoist, do you hear that? The crying... and the screams."

Su Yu frowned. "I'm not deaf."

Zhang Fuguai thought to himself that this wasn't a matter of being deaf or not! He hastily said, "It's true, we can't stay here. The Mist River... all the great ghosts of Nanwu Mountain are here."

Among the wild ghosts of Nanwu Mountain, it was said that there was a Mist River running through the base of the cliffs.

The Mist River was the origin of all the yin energy in Nanwu Mountain. It could be said that all the ghosts of Nanwu Mountain relied on this Mist River to cultivate and survive. The closer one was to the Mist River, the more fierce and malevolent the ghosts became. This was precisely the place Zhang Fuguai had once feared like a venomous snake—a gathering place for powerful ghosts to fight. It was the most dangerous place in all of Nanwu Mountain.

"Previously, two senior ghosts attempted to explore the eastern side of the Mist River, but once they entered their territory, they were torn apart, their souls shattered," Zhang Fuguai grew more terrified as he thought about it. Those two senior ghosts had at least reached the peak of human cultivation, yet they had no power to fight back once they entered the Mist River. "Daoist, we need to leave right now."

Su Yu asked, "How do we leave?"

Zhang Fuguai wanted to cry in despair. How could they leave? Once they moved away from this tombstone, it would be all over.

Su Yu listened to the shrill, unpleasant sound of the wind, carefully observing the surroundings.

The yin energy here was more chaotic than before. Previously, he could still discern the flow of the yin energy, but here, everything had become a jumbled mess, most of it flowing into the Mist River, with the rest indistinguishable. Clearly, this place was the true eye of the storm, where all the yin wind of Nanwu Mountain converged. He could tell that all the yin energy he saw now was coming from this smoky river.

Just as Su Yu found a convenient position to observe, he suddenly heard rustling sounds from his right ear.

He paused. "There are other sounds."

Zhang Fuguai whispered, "Daoist, there's nothing else around."

Su Yu moved his ears slightly. "Strange sound."

Zhang Fuguai followed Su Yu's gaze and looked upwards at the Mist River. "What sound?"

Su Yu carefully discerned. "It sounds like something is crawling."

Zhang Fuguai turned his head to look at the surrounding undead, thinking that there were crawling things everywhere. He could even hear them. He quickly looked away, suddenly struck by a thought. He turned back to look at the undead again. Was it his imagination, or did the undead seem to have become eerily silent?

Suddenly, the wind around them seemed to stir once more. A cold chill rose from their feet, and the air grew thicker with the stench of decay, a faint breath swirling among the undead. The mist gradually crept closer to them, carrying with it a strange, alluring sensation.

At this moment, the mist from the lower part of the river began to dissipate, and Zhang Fuguai felt the surrounding yin energy grow heavier in an instant. The oppressive feeling that rushed at him made him shiver, and his feet seemed to be rooted to the spot.

Su Yu detected another unfamiliar smell mixed in with the foul air. Before he could carefully discern it, Zhang Fuguai suddenly shouted in alarm.

"Daoist!!" Zhang Fuguai pointed. "Over there, by the river!!"

Su Yu immediately shifted his gaze in the direction that Zhang Fuguai indicated.

In the mist, where the white yin energy had previously flowed, strange streaks of ink-like energy flashed across the top of the Mist River. The white, coagulated mist spiraled together, and black marks appeared within it, like ink drops. This was the strangest "energy" Su Yu had ever seen since becoming aware of the invisible forces around him.

Of all the "energies" he had observed since awakening—Zhang Fuguai's presence being the first, the brilliant lights at the mouth of Nanwu Mountain the second, the ink marks on the undead the third—now there was a fourth, a strange black-and-white mottled mixture.

The vision before him became chaotic, and Su Yu felt a sharp discomfort in his eyes. He blinked, and at that moment, extra glimmers of light seemed to scatter across the Mist River.

Light... wait, that's wrong!

Before he had a chance to think, his body instinctively moved. With a swift arch, he rolled in the opposite direction of the Mist River.

"Wait! Daoist!" Zhang Fuguai hadn't even finished speaking when he was suddenly thrown several meters away.

The ground trembled violently, and several large pits suddenly collapsed, sending Zhang Fuguai fleeing in panic. He was caught by Su Yu's chain just in time, and both of them tumbled down into a thicket of dead trees, rolling twice before tumbling further down the mountainside.

At that moment, a violent gust of yin wind surged up from the Mist River, roaring as it swept outwards in all directions.

The downward slope of the mountain path shielded them from the full impact of the blast, but the surrounding dead trees were flattened by the force of the wind.

In that instant, Su Yu felt the crash of the yin energy, his internal organs vibrating painfully. He struggled to lift his eyes and look around. The wild ghosts that had once been humanoid figures by the Mist River had almost completely dissipated in that blast, leaving behind only a few distant, blurry, shifting energy shapes.

Zhang Fugui felt as though he had narrowly escaped death. Just as he was beginning to recover from the joy of being saved by the Taoist, he turned around and saw a few drops of fresh blood dripping from the boy's nose. He was shocked to realize that the boy was bleeding from his seven orifices, as though the shock had caused internal damage.

"Daoist! Blood! He's bleeding!" Zhang Fugui cried out.

After regaining his senses from the impact of the eerie wind, Su Yu wiped his face, hearing Zhang Fugui's voice. "He won't die."

At that moment, a strange movement sounded from the dark, murky Mist River nearby. The quiet and gloomy fog above the river suddenly dispersed, and a figure crawled over the river's surface. Its hunched body trembled slightly before straightening. Slowly, it stood up from the river.

At this point, its head jerked, as if it had found something, and a pair of blood-red eyes turned toward the shore. The balance around the Mist River seemed to collapse as the mist dispersed. The eerie wind began to whip up again, and the wailing of wild ghosts grew louder.

Su Yu leaned against the mountain path, sheltering from the wind, his gaze fixed upward. Zhang Fugui, after recovering from his terror, raised his head. "Wait... Daoist, the living dead are gone."

After the strange wind had passed, the living dead that had once crawled around seemed to have vanished in an instant. It wasn't just the living dead that were gone, but the surrounding terrain had also undergone a dramatic change. Su Yu could feel the ground beneath his palm was uneven. Just a moment ago, they were in a slightly flat, withered forest, but now they had somehow ended up in a different place. The sensation was strange—like the mountain itself was dictating where they would be.

Nearby, Zhang Fugui looked into the distance. The Mist River, which had seemed far away, was now clearly visible not far from them. The swirling mist around the river began to creep toward them, almost as if it were trying to surround them. The closer it came, the more it felt as though the river itself was slowly drawing nearer.

As the fog grew thicker, Zhang Fugui, in a daze, thought he saw someone standing on the Mist River. Strangely, his previous fear of the river seemed to have dissipated. He stood up and started moving toward the river's direction.

The chain between the man and the ghost suddenly tightened.

"What are you doing?" Su Yu asked coldly.

"I..." Zhang Fugui snapped back to his senses, as if cold water had been poured over his head. What was he thinking? Was he out of his mind? The Mist River was extremely dangerous. It was the domain of the most powerful and malicious ghosts in Nanwu Mountain. Normally, even the smaller ghosts would avoid it. Approaching the Mist River, he would be torn apart by the bigger ghosts before even reaching the water's edge.

The living dead were gone, and the Mist River had drawn closer. Since they were sucked into this place by that strange wind at the entrance of Nanwu Mountain, nothing had gone right.

"Daoist? Are you alright?" Zhang Fugui noticed something odd in Su Yu's expression.

"I'm fine." Su Yu replied, though he was clearly exhausted. Leaning against the mountainside, he felt the Yin energy he had manipulated earlier to deal with the living dead had disturbed the totem in his dantian. The surrounding Yin energy was now being drawn into him, causing his meridians to ache.

Suddenly, something began to stir around them. Su Yu's thoughts were interrupted, and he paused. Then, he heard the same crawling sound he had heard earlier. This noise made him alert. "That sound... something's not right."

"Did you see the tomb master among the living dead?" Su Yu suddenly asked.

Zhang Fugui, still shaken by the thought of the powerful ghosts in the Mist River, was momentarily stunned. "The evil cultivator, the tomb master? Isn't he dead? I didn't see him."

Realizing something, Su Yu's eyes widened. The crawling sound earlier might not have come from the living dead in the tomb.

Before he could react, something appeared above the mountain slope he was leaning on. A mottled light cluster appeared, and as it came closer, he could clearly see black spots swirling within the white Yin energy. At that moment, the light suddenly reached out toward him.

Su Yu instinctively shrank back, avoiding it just in time. The balance of the slope was broken, and Su Yu rolled down to avoid the attack from above.

Zhang Fugui, still trying to figure out how to persuade Su Yu to leave, had no time to react before being dragged away by him. His startled shout was cut off when he saw an eerie figure appear above the slope.

At the foot of the slope, Su Yu crashed into the withered trees and rotting leaves. "What... was that thing?"

Zhang Fugui stammered, "A ghost... a ghost!"

Su Yu frowned. "Aren't you a ghost yourself?"

Zhang Fugui, his tongue tied, stuttered, "...The tomb master! The living dead tomb!"

It was a human, or at least, it had the face of one. It was crouched on the slope above them, with half of its body covered in what looked like lash marks. The other half of its body was a bloody, mangled mess, with black and white writhing creatures crawling through the flesh, and swarms of buzzing insects eating away at it. It was filled with the same deathly aura as the living dead, but even more grotesque.

This "human" didn't seem to notice, but it crouched, sniffing the air like a beast, its filthy face moving slightly.

Su Yu raised his head vigilantly, a dangerous, enveloping aura closing in on him.

Zhang Fugui, with a shock of realization, suddenly understood something. This thing... was watching them.

The 'person' from up high seemed to have locked onto some kind of scent. Without warning, they leapt down the mountainside.

"Daoist!" Zhang Fugui cried out.

Outside Nanwu Mountain, in the slowly swaying forest.

The sinister aura of the mountain seemed to seep out with the wind, falling into the ordinary woods, causing everything to wither.

Two figures stood in the forest, one of them picking up the scattered leaves from the ground.

"Everything's withered. Looks like the leak of Nanwu Mountain's sinister aura is quite serious," said the man in red. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders, and he had a strange and peculiar medicinal basket at his waist, along with several wolf-hair brushes, emanating a unique spiritual energy. "I heard that Nanwu Mountain has been quite lively these past few days. We're heading back to Xize. We should try to avoid those people, so we don't get caught up in any unnecessary trouble."

Not far off, under a giant banyan tree, stood an exceptionally young swordsman.

The swordsman had a handsome face, with slightly long forehead hair hanging down, but he was dressed in an overly simple and practical outfit. The only oddity was the sword he held in his arms — its dark black sheath wrapped in rough, yellowing cloth strips. The strips wound up the sheath, all the way to the hilt, binding the sword in layers, as if it had been unopened for a long time.

His slender fingers tapped casually on the sword, as though he was already used to his companion's chatter.

"Did you hear that? Gu Qi!"

At this moment, the swordsman opened his eyes, his fingers, resting on the sword sheath, paused.

He looked past his chattering companion and fixed his gaze sharply at the distant horizon.

The calm night sky seemed to carry an inaudible sinister aura, growing heavier, bringing with it a foreboding atmosphere.

... Nanwu Mountain?