"Don't worry, this is just his external manifestation," Lu Ziyin said, not only to comfort Ru Lan but also to prevent the other immortal sect disciples from falling into confusion and bewilderment due to Cheng Hong's sudden disappearance.
Cheng Hong, due to his status as a Buddha's Son and his exceptional strength, had always been respected and admired by the disciples of the immortal sects. He was like a stabilizing needle, simply by being present, he could instill a sense of security in them.
However, the moment he dissipated, they stood frozen, unable to react for a long time.
But upon learning that it was merely his "external manifestation" that had vanished, and not Cheng Hong's true form, they finally understood the reason.
To alleviate their current crisis and to gain a sliver of hope for survival, Cheng Hong had not hesitated to exhaust all the power of his "external manifestation," ultimately returning to his true self.
Although the Buddha's Son had not completely shattered the formation, his earlier move, "Buddha's Wrath Green Lotus," had dispersed all of Long Ji's ghost energy and even cleared the summoned vengeful spirits.
Among those present, the cultivation of the Róngchéng City Lord was slightly higher than Cheng Hong's.
However, due to the differences in their respective cultivation techniques, Cheng Hong, as a Buddhist cultivator, possessed Buddhist light that dispelled evil and drove away ghosts, making him a natural bane to places like Fengdu Ghost City. Therefore, Yu Shicheng, who was helpless against the formation and the vast horde of vengeful spirits, could not offer any assistance.
Conversely, Cheng Hong's move was far more potent than the combined might of everyone present. It was truly a pity that if the nuns of Cíbēi City had not suffered such heavy losses during the city's destruction, they would have been a formidable force on the front lines.
As it was, Abbess Huiming and the others were first injured by the widespread zombie-like corpses within the city, then they activated the city-destroying formation, and later opened the immortal artifact teleportation array, which severely depleted their energy. Their strength had greatly diminished, making them unable to fight.
Before arriving at Róngchéng, the Lord of Huāchéng had clashed with another Ghost King, but he never expected that his defeat would not come from his opponent, but from a man who suddenly appeared with immense power.
Ultimately, the immortal artifact also fell into his hands.
This person was not aligned with them, yet he didn't seem to be allied with Fengdu Ghost City either. Where did he come from?
What were his intentions in taking the immortal artifact?
The Buddha's Son seemed to know this man. Upon seeing him, the Buddha's Son's expression grew solemn, and after a moment of contemplation, his eyes showed a complex emotion that was impossible to decipher.
Whether it was fortunate or more concerning that the immortal artifact did not fall into the hands of Fengdu Ghost City, was unknown.
But the situation was so chaotic at the time that they had no time to dwell on it, as Huāchéng collapsed and was lost from within, which was largely attributable to the poor management by the Lord of Huāchéng.
However, expecting a spirit who transformed from flowers and plants to manage a city with humanlike pragmatism was asking too much. His usual approach to governance was laissez-faire.
Therefore, among the three cities, Huāchéng was the one that crumbled the fastest.
Meanwhile, Róngchéng was still struggling in a desperate battle, and the elders of the immortal sects and the people from the Supreme Prefecture were en route. No one had anticipated the swiftness of Fengdu's offensive.
While Huāchéng was beyond saving, Róngchéng had to be preserved. Thus, they abandoned Huāchéng and focused all their support on Róngchéng, hoping to at least hold out until reinforcements arrived.
The enchantingly beautiful Lord of Huāchéng, at this moment, appeared weary. He felt deeply responsible and apologetic for the fall of Huāchéng. During his battle with the Ghost King, he had poured all his might into his attacks in his anger. Now, with countless enemies, he was unsure how much longer he could hold on.
Therefore, he called out to the Lord of Róngchéng, Yu Chengshi, saying, "The Buddha's Son has already destroyed the ghost domain for us. From now on, even if it costs us both our old lives, we must not let Fengdu succeed! Lord Yu, join me, and together we shall break it!"
Yu Chengshi now understood the urgency of the situation and recognized this as his only chance, an opportunity created by the Buddha's Son's sacrifice of his "external manifestation."
Taking advantage of the fact that the breach in the ghost domain had not yet been fully repaired, and the vengeful spirits were still contained on the other side, their task was to destroy this teleportation array with a single, decisive blow.
Sweat dripped from his brow as he nodded heavily, responding with brimming courage, "Alright!"
A deep, enchanting green light and a radiant purple light transformed into two beams, soaring towards the gloomy, overcast sky. The ghost cultivators who had been observing the situation flashed expressions of tension across their faces.
Raising their ghostly weapons, they rushed forward, attempting to stop the two from their life-risking endeavor to break the deadlock.
But could the disciples of the immortal sects before the city walls allow them to have their way? The moment the enemy moved, they immediately met them, and the two sides instantly devolved into a chaotic melee of thrusts and blocks.
Standing high above, vast and boundless, the Lord of Róngchéng, Yu Chengshi, and the Lord of Huāchéng each occupied a side, rapidly forming hand seals. The cold, black wind buffeted them.
From one, a purple Kun Peng flew out, its brilliant light scattering the wind and rain, its intricate patterns moving like clouds and rainbows, illuminating half the sky.
Behind the other emerged a colossal flower, without leaves or branches, a solitary bloom of exquisite beauty, shaped like a sun wheel. This was the true form of the Lord of Huāchéng.
Neither of them intended to hold back any longer. They each unleashed their most powerful killing moves, honed throughout their lives, to attack the center of the formation's core.
The purple Kun Peng flapped its wings, transforming into a stream of light, while the giant flower unleashed its monstrous demonic power, surging into the sky. The two forces converged, striking the formation's core.
*Crrrack—*
The black domain immediately formed a black, arc-shaped barrier. As the two forces attacked, the teleportation array's defenses automatically activated, engaging in combat.
*Ugh—*
The Lord of Huāchéng and the Lord of Róngchéng gritted their teeth, enduring the assault, sweat pouring down their faces, their robes fluttering.
However, they were still just a little short of breaking through the barrier, for within the formation's core resided the Yúyí Ghost King, personally anchoring it.
His translucent figure appeared within the formation's core, his sinister, cold face showing disdain. "To try and destroy the formation's core? You are not worthy!"
The Yúyí Ghost King's eyes were ferocious. He raised his hands, and the ghost energy emanating from his body continuously replenished the formation's core. It seemed he was about to repair the damaged corner of the formation that the Buddha's Son had previously ruined.
The Lords of Róngchéng and Huāchéng’s expressions drastically changed. They stared hatefully at the Yúyí Ghost King, their hearts sinking with despair.
It seemed that even by sacrificing their old lives, they could not overcome it!
Was the sacrifice of their lives in vain? Grief? Sorrow? Anger? Hatred?
Just as they found themselves in a desperate predicament, a clear, resolute shout echoed through the sky.
"Let me lend you a hand!"
The Lords of Róngchéng and Huāchéng turned back in astonishment. A green figure was the first to sweep in from the east, followed by two full and vibrant streams of spiritual light. In an instant, the three stood proudly in the air.
The sight stirred their souls.
The leader before them had a face as exquisite as a painting, possessing unparalleled beauty, like the verdant mountains in poetry, his ink-like presence capable of writing histories.
Elegant verses and leisurely prose seemed to grace his gaze, his emotions subtly woven into his sleeves. As he flew through the air, clad in a green robe and jade crown, he exuded an indescribable aura of youthful springtime.