Chapter 288: River Styx and the Undying King

That emotionless question, cold as the sharpest winter wind, instantly shattered the shock and stupor within the Inquisition. In its place surged an overwhelming dread—chilling them to their very core, stirring disbelief and terror.

It was as if an invisible hammer had slammed down upon them. Awakened from their bystander mindset, every face twisted into a look of utter horror, as if they had just seen a ghost.

“Impossible!” cried a senior Inquisitor in panic, his voice even trembling. “This is absolutely impossible!”

“The Void Scrying Mirror is a Grade-One sealed artifact! Its core is derived from the extraordinary trait of a fallen Sequence Three Seer. In theory, it can observe all things and possesses unmatched concealment.

How could anyone possibly perceive the mirror’s view—or worse, use it to transmit information back to us?” another red-robed archbishop muttered, his face ashen, his understanding of high-grade artifacts completely upended.

“This being who called himself the Ten Yama Kings… what Sequence is he?

And is ‘Ten Yama Kings’ a title held by a single entity, or are there actually nine others just as powerful within the Underworld?”

One question after another piled on them like stones, leaving everyone breathless.

To ignore the vision of a Grade-One sealed artifact and reverse-track it—that kind of might went far beyond any known Sequence Three being.

Was it Sequence Two? Or even higher?

While the Inquisition reeled in panic, far beyond their perception, Lu Yan sat quietly within the divine hall of Fengdu City.

Inside this vast, ancient palace, no physical figures stood. Only divine phantoms loomed—vague yet towering, exuding the majesty of the Celestial Divine Court.

Lu Yan did not sit upon the supreme throne of the Fengdu Emperor. His seat was one of the Ten Yama Kings, positioned just below the highest.

The being that had manifested within the Grand Tomb, summoning the Yellow Springs and striking down all in judgment, the one who turned to gaze directly upon the Inquisition—that Yama King had been none other than Lu Yan’s disguise.

All of this had been part of Lu Yan’s plan.

From the moment he used the Soul-Watching Eye in the police bureau, he had seen the tangled cause and effect behind the Council of the Dead.

The faint signs of interference from the Church of Steam confirmed his suspicion that this entire situation was a test from the Church itself.

Faced with such probing, Lu Yan did not hesitate. He mobilized the Underworld Legion and unleashed a devastating strike upon the Council of the Dead.

Yet, throughout this operation, he deliberately avoided revealing his true strength.

He cleverly used the Yin Soldier army and the rules of the Underworld Realm to suppress the Council’s middle and lower tiers.

Only when the Speaker—Sequence Three, the Ferryman—awoke and threatened to shift the tide did Lu Yan act personally.

Even then, he did not descend in his true form. Instead, he appeared as a Yama King, using the Yellow Springs Formation formed by six thousand Yin Soldiers as a temporary medium and coordinate anchor to channel the Yellow Springs Law.

Even before the Underworld Realm’s ascension, this law could destroy Nascent Soul Dao Lords.

Now, after its expansion and the forging of the Celestial Divine Court, the Yellow Springs Rule had only grown stronger.

Normally, laws belonging to the Underworld Realm would weaken when projected outside.

But the Grand Tomb—its death field and the River Styx-like illusions—shared a similar nature with the Underworld Realm.

With the Yellow Springs Formation sealing the tomb, Lu Yan had created a space almost identical to his home domain, enabling the full force of Yellow Springs Law to descend.

Thus, with a single attack, the Ferryman and the millions of undead within the tomb were erased—swept into the ever-flowing Yellow Springs.

After this, Lu Yan could’ve simply withdrawn his power and left.

But sensing the Church of Steam’s constant, fly-like prying, he decided to turn the tables. He would use this divine manifestation to plant terror in their hearts.

The Void Scrying Mirror, as a Grade-One artifact, was indeed exceptional. Its concealment was nearly flawless.

However, the moment it focused its gaze upon the Yin Soldiers and projected the image of the Yama King that Lu Yan had disguised himself as—a causal link was formed.

To Lu Yan, this link was enough. He simply followed the trail and located the mirror and its observers.

That world-shaking glance across dimensions had been the result of precise calculation.

Back in the divine hall, Lu Yan raised a hand.

He had no intention of tearing apart the Church of Steam—at least not yet.

Their accumulated strength from tens of thousands of years far exceeded the current Underworld’s foundations.

But teaching them a painful lesson for spying? That, he could do easily.

In his palm, a Great Divine Power began to circulate—the Art of Reversing Creation and Transformation.

Between his fingers, a grinding wheel slowly manifested—filled with the breath of destruction and unity.

This was the full intent of the World-Ending Millstone—a manifestation of the law that reduced all things in the universe to their purest essence.

Ordinary shows of power might not faze the experienced Inquisition members.

But the aura of a high-level concept like annihilation—even the faintest trace—would invoke primal dread and reverence.

And that was exactly what Lu Yan needed: time to spread the Underworld’s faith across the Northern Continent and beyond.

In the Yama King’s phantom eyes, the energy of annihilation began to gather.

At the exact same moment, back in the depths of the Steam Cathedral, every member of the Inquisition—regardless of Sequence—felt a terror unlike anything before.

A despair like the end of the world swept in through the mirror.

As the millstone of annihilation formed fully in the Yama King’s eyes…

Suddenly, a distant sound—like the ancient rushing of a river—echoed above the Grand Tomb.

Splashhhh—

A vast, dead-gray river, source and destination unknown, tore through the void.

It was neither wholly real nor entirely illusory—an embodiment of myth, of the boundary between life and death.

And in its reflection, the tomb that had just been devoured by the Yellow Springs… began to revive.

Corpses and undead—reduced to nothing just moments ago—were forcibly pulled back from eternal oblivion.

This astonishing sight stunned even Lu Yan. And in the Inquisition, terrified gazes snapped back to the mirror.

“That’s… the River Styx!” one knight gasped, pupils constricted.

“The River Styx? That place really exists?” someone exclaimed in disbelief.

“Fools,” an older archbishop snapped. Though his tone was harsh, his face was pale. “The River Styx is very real. It is the true source of the Path of the Dead—its conceptual embodiment!”

“Its appearance means the entity who commands it is about to descend.”

“Who could it be?”

“Who else?” The Chief Inquisitor’s face was grim, his voice heavy as stone.
“It is the Master of the River Styx, the origin of the Path of the Dead—the Undying King!”

At his words, from within that river, a skeletal figure emerged.

Clad in eternal-night robes and wielding a massive scythe, the Undying King stepped into the world.

His appearance caused sealed zero-grade artifacts beneath the cathedral to tremble violently.

All Saints aligned with the Council of the Dead—Sequence Four or lower—collapsed in an instant, their power drained completely.

Even ancient coffins hidden across the city began to shake violently, ready to burst open.

The boundary between life and death shattered at that moment.

“Why? Why is the Undying King descending in person? What happened in the tomb?”

“It’s an evil god descending! Prepare the Sanctum defenses!”

“Awaken the Hidden Angel now!”

The Church of Steam’s core facilities erupted into chaos. Alarms blared, orders flew, and panic reigned.

But the Undying King ignored them.

He didn’t even glance at the revived tomb or the lingering Yellow Springs energy.

His hollow gaze locked directly onto the Yama King’s projection.

In those lifeless sockets, greed began to burn.

“So it was you… who disrupted my anchor of faith.”

The Undying King’s voice was dry, like metal scraping metal. Each syllable radiated a piercing chill.

“Very well. You will repay me… with your Death Authority!”

Before his voice faded, his massive scythe was raised high.

And with a motion that split the heavens—he brought it down!

WHOOOSH!

The River Styx followed his strike, becoming a gray torrent.

This was not just a physical attack—it carried rules that reversed life and erased all things.

The Undying King’s descent plunged the Church into apocalyptic dread.

Yet within the Underworld Realm, Lu Yan remained still—expressionless upon his divine throne.

He could sense it clearly: the Undying King, through his fusion with the Styx, had reached a level above mere mortals.

In this world, he was a Sequence Two—an Earthbound Angel.

In Lu Yan’s previous cultivation world, he would be akin to one of the Ten True Disciples of the Taiyi Sect.

And yet, Lu Yan could also detect a faint trace of This World’s Sole Existence in him.

Clearly, the Undying King had not only seized the root of the Path of the Dead—he had also stolen a fragment of the River Styx’s metaphysical authority.

This made him the strongest enemy Lu Yan had encountered beneath the level of a true Sole Existence.

But Lu Yan felt no fear.

Because the Undying King had misunderstood everything.

He believed the Yama King and the Underworld to be mere holders of death-related authority.

And he sought only to steal that authority.

He had no idea what he was truly facing was not a power—but a fully formed Celestial Divine Court with its own rules and order!

SHRRIP—

As the scythe’s strike tore the void, the rift above the tomb expanded—revealing a sliver of the Underworld Realm within.

“Hahaha! I’ve found you!”

With glee and greed, the Undying King stepped through, entering the domain he believed was ripe for conquest.

But in that instant—the Underworld trembled.

Not from attack.

But from the Divine Court’s supreme order activating on its own.

A blinding radiance spread across the heavens—a sun of law and dominance.

The Undying King’s triumphant smile froze.

The Divine Court’s rules were like a standalone Heaven’s Will.

At full power, even true Sole Existences could be suppressed.

The sliver of divinity he had stolen now seemed pathetically fragile.

His greed was swallowed by primal terror.

Upon the divine throne, Lu Yan raised his right hand.

Above the Underworld, a colossal hand—beyond comprehension—materialized.

It descended.

Not even fusion with the River Styx could protect the Undying King.

In the Inquisition, what they saw next was beyond horror.

From the rift torn by the Undying King, a greater, even more terrifying power exploded forth.

The once-arrogant Undying King now fled—his body broken, his river shattered, his sockets wide with panic.

But from that trembling rift, an infinite hand reached out.

It ignored all resistance, grabbed his massive skeletal form—and the River Styx—and dragged both back into the unknown.

The Yama King’s image faded.

The rift slowly closed.

And all was silent once more.

In the Inquisition, every Church elder stood dumbfounded.

(End of Chapter)