These wretches had been locked in the Ghost Prison for tens of millions of years and subjected to countless tortures. Naturally, they were exceptionally savage and vicious, practically wreathed in killing intent. Though these Baleful Ghosts had no weapons and were in utter disarray, their sheer numbers let them hold their own against the Underworld's regular Ghost Soldiers. They had even gained the upper hand.
Behind this army of Baleful Ghosts stood a formation disk shrouded in shadow.
The powerful being known as the Holy Marshal sat high upon a throne.
The throne seemed to be made of countless skulls, along with gems, Bright Pearls, and pieces of White Jade as large as fists. Each seemed a treasure of the rarest quality in the mortal world.
Yet set among those skulls, they made one's hair stand on end.
Especially since every skull wore a hideous expression of extreme agony and seemed to writhe as though still alive.
Countless strands of black qi slithered like venomous snakes in and out of the skulls' eye sockets and gaping mouths, binding them tightly together into a seat.
A closer look revealed that all the black qi emanated from the Holy Marshal. Even the darkness blanketing the entire camp poured from his body.
He seemed the very embodiment of darkness. No ray of light could escape his grasp, and he radiated a mysterious, profound authority, both evil and cold.
Everyone kneeling before the Holy Marshal trembled.
Had Tang Changsheng been there to see them, he would have been horrified. The dozens, perhaps hundreds, kneeling on the ground were all Yang Spirits or True Immortals. Every one of them possessed tremendous power.
Most shocking of all, they were neither Demons nor Deities, much less Wizards. They were genuine cultivators, natives of Eastern Glory.
Yet for