Chapter 145: Version Shift Value: 50

At this moment, the Giant Spirit God no longer held even a trace of arrogance in his heart.

Lu Yan had forged a completely new path, one that neither blindly followed the will of Heaven nor went against the natural flow—an approach so profound that the Giant Spirit God was utterly convinced and awed.

Yet Lu Yan’s expression remained calm and unmoved. He merely shook his head and said lightly:

“The time has not yet come.”

As he spoke, his gaze turned toward the spiritual vein of Mount Beimang.

The Yin Soldiers who had departed from Luocheng had already returned to the spiritual ground. These armor-clad warriors, each gripping a Soul-Hooking Chain, dragged behind them countless spirits.

There were dead office workers still in uniform, faces haggard with dark circles…
There were girl-spirits with steel pipes still protruding from their chests…
There were tattered battlefield wraiths still gripping torn flags and broken armor…
And locked inside a soul-formed prison forged by the intertwining chains, the bloodstained general from the ancient battlefield exuded immense authority.

But the scene—which should have been one of a solemn, grim escort by the Underworld’s enforcers—was instead filled with… laziness.

Even the “captured” general yawned, bored out of his mind, as if he had just come back from some underworld cosplay convention rather than a brutal battlefield.

Lu Yan’s expression turned a bit strange. He issued a calm order:

“You may remove your disguises.”

As his words fell, a collective sigh of relief swept through the Yin Soldiers and spirits.

Wisps of ghostly energy rose from their bodies, and the disguises began to peel away.

Whether they had posed as modern souls or ancient wraiths, the ghostly shrouds faded to reveal the same dark-armored soul bodies beneath.

All of the “ghosts” had been Yin Soldiers in disguise from the very beginning.

Each of these Yin Soldiers had been modified by the Blood God, under Lu Yan’s orders, using advanced Yin Soldier transformation techniques.

With the assistance of the Giant Spirit God, the Blood God had spent several days mastering the key to transforming malevolent spirits into Yin Soldiers. He worked overtime to produce this first batch of three hundred cyber-Yin Soldiers.

These upgraded Yin Soldiers now possessed basic Soul Computer functionality—enhanced computing ability, independent thought, and complete control over their soul bodies.

With full control of their soul essence and the help of ghostly qi, they could disguise themselves as any form of spiritual entity.

Such disguises were so flawless that even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would have trouble detecting them, let alone ordinary people in the city.

It was precisely this trait that allowed Lu Yan to orchestrate the spectacle of the Hundred Ghosts March, as a way to counter the interference of the Urban Heavenly Dao.

Originally, Lu Yan had planned to have only a portion of the Yin Soldiers pose as ancient battlefield ghosts and clash with Yin enforcers in the city, capturing the drama from multiple angles to heighten the realism of the performance.

But after hearing this, the Giant Spirit God proposed a better idea.

“Human fear of spirits stems not only from legends, but more so from personal connections.”

“It could be a loved one, a friend… or even oneself. Anyone could become a ghost after death. That familiar yet unknowable horror is what truly makes ghosts terrifying.”

“If we only present ancient battlefield wraiths—no matter how strong—they’re too distant for most people to truly fear.”

“But if we research recent death records and have some Yin Soldiers pose as modern ghosts who have returned on the seventh day…”

“That kind of encounter will leave an immense psychological impact—especially for those watching from the sidelines. It becomes a signal: Heaven and Earth are changing, and death now comes with the possibility of soul rebirth. Who wouldn’t fear the re-emergence of the Underworld?”

And the Giant Spirit God was right.

Though the bloody ancient wraiths were initially the focus, once the shock wore off, people’s attention naturally shifted to the Yin Soldiers and the modern ghosts among them.

The very existence of modern spirits made people realize—they themselves could one day become one of those wandering souls.

Speculation and debates about modern ghosts flooded the internet.

Some believed the great fog had lifted the veil, allowing seventh-day spirits to appear in the mortal realm.

Others argued that both the fog around Mount Beimang and the mist in Luocheng had the same origin: the Netherworld.

There were even scholars digging into Daoist classics, writing lengthy dissertations to support their claims, with online arguments growing more intense by the hour.

Lu Yan skimmed through the online chatter, already drawing conclusions in his heart.

Looking up at the night sky, he could feel the malice from the Heavenly Dao above.

He sensed it clearly: as public attention surged and discussions soared, the Urban Heavenly Dao’s hostility was rapidly weakening.

And the reason was simple.

The cognitive tampering used by the Urban Heavenly Dao was no longer sustainable.

Each version of the Heavenly Dao varied in power depending on the version level. The Urban Version lacked supernatural power and was inherently one of the weaker systems.

Lu Yan had deliberately chosen to stir things up in the Urban Version because its Dao was weak.

Moreover, in a world shaped by development and peace, the Dao couldn’t act unless someone committed extreme karmic offenses. Without sufficient cause, it couldn’t intervene.

And Lu Yan himself was protected by the Xuanhuang Merit Flame, blessed by divine merit. The Urban Heavenly Dao had no means of delivering calamity upon him.

Thus, when he initiated the Spiritual Revival, the Dao could only react defensively—by suppressing public interest and launching a worldwide cognitive override, erasing all information related to Mount Beimang.

Sensing this countermeasure, Lu Yan devised this entire self-directed and self-acted plan.

Cognitive tampering essentially meant hiding Mount Beimang from everyone’s awareness—but it didn’t erase the memories from their souls. With enough external stimulation, memory could resurface.

The Dao then guided various factions to suppress all mentions of Mount Beimang and purge the internet of related content.

Once cognition was blocked and no physical traces remained, the possibility of spreading Spiritual Revival news was nearly wiped out.

But Lu Yan carved his own path.

Through the spectacle of the Hundred Ghosts March and the Yin Soldiers’ Crossing, he used the most visceral shock possible to announce the return of the spiritual age.

The overwhelming surge of information, aided by the Giant Spirit God’s secret manipulations to bypass censorship, ensured the videos were delivered directly to the public eye, driving the buzz to its absolute peak.

As the videos spread, so too did the recovery of Mount Beimang in public consciousness.

Even if memory had been blocked, the sheer flood of data across billions of users overwhelmed the Dao’s cognitive override.

In that instant, it was as if invisible shackles shattered—and the aura of the Urban Heavenly Dao abruptly declined.

Then, a notification popped up before Lu Yan’s eyes:

[Version Shift Value: 50%]

(End of Chapter)