Chen Zhou frowned.
These beasts were stronger than he had expected. They didn't seem like mere foot soldiers at all, completely different from the beasts outside.
Even after being weakened by the moonlight, burned by the flames, and strangled by the sound waves, more than half of them actually managed to struggle back up and continue charging forward.
“They're more than a notch stronger than the ones outside,” Plague Rat cursed as his Great Plague Heaven spread, shrouding a large area in a grayish-green toxic mist.
From the corner of his eye, Jian Huaishuang kept his gaze locked onto the slime-covered Squire Zhou. From the moment the slime surged, he had quickly begun charging his Hidden Sword, concealing his presence.
The opponent's lower limbs had completely melted into liquid, connecting to the ground like the root system of a massive tree digging into the earth.
Now, taking advantage of the cover provided by Plague Rat's toxic mist, Jian Huaishuang stood ready, poised to strike.
A thread of white light tore through the void, slashing out from Jian Huaishuang's hand.
The sword light was silent and soundless. It pierced through the bodies of several white beasts, slicing directly into the white roots connecting the slime figure to the ground.
Chiiik!
The cut was as smooth as a mirror.
The white roots snapped in two. A thick, white liquid spurted from the severed ends of the ruptured slime, splashing onto the ground with a sizzling, corrosive hiss.
The sword light's momentum remained unchecked, slicing vertically upward along the slime figure's body, splitting it clean in half from the center.
The two halves of the slime figure toppled to the left and right, with a large number of white bubbles foaming from the severed edges.
Yet Chen Zhou did not let down his guard in the slightest.
In the next second, the bisected slime body began to writhe violently. New white slime welled up from the cuts, pulling the two halves back together as rapidly as two attracting magnets.
The connecting roots that Jian Huaishuang had severed were also regenerating, sprouting new white tendrils from the stumps to burrow back into the ground.
“I see,” the reassembled slime figure said, slowly raising its head. Its hollow, white eye sockets turned toward Chen Zhou once more.
Its voice was several degrees deeper than before, and much of its slippery amusement had faded.
“I saw it in the array's memories.”
“When you first entered Qingzhou, you were chased all over the place by the pollution.”
“I didn't expect that in just a few short days, you'd be able to block it head-on.”
The corners of the slime figure's mouth slowly curled up, revealing a row of stark white teeth.
“I underestimated you.”
Chen Zhou remained expressionless. Far from being worried, his mind actually settled slightly.
With this level of strength, it was almost comparable to Jiao Mu Jiao in the Tianchi Province array.
It seemed he had indeed found the right place. This was indeed one of the formation eyes of the Myriad Ghost Array.
Back then, he had not yet studied array-related knowledge, and his own strength had been insufficient to destroy the grand array. Capturing Jiao Mu Jiao had relied entirely on psychological warfare.
But things were different now.
Chen Zhou now knew what to do.
“Huaishuang.”
Hearing Chen Zhou call his name, Jian Huaishuang withdrew his sword and took a step back, standing beside Chen Zhou.
“Lord.”
Without another word, Chen Zhou directly activated his Bone Incarnation.
Ash-gray death qi surged from his body, wrapping and condensing around him as fine bone dust drifted through the air.
Chen Zhou's figure faded within the ash-gray mist. When he reappeared, he had already possessed Jian Huaishuang's body.
The Perfect Vessel allowed him to unleash one hundred percent of his strength.
“Shen Liang.”
Chen Zhou's voice echoed from Jian Huaishuang's throat. “Summon the flood.”
He needed Shen Liang's dead water.
As long as Shen Liang summoned a large enough flood, he could use the water as a medium to channel the River of the Underworld into this space, severing the final connection between Shen Shui Yuan's true body and the array.
He waited for Shen Liang's response.
But three breaths passed, and nothing happened.
Chen Zhou turned his head to look.
Shen Liang was crouching beside a pile of torn sacks in the corner of the granary, holding his head in his hands, his fingers clawing deeply into his hair.
His entire body was curled into a ball, his back arched like a cooked shrimp, his shoulders trembling violently.
Then, Chen Zhou saw his eyes.
The moment Shen Liang raised his head, those eyes were a turbid, milky white.
Chen Zhou's brow furrowed tightly.
He sniffed the air.
The smell of paper ash.
It was very faint, almost entirely masked by the scent of battle and the stench of the white slime, but Shen Liang's perception of it was exceptionally sharp.
He was being affected again.
From behind, the slime figure witnessed all of this, and a smug smile crept onto its face.
“Everything that happened outside... I saw it all.”
“Did you think I was unprepared?”
He looked at Shen Liang, his murky eyes filled with mockery. “Did you really think your little schemes could escape the Fate Officer's informants?”
He mimicked Chen Zhou's tone from earlier, doing so flawlessly, yet harboring a sharp, underlying malice.
“Shen Liang, summon the flood... Show them what you're capable of.”
Shen Liang's body shuddered violently. His limbs propped against the ground at an unnatural angle as streams of turbid, yellowish-brown water seeped from between his fingers.
The rumbling of a flood surged up from deep underground at an astonishing speed. In the blink of an eye, it washed over everyone's ankles, the waves rolling and spreading in all directions.
The water was freezing cold.
Chen Zhou looked down at the layer of yellowish-brown floodwater beneath his feet, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward.
He had originally called out to Shen Liang to have him summon a flood so that he could use it as a medium to channel the River of the Underworld.
Although Shen Liang had lost control now, the flood had indeed been summoned.
It didn't matter who summoned it. All roads led to Rome; as long as there was enough water, it was fine.
Chen Zhou established a connection with the River of the Underworld.
The slumbering black river woke once more. The breath of the River of the Underworld surged from his body, seeping along the water at his feet and into Shen Liang's flood.
That wisp of black rapidly diffused like ink dropped into clear water, dyeing the entire torrent dark within a few breaths.
The water level continued to rise sharply, but its color had changed from yellowish-brown to a deep, profound darkness.
The phantom of the River of the Underworld descended.
The river water surged, its waves crashing against the edges of the vast, white space and splashing black spray.
A small, ash-white boat appeared on the river at some unknown point, a deathly pale lantern hanging from its bow, swaying in the darkness.
Chen Zhou stepped onto the river's surface and lightly boarded the solitary boat.
Holding the oar, he stood at the bow. The waters of the River of the Underworld churned beneath him, violently clashing, corroding, and tearing into the white slime.
The white beasts were swept into the river, struggling to claw their way out, but the currents of the River of the Underworld acted like countless hands, pinning them firmly beneath the surface and dragging them down into the bottomless dark.
The smile froze on the slime figure's face.
“You...”
“What on earth... are you?”
He wanted to retreat, but the waters of the River of the Underworld had already risen to his knees.
“Damn it! Stop spectating, Wei Tu Zhi!”
Suddenly, a crack ripped open in the sky.
A white arrow, condensed from sand, stone, and the power of the ley lines, shot through the crack. Traveling at an astonishing speed, it carried a sharp, piercing whistle as it flew straight toward the back of Chen Zhou's heart.
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