"Damn it, why isn't that guy running yet!" Old Liu, seasoned by countless battles, felt a bead of sweat for the Headless Ferryman as he and Ye Xiu found themselves inexplicably watching the scene unfold as mere spectators.

Ye Xiu watched the battle with intense focus. Just as the Ferryman swung his scythe, severing all the Great Mosquito’s wings, the colossal insect suddenly twisted its body, enveloping the Ferryman entirely within its numerous limbs. Having lost its wings, the Mosquito couldn't maintain balance either, and the two monstrous figures tumbled from the sky together, spiraling toward the deadly black water below.

"Sploosh..." Following a series of impacts, massive waves of black water surged outward. Although Ye Xiu and Old Liu were thrown close to the shattered boat, they couldn't escape the sudden deluge, being slammed onto the shore by the black water waves. At that moment, Ye Xiu felt an intense chill envelop him, leaving his entire face numb.

"Good thing we still have our Ice Crystal protection, or we’d have frozen to death!" Old Liu also crashed heavily onto the bank. When he looked back towards the center of the black water, it was eerily calm.

Isn't this the very end of the Styx River I was trying to reach? Ye Xiu stood up and shook his head. The glowing aperture he’d been seeking was now right behind them. Ye Xiu couldn't call it excitement; it was more like profound confusion. "Old Liu, we didn't even touch the Great Mosquito, and the surface of the black water suddenly solidified—what was that about?"

Old Liu shook his head, finding nothing that could adequately explain the experience they had just endured. "Perhaps the fight between that Mosquito and the Ferryman plays out repeatedly in this Styx River. After all, Ancestor Minghe and the Six-Winged Mosquito Daoist are eternal rivals. What we saw should just be a reenactment of the past."

A reenactment of the past? Meaning this confrontation between the two entities might have been ongoing for ages, ages untold! Ye Xiu tilted his head, musing over the thought. "If what we just witnessed was an echo from the past, how do we explain the falling debris stirred up by the Mosquito’s thrashing earlier, or those black water waves just now? We were physically battered by those waves and thrown onto this bank."

"Shhh!" Old Liu signaled Ye Xiu to be quiet, pointing a finger toward the placid surface of the black water. "Bubbles! Could it be those two aren't dead yet!"

Ye Xiu held his breath, gazing silently at the dark water. Indeed, several small bubbles were rising from the center. They grew from small to large, shifting from sparse to dense. The most baffling part was that these bubbles began to swim, moving like fish, drawing closer and closer to the pair.

"It's fine, this must also be a residual image of the past," Old Liu tried to steady his nerves, yet he shuffled instinctively behind Ye Xiu, muttering, "If anything happens, remember to blast it back into the black water with the Violet Flame."

Ye Xiu cursed Old Liu’s cowardice inwardly, but at that critical juncture, his own body inexplicably stiffened on the spot. Forget lifting a hand to use the Violet Flame; he felt incapable of even blinking.

"Ah!" Old Liu's startled cry, coming from one who knew the ancient Dao, was enough to indicate the sheer strangeness of the situation. He fell backward onto the ground, his legs kicking futilely at the pebbles on the shore.

Every muscle in Ye Xiu’s body churned, yet he couldn't move an inch. As the bubbles finally neared the bank, a ragged, coarse cloth cloak slowly rose from the water. Adhered to it were the wings the Mosquito had dropped earlier, along with thick, dark blood dragged up from the Styx abyss. As the garment ascended, the surrounding water dripped away, and Ye Xiu clearly saw the Ferryman’s purely black scythe, glinting with a strange violet light, positioned before the cloth. When the scythe fully emerged from the water, Ye Xiu saw a pair of withered hands firmly grasping the handle, slowly presenting it toward him.

Was this the same Headless Ferryman from before? Ye Xiu should have confirmed it sooner. The missing head and the tattered garment were irrefutable proof. But now, half his body was sunken into the black water, while the other half seemed to be reverently offering the black scythe to him.

"The Evil Ghost submits..." Old Liu walked over to Ye Xiu’s side, eyes wide. He wasn't looking at Ye Xiu but staring in utter astonishment at the half-bodied Ferryman. His voice trembled with fear. "Death God Ye Xiu, just what kind of being are you? This Ferryman is the direct, flesh-and-blood inheritor of Ancestor Minghe. Yet, he so easily bows down to you and offers his weapon, disregarding the dignity of the Asura founder!"

As Old Liu spoke, Ye Xiu’s body finally returned to his control. He lowered his head, looking at the seemingly kneeling Ferryman, completely bewildered. "I don't know what kind of being I am. I want to know why he has appeared before me in this posture."

"Anyone accepted by an Evil Ghost faces Heavenly Condemnation," Old Liu shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. According to his understanding of Daoist lore, an Evil Ghost, especially a Ghost King like Ancestor Minghe, had no reason to submit to anyone. He wondered aloud, "When a mortal bows to a god, the god grants blessings; when a mortal bows to a ghost, the ghost bestows a curse. Now that an Evil Ghost bows to the Death God, it can only mean it submits to your absolute power."

"No, no! That’s impossible. I’m just a minor Death God. What absolute power? This entity must have mistaken me. I won't accept the Death God’s Scythe," Ye Xiu didn't want to bear any consequences or responsibilities. What exactly was this farce Ancestor Minghe was enacting?

"There is no alternative; this is the choice of the Evil Ghost, and you cannot refuse it." Old Liu, being a righteous Daoist practitioner, believed any Evil Ghost must be eradicated.

Ye Xiu still hesitated, wanting to retreat but unable to move his feet. Or perhaps, deep within his core, he believed in some mysterious power he possessed. He extended his hand, slowly reaching toward the hilt of the scythe that pulsed with violet light. At that moment, Ye Xiu felt a jolt, as if struck by lightning, and past scenes flashed through his mind.

Countless people had perished around Ye Xiu; these people might have been his friends in life, as the Death God always accompanied them through their final moments. His master, the High God, sat calmly in the dark underground chamber—Ye Xiu couldn't make out his features, but from Ye Xiu's fully completed performance report, he knew his master smiled as he bestowed the Violet Flame upon him. The dreamscape—the hand emerging from the darkness back then—also appeared now, yet it didn't seem to belong to any specific person; it was reaching out from the scythe itself, intending to grasp Ye Xiu, not the other way around. A world engulfed in fiery sandstorms, a world wracked by earthquakes, countless grotesque figures and strange sights assaulted a single gate, which finally shattered. The world ruled by the Death God, Feng Mi, had finally collapsed—a fallen lineage...