The Ancestral Tomb of Wangzu Mountain

Eight figures stood towering around the altar, as imposing as Gods and Devils.

At the center of the altar, there were not three figures as expected, but only two.

One was a rock giant as large as a small mountain. His skin was grayish brown, like cooled lava, and covered in deep fissures. A faint crimson glow flowed through their depths.

He was bound by countless pitch-black chains, specially forged through Ghost Clan Secret Techniques. The chains dug deep into his rock body, which was as hard as refined metal, with a heart-chilling creak.

Every time he struggled, the altar trembled slightly. His thunderous, muffled roars echoed across the mountaintop, filled with furious indignation.

He was King Shanrong, a Titled True King captured through the Ghost Clan's schemes.

The other was a shadow, constantly twisting and changing shape.

He had no fixed form. At times, he coalesced into a hideous beast's head; at others, he spread into a dark expanse that swallowed light.

A shrill mental screech, as though from the depths of the netherworld, continuously spilled from the shadow's core, madly battering the rune chains that bound him in an attempt to taint and unravel them.

He, too, was a Titled True King, known as King Qianyin, a powerful outsider imprisoned by the Ghost Clan through secret arts.

Unlike King Shanrong, however, King Qianyin had not been captured by the Ghost Clan through some fortunate stroke of luck. He had once been one of their enshrined guests!

He had practically been one of their own!

In fact, during the years he served as an enshrined guest, his status had surpassed that of some Ghost Clan direct descendants. Naturally, he had lived in considerable comfort!

King Qianyin had once thought he could rely on the Ghost Clan's power to reach