Chapter 176: Suppressing the turmoil
From afar, the figure in the sky no longer looked like Zhang Xiaohou at all.
Clad in black gold armor, draped in a crimson cloak, and wreathed in endless Nether Radiance, he looked like an emperor who had stepped out from the deepest part of death itself. His presence was no longer merely powerful. It was domineering, ancient, and absolute.
Below him, the battlefield that had just moments ago been drowned in destruction had fallen into a terrifying stillness.
More than a dozen Super Mages had their magic extinguished in an instant.
The undead monarchs that had been raging across the sky and earth were all forced into submission.
Even the colossal Mountain Corpse, which had shaken the entire Ancient Capital with its steps, seemed to sense something from the bloodline of kingship descending from above.
Rumble!
The towering Mountain Corpse slowly bent its knees.
Its enormous body sank down level by level like a collapsing mountain range, its proud head lowering in reverence before the new ruler of the dead.
The surrounding undead monarchs also struggled to rise and kneel. Their huge skeletal and corpse bodies, though heavily injured, still forced themselves to bow their heads toward the black gold figure above the heavens.
No one on the battlefield could believe what they were seeing.
Even Han Ji, Zhu Meng, Lu Huan, and the other Super Mages were already shaken when all their spells had been snuffed out in a single thought. But seeing the Mountain Corpse kneel was even more terrifying.
“What kind of existence is that? Even the Mountain Corpse is bowing down... has he surpassed the Monarch level?” someone blurted out in horror.
Han Ji finally saw the man clearly.
Black gold armor.
Crimson cloak.
A sinister yet solemn aura.
His entire body trembled violently.
“A Ancient... Ancient King!!”
His gaze turned hollow in an instant.
According to the ancient records, when the Ancient King transcended into immortality, he had worn precisely this sort of dark, imperial armor. The black gold armored robe in the sky matched the old historical scrolls perfectly.
Yet there was one thing that made the sight even more terrifying.
That overwhelming aura of life.
This was not a corpse.
This was not some half dead remnant crawling out of a grave.
That figure was alive.
Could it be true that in his final years, the Ancient King had pursued immortality, buried himself within the crypt, and now returned from death?
The Super Mages were in utter disbelief.
For one dreadful moment, they all felt that the Ancient Capital had truly lost all hope.
If this new emperor chose to continue the slaughter, then the city would become a paradise for the dead, while the living would be reduced to corpses celebrating in eternal darkness.
But then Zhang Xiaohou slowly lowered his gaze.
Through the endless battlefield, through the ruined plains, through the mountains of corpses and bones, he sensed a familiar presence still fighting below.
Brother Fan.
Even now, Mo Fan was still fighting among the undead tide.
Still unwilling to fall.
Still buying time.
A complicated emotion rose in Zhang Xiaohou’s heart.
Only now did he understand.
Brother Fan had planned this route for him long ago.
Not in every detail, not in some godlike way where he knew every step of the throne inheritance, but in the deeper sense that mattered most.
Mo Fan had believed in him.
Believed that he could reach this place.
Believed that if anyone could bear the throne of the Ancient King without losing himself, it would be Zhang Xiaohou.
Believed that one day, his day one really would become an emperor.
All of the pushing forward.
All of the trust.
All of the time Mo Fan had held the line alone.
All of it had been paving the road for him.
This route...
Brother Fan had carved it out for him with blood and fire.
Zhang Xiaohou slowly exhaled.
The vast Nether Radiance surged within him with every motion, and his emotions were far from calm. After so many hardships, after the Space of Death, the Nine Bridges, the throne, the armored robe, and the awakening of the Calamity Undead, he had finally succeeded.
From this day onward, he no longer needed to face the undead as prey.
From this day onward, the undead kingdom would answer him.
Of course, Zhang Xiaohou also understood the deeper future laid before him.
The Ancient King’s armored robe was not merely a symbol of rule. It was a true Death Treasure.
Its Nether Radiance would continue corroding his body.
If he failed to reach Forbidden Curse and fully refine it before the seal wore down, then he too would one day walk the same road as Zhan Kong and become a living corpse.
Each use would shorten the time he had left.
But that did not shake him.
Because he could also see the other side of that path.
If one day he successfully devoured similarly sourced emperor level death authorities, such as the Egyptian Hu Fu Emperor or the Sea Queen of the Royal Shroud Skeletons, then his strength would at the very least step into the peak of mid tier Emperor level, a true Dominator class existence.
And if one day he unified the Netherworld, claimed the sole title of Nether King, and fully grasped the source of death, then he would no longer merely rule the Dark Abyss.
He would have the qualifications to step into the peak realm of death itself.
That was the path now laid before Zhang Xiaohou.
Not a simple inheritance.
Not a mere crown.
But a complete road.
A road that began with the Blood Throne of the Dark Abyss and ended at the summit of death.
Yet even with all that future laid before him, Zhang Xiaohou did not forget the present.
He slowly raised one hand.
At once, the entire undead empire responded.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The Mountain Corpse humbly submitted, turned its gigantic body, and slowly began stepping back toward the forbidden depths of the earth. Every step it took made the heavens tremble and the ground quake.
Across the mountains and plains, the endless sea of undead receded like a retreating tide.
The ghost armies that had blackened the sky.
The skeleton army of snowy white bones.
The corpse legions cloaked in poisonous mist.
All of them withdrew in an orderly flood, following the command of the new Ancient King.
The undead monarchs also struggled to rise, spread their wings, and lead their legions in retreat.
Even the Dark Abyss on the horizon silently contracted and disappeared.
The black gold armored emperor in the sky left behind only a peerless back view.
At that exact moment, dawn finally broke.
The sun rose in the east, and its first sacred light fell across Zhang Xiaohou’s figure, casting a golden corona around the black gold armor and crimson cloak. Death and morning light intertwined on his body, forming an image so majestic that countless people below simply forgot to breathe.
The wild battlefield became utterly desolate.
Not even a trace of bones, corpses, or bloodstains remained, as the undead had taken everything away during their retreat, leaving behind only bleak gray white soil.
Wuuu...
A great wind blew in from all directions, dispersing the smoke of war. It carried a trace of sorrow as it passed over the empty land, sounding almost like a harp’s soft lament.
Everyone stood stunned.
The undead calamity had abruptly retreated.
When that emperor emerged, they had all thought for certain that the city would fall, that corpses would be everywhere, that despair had truly arrived.
Yet it had all ended just as suddenly.
As sunlight spilled over the land, the people finally realized that they had survived.
Like a good omen, dawn had followed the darkness after all.
And at last, cheers broke out across the city.
“We survived... the undead are gone, all of them! Not a single one left!”
Far away, even the Forbidden Mage standing atop a distant hill with his military force let out a long breath of relief.
He was soaked in cold sweat.
Though he had no idea why the undead emperor had chosen to retreat, he knew one thing with certainty.
There was no need for a bloody final battle anymore.
Because that figure in the sky...
That black gold emperor...
He could not have withstood even a single direct clash against him.
Who knew how suffocating just one glance from that man had been?
And in the sky above the retreating empire of death, Zhang Xiaohou remained silent.
He did not speak.
He did not boast.
He only looked once toward the distant battlefield where Mo Fan still stood.
In his heart, he silently said what he could not speak aloud before so many eyes.
Brother Fan...
I made it.