In the realm of Erqiu, East Asia, beneath Wushan in the Yangtze Gorges, lay the Corpse Emperor's Earthly Palace.

Plunging a hundred li down a vertical shaft barely ten zhang in diameter, one would arrive at a colossal cavern shrouded in swirling, oppressive black miasma, bound tightly by thousands of restrictive formations. This place was saturated with Yin-evil corpse qi drawn directly from the Nine Hells, a vapor so potent that even an immortal who had weathered countless tribulations would be momentarily stunned upon contact.

Traveling inward from the black crystal archway marking the cavern's entrance, the wide thoroughfare paved with black jade was lined by armored warriors clad in metal cuirasses spanning every dynasty from the Han onward. These towering figures, with their strangely colored skin and patches of coarse, varying fur, possessed eyes that glowed with a faint, spectral fire. Malicious, chilling qi erupted wildly from their forms, coalescing above their heads into a vast canopy of black cloud. The pervasive corpse qi of the palace continuously fed their dantians, causing small black vortices to spiral around their bodies.

After advancing more than ten li down the corridor, the figures moving in and out were robed Daoists, their skin tones similar to ordinary mortals but their entire beings steeped in deathly stillness. Male and female alike, their every movement was stiff and dry, resembling rusted automatons. Occasionally, one would stumble to the ground with a dull thud, only to slowly, painstakingly, drag themselves back up after a considerable pause.

Several more li inward, past a hall constructed entirely of jet-black human bones named the "Hall of Ten Thousand Corpses," brought them to a massive training ground.

Some nimble Daoists in grey robes focused intently upon practicing arcane spells in the field. With their incantations, torrents of viscous, black venom sprayed forth, arcs of grey nether-lightning danced in the air, and ghostly flames and sinister qi rose from the very earth. Though these unorthodox methods deviated from righteous paths, their destructive power could not be underestimated.

In a corner of the training ground, two young Daoists were energetically waving black bone staffs, chanting incantations with palpable tension.

Gradually, several small holes cracked open in the training ground’s floor, and a few ragged, ash-white skeletons, clutching tattered bone swords, clawed their way out of the earth. These skeletons peered around curiously, their jaws clicking open with a dry cā-cā sound, before cheerfully circling the two grey-robed Daoists.

Yan Jiang, clad in a red Daoist robe and sporting a perpetually mournful expression, happened to step out of the Hall of Ten Thousand Corpses just then. His gaze, deep and shadowed, swept across the entire training ground, landing squarely on the two grey-robed novices. Observing the small skeletons darting around them, Yan Jiang was so enraged his hair instantly stood on end. With a piercing shriek, he launched himself upward, gliding gracefully over twenty zhang high before swooping behind the two Daoists, delivering a powerful kick squarely to their posteriors.

The two Daoists yelped as they were sent flying dozens of zhang away. Yan Jiang immediately charged, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks. The terrified Daoists screamed, "Second Senior Brother, we dare not again!" while desperately rolling and scrambling around the field, shielding their heads. A few foolish little skeletons, oblivious to the danger, followed the Daoists in their panicked flight, infuriating Yan Jiang further. His blows landed with greater force, making the bones of the two Daoists rattle audibly.

"You two damned, ancestry-forsaking wretches! Ah, you refuse to practice our sect's supreme arts, yet you dare learn the necromancy of the Pantheon Alliance? Scoundrels! Base wretches! If First Senior Brother were here, he’d freeze you in the Underworld Cold Spring for thirty years to vent his anger! It's only been three days since a beating, and now you’re already climbing the rafters! Your wings have hardened, have they?"

Yan Jiang’s strikes were like heavy artillery. After a brief, desperate flight, the two Daoists were finally slammed onto the ground by his heavy blows. Furious, Yan Jiang delivered several vicious kicks to their fleeing backsides and roared, "If I catch you dabbling in these heretical tricks again, neglecting your proper duties, I will ask Master to apply family discipline!"

The two grey-robed Daoists huddled, howling pitifully, "We dare not again! We dare not again!"

Yan Jiang glared at them in exasperation, then kicked the cluster of dilapidated skeleton soldiers into fragments. With a grim face, he walked across the training ground and proceeded deeper into the palace complex.

The front and rear sections of the Corpse Emperor's residence were separated by a bottomless abyss, its void filled with the primordial Netherworld Deep-Earth Great Magnetic Lines. Regardless of one's cultivation level or the magical artifacts one piloted, crossing this chasm was impossible without the might of a Golden Immortal. The sole means of passage was the Nine-Bend Heaven-Connecting Bridge, an ancient secret treasure inadvertently acquired by the founder of the Nine Hells Path. This artifact possessed no offensive or defensive capabilities, its singular talent being the unraveling of all naturally formed absolute prohibitions and the breaking of all formations and arrays.

Yan Jiang reached the edge of the abyss and called out several times toward the opposite side, several li distant. Several Corpse Generals, entirely clad in pale gold, who were seated vigilantly at a narrow pass across the way, glanced over. One of them, standing about twenty zhang tall and armored like a Qin Dynasty general, let out a few low roars and swept his hand forward, releasing a dazzling stream of golden light.

This light transformed into a massive, winding, nine-bend dragon, which coiled its way across the abyss in the blink of an eye, manifesting a magnificent, glorious golden bridge a hundred zhang wide. Yan Jiang cautiously stepped onto the structure, following the barely visible, shimmering silver line down the center of the bridge, moving forward with deliberate slowness. Though the bridge spanned barely a few li, Yan Jiang spent nearly a quarter of an hour traversing it before reaching the other side.

He cupped his hands toward the Corpse Generals and smiled politely, "Thank you for your trouble, sirs..."

The Corpse Generals glared fiercely at Yan Jiang, their movements rapid as they surrounded him. All of them simultaneously extended their hands before him.

With a helpless, wry smile, Yan Jiang glanced around furtively, quickly retrieving a dozen stunned wild beasts—mountain boars, wild oxen, and striped fierce tigers—from his storage bag and tossing them over.

The Corpse Generals cried out excitedly, scrambling to snatch the beasts. The tallest general waved his hand, retracting the Nine-Bend Heaven-Connecting Bridge, and, seemingly satisfied, cleared a path.

Shaking his head, Yan Jiang pointed at the generals and sneered, "Eat! Continue eating! As long as you cannot break free from the craving for blood-food, you will never achieve true mastery in this lifetime. No wonder Master says the Nine Hells Path has countless disciples, but only First Senior Brother and I have truly entered the inner circle. You, sirs, are our elders, yet your thirst for slaughter remains so fierce?"

"Hmph," the Corpse Generals retorted, rolling their eyes and refusing to look at Yan Jiang. They eagerly settled back into their spots, seizing the beasts and biting directly into their necks.

Yan Jiang shook his head again and proceeded along the path ahead.

Ahead lay a region of hazy, gray mist, teeming with countless twisting and swirling spirits and wandering souls. Faintly audible were the agonizing cries of fierce souls and malevolent spirits dragged from the eighteen levels of hell. Yan Jiang swiftly formed a hand seal to calm his mind, cautiously approaching the mist before plunging headfirst into it.

What appeared impenetrably thick from the outside was, in reality, as thin as a strand of hair. With a faint crisp sound, the light before Yan Jiang suddenly flared brilliantly.

He found himself in a classic Jiangnan garden-style palace complex. Six great halls stood in sequence, flanked by exquisitely crafted gardens on the left and right. Daylight streamed down from above—though whence this sunlight originated was unclear—illuminating surrounding green trees and soaring birds. Several groups of charming young serving maids laughed merrily as they chased each other among the flowers and foliage. Among these maids, prettier than blooming flowers and more fragrant than jade, staggered a dozen small demons, no taller than half a foot, their faces contorted in ferocious grimaces.

"Roar!" A deep dragon's cry echoed from the side. A five-clawed divine dragon, over a thousand zhang long, draped itself forward slowly, trailing a chilling, malevolent qi. Only its head retained any semblance of wholeness; its eyes spewed emerald green ghost-fire dozens of zhang long. Its entire body, however, was stripped bare of flesh, leaving only a golden skeleton that appeared cast from pure gold. With a kacha sound, this bizarre ghost dragon lumbered across the pathway, incidentally sweeping its tail and sending Yan Jiang tumbling over thirty somersaults.

"Great Dragon, you..." Yan Jiang cursed vehemently after seeing the colossal five-clawed bone dragon.

The bone dragon abruptly stopped, turning its head to bare its teeth at Yan Jiang with a grin. "Your Great Dragon has fallen to this state, true, but your Great Dragon's mother should still be lively and kicking. If you have the guts, go find her and speak those insults to her face?"

Yan Jiang threw up both hands and immediately sprinted wildly back down the path. This bone dragon was the ancestral guardian beast left by the founder of the Nine Hells Path; its cultivation level was truly unfathomable. Yan Jiang had personally witnessed it undergo the Ghost Immortal Heavenly Tribulation once. If not for the heavy oath it swore never to emerge unless the Nine Hells Path faced annihilation, this single creature could likely sweep the entire current Asian Dao Alliance alone.

"Though, perhaps not," Yan Jiang muttered to himself as he ran. "Who knows what formidable assassins the Kunlun Dao Sect might have on hand?"

Deep within the final chamber of the six great halls, entirely crimson and bearing a plaque inscribed "Corpse God Hall," the Corpse Emperor, dressed in greyish-white robes, slowly picked up nine palm-sized, pale-gold tortoise shells from the floor. After muttering a silent prayer over them while holding them against his heart, he painstakingly and cautiously scattered the shells onto the ground.

With a series of delicate ding-ding-dāng sounds, all nine shells landed backs upward, revealing nine distinct and clearly visible Bagua symbols.

"Great Fortune, Great Fortune again! These two little brats, their luck this time is so strong it makes this Seat jealous," the Corpse Emperor said happily, slowly gathering the nine shells and tucking them into his sleeve. Just then, the great doors of the hall were shoved open by Yan Jiang, who stumbled in breathlessly.

"So impatient?" the Corpse Emperor cast a sidelong glance at Yan Jiang.

"Ah, Master, it's nothing. Great Dragon was teasing people again," Yan Jiang spread his hands in resignation and bowed respectfully to the Corpse Emperor. After paying his respects, he reported, "News just arrived from the Federal Military Department: Prince Heso-Jin of Roman has joined the fray, and the situation in the Thirteenth War Zone is dire. Director Siren of the Federal Special Operations Bureau has already led the Federal Awakened Forces into battle."

After a moment of silence, the Corpse Emperor stood up, turning to face the massive altar in the center of the hall, upon which hundreds of palm-sized Primordial Spirit Life Tablets were densely arranged.

All the tablets were intact, save for one inscribed with the characters "Miao Hua." This specific tablet shone with a brilliant red light that erupted over ten zhang high.

"Such powerful fortune! What a pity, what a pity. Because Xie Chen cannot cultivate the Dao, he did not leave a Primordial Spirit Life Tablet here, otherwise we would know his current condition," the Corpse Emperor sighed softly. "However, since Miao Hua is safe and has encountered the greatest opportunity of his fate, Xie Chen must also be well."

Hearing this, Yan Jiang joyfully took a few steps forward and laughed, "It’s good that Senior Brother is fine. Without him, this residence feels quite dull, Master."

"Hm?" The Corpse Emperor glared sharply at Yan Jiang.

Yan Jiang ducked his neck and quickly corrected himself, "Master, this residence truly is an earthly paradise, hehe, making one linger endlessly. Uh, your disciple just received some intelligence."

The Corpse Emperor looked at Yan Jiang, who then relayed the information he had gathered.

When Gu Xie Chen calculated the trajectory of the Roman exploratory fleet, he had dispatched a secondary fleet alongside the Honghuang-class battleship. The Honghuang was caught in temporal turbulence, but the secondary fleet remained unharmed. The fleet was commanded by a veteran from the Hardwood Defense Company, experienced in handling emergencies. Seeing the Honghuang-class vessel swept into subspace without resistance, he immediately ordered the entire fleet to retreat, dispatching high-speed communication vessels back to Earth to report the situation with utmost speed, while he personally led the fleet to search for Gu Xie Chen's whereabouts.

The misfortune was that the communication vessels, en route back to Earth, were struck by the seated Buddha warship belonging to the Red Dragon King and were instantly shattered.

That fleet searched the area where Gu Xie Chen vanished for over half a year, entering subspace nearly a hundred times. They nearly mapped out every star route in that sector but still found no trace of Gu Xie Chen or his companions. With supplies exhausted and no recourse, the fleet returned to the Earth Federation three hours ago.

"Master, it was the Roman Red Dragon King who acted personally," Yan Jiang retreated a few steps, watching the Corpse Emperor cautiously.

The Corpse Emperor’s body stiffened abruptly. He stared blankly at Yan Jiang, then suddenly sneered, "The Red Dragon King acted personally?"

Yan Jiang spoke quickly, "There is video evidence from the battle recorders. The Red Dragon King’s Black Buddha warship has a unique design; no one could mistake it."

The Corpse Emperor leaped nearly eight zhang high, shaking his fists at the sky and roaring, spewing all manner of vulgarities for a solid quarter of an hour. Finally, the Corpse Emperor landed, stomping the ground so hard the entire Corpse God Hall trembled. "Bastard! The Romans have actively torn up the Declaration of Isolation! Issue the Corpse God Edict: mobilize all disciples of the Nine Hells Path to prepare for war! Issue the Dao Alliance Order: summon all Grandmasters of the Alliance for deliberation!" the Corpse Emperor roared in fury. "How dare he lay a hand on my disciple, the Corpse Emperor? Ha! He fought me to a draw in the Battle of Jiu San; does he think I am still the man I was then?"

Veins bulged beneath the Corpse Emperor’s skin, and two beams of sharp light shot several zhang from his eyes. He ground his white teeth until they gā-bēng cracked.

Ghouls are inherently tyrannical and savage; even a Great Master of the Void Realm like the Corpse Emperor, once his ferocity is stoked, becomes lawless and eager for chaos.

The Red Dragon King stooping to attack a junior—this had thoroughly enraged the Corpse Emperor.

"I knew those Romans were untrustworthy!" the Corpse Emperor muttered furiously to himself. "Only dead Romans are good Romans!"

A rain of encrypted message talismans shot out from the Corpse Emperor's residence in all directions. The Asian Dao Alliance mobilized instantly.