Invincibility Begins with a Super Fairy Manny

Chapter 1350: Chapter 1347: Battlefield (1st Update)

Because this world was situated right next to the Ghost Realm, traversing here did not take much time.

Moreover, with his growing strength, Xue An now found it effortless to handle such short-distance void traversals.

Finally—

Within the chaotic currents of the void, a barrier emitting a faint gray radiance emerged at last.

Xue An’s gaze flickered. He immediately recognized it as the boundary of the Ghost Realm and quickened his pace, charging straight ahead.

There was no sound.

The spatial barrier, like a delicate soap bubble, presented no obstacle as Xue An passed right through it.

But the moment he crossed the barrier, an overwhelmingly intense scent of blood assailed his senses.

The stench was so potent that it surged through his nostrils and seemed to penetrate deep into his lungs, leaving him nauseated.

What made it even more peculiar was a decayed, mildewed odor intermingling with the metallic stench of blood.

It was like the smell of countless masses of flesh piled together, fermented over eons, and then abruptly unearthed.

Even Xue An furrowed his brow at the offensive odor, waving his hand to isolate himself from the stench.

At this moment, Xue An stood suspended in the air, with a vast stretch of sloping ground beneath his feet.

When he took a closer look at the ground below, even someone as experienced as him couldn’t help but feel his scalp tighten, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

The earth, soaked in darkened blood, was littered with countless corpses.

The bodies were evidently freshly slain, with many still bleeding crimson, their wounds unsealed.

The numerous gashes on their remains and the shattered swords scattered among them made it clear that this had been the site of a brutal battlefield.

Overlooking from high above, the terror and despair etched onto the faces of the fallen below were starkly discernible.

Those expressions were so excruciatingly etched into their features that their agony had twisted their very faces.

Beneath the piled corpses, countless white bones seemed to lie buried.

Here and there, bleached skeletal arms, stained dark from soaked blood, extended unnaturally from the ground, crookedly pointing toward the heavens.

Under the pale sunlight, the bones glimmered with an eerie, ghastly whiteness.

A sinister wind swept across, causing these skeletal arms to sway slightly, like ominous banners of a ghostly army, adding an uncanny aura to the battlefield.

Xue An fell silent.

Treading through the air, he found himself growing increasingly uneasy the further he ventured.

The sheer scale of this battlefield was staggering, spanning at least a hundred li.

Everywhere within this vast region was strewn with bones, the sheer number of corpses utterly terrifying.

Yet Xue An’s focus wasn’t on this macabre sight, as he noticed something particularly unusual—despite the sheer number of corpses lying here, all of whom had clearly met untimely and violent deaths, not a single trace of ghostly energy permeated the area.

Under normal circumstances, the deaths of so many soldiers should have birthed ghostly energy in abundance. How could there be none?

Even ancient battlefields on Earth, weathered by the passage of countless years, retained lingering ghostly energy.

Especially here, in the Ghost Realm, where the yin energy was at its densest.

Yet, within this battlefield, there was no ghostly energy to be found.

The only thing present was a towering, oppressive aura of resentment.

Xue An narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. It was then that he suddenly noticed a figure standing at the edge of the battlefield.

A person?

Xue An’s eyes flickered.

The overwhelming resentment saturating this space had diminished his Divine Sense considerably, so he hadn’t initially detected that someone was here.

But what was this person doing?

Keeping his expression calm, Xue An’s figure blurred as he concealed his presence, pressing closer in secret.

When the figure’s appearance came into view, even Xue An couldn’t help but show a hint of surprise.

The person was garbed in simple gray monk’s robes, with a clean-shaven head gleaming faintly. It was clearly a monk!

The monk stood at the battlefield’s edge, holding a string of prayer beads and quietly chanting something with his head bowed.

As the monk’s chant reverberated, faint glimmers of golden light began to disperse outward. Where the light passed, the oppressive resentment dissipated, and the twisted grimaces of the corpses seemed to relax as if released from suffering.

Seeing this, Xue An’s eyes gleamed with a curious light.

A monk reciting sutras to guide the dead’s souls at the edge of a battlefield in the Ghost Realm—this scene was incongruous no matter how he looked at it.

Still, Xue An chose not to reveal himself. He remained hidden in the void, silently observing.

About half an hour later, the monk’s body began to tremble faintly, and his complexion gradually turned pallid.

Finally, the monk ceased chanting, raised his head to gaze upon the vast battlefield, a somber expression clouding his face, and pressed his palms together in a solemn gesture of respect before turning to leave.

Xue An watched the monk’s departing figure and fell into contemplation.

Across The Multiverse, the principle of Daoist arts reigned supreme, yet the Buddhist Cultivators also maintained an undeniable and formidable presence.

During his time as Immortal Venerable, Xue An had crossed paths with numerous great Buddhist Cultivators, even witnessing the legacies left by the peerless being who had founded the Buddhist lineage, which had left him in awe.

Though the influence of Buddhism was widespread throughout The Multiverse, its specialized practices often left it limited to a role of mere faith, lacking true power in many places.

But never in his wildest imaginings had Xue An thought he’d encounter a Buddhist Cultivator here, in the Ghost Realm—territory of the Dark Lineage.

In all his former wanderings through the Ghost Realm, he had never come across such individuals.

Moreover, Xue An noticed that this seemingly ordinary monk—with neither remarkable appearance nor exceptional aptitude—exuded an aura entirely distinct from other Buddhist Cultivators.

While it carried the same balanced serenity, it held an added quality—a profound compassion for all beings, as though he mourned the suffering of the world itself.

Xue An’s thoughts stirred as he quietly trailed after the monk, his curiosity piqued.

He wanted to discover what unexpected changes had transpired in the Ghost Realm,

changes that allowed the presence of Buddhist Cultivators, who had long stood diametrically opposed to the Ghost Realm’s essence.

With Xue An’s profound abilities, the monk had no inkling of his presence.

Before long, the monk descended from the slope and arrived at a highway, striding with purpose.

The highway was broad, and signs of frequent travelers were evident in the ruts and footprints etched into the ground.

Yet, strangely, the roadside was eerily silent, with occasional villages appearing along the way, though all were devoid of life.

Seeing this, the monk let out a faint sigh before continuing down the highway.

At last—

After walking for more than half a day, a small roadside town emerged.

Calling it a town would be generous, as it was scarcely larger than a village.

Still, there were signs that people had lived there.

Upon seeing the settlement, the monk trudged forward with his head lowered.

It was already twilight hour, and the waning light cast dense, unrelenting shadows across the ancient roadside town.

Time to light the lamps.

Yet when the monk stepped into the town, he noticed every window was dark, and even the few doors left ajar were slammed shut the moment the townsfolk saw his arrival.

Unperturbed, the monk strolled through the streets, heading toward the center of the town, only to find it engulfed in an oppressive, deathly silence.

The darkness slowly crept across the land,