Half a year later, above a scorched-yellow mountain forest.
Dark clouds blanketed the sky, and the mountains remained barren. The wounds left upon the earth by the ten suns rising together had yet to fully heal, though fresh life had already begun to hide away within the forests.
Yan Ju did not set up an altar. He merely gazed over the desolate land, eighteen command flags appearing in his hand. With a slight exertion, cold black shadows filled the mountains and forests, stretching as far as the eye could see. Every shadow was wreathed in yin energy so dense it seemed tangible.
Among them were no shortage of powerful ones comparable to ordinary gods.
There were hundreds of thousands of them.
Yin energy surged gloomily, endless chills dispersing through the air, as though frost were forming over the earth and forests. One shuddered at the sight.
Yan Ju's gaze shifted as he watched the scene, and with a casual wave, he drew them back into the command flags.
These yin soldiers and ghost generals had all been selected and refined from the Banner of Myriad Spirits. Most had been chosen from among those whose blood-baleful aura was not particularly dense. As for those burdened by excessive slaughter karma, he had not kept them. They could wait to suffer in hell later.
The following several years passed in Yan Ju's refinement.
Though the yin souls and evil entities between heaven and earth had endured two world-ending heavenly calamities—especially the later calamity of heavenly fire, which had wiped out countless numbers of them, with most directly having their souls scattered and spirits extinguished by the terrifying Solar True Fire—some still remained. Some had found objects to cling to, while others had concealed themselves in special lands of yin balefulness.
Even if only