Chapter 81: Mountain of Corpses (Extra for Alliance Leader Zhihai 7/12)

At this moment, there was still more than an hour before the outbreak of the Shadow Curse, yet all the demons within the poisoned zone had already entered a state of indescribable frenzy. Their bodies and consciousnesses were slowly twisting and mutating, as a powerful, mysterious, and terrifying force was about to descend upon them, bestowing its favor.

They were willing to sacrifice everything for this.

Take, for example, this demon stronghold. It had once been a human checkpoint, built countless millennia ago, enduring countless wars, destructions, and reconstructions. Beneath its walls lay untold numbers of buried bones and wandering souls.

It should have continued as such, but the invasion of demons had destroyed the homes, cities, and checkpoints of humanity, forcing the people to flee in panic, leaving behind only a ruined fortress.

Then, a band of demons occupied it.

Naturally, this had nothing to do with it, for at that time it had not even developed self-awareness. Until, a mysterious and uncanny force repeatedly eroded and corrupted it, finally awakening it.

It devoured that band of demons, revived the countless white bones and souls buried beneath the fortress, and began waiting, yearning for the arrival of the majestic entity that had granted it new life.

Until it saw the man striding toward it.

—

In Wei Cheng’s eyes, the strangeness of this demon stronghold far surpassed that of the fiery tree he had encountered before. The ferocious and evil demons seemed tame and ordinary by comparison.

This was something that defied all logic of existence, yet existed undeniably.

Wei Cheng could not say whether it should be called a living fortress, a mutated demon, or something else entirely.

It was enormous, like a mountain, but this mountain was composed of countless rotting, black-yellow, pus-leaking flesh that writhed ceaselessly.

Within it were myriad densely packed holes, but nothing seemed to emerge from them. Instead, they resembled gateways to hell, with countless eyes staring at him coldly and mercilessly.

From a distance, Wei Cheng felt as though an invisible net had wrapped around his entire being, and he seemed to hear countless wails of despair, innumerable gray, decayed hands grabbing at him, trying to drag him in, to make him one of them.

Such a technique blurred the lines between reality and illusion; he felt as if he were buried in concrete, unable to breathe.

Everything he knew—Earth, the cultivation world, all his memories—was stripped away. His mental world was left devoid of color, devoid of emotion.

Only pallor, emptiness, decay, and coldness remained.

He didn’t even have time to invoke his Mountain Moving inner force or the Mountain Moving visualization.

---

But in the next instant, a faint golden light flickered at Wei Cheng’s brow. Though weak, for Wei Cheng trapped in that bleak and hollow world, it was as if a flood of golden light had cleaved the clouds, severed the net entangling him, and cut off all those strange, despairing ties.

A mental barrier formed in the final moment.

In a flash, Wei Cheng recovered, but his heart still pounded wildly, fear lingering.

What manner of attack was this? Spiritual corruption or some bizarre intrusion?

If he had not just broken through, condensed his mental seed, and unified his will, belief, and spirit, automatically forming an invisible mental barrier against external threats, he feared he would not have lasted more than a few seconds before losing his mind.

But that was not all.

Looking up, Wei Cheng saw, high above the demon stronghold—three or four hundred meters up—dozens of stag-headed demon skulls hanging in the wind, swaying, their eyes forever open in grim death.

The scene was familiar. Back in the fifth checkpoint, most stag-headed demons had human heads hanging from their wooden staffs, eyes wide open in death.

Who would have thought, today the situation was reversed.

Yet such internecine slaughter did not bring Wei Cheng any relief; instead, it made the stronghold seem even more dangerous.

Could he defeat it?

As soon as this thought arose, Wei Cheng broke into a strange smile.

He certainly had no absolute assurance of victory, nor did he believe his hidden cards would let him slaughter freely.

But he had one greatest advantage: he knew this was a carefully designed trial by the Immortal of Trials.

Perhaps these mutated demons, these evil entities, were generated under certain rules, but before a threshold was breached, their danger would always be capped.

And in this poisoned zone, that threshold was the Shadow Curse erupting every twelve hours.

The first wave of the Shadow Curse, the mutation value of the demons might range from 0 to 10.

If lucky, one could encounter a demon scout team with a mutation value of 0; if unlucky, one might face a team with a value of 10.

After the second wave, the mutation value might range from 11 to 20.

---

Now, still within the threshold of the third wave of the Shadow Curse, the mutation value of the demons might range from 21 to 30.

So, no matter how bizarre, evil, or mysterious this demon stronghold appeared, its mutation value would not exceed 30.

But if he waited any longer, and the fourth wave erupted, its mutation value could reach 40.

At that point, the difficulty would multiply dozens of times, though still within the permitted rules.

Because anyone daring to linger in the poisoned zone at that stage would necessarily possess the strength to barely win.

“This is downright cheating.”

With a silent laugh, Wei Cheng charged forward without hesitation. Why wait? In an hour, the danger would likely multiply; attacking now was a bargain.

Yet what he never expected was that as he rapidly approached, the mountain of rotten flesh forming the stronghold collapsed ahead of schedule.

Instantly, torrents of decayed meat poured down like mudslides, foul black-yellow pus flooding around him like a violent storm.

Wei Cheng was taken aback, instantly activating his Golden Bell Shield. The next second, darkness and oppressive pressure descended; cracks began to appear on the shield.

Signs it could not withstand the force.

Wei Cheng risked projecting his mental strength, and was truly shocked: the rotten flesh, pus, and white bones began to reassemble overhead, reconstructing the demon stronghold above him.

Good heavens.

No wonder his Golden Bell Shield was failing. This mountain of bone and flesh, hundreds of meters high, must weigh thousands of tons.

What a scoundrel—this demon, adept at mental corruption, was now attempting to win with brute force.

Isn’t that disgraceful?