Chapter 82 The Art of Suppressing Calamities: The wind blows in rhythm, and the ancestral blind man entrusts his words to the music...

Zhou Yaren was like a reckless person who would fall into a hunter's trap with a single wrong step, carelessly trespassing into a taboo set by others, and the punishment for his reckless transgression was immediately apparent.

Bai Yuan's sigh-like reminder failed to catch him off guard. He was blinded by the ashes in the wind and swept into the dust storm—he had stepped on a trap.

The ground beneath Zhou Yaren's feet seemed to turn like a spinning wheel, rolling silently. The surrounding air currents were unpredictable, and in the blink of an eye, the four seasons changed, from the revival of all things to the growth of grass and birdsong, and then from desolation to heavy snow and ice. The world "changed color" while the Jingguan (a mound of stones) stood tall.

"They actually dared to come."

Zhou Yaren was covered in dust.

Before he could speak, Zhou Yaren felt a tightness in his throat. The swirling ashes gathered at his neck, forming a charred, ghostly hand that gripped him tightly, attempting to snap his neck. Zhou Yaren raised his hand and clenched it tightly, but the charred arm cunningly turned into a handful of ashes in his palm, impossible to hold. The ashes scattered and surrounded him everywhere, then coalesced at a different angle, forming sharp claws that slashed at his back like spikes.

Zhou Yaren dodged abruptly, but his side was struck by another ghostly hand, which pierced his flesh. The folding fan in his hand moved with lightning speed, sweeping across his body and dispersing all the "seven hands and eight feet" that were about to launch a sneak attack.

However, these things scattered and then gathered again, and Zhou Yaren scattered dozens or even hundreds of ghost hands in an instant, almost unable to keep up with them.

Wind can stir up dust, but wind blades cannot annihilate the ashes that can "come back again".

“Do you see?” the voice was ghostly, “all the soldiers and civilians who perished here died because of you.”

"What?" Zhou Yaren was startled and looked up in shock.

The ghost hand took the opportunity to scratch several cuts on the side of his neck.

Zhou Yaren failed to dodge in time and was violently knocked away. When he retaliated, his afterimage immediately dissipated into ashes, and the wind blade and talisman missed their target.

"You betrayed them and caused their deaths."

"What does this have to do with me?!" Zhou Yaren had never been to this place, so how could she have caused the deaths of so many people?

The ashes slowly enveloped him, forming a human-shaped afterimage: "You are a sinner."

It said, "Your sins are unforgivable."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yaren felt his blood run cold instantly, as if the nightmares that had haunted him day and night had overlapped with reality.

"You've killed so many people, don't you have nightmares at night? Doesn't your conscience bother you?" Ashes slowly gathered and approached him, attempting to break Zhou Yaren's spirit. After all, everyone has nightmares. "You should atone with your death."

The sudden burden of guilt weighed heavily on Zhou Yaren, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He shouldn't have believed the "ghost stories." They were full of lies and were masters at bewitching people, causing those who were deeply involved to lose their minds and be led by the nose. But Bai Yuan had just told him, "You once died here."

Therefore, he is inextricably linked to this place.

"You bear the burden of punishment." Bai Yuan's words still echoed in his ears, each word etched into his mind.

Every wrong has its perpetrator, and every debt its debtor. That's why this spirit, reduced to ashes, came to him. Even though he had experienced life and death and been reborn in the cycle of reincarnation, he was still burdened with deep-seated sins and grievances from past lives that could not be settled. He needed to atone for his sins here with his death.

Zhou Yaren stared almost absently at the mound of corpses in front of him. If so many people had died because of him, then he was truly burdened with blood debts and deeply sinful, and even dying ten thousand times would not be enough to atone for his sins.

In a daze, Zhou Yaren felt five sharp fingers silently press against his throat, ready to tear several bloody holes in it in the next moment.

"You should atone with your death," the deathly voice bewitched, "go and be buried with them."

But……

Just as the spikes pierced her flesh, Zhou Yaren suddenly struck out with a talisman, but the dark figure seemed to have anticipated this, instantly teleporting behind her.

Zhou Yaren immediately turned around, and the light from his fan flashed out, creating a devastating gust of wind that reduced the attacking shadow to ashes. However, in the blink of an eye, a punch came flying through the air. Zhou Yaren couldn't dodge it, and his nearly fatally vulnerable temple was struck by the punch. The excruciating pain shot straight into his skull, knocking him to the ground.

That heavy punch left him completely disoriented and stunned, unable to get up immediately.

However, the fierce wind that had just shredded the ghostly figures rushed into the mountain of corpses, and a muffled, mournful echo suddenly resounded from the mound of corpses.

Did you hear that?

Zhou Yaren turned around, her face suddenly turning pale: "Deathly imprisonment."

"Thanks to you, hundreds of millions of dead are imprisoned in the evil abyss, unable to find peace or be reborn for a hundred years. If you do not die, how can they find rest?"

Having said that, the sharp, pointed claws plunged straight into Zhou Yaren's skull...

He was captivated by the muffled cries from the Jingguan, as if a blood debt had been repaid and was now being demanded, leaving him trembling with fear and unable to move.

At the same time, a chilling cold pierced through the evil ghost hand above Zhou Yaren's head.

A familiar whirlwind suddenly arose not far away, playing the tune on the pipe at Zhou Yaren's waist, and a mournful, desolate sound—a death cry.

Amidst the death cries, a transparent, misty humanoid figure gradually coalesced, resembling a wisp of a ghost, slowly materializing before one's eyes.

Bai Yuan, dressed in white with long, flowing hair, seemed to have traversed countless lifetimes, arriving with his death-reporting umbrella reversed.

She glanced at Zhou Yaren's current unfortunate state and said, "Unfortunately, all your unfortunate grievances from past lives have become shackles on me, and not a single one has been cleared." Therefore, she could not stand idly by now.

Zhou Ya stared at the person in front of her, her heart pounding.

The Death-Reporting Umbrella is a secret contract connecting the innocent and the unjustly killed. She thought Zhou Yaren's expression might be a misunderstanding: "Um, don't misunderstand, you're not dead yet, we just need to settle some old scores."

Zhou Yaren, panting, knew she was alive: "What old grudges?"

What old grievance could it be? After all that talking, wasn't she clear enough? This person must have lost their mind, which is why they couldn't understand for so long: "You were wrongfully killed here."

Zhou Yaren's eyes widened suddenly: "So these soldiers didn't die because of me at all?"

"You've been trying to outsmart me all day, but you were completely fooled by a handful of ashes. You fell for it so easily. Is that filthy thing really that sweet-talking?" Bai Yuan looked at him with utter contempt, his words laced with sarcasm. "Don't look at me like that. Are you lame and can't stand up, or are you just scared out of your wits?"

Zhou Yaren propped himself up, his right temple throbbing slightly, probably bruised and swollen. He was a frail man, his life too fragile to bear the weight of so many lives.

Bai Yuan saw through his thoughts at a glance and casually said, "Since you're already here and the grave has been dug up, now there's a whole mountain of corpses that has a grudge against you... If they want to take your life, they should at least give you an explanation."

As for whether he will give up his life or something else, that's entirely up to fate.

As they spoke, the elusive claws appeared behind Bai Yuan and lunged straight for the back of his neck.

The little devil is hard to deal with, but Bai Yuan remains unmoved, and Ting Fengzhi has already made his move first.

In the midst of his busy schedule, he asked the innocent man, "Can you clear my name?"

Bai Yuan retorted, "It's better to rely on yourself than on others. Didn't I just warn you that the wind was picking up? Isn't that something you excel at?!"

Ashes swirled and danced in the wind, while charred, ghostly figures appeared almost within reach, only to vanish several feet away in an instant, playing hide-and-seek with unpredictable, cunning, and extremely difficult-to-deal-with creatures.

Zhou Yaren was not stupid, and naturally understood the meaning behind her words.

As Zhou Yaren struggled with the handful of ashes, a long wind swept through the air, and the Jingguan, silent for hundreds of years, let out a mournful and sorrowful cry.

The wailing startled Zhou Ya, sending chills down her spine. Her whole body felt numb, and she almost dropped the folding fan in her hand.

The gusts of wind swept into the Jingguan from all directions, penetrating the eyes, ears, mouths, and noses of tens of millions of corpses. The wind blew through the "seven orifices," and the skeletons that had turned into white bones and lay silent there emitted uneven cries, like the wails of ghosts.

The ghostly wails were truly terrifying and frightening. Bai Yuan glanced at the stunned Zhou Yaren and said, "There's no need to be so cowardly."

It wasn't cowardice, but Zhou Yaren didn't have time to argue with him at this moment: "This place is a place of evil spirits and calamities."

Even a blind man could see it, but Bai Yuan remained noncommittal: "It's a method of suppressing evil."

She paused: "The victors piled up the corpses, sealed them with earth to build a mound of corpses, and displayed the bodies to the public. Besides showing off their martial prowess and intimidating the enemy, sealing the enemy corpses was also to suppress the spirits of the defeated enemy's dead."

Bai Yuan stared at the ghastly white skeleton and the empty, dark eye sockets, as if witnessing a series of grotesque and terrifying deaths. A fierce aura emanated from the skull's eye sockets, and some skulls still had daggers and arrows stuck in them. She calmly said, "The battlefield is too bloody, and the resentment of those who die violently is hard to dispel, inevitably giving rise to malevolent corpses and ghosts. The foul air and plagues will become a scourge to mortals. So, corpses are gathered and sealed off, and mounds of corpses are built to suppress the souls of the dead. Over time, this place naturally becomes a wicked tomb prison for malevolent corpses and ghosts, and incidentally, it also imprisons those young women who died prematurely or recently within the gate."

The wind blowing through the corpse's orifice was called "ghostly wailing." When the entire mound of corpses began to wail and howl in unison, Zhou Ya was in a state of utter confusion: "This technique of suppressing evil spirits is nested within the formation's orifices, and it is clearly the work of a sorcerer."

After the Jingguan (a mound of ashes) "cried," the ashes were blown away by the wind and didn't come out to cause trouble for the time being. However, neither of them let their guard down and were wary of the troublesome little devil suddenly attacking.

"Who cares who created this evil spirit? It's been over a hundred years; the sorcerers and magicians are long gone..."

Before Bai Yuan could finish speaking, the Jingguan, which had been mourning peacefully, suddenly staged a "mountain-moving magic." The white bone skull embedded in the "mountain" appeared as if it had "come back to life," revealing a ferocious appearance, opening two rows of teeth that had long since rotted away, as if it wanted to eat people!

Bai Yuan almost thought he was seeing things. Before he could think it through, he flipped his hand and struck out with considerable force, but he only managed to break two of the skull's large front teeth—the skull was swallowed whole by the skull.

Zhou Yaren clearly hadn't expected this sudden turn of events, but unfortunately, she didn't have the power to cause any major upheavals.

Suddenly everything went black before their eyes, and they sensed danger lurking all around them. With perfect coordination, they sprang to their feet, back to back, and unleashed deadly attacks in all directions. Several powerful clangs of weapons clashing rang out, sparks flying.

"A deadly aura lurks within the murderous intent." Something pierced through the air, and Bai Yuan caught an arrowhead with his bare hands, which vanished instantly in his palm. The next instant, ghostly blue flames suddenly erupted around the mound of corpses, like the spreading smoke of war, and countless arrowheads were aimed at them!

“The death energy within the evil acupoint is not dissipated, and the killing intent is hard to dispel.” Zhou Yaren stared at the extremely sharp arrowheads, his muscles tensing up involuntarily. Although he had some knowledge of it, he was not good at Qimen formations and could not understand how the sorcerer who set up the formation had done it. In any case, he had used death energy and killing intent. “The Jingguan, which was sealed off by the ancient battlefield, formed such a killing formation.”

After saying this, Zhou Yaren leaped into the air, the long gust of wind she created swirling around the arrow that was piercing through the air.

The dense arrows flew like lightning.

Zhou Yaren's sudden gust of wind momentarily halted the rain of arrows. Bai Yuan, taking advantage of the wind, swept across the area, and the rain of arrows was immediately coated with a layer of white frost, melting away in mid-air.

In an instant, another volley of arrows followed.

Bai Yuan's heart sank, and his brows furrowed: "We must break this deadly trap."

Otherwise, even if they were worn down, they wouldn't be able to withstand wave after wave of arrows.

A storm swirled from Zhou Yaren's sleeve. He drew his flute from his waist, and amidst the dense thicket of arrows, he performed a complex hand seal. A few stray arrows pierced the storm and grazed his shoulder and ear. Zhou Yaren's eyes remained focused, his flute moving swiftly like a blur, before the mournful cries of the Jingguan (a mound of corpses) echoed softly.

The wind, like a silent mouth, conveys its message through the gentle murmur of melodies.

It is a trace of the wind, and there are records of it.

The wind blows in rhythm, and the blind ancestors of music convey their messages through sound.

The next moment, mournful notes resounded amidst the volley of arrows raining down on the Jingguan (a mound of corpses)...

The blind man looked up, staring at the dense rain of arrows, his pupils contracting.