Chapter 26 – Night of Dead Souls
The final words on the monument did not fade.
They burned.
Survive the Night of Dead Souls.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Soul Burial Valley inhaled.
The mist that had once been pale turned black. It rolled across the ground like ink poured into water, swallowing the ash-gray soil, the cracked stone platform, the half-buried bones, and the countless broken weapons scattered across the valley.
One sword lifted.
Then another.
Then a spear.
Then a shield.
Across the valley, every weapon fragment began to rise.
Rust fell from them in silent flakes. Old blood glowed along their edges. The fragments trembled, then pulled the black mist toward themselves, shaping it into bodies.
A sword became an arm.
A shield became a chest.
A spear became a spine.
One by one, the dead stood.
Some wore shattered armor.
Some had no faces.
Some carried wounds that had never closed.
Some were missing limbs, yet still held their weapons as if death had not taught them how to let go.
Lin Xiao's saber slowly lowered from his shoulder into both hands.
"Wonderful."
His voice was dry.
"The valley has an army."
Huo Yuan's flames burned around his fists, smaller than before, but steadier.
"They are not ordinary souls."
Luo Qingyin, standing at the edge of the basin with the Transcendent Academy disciples, looked at the rising dead with narrowed eyes.
"They are battle remnants," she said.
"Only the final intent remains."
A Yu Academy disciple laughed nervously.
"Final intent or not, they are still dead."
He lifted a bronze hammer and rushed forward.
The nearest dead soul turned toward him.
It carried a broken sword.
The Yu disciple smashed the hammer down.
The soul shattered instantly.
Black mist scattered.
The disciple laughed.
"See? Nothing but empty ghosts."
The mist behind him gathered.
The same dead soul reformed without a sound.
Its broken sword pierced through his shoulder from behind.
The Yu disciple screamed.
The laughter in the valley died.
Luo Qingyin spoke quietly.
"They are not bodies."
"Breaking them only reminds them how they died."
The dead soul pulled out its sword.
The Yu disciple collapsed backward, face pale.
Before the soul could strike again, a heavy pressure descended.
A palm print crashed into the ground and forced the dead soul back.
Bai Wujin walked out from the mist with three Sovereign Academy disciples behind him.
His robes were torn in several places. Blood stained one sleeve. Yet his expression remained calm, as if arriving in the middle of a valley of awakened dead was only slightly inconvenient.
His gaze passed over the monument.
Then over the dead army.
Finally, it landed on Yao Chen.
"It seems I arrived at a poor time."
Lin Xiao glanced at him.
"You have a gift for that."
Bai Wujin ignored him.
"If we fight separately, we die separately."
The Yu Academy leader sneered.
"You expect us to follow Dao Realm Academy?"
Bai Wujin looked at him.
"I expect you to live long enough to regret your arrogance."
The Yu disciple's face darkened.
Before he could reply, three dead souls rushed forward.
One from the front.
One from the left.
One appeared behind him from the mist.
Luo Qingyin raised her hand.
Space rippled.
The dead soul behind the Yu disciple was shifted half a step out of position.
That half step saved his life.
Huo Yuan moved next.
His fist struck the soul on the left, flames wrapping around it and forcing it back.
Xue Lian's Frost Yin Flame spread across the ground, slowing the one at the front.
Yao Chen lifted his hand.
A thin thread of Primordial Flame touched the frozen dead soul's brow.
It froze.
Not from ice.
From memory.
Its hollow eyes turned toward a broken banner half-buried near the basin wall.
Yao Chen's gaze sharpened.
"That banner."
Lin Xiao looked over.
"What about it?"
"This soul keeps turning toward it."
The dead soul trembled.
It held a shield in one arm, the shield split nearly in half.
Yao Chen stepped toward the broken banner.
As he approached, the shield-bearing soul roared silently and charged.
Bai Wujin moved to block it, but Yao Chen raised his hand.
"Do not destroy it."
Bai Wujin frowned.
"If we do not destroy them, they destroy us."
Yao Chen did not answer.
He pressed his palm to the ground.
Primordial Flame sank into the ash.
Golden light spread beneath the broken banner.
The valley remembered.
Rain appeared in the air.
Not real rain.
A memory.
A young shield-bearer stood before a sect banner, blood pouring from his mouth. Around him, enemies charged. Behind him, a junior disciple lifted the fallen banner and ran toward the rear.
The shield-bearer saw only the empty pole.
He died believing the banner had fallen.
Believing he had failed.
The dead soul stopped.
Its broken shield lowered.
The memory continued.
The junior disciple carried the banner through the battlefield. He stumbled. He bled. He almost fell. But he kept the banner raised until reinforcements arrived.
The shield-bearer's misty body shook.
Yao Chen spoke softly.
"You did not fail."
The dead soul knelt.
Its shield struck the ground once.
Then it dissolved.
Black mist became pale light and vanished into the monument.
For a breath, the entire basin fell silent.
Luo Qingyin looked at Yao Chen.
Her eyes changed.
"This is the rule," she said.
Yao Chen nodded.
"They cannot be defeated by strength alone."
Xue Lian understood first.
"Their regret must be answered."
The monument pulsed faintly, as if approving the words.
Then the dead attacked in greater numbers.
This time, no one argued.
Bai Wujin stepped forward.
"Yao Chen."
His aura surged.
"I will hold the front."
Huo Yuan stood beside him.
"I will help."
Bai Wujin glanced at him.
"Do not slow me down."
Huo Yuan smiled.
"Try not to fall first."
The two charged.
Their styles were different.
Bai Wujin was heavy, direct, and oppressive. Each palm strike forced several dead souls back. He fought like a mountain that had learned to move.
Huo Yuan was fire given motion, but his flames no longer rampaged. They struck only where needed, burning without wasting strength.
Lin Xiao moved along the side, saber flashing.
He did not try to kill.
He interrupted.
A wrist.
A knee.
A weapon angle.
A step.
Every small strike broke the rhythm of the dead.
Xue Lian stood behind Yao Chen, frost spreading from her feet in thin, precise lines. She did not freeze everything. She froze paths. She created delays. She gave the living space to breathe.
Luo Qingyin raised both hands.
Space bent around the group.
Each time a dead soul tried to appear from the mist behind them, the space shifted, forcing it to emerge several steps away.
The Yu Academy disciples, though unwilling at first, were forced into the formation.
Greed became fear.
Fear became obedience.
Radha stayed near Qing Lin and Feng.
She held their hands and whispered something no one could hear.
The dead souls that approached the children slowed for a breath, their hollow eyes softening as if they remembered being young, or remembered someone waiting for them at home.
Krishna stood near the rear, spear in hand.
He fought lazily.
Too lazily.
A thrust here.
A step there.
A slight tap on the ground.
Yet somehow, no soul that passed him reached the children.
No one had time to notice.
Yao Chen noticed anyway.
But the night did not allow questions.
Another dead soul broke through.
This one had no face.
It carried a cracked saber and moved like someone desperate to flee.
Lin Xiao blocked it.
Their blades clashed.
The dead soul's movements were strange.
It struck once, then retreated.
It attacked, then turned as if searching for an escape route.
Lin Xiao's expression changed.
The laughter from his own trial echoed faintly in his mind.
You will run.
The dead soul swung again.
Lin Xiao blocked and leaned closer.
"You ran?"
The dead soul froze.
The mist around it twisted violently.
Lin Xiao's voice lowered.
"You ran, and died ashamed."
The dead soul roared.
Its saber descended with sudden madness.
Lin Xiao took the blow head-on. His arms trembled. His knees bent. But he did not step back.
"I understand."
The soul stopped.
Lin Xiao's smile was bitter.
"Running once does not make you a coward."
He pushed the saber aside.
"Refusing to turn back does."
The dead soul shuddered.
For a moment, a face appeared in the mist.
Young.
Terrified.
Then it turned around.
Behind it, a memory appeared: the same warrior running from battle, stopping, then turning back too late.
Lin Xiao lifted his saber and pointed behind it.
"Go back."
The soul looked at him.
Then it ran into its own memory.
This time, toward the battlefield.
It dissolved before reaching it.
Lin Xiao stood still for a moment.
Then he exhaled shakily.
"I hate this place."
Huo Yuan's side erupted with heat.
A burned warrior soul had appeared before him.
Its entire body was charred black, yet blue flames burned inside its ribs. Every time Huo Yuan attacked with fire, the soul grew larger.
Bai Wujin shouted, "Your flames strengthen it!"
"I can see that!"
Huo Yuan gritted his teeth.
The burning house from his regret trial flashed in his mind.
You cannot defeat a wound by becoming the wound.
His flames changed.
They shrank.
The blazing orange turned deep red, then soft gold.
Not hotter.
Warmer.
He stepped toward the burned soul.
The soul raised both hands, flame pouring from its mouth.
Huo Yuan did not strike.
He placed one palm on its chest.
"I do not know who burned you."
His voice was rough.
"But I know what it means to fear your own fire."
The burned soul's flames trembled.
Huo Yuan's fire wrapped around it.
Not consuming.
Warming.
The blue flames within the soul slowly dimmed.
The charred warrior lowered its head.
Then it became sparks.
Xue Lian faced a dead woman near the edge of the formation.
The spirit wore torn robes and held a broken hairpin instead of a weapon. Tears streamed endlessly down her translucent face, freezing before they hit the ground.
"I waited," the spirit whispered.
"He said he would return."
"I waited through the battle."
"I waited after death."
"He never came."
Xue Lian's heart tightened.
For a moment, she saw the frozen palace again.
The future where she had left.
The spirit lunged, hairpin aimed at her throat.
Xue Lian raised her hand.
Frost stopped the hairpin an inch from her skin.
She did not destroy the spirit.
Instead, she froze the tears falling from the woman's face.
One by one, the frozen tears became small crystals, each holding a memory of waiting.
Xue Lian spoke softly.
"Then let your waiting end with proof that you loved."
The spirit trembled.
The hairpin fell.
The frozen tears rose into the air and formed a small path of light leading into the mist.
A man's shadow appeared at the end.
The dead woman sobbed once.
Then walked toward him.
When she vanished, Xue Lian lowered her hand.
Her face was pale.
Yao Chen looked at her.
She looked back.
Neither spoke.
But both understood.
The night continued.
One soul after another attacked.
Some were calmed by truth.
Some by memory.
Some by pain acknowledged.
Some could only be delayed.
Yao Chen moved constantly.
He read the dead.
A broken helmet.
A cracked blade.
A name carved into armor.
A hand reaching toward a direction no one else noticed.
Each clue revealed a regret.
Each regret became a key.
Luo Qingyin watched him between waves of battle.
Her spatial barriers held the formation together, but her thoughts were on Yao Chen.
This was not ordinary talent.
He did not merely understand souls.
He listened to them as if their wounds spoke a language he had once known.
She murmured, "This is not skill."
One of her fellow disciples asked, "What?"
Luo Qingyin's eyes remained on Yao Chen.
"This is familiarity."
The monument pulsed again.
The dead suddenly stopped.
All of them.
Every soul froze in place.
The living disciples did not relax.
No one was foolish enough for that now.
The monument's carvings shifted.
Blood flowed into new words.
First Watch Survived
A heavy pressure descended.
Second Watch Begins
The ground at the center of the valley cracked.
Unburied General Awakening
The moment those words appeared, the ordinary dead souls stepped back.
Not in fear.
In obedience.
The earth split open.
A massive armored figure rose from beneath the basin.
He was taller than any living man present. His armor was broken across the chest, and countless arrows were lodged in his back. One eye burned with black fire. In his hands was a broken halberd, its blade missing half its edge.
Behind him, the mist thickened.
More dead souls appeared.
Not scattered remnants.
Ranks.
Lines.
An army.
The general opened his eye.
The pressure that spread from him forced even Bai Wujin back half a step.
Luo Qingyin's spatial barrier cracked.
Xue Lian's frost shattered across the ground.
Huo Yuan's flames bent low.
The general's voice rolled through the valley.
"If you live while my soldiers remain buried…"
His broken halberd lifted.
"Then take their place."
He struck.
The halberd descended.
Bai Wujin roared and met it with both palms.
Huo Yuan attacked from the side.
Luo Qingyin folded space.
Xue Lian froze the ground beneath the general's feet.
Lin Xiao slashed toward its wrist.
All their attacks landed.
None stopped him.
The halberd struck the earth.
The alliance formation shattered.
Disciples were thrown backward in every direction.
The Yu Academy leader coughed blood.
A Transcendent Academy disciple collapsed, face pale.
Bai Wujin slid back nearly ten meters, both arms trembling.
Huo Yuan landed hard beside him.
Lin Xiao rolled across the ground and spat dust.
"That one," he muttered, "is unfair."
Yao Chen stood in the center of the broken formation.
His robe moved in the black mist.
His eyes fixed on the dead general.
This regret was different.
Not one person.
Not one memory.
An army.
A command.
A failure too large to be soothed by a single truth.
Within his Soul Sea, Sai Ka whispered.
"Master…"
"This one does not need truth."
Si Ka's voice followed, colder.
"He does not need comfort."
Sai Ka trembled faintly.
"He needs someone to accept command."
Yao Chen looked behind the general.
Ten thousand dead soldiers lifted their weapons.
Their eyes were hollow.
Waiting.
Accusing.
Obeying.
The general raised his broken halberd again.
Yao Chen stepped forward.
Xue Lian's expression changed.
"Yao Chen."
He did not stop.
Bai Wujin looked at him sharply.
"What are you doing?"
Yao Chen walked alone into the center of the dead army's gaze.
The black mist parted before him.
For the first time that night, he did not look like a disciple.
He looked like someone who had once ordered armies to die.