Invincible Starts From Dao Fruit
Chapter 139 - 110 Resentment Towards the Unjust Heavens: Zhang Zhihe Dies! [Last 2 Days, Requesting Monthly Votes!]

Chapter 139: Chapter 110 Resentment Towards the Unjust Heavens: Zhang Zhihe Dies! [Last 2 Days, Requesting Monthly Votes!]

"Raising soldiers for a thousand days, using them for a single moment."

"The Five Ghosts Yin Soldiers have been under my care for thirty-two years—it’s time for them to serve."

Chen Jichuan rested for three days, barely recovering a sliver of Primordial Qi, and once again deployed his Daoist Skill, summoning the Five Directions Ten Directions Five Ghosts. Under the cover of the starry night, they launched a sudden assault from Three Realms Pass.

In three days.

Zhang Zhihe was struck twice more; one time, he relied on the ’Soul Suppressing Talisman’ in defense. The other time, he used the ’Calming God Talisman.’

He endured with ease.

But both the ’Soul Suppressing Talisman’ and ’Calming God Talisman’ are top-level talismans for defending against Divine Soul attacks.

Zhang Zhihe, despite being a Qi Refining cultivator, was far from the Mysterious Nether Sea, buried deep inland. Over decades, he had only managed to procure three such talismans.

At this moment, they were fully exhausted. With the evil curse returning, Zhang Zhihe could only fend for himself.

"Damn it!"

Zhang Zhihe’s face darkened, no longer holding the mocking ease of three days prior.

The curse was insidious and intractable, far beyond his expectations. Even top-level talismans could only resist but not fully dispel it.

Most of his skills lay in Corpse Refining and Corpse Control.

When facing opponents in direct combat, eleven high-grade refined corpses would besiege any Qi Refining First Layer cultivator to death—immune to blades, spears, water, and fire.

But his enemy remained hidden, using spells to harm him. Zhang Zhihe truly had no way to deal with them.

"Unless I can find the caster."

Inside the hall, Zhang Zhihe swiftly scanned through records sent by the Demon Suppression Bureau regarding spell techniques.

The moment he spotted any plausible suspects, he immediately dispatched the order for the Demon Suppression Bureau to send their experts to arrest them.

At this juncture: he would rather kill the wrong person than let the culprit escape!

Faced with matters of life and death, Zhang Zhihe no longer cared for scruples.

He continued flipping through the records.

Suddenly, his heart tightened, and he cursed inwardly, "Here it comes again!"

Both hands pressed on the table.

He cast the ’Concealing Technique’ and the ’Concealing Breath Technique,’ attempting to hide his presence from the curse’s detection.

But how could the ’Plow Head Curse,’ which targeted the soul directly, be avoided?

The curse descended.

The figure of the youth pushing the plow appeared again. Zhang Zhihe gritted his teeth, looking at the youth. The figure was shrouded in hazy vagueness, his face indistinct, making it hard to discern clearly.

He could only tell it was a youth, with disheveled hair; any other details—features, attire—were obscured.

"Ah—!"

Zhang Zhihe tried to examine further, but the iron plow descended upon him, tearing at his soul. The pain was unbearable, and he could no longer concentrate. Without delay, he pulled several high-level ’Soul Suppressing Talismans’ and ’Calming God Talismans’ from his sleeve and frantically applied them to his soul.

Boom!

But the talismans were easily shattered, all futile efforts.

"Pain! Pain! Pain!"

Blue veins bulged on Zhang Zhihe’s forehead as sweat dripped from it, his teeth clenched in agony. Only after an indeterminate amount of time did the vicious curse subside. Exhausted, Zhang Zhihe’s face grew even paler.

Forcing himself upright, he crossed his legs to meditate and restore himself.

By dawn, he recovered a little spirit. Although his complexion was still haggard, it was far better than Chen Jichuan’s initial condition.

"The fourth time."

Zhang Zhihe opened his eyes, a flicker of panic in his heart.

As the curse struck with increasing frequency, so did his growing dread. The looming sense of catastrophe intensified, making it impossible for him to stay composed.

And worst of all, his enemy was in the shadows while he stood in the light, a helpless target.

This left Zhang Zhihe seething with anxiety and anger, combined with mounting fear.

"Keep searching!"

"I refuse to believe I can’t drag you out!"

Zhang Zhihe continued poring over the Demon Suppression Bureau’s archives, determined to uncover the mastermind.

But unfortunately.

Since Chen Jichuan’s arrival at Three Realms Pass and settling in Echo Valley, apart from taming a flock of eagles with the ’Tightening Spell,’ he never used any Daoist Skill to harm anyone.

Echo Valley was only known for its Swordsmanship and external skills.

Zhang Zhihe, trying to track the mystery assailant through the scrolls on curses, was simply barking up the wrong tree.

Time passed swiftly.

In the blink of an eye, another three days had gone by.

On this day.

Dark clouds pressed against the city as if it might collapse.

In the National Master Mansion, Zhang Zhihe’s face was pale to the extreme, his expression utterly lifeless. Slumping by the table, he no longer had the strength to flip through the records atop it.

A saying goes: When King Yan decrees you die at three, you cannot live to five.

The Plow Head Curse was no exception.

This curse, known as the ’Seven-day Death Spell,’ would claim its victim’s life if the curse remained unbroken after seven days.

Zhang Zhihe, relying on sheer cultivation, barely held on for six days. By this final day, he was entirely exhausted, like a lamp running out of oil.

"Hatred!"

"I hate this!"

His bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, and face devoid of immortal energy were filled with resentment and venom.

Even more frustrating was his lack of clarity on whom to hate or blame.

"Damn you, heavens!"

All his rage and gloom were projected skyward, cursing the heavens.

In his youth, Zhang Zhihe had trained by the Mysterious Nether Sea. Lacking talent and comprehension, he failed to gain favor with his master, leaving him bitter and resentful.

While venturing out, he stumbled upon a lost tome, ’Corpse Control Technique,’ along with its associated ’Corpse Control Great Method’ and the refining techniques for ’Elephant Armor Skill’ and ’Overlord Armor.’

This marked his rise.

Not only did he cultivate a peerless cross-training skillset, but he also roamed far and wide in search of robust cultivators to abduct and turn into his puppet corpses.

Once triumphant, his caution faded.

Coupled with the abundance of experts near the Mysterious Nether Sea, Zhang Zhihe’s actions eventually came to light.

He expended all his refined corpses to narrowly escape with his life.

Wandering far across the land.

He eventually became a Qi Refining Immortal Master.

But his enemies were formidable, and the Immortal Sects were relentless in hunting him. Even as a Qi Refining Immortal Master, he dared not show his face again. Pondering over this dilemma, he steered his ship inland to the Fann Kingdom.

Here, he shared the ’Elephant Armor Skill.’

Once his protégés achieved their cultivation milestones, he abducted them in secrecy to refine them into his puppets.

Over decades.

He had produced eleven top-grade refined corpses, intending to soon set out and return to the Mysterious Nether Sea.

To seek vengeance on his former enemies, one by one.

But seven or eight months ago, he heard news of an Echo Valley disciple defeating Fann Kingdom’s expert ’Li Da.’

Zhang Zhihe was familiar with Li Da’s strength, having trained to the Ninth Layer of the ’Elephant Armor Skill.’ In close combat, even a Tenth Layer practitioner would find it difficult to surpass him.

The fact that an Echo Valley disciple bested him in close combat piqued Zhang Zhihe’s curiosity, prompting him to personally abduct Li Da for secret refinement.

Once refined, Li Da’s unique traits complemented the refined corpses trained in ’Elephant Armor Skill.’ Zhang Zhihe saw an opportunity to further enhance his puppets by combining their strengths.

With his refinement limited to controlling eleven corpses at most, Zhang Zhihe naturally sought perfection.

Thus, he decided to extend his stay.

Little did he know.

This decision would ultimately spell his doom.

As bitterness surged in his heart, paired with deep regret, he lashed out at the heavens, reminiscing on his misfortune and lamenting his choice to linger!

Just as these thoughts consumed him.

A sudden gust arose.

Whoosh!

The cold wind carried an eerie chill, sweeping across the room, scattering the papers and records piled high upon tables, filling the hall. Most of these records documented curses, while a few pertained to various matters of interest to Zhang Zhihe, both within and beyond the borders of Fann Kingdom.

For instance—

As Zhang Zhihe slumped over the table in despair, the wind offered a moment of clarity. His gaze flickered and fell upon a painting carried by the breeze that landed directly on his face.

He casually swatted it away.

And then he saw the image it bore—a young man.

One glance was enough.

It was as if Zhang Zhihe had been struck by lightning.

His hands trembled, his crimson-streaked eyes twitched, and he stared at the painting as though his eyeballs might burst from his skull. He fixed his gaze on the youthful figure in the painting.

"So it was you!"

"So it was you!"

Clutching the painting in his trembling hands, Zhang Zhihe muttered repeatedly, before suddenly succumbing to rage—

"Pfft!"

A mouthful of blood spewed forth, staining the painting and obscuring the face of the youth in the image.

Unaware of his own bloody spittle, Zhang Zhihe’s face alternated between fury, despair, and bitter laughter, teetering on the brink of madness.

He wobbled to his feet, flinging the bloodstained painting wildly and cackling, "Good! Good! So it was you all along!"

His laugh was laced with anguish, carrying an undercurrent of desolation.

For seven days, under the shadow of death, he had failed to uncover the culprit. He never imagined that the very person he sought had been right here, amidst the records on his desk. He should have found this person days ago, killed him, and broken the curse.

But now—

"It’s too late!"

"Too late!"

Zhang Zhihe knew his time was running out. He could feel it—today was the day his life would end.

Overwhelmed by remorse, he cursed the heavens again, unleashing a roar that echoed with despair, "Damn you, heavens!"

But the heavens remained silent.

Instead, from outside the hall, a refined elder rushed inside, both frightened and wary, nervously inquiring, "National Master, do you have any orders?"

The elder had never seen the National Master in such a state, and was deeply fearful.

"Orders?"

With a bitter laugh, Zhang Zhihe flung the bloodied painting at the elder. In a voice cracked with grief and madness, he roared, "Dispatch all of the Demon Suppression Bureau’s experts! Attack Three Realms Pass! Obliterate Echo Valley!"

"But—"

The elder picked up the painting from the ground. Though the depicted youth’s face was obscured by blood, there remained a line of small, clear script written beside the figure.

Studying it closely.

It read: ’Chen Jichuan of Echo Valley, Three Realms Pass.’

Momentarily baffled.

The distance to Three Realms Pass was over two thousand miles. Echo Valley lay deep amidst the mountains, its precise location elusive.

To send all the Demon Suppression Bureau’s elite to attack Echo Valley?

Such a plan seemed utterly implausible!

"What is there to ’but’?!"

"Go!"

"Now! If anyone dares disobey, I’ll execute their entire clan!"

Having lost all reason, Zhang Zhihe’s demeanor exuded madness.

"At once!"

"This old servant will carry out the command immediately!"

The elder, scared out of his wits, dared not refuse further. He hastily retreated, rushing outside the National Master Mansion.

Inside the hall.

Zhang Zhihe sneered, muttering, "Death? So be it! Even in death, I will drag you down to the grave with me!"

As he laughed, his expression suddenly twisted again, contorting in pained agony.

The ’Plow Head Curse’ struck once more.

It was the seventh day.

The seventh attack.

"Aaaaaaahhh!"

Zhang Zhihe could no longer bear the suffering. First collapsing onto the ground, he then rolled about uncontrollably, screaming in anguish. His cries were heartrending, chilling anyone who might hear them.

That night.

The National Master Mansion resounded with ghostly wails and howling wolves.

As Zhang Zhihe writhed on the floor—

Wooooo~

The Five Directions Ten Directions Five Ghosts emerged, one after another, grotesque and ghastly, infinitely more horrifying than Zhang Zhihe himself. Like a pack of ravenous beasts, they lunged at him.

Over and over they tore through him, repeatedly ripping apart and devouring his soul.

"Die!"

"All of you die!"

Zhang Zhihe suddenly leapt to his feet, blasting out spells in every direction. Even utterly spent, he managed to destroy more than half of the Five Ghosts.

But with the Plow Head Curse gripping him, and the Five Ghosts gnawing at him.

Ultimately, Zhang Zhihe succame. His ceaseless barrage of spells caused the great hall to cave in, its beams collapsing and crushing him in a bloody heap.

If one looked closely, they would see his eyes staring wide open, blood streaming from his seven orifices—completely lifeless.

Thus perished a once-renowned immortal master.

...

In the seventh year of Da Fan’s imperial rule.

In the fifth year of Daying Tiande.

The founder of Echo Valley, Chen Jichuan, learned of the Demon Path’s rise to power and its corruption of the court and harm to the people. In righteous fury, he undertook a solo assault on the Great Capital Master Mansion, slaying the demon practitioner Zhang Zhihe and eradicating his summoned ghostly creatures. Dozens of waves of sword qi reduced the National Master Mansion to rubble, destroying his lair.

Afterward, Chen Jichuan left without a trace.

The Fann Kingdom dispatched the Crown Prince to Three Realms Pass bearing apologies and gifts, seeking reconciliation.

Upon reaching Echo Valley.

They witnessed forty-two mighty eagles soaring into the sky, disappearing into the horizon.

The disciples of Echo Valley claimed that their founder had departed upon eagle-back, journeying overseas in pursuit of immortality and Dao.

The Crown Prince left unfulfilled, deeply regretful at not meeting the founder in person.

...

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