Book 2: Chapter 245: Me, Fight a Soul Formation? Vengeance Achieved!
Vol 2 Chapter 245: Me, Fight a Soul Formation? Vengeance Achieved!
On the third day at Mount Tongming, Fang Yuan watched as Sect Master Chen left early in the morning, beaming with joy.
“What’s up with Sect Master Chen?”
She curiously asked her master.
“I heard… he got in good with Jiushan Sect’s Zheng Sect Master…”
Her master, emboldened now that Chen was out, whispered some gossip. “They say Zhenren Chengkong assigned quite a few Nascent Soul cultivators to Jiushan’s team, and Sect Master Chen was one of the chosen.”
Fang Yuan nodded inwardly. So Chen finally got what he wanted—he’d latched onto Jiushan Sect’s big thigh.
Of course he was happy.
But he returned that afternoon looking like he was attending a funeral.
He plopped onto a stone bench in the courtyard, silent, staring blankly at the clouds, sighing deeply now and then, utterly miserable. Fang Yuan was dying of curiosity but didn’t dare ask. One of Chen’s own disciples eventually stepped forward, concerned:
“Master? Didn’t you leave in such high spirits this morning?”
“This morning… I didn’t know that Zheng Sect Master wanted us to fight a Soul Formation cultivator!”
“What? That can’t be!” The disciple frowned, then glanced meaningfully at Fang Yuan’s group and whispered, “Are they trying to use Master as cannon fodder?”
Fang Yuan and her master looked down and exchanged a subtle glance.
In their hearts—Serves him right. What goes around, comes around.
…
“Those Nascent Souls…” Old Yuan sighed. “Still don’t trust Jiushan Sect.”
On Heavenly Palace Island in Jiushan Realm, Old Yuan, Martial Uncle Pang, and Martial Aunt Huang all looked frustrated. Zheng Fa, however, tried to soothe them:
“They treat their subordinate sect disciples like cannon fodder, so naturally, they assume we think the same way.”
The three nodded, but Martial Uncle Pang still frowned,
“With this attitude, the power of the Immortal Formation will be too weak. It won’t hold against a single strike from a Soul Formation cultivator. That’d be a waste of Fairy Xiao’s kindness.”
Zheng Fa looked toward Xiao Yuying.
She waved her hand casually. “Getting to see the formation in action is already a gain. I just hope I don’t drag you down.”
Zheng Fa had asked Zhenren Chengkong for twenty Nascent Souls. Together with the four standing before him, he could just manage a full Nascent Soul-level Zhoutian Divine Thunder Immortal Formation.
The formation had twenty-four members split into four groups. Each group needed a central figure—everyone else only had to follow orders.
In other words, only these four were the "brains" of the formation. They were the ones who needed to truly grasp its core principles.
Because of that, Zheng Fa would never pick unfamiliar Nascent Souls for those roles—this formation was Jiushan’s top-secret tech. He wasn’t that generous.
In Jiushan, Zheng Fa had to control the Sun and Moon Bell, Senior Sister Zhang would be wielding the Ancestor’s projection, and for the other four Nascent Souls, only the Three Supreme Elders, Xiao Yuying, or Madam Xuanhua could qualify.
Too bad Madam Xuanhua was hopeless with formations—great with artifact forging, barely passable with formations, and outright terrible with thunder techniques.
So Xiao Yuying was the only choice. And that’s why she understood just how powerful the formation was:
“Honestly, it’s no wonder they don’t believe us. If I hadn’t learned it myself, I wouldn’t believe it either… A bunch of Nascent Souls coordinating can really match a Soul Formation’s might?”
“Not really match it,” said Old Yuan, co-developer of the formation. “There are limits. Zhang and I calculated—the most this Divine Thunder Formation can output is about 80% of a Soul Formation’s strength. And that’s the weakest kind of Soul Formation.”
Zheng Fa shook his head slowly. “I never expected it to match one. Factoring me in, plus Senior Sister Zhang, I just hope we can hold out long enough until Zhenren Chengkong and the others can support us.”
He wasn’t dreaming of miracles.
If they could add up to two, not just one plus one, he’d be satisfied.
That’s what kids from rough backgrounds do—scrape things together and make it work.
Martial Uncle Pang sighed, “If everyone followed orders, cooperation would be perfect… but now? Everyone’s got their own agenda. Pretending to obey, but actually doing their own thing. That’s more liability than help.”
Then he grumbled,
“I thought Jiushan disciples were hard enough to manage!”
“Now I know—they’re angels compared to these guys!”
Zheng Fa and the others exchanged glances. But there really wasn’t a good solution. These Nascent Soul cultivators had lived who knows how long, their thoughts twisted like old tree roots—getting them to drop their guard and pull together was no small task.
They could only train them slowly.
…
By the fifth day, Jiushan Sect’s unit had entered Chenyang County along the Chen River.
They had about twenty Nascent Souls, over eighty Golden Cores, and nearly seven hundred Foundation Establishment cultivators.
Senior Sister Zhang led the Nascent Souls at the front. Jiushan Sect’s seventy-two disciples followed close behind, and the rest—lower-tier disciples from other sects—trailed in the rear.
Chen Prefecture was named for the Chen River, which cut through its length. Chenyang County lay on its banks.
The county itself wasn’t special, but its ferry crossing was famous:
“Chenyang Ferry—thousands of sails racing, tens of thousands of boats gathered. Commerce like rain, goods like water. Within ten thousand miles, no port could compare. Outsiders often lose their way in the maze of trade.”
This came from Chenyang County Records, one of the texts Zheng Fa had collected. The author’s pride had practically leapt off the page.
But now, all that glory was gone.
No one stood on the docks—no merchants, no porters, nothing.
Boats remained, but drifted aimlessly in the water, battered by wind and sun, unattended.
The only trace of former prosperity were the wind-whipped banners on empty shopfronts, fluttering in vain to lure nonexistent customers.
“Where is everyone?”
Fang Yuan looked around, confused.
She wasn’t the only one. Senior Sister Zhang and the others were equally puzzled.
Martial Uncle Pang muttered, “Zhenren Chengkong mentioned—the Blood Fiend Banners may require the essence blood of the masses…”
“……”
Senior Sister Zhang said nothing, but her gaze toward the empty docks darkened visibly.
They entered the city—unsurprisingly, it too was deserted.
“Deploy the disciples to search the area…”
Bringing so many people wasn’t just for show—they needed to scour every corner, not just for people, but for anything suspicious.
Demonic Sect methods were notoriously insidious. Zhenren Chengkong had been meticulous in his arrangements. Even with Nascent Souls scanning with divine sense, he’d warned Zheng Fa to send people to physically inspect every street. Not a single detail could be missed.
Senior Sister Zhang knew the stakes. Once inside, she pulled out a map and assigned all disciples below Golden Core to sweep specific areas.
Lin Bufan, along with twenty-three other Qi Refining disciples, was dispatched to a village outside the city.
He’d requested the assignment from Zheng Fa, and Senior Sister Zhang had recalled one Foundation Establishment disciple to make room. Together, they formed a small unit for the Immortal Formation.
One disciple held a Tongjian, eyes closed, communicating silently with others on the forum.
“We’re close to the city—if anything happens, Zhenren Zhang can rescue us in time.” After a while, he spoke.
Lin Bufan nodded inwardly, feeling more at ease.
“The Golden Core seniors have gone toward the mountain valley nearby. Another Foundation team is farther out.”
“Any findings?”
“Same as us—nothing.”
Lin Bufan pressed his lips tightly. He could feel the others glancing at him. After all, he was from the Great Freedom Demonic Sect. Naturally, they were curious.
“They’re probably all dead,” he said.
No one was surprised, but silence fell nonetheless.
They found nothing in the first village and moved toward another near the valley.
Halfway there, the disciple with the Tongjian suddenly shouted:
“The Golden Core seniors found something!”
Everyone turned to him.
“In the valley—there are Great Freedom Demonic Sect disciples…”
They exchanged looks, formed ranks, and marched into the valley.
“What’s that smell?”
As they reached the valley entrance, a strange fragrance drifted on the wind.
“Don’t breathe in!”
Lin Bufan shouted suddenly. Everyone reflexively threw out Breeze Talismans.
Only after the spell cleared the air did someone say in relief, “Good thing you warned us. We’d be dead by now.”
The scent had triggered a burning sensation in their blood—as if it were boiling.
The talismans helped purge the effect, but they still heard a bubbling sound nearby:
“Gulu gulu… gulu gulu…”
They followed the sound—and only walked a few steps before seeing it.
The valley floor had been dug into a massive pit.
A boiling cauldron of blood.
Red and black blood roiled together, frothing, bubbling, and releasing waves of sickly-sweet aroma.
Though the scent had faded, the sight alone was nauseating.
“What’s that…?”
A disciple pointed at the blood pool.
“People…”
They finally knew where the people of Chen Prefecture had gone.
Their flesh had melted. Only bones remained—
Men and women, young and old, packed into the pit, a ghastly sea of white fragments swirling in blood.
Lin Bufan lowered his gaze. At the edge of the pool, a child’s skeleton, no higher than his shin, was tapping repeatedly against the blood-soaked mud.
Like a confused spirit asking: Why?
“Footprints…”
He said suddenly.
Everyone looked down and saw deep, heavy footprints leading toward the blood pool—then vanishing at its edge.
They all knew what that meant.
No cultivator would leave such heavy tracks.
Only mortals would.
These mortals, driven like cattle, marched toward the blood pool in dazed ignorance—herded forward, then boiled alive, screaming, struggling, their flesh torn open while fully conscious, until nothing was left but bones… and even those, sometimes, melted away.
Though they themselves were not mortals, everyone present felt a surge of fear—and a profound, sorrowful empathy. To those high above, what difference was there between Foundation Establishment disciples and mere mortals?
“Someone’s fighting!”
From the northwest corner of the valley, thunder and blood-colored light flashed.
“It’s the Zhoutian Divine Thunder Immortal Formation! The Golden Core seniors!”
Everyone recognized the lightning—clearly from their sect. The opponents had to be disciples of the Great Freedom Demonic Sect, probably at the Golden Core stage judging by the aura.
“The seniors have the formation. As long as there aren’t any Nascent Souls, they’ll be fine!”
The disciple holding the Tongjian relayed calmly. “Let’s hold the valley entrance—”
Before he could finish, several black escape lights streaked toward them from the northwest. All Golden Cores.
Apparently, they had realized Jiushan’s Golden Core disciples were too strong—so they ran!
The black lights drew closer, and Lin Bufan lifted his gaze. His pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Lin Yangtian!
Among them was the man he had thought about day and night, someone he could never mistake.
Lin Yangtian had been fleeing, but upon seeing this group blocking the exit, and with Jiushan’s disciples catching up from behind, he hesitated—then noticed something.
He saw Lin Bufan.
“Lin Bufan? You’re still alive?”
He looked down at him and barked coldly.
Lin Bufan didn’t respond. He just clenched his teeth and quickly helped form the Immortal Formation with the others.
Lin Yangtian noticed their cooperation, his eyes gleaming. Suddenly, he called out:
“Fellow disciples! Losing the blood pool is a great failure. But this servant of mine seems to have defected to Jiushan Sect.”
“The elders are very interested in Jiushan. If we capture him and extract some secrets…”
“Not only can we make up for our mistake—we might even earn great merit.”
The others looked tempted, but hesitated. Jiushan’s Golden Cores were close, just flying slower to keep formation.
“Hold them off! Give me three breaths—I’ll capture Lin Bufan myself!”
Golden Core cultivators capturing a mere Foundation Establishment disciple?
Easy.
And within the Demonic Sect’s hierarchy, lower-ranked cultivators wouldn’t dare resist their superiors.
By that logic, Lin Yangtian’s plan made sense.
“Hurry! We can’t delay long!”
Lin Yangtian glanced at Lin Bufan, who was still casting techniques, and said mockingly:
“Everything you’ve learned… I granted you.”
He raised his hand slightly. A blood-colored palm burst forth, reeking with foul stench, shrieking through the air toward Lin Bufan.
He didn’t even prepare a second move.
He thought he was watching a dead man squirm.
This was a secret technique only Golden Core disciples could learn—it was impossible for Lin Bufan to counter it.
And then…
Lightning.
A blinding arc of thunder coiled around Lin Bufan, spun once, then formed a blue lightning spear.
Boom!
The spear pierced the blood palm’s center, tearing it apart from the inside.
Crackling light flooded the hand’s veins and devoured it whole.
Lin Yangtian’s mocking face froze.
He blurted out the only thing his stunned brain could muster:
“You’re Lin Bufan?”
Lin Bufan paused… then understood what he meant—
Not “Who are you?”
But rather: You, a traitor from the Demonic Sect, how dare you use thunder techniques?!
Lin Bufan smirked.
“Thanks to you, my lord, for assigning me to Jiushan Sect.”
Lin Yangtian’s face darkened.
“At Jiushan, I could learn thunder techniques. In fact… I could learn any technique.”
“……”
Lin Yangtian stared in disbelief.
“I gave my soul imprint to Sect Master Zheng… but he’s barely ever forced me to do anything.”
“……”
Lin Yangtian turned to the surrounding disciples. Their calm expressions made it clear—Lin Bufan wasn’t lying.
“Don’t believe me? You saw that formation, didn’t you?”
Earlier, Lin Yangtian had been towering above.
Now, Lin Bufan, the Foundation Establishment "servant," spoke with confident disdain.
“Could you have learned something like this in the Great Freedom Demonic Sect?”
Lin Yangtian’s face cracked—
Bit by bit.
Of course he recognized the formation.
The Jiushan Golden Cores had just used it to wreck them.
That formation could make Golden Cores fight like Nascent Souls.
It was utterly shocking.
A true secret technique.
But Lin Bufan…
A traitor…
A former Demonic Sect disciple…
Could he really learn that?
Yet the lightning that swirled around him, that blue spear just now…
He couldn’t deny it anymore.
“Lin Yangtian. My uncle and I gave our lives for you. In return, we got an unjust death. I’ve hated you day and night.”
“But I also thank you… for sending me to Jiushan.”
“……”
Lin Yangtian stood dazed.
Seeing his enemy mentally broken, Lin Bufan didn’t hesitate anymore. He and his team fully activated the Zhoutian Divine Thunder Immortal Formation—their goal:
Kill Lin Yangtian.
As they clashed, Lin Yangtian grew more and more unhinged.
He finally understood—Lin Bufan wasn’t bluffing. He had really mastered the formation’s essence.
Just then, thunder boomed behind him.
He turned—and saw his fellow Golden Cores had vanished!
Jiushan’s Golden Core disciples were closing in, fierce and unrelenting.
Panic hit.
He couldn’t block Lin Bufan’s strikes anymore.
Three heavenly thunders pierced through him, from head to toe.
He collapsed, helpless.
Lin Bufan walked up slowly.
“You just relied on others…”
Lin Yangtian gasped, unwilling to accept it.
But Lin Bufan simply said,
“At least I had someone to rely on. Who do you have? Those guys who ran faster than you?”
Lin Yangtian died without another word.
Seeing his enemy fall before him, Lin Bufan’s legs gave out.
Like a traveler who’d walked too far…
He finally arrived—and collapsed in exhaustion.
An arm caught him.
He turned to see a Jiushan disciple holding him up, smiling.
A flicker of strength returned to his heart.
From outside the valley, Senior Sister Zhang and others flew in, dragging the escaped Golden Core traitors in tow.
Lin Bufan noticed Zhenren Zhang looking at him—with something like approval.
What surprised him more was how even the outside Nascent Souls were watching him—thoughtfully, with serious expressions.
…
“Why do those Nascent Souls suddenly look so… serious?”
Old Yuan frowned, puzzled.
Zheng Fa recalled something Senior Sister Zhang had mentioned, and suddenly understood:
First, they saw for themselves how effective the Immortal Formation was.
Second…
He couldn’t help but picture a charismatic figure commanding the room:
“If I’m giving a traitor a million… just think how many billions I’ll invest in someone loyal.”