Spirit Realm Walker

Chapter 17: The Source of the Macabre

Guessed right. Zhang Yuanqing felt a hint of relief.

In truth, after exploring the Mountain God's temple and dealing with the zombie, the entrance to the cavern would open. But before that could happen, the elder of the construction team had taken the Demon Subjugation Staff.

Had he missed this detail, neglected to return the staff, he might have been stranded here forever.

Patiently waiting, Zhang Yuanqing steadied his nerves, focusing intensely, unwilling to allow even a trace of carelessness. Deep within the cave lay, perhaps, the source of the temple's decay.

After some time, seeing no unusual signs at the collapsed entrance, he summoned the Red Dance Shoes again. Activating their second form, they replaced his running shoes, enveloping his feet.

He approached the dark and fathomless cave, took a light leap.

With a soft thud, his feet met solid ground, the Red Dance Shoes absorbing the impact of his descent.

Amidst scattered rubble, Zhang Yuanqing located the Demon Subjugation Staff, bending to reclaim this powerful artifact.

With both the Red Dance Shoes and the staff in hand, he felt confident to face the dangers within.

Candlelight seeped from above, illuminating only a limited space. Before him lay a dark, silent passage, filled with unknown dread.

In such an environment, blindly venturing forth was folly.

Zhang Yuanqing hesitated momentarily, his gaze falling on the artifact in hand.

The description hinted that it held the power of the Sun God—if blood was offered, divine strength would follow.

True divine power should banish darkness and usher in light, shouldn't it?

It was worth a try, even if the artifact's "note" was rather unsettling. Exhaling silently, Zhang Yuanqing drove the sharp trident-like spike into his thigh.

A piercing pain surged through him, blood gushing out, not trickling down his leg, but forming thin lines that streamed into the brass staff.

A warm surge pulsed from the Demon Subjugation Staff, flooding his body through his arm. His pupils lit up with a soft golden glow, transforming into resplendent golden eyes.

Though the staff did not dispel the darkness, it gifted him the power to perceive through it.

Simultaneously, dizziness, breathlessness, and chest pain—all the adverse effects—vanished, leaving only the frailty of blood loss.

The corpse poison within him had been purged.

Indeed, he was bartering life for power, but it was a fair trade. He summoned his sharpened vision to peer ahead—a broad passage stretching into the depths of darkness.

The walls bore signs of human excavation, not a natural formation.

Zhang Yuanqing walked at a steady pace through the passage, his steps echoing through the silent space.

After several seconds, he noticed roots covering the walls, tangled and dense.

"Help... help me..."

Suddenly, a chilling cry for help drifted from the darkness, like sobs and pleas mingled together.

Following the sound, he emerged into a vast stone chamber. In the center stood a massive tree trunk, piercing the cavern's ceiling, reaching the world above.

At the base of the thick trunk, knotted roots twisted around a stone coffin.

Most horrifyingly, pale arms protruded from the trunk, accompanied by ghostly faces, their anguished cries for help slipping out unconsciously.