Everyone was stunned by this eerie scene. They had only seen the Lord Bone God ask a few questions, and this stubborn prisoner had spilled everything he knew.
Was this the power of a god? His word was law, piercing straight to the heart!
As for Chen Zhou, after hearing Xing Yue's words, the smile had long since vanished from his face, replaced by a deep, heavy solemnity.
Chen Zhou knew that the evil spirit Xing Yue mentioned in the Dead Man’s Forest was definitely not referring to him.
Could it be the humanoid evil spirit recorded in the sword sect’s ancient texts?
This was a major concern. Chen Zhou did not want the City of the Wrongfully Dead he had worked so hard to establish to be affected by any unstable factors.
He looked at the citizens and paper men kneeling on the ground. After a brief thought, he took out a fourth-stage Bodhi Heart Fruit and bestowed it upon Zhang Cuigu.
Under the enhancement of the Earth Grade spirit field and Zhang Cuigu’s Red Luan Fate trait, the Blood Bodhi vines grew exceptionally well. With the daily irrigation from the Blood-Prison Pool, a batch had already ripened.
"Rise," Chen Zhou’s voice returned to its usual indifference. "You have served well in guarding the spirit fields. You deserve this reward."
Zhang Cuigu only possessed a low-level Yellow Grade spirit root. Although working in the spirit fields granted her the bonus from the General-Summoning Platform’s Domain of Myriad Filths, her low-grade aptitude meant her cultivation speed was naturally quite slow.
A fourth-stage Bodhi Heart Fruit was perfect to help her refine her spirit root aptitude; advancing to the Mysterious Grade would be no problem at all.
Zhang Cuigu received the fruit, her heart overflowing with joy. This was the first time since her appointment to manage the spirit fields that the Lord had shown his recognition of her!
This recognition was far more important than the reward itself. Consequently, Zhang Cuigu’s faith in Chen Zhou became even more devout.
"Thank... thank you for the reward, Lord Bone God! This humble woman will surely work herself to the bone to protect these spirit fields for you!"
Excited to the point of incoherence, Zhang Cuigu knelt again and kowtowed heavily several times.
The paper men nearby watched Zhang Cuigu receive her reward with wide eyes, their ink-drawn eyes filled with undisguised envy.
They also wanted rewards, but they didn't dare speak. After all, they were still prisoners and could not compare to Zhang Cuigu, who was already part of the management class.
Chen Zhou took in their reactions and spoke calmly, "You were diligent in your monitoring and reacted swiftly. You shall also be rewarded."
Upon hearing this, the paper men became so excited that their paper bodies began to rustle loudly.
Chen Zhou continued, "You were originally disciples of the sword sect, deceived by White Jade and led astray. Your plight is pitiable.
"Considering that you are not truly wicked and handled this incident appropriately, I shall grant you amnesty from your hard labor starting today."
"As of this moment, the City of the Wrongfully Dead Patrol Team is established. You shall fill its ranks, specializing in patrolling the city's security and weeding out spies and evil.
"This squad will report directly to the Patrol Envoy Jian Huaishuang and be under his unified command."
When these words were spoken, all the paper men were stunned.
They had thought a few words of praise or a reduction of an hour or two of labor would be a massive blessing.
They never expected that not only would their labor be remitted, but they would also skyrocket from bottom-tier prisoners to official personnel with a formal post.
This was simply a stroke of luck falling from the heavens!
"We thank the Lord Bone God for his mercy! We shall serve the Lord until death, without hesitation!"
The lead paper man reacted first, immediately kneeling in worship, and the other paper men followed suit.
For a moment, the sound of paper rubbing together and unified shouts of loyalty echoed before the altar.
After giving his orders, Chen Zhou did not linger. With a flicker of his figure, he disappeared from everyone’s sight, taking Xing Yue with him.
Chen Zhou returned to the top of the Bone Altar.
He glanced at the unconscious Xing Yue; any further information would have to wait until the man woke up.
The night wind was slightly cool, fluttering his wide white robes.
Chen Zhou stood with his hands behind his back, overlooking the brightly lit and bustling City of the Wrongfully Dead below. His eyes, however, remained profound and deep.
He had originally just wanted to find a place to develop in peace and accumulate materials for sacrifice, but now it seemed that trouble had actively come knocking on his door.
Chen Zhou looked up at the sky again.
The bright moon hung high.
Under the moonlight, Jian Huaishuang was like a ghost walking in the shadows, silently appearing at the corner of an adobe courtyard.
The paper armor on his body did not reflect the moonlight at all, blending perfectly with the darkness.
Thump, thump, thump...
A tall knocking ghost was pounding on a courtyard door when it suddenly sensed an extremely dangerous aura enveloping it from behind.
Its movements stiffened abruptly. Looking back, it saw a figure clad in pale paper armor with a giant sword on his back standing silently in the shadows.
The knocking ghost keenly sensed the death qi and tried to flee at high speed.
Jian Huaishuang gave it no chance. His figure emerged fully from the shadows. He did not draw his sword but simply moved his mind.
The paper armor on his body disintegrated instantly, turning into hundreds of white sheets that swarmed the knocking ghost like a cloud of bloodthirsty locusts with sharp whistling sounds.
Black energy erupted from the knocking ghost as it tried to break free from the endless entanglement of white paper.
But Jian Huaishuang was already before it.
He gripped the giant sword—which was taller than a person—with one hand. He did not swing it to cut, but instead smashed it down with the force of something meant to suppress all things.
Fused into the blade was the death qi from the Zhenjiang Shrine and his own sharp sword intent, feeling as heavy as a rushing River of the Underworld.
Boom!
With a muffled thud, the knocking ghost and the ground beneath it were smashed into a pile of mush by this overbearing strike, leaving only a cluster of resentment struggling to escape the pulp.
Jian Huaishuang threw out a bone spike given to him by Chen Zhou, absorbing the soul body and the fleshy remains entirely.
Since receiving the Lord's command, he had become the reaper of the night, traveling through the various villages of Kushi County to hunt these entities known as knocking ghosts.
With his current evil spirit body, he could exhibit the strength of a fourth-stage Core Shattering stage expert. Dealing with these knocking ghosts, whose strength was only at the third-stage Inner Demon stage, should have been as easy as turning over his hand.
However, after hunting three in a row, Jian Huaishuang’s brow furrowed tighter.
As the former chief disciple of the White Jade Sword Sect, his vision and knowledge far exceeded that of ordinary cultivators. He understood the methods of various sects in the cultivation world better than Chen Zhou.
He keenly sensed that the aura of these knocking ghosts was very wrong.
Although they were shrouded in resentment and ferocity—undeniable ghosts—the corpse fragments that composed their bodies faintly contained a trace of weak but pure spiritual qi.
Even more bizarre was that the core technique driving their actions bore the shadow of the Taoist methods used to refine Guardian Dao Soldiers.
This did not seem like the work of common demons or monsters; rather, it looked like the product of some immortal sect using a forbidden method.
Just as he was feeling heavy-hearted and preparing to enter the next village, a familiar cold aura and a faint scent of blood made him stop in his tracks.
Jian Huaishuang’s figure flashed, drifting onto the roof of a farmhouse like a phantom.
In the center of the courtyard, a young man stood bolt upright, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. Black blood was slowly flowing from his seven orifices.
Under the moonlight, his skin showed an extremely unnatural color—a unique bronze hue, as if he were a poorly made bronze statue that had just been cast.
There were no screams, no wails.
He was already dead.
Beside him, a tall knocking ghost stood quietly. It didn't eat the corpse, nor did it leave; it simply bowed its head.
That stitched-together monstrous face was looking directly at the corpse, as if waiting for something.
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