Yue Qianchou's long green robe fluttered and swayed wildly beneath the howling, mournful Yin wind. He remained unmoved, his gaze settling on the relief carvings upon the pitch-black gate. Old men, children, men, and women wore different expressions, their joy, anger, sorrow, and delight lifelike as though they were all facing him alone, telling him something.
With a hum, seven-colored radiance blossomed within this underground world of mournful Yin wind. Samadhi True Fire enveloped Yue Qianchou's entire body, as solid as substance, unruffled by the wind.
Yue Qianchou's expression was solemn. He did not know whether this could completely seal the Netherworld passage, nor did he know whether it was right. But he knew that this ghost gate connecting to the mortal world was far too unfair to the living beings of the mortal world. Should the ghost cultivators within become unhappy, the creatures of the mortal world would suffer.
"Right or wrong, since the affairs of the world are ever-changing, then I shall wield Heaven's punishment in its stead! Whether it is merit or fault, I'll bear it alone!"
His great vow, like one attaining Buddhahood on the spot—or perhaps becoming a demon—rang out abruptly through the underground space. The skull reliefs in the surrounding walls of Nether Iron immediately boomed and echoed his words, their sound endlessly lingering like the wondrous chants of myriad truths. An indescribable sense of solemn majesty suddenly rose in Hong Tailong's heart. He swept his gaze around, yet had no idea how this sound had come to be.
Yue Qianchou had already struck the gate with his palm. The Samadhi True Fire covering his body shot furiously out along his arm, forcing back the mournful Yin wind blowing forth. A seven-colored wall of flame covered the entire Netherworld Gate. The relief-carved heads upon