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Around the Sacrificial Altar, thick, deathly pale mist formed a massive city wall, partitioning this otherworldly space.

Within the churning mist, densely packed black silhouettes stood in shadowy ranks, seemingly without end.

The air reeked with the nauseating stench of corpses.

In the dim light filtering down from some unknown source overhead, several enormous ghost birds with human faces circled low. They made no cries; only the dull sound of their skeletal wings beating the air could be heard.

From deep within the mist, occasional roars rang out, like the low sobbing of wild beasts.

Li Xiang and the others were surrounded.

Or rather, the instant they stepped into the area around the Sacrificial Altar, they had already fallen under the gaze of the Ghost Clan army.

A cursory glance revealed several hundred ghosts surrounding them. What allowed Lu Zaizhou to breathe a little easier, however, was that among those hundreds, only fifty or sixty were truly ink-solid Ghostmen radiating a piercing red glow.

The vast majority were First Realm and Second Realm Greater Ghosts and Lesser Ghosts, driven by the Ghostmen and lacking awakened intelligence.

"This is still within acceptable limits." Lu Zaizhou's expression was dark and still as water, the sword at his waist drawn half an inch from its sheath.

"Prepare for battle."

He was a direct descendant of the Lu Family, a lineage of Military Cultivators. He had studied military texts since childhood and thoroughly understood the art of battlefield formations.

With that command, an iron-blooded, murderous Military Might rose from his body.

For Military Cultivators, the First Realm was Soldier, the Second Realm Sergeant, and the Third Realm Commandant. A Commandant-level Military Cultivator could command an army and establish a Military Formation.

Lu Zaizhou's military might transformed into pale red mist and rapidly spread, connecting