Divine Emperor of Death

Chapter 5048 A Black-Robed Person With A White Stone

The black-robed viewed the treasure with some doubt, turning it over in their palm with their soul force. He even poured his energy into it, but the faint pulse didnʼt reappear, leaving nothing but a jagged, uneven surface that gave no further answers.

After a while, they kept it back inside and stepped out of their hideout.

The alleyway outside was cramped and reeked of something that had been left to rot in standing water. No lantern hung here, and the luminescent lanterns common to the wealthier districts did not reach this far, and the narrow strip of sky visible above the rooftops was the same flat, lightless grey that preceded nothing in particular except the dull part of the branches of the Ethereal Lumina Tree.

The black-robed figure moved through the alleyway without hesitation, their footsteps making no sound against the wet stone.

They passed through three streets without stopping and exited the city.

The outskirts of the city gave way gradually, the shacks thinning, the roads narrowing to dirt paths, and the dirt paths narrowing further still until there was nothing underfoot but ground that had not been walked by ordinary people for a long time. The vegetation here grew wrongly in a quiet way.

The grass grew flat against the earth as though pressed down by something invisible. The trees were alive but leaned away from a central point like everything in the area had been given the same wordless instruction to keep its distance.

The black-robed figure walked toward a certain point without slowing.

The dirt grew darker and darker until they reached a place where graves emerged from the earth in uneven rows, marked by stone tablets. Some had names, but many didnʼt. This place gave one an eerie feeling, sometimes even making a chill shoot up their spine. Even the wind that had followed from the city stopped at the outer edge of the grounds as though it knew better than to continue.

Finally, this black-robed person stopped in front of a small stone tablet.

They were about to bend down and touch it when an unholy presence could be felt behind them.

The unholy presence behind them was thick enough to press against the back of the neck like a cold hand that had not yet decided whether to grip, but the black-robed figure did not flinch and instead turned around slowly with the particular unhurriedness of someone who already knew what they were facing.

The ghost that had crept up on them was not subtle in its appearance since it had accumulated enough resentment to give itself mass, the form it wore a grotesque borrowing from the body it had once occupied, stretched in places and collapsed in others, the face a ruin of overlapping expressions that had never resolved into anything peaceful.

A ghostly yin mist bled off it in slow waves. It opened its mouth, seemingly wanting to prey on this person.

However, it suddenly came to a stop when it saw the eyes.

Within the depths of the hood, two eyes regarded the ghost with irises that held swirling vortexes of pure death energy, slow and immense and entirely without malice, the way a drain holds no malice for whatever falls into it, and the ghost came apart without violence, the resentment that had held it together unwinding all at once before it dispersed.

The black-robed figure turned back around and crouched in front of the small stone tablet and pressed one translucent palm flat against its face, and the formation carved into it, so finely done that it read as ordinary weathering from the immensity of the innumerable rainy days to anyone who did not already know what they were looking at.

As the stone was activated, it responded beneath the palm and folded the space above it inward until there was now an opening that the black-robed figure stepped through without hesitation.

The black-robed person arrived in what appeared to be a place where there was no natural light, but this place didnʼt seem to miss it either, as it mirrored the gloominess above. Here, one could see a lot of crooked trees of unknown nature. The lighting was dim, so nothing could be seen properly except the figures that were bound to the trunks or branches at strange intervals.

They were secured by dark bindings of vines that seemed to have emerged from the trees. These vines penetrated into their flesh and left them as lifeless husks. Their corpses seem to have been drained of their lifeforce, but the black-robed person could see that these corpses once belonged to Exalts or Primarchs.

The black-robed figure walked between the trees without looking at the faces and stopped at the center of the grove, where the ground was bare and dark and slightly sunken. They then produced the white stone from the ring.

The white stone quickly started pulsing with eagerness as though it could sense its ownerʼs intention, and when the soul force was poured within, it reacted.

A faint, pale gray mist erupted from it and spread, causing the corpses to stir all at once.

Their heads shook like they had a seizure before a translucent shape emerged from their bodies, floating in front of them.

Ghosts.

They all collectively turned to look at the black-robed man, their expressions doubtful but also empty.

”Who are you?” Someone asked.

”Who am I?” Another ghost also asked before turning to look back and seeing a familiar face bound on the tree, but couldnʼt figure out.

”Iʼm sure you all have your doubts regarding your new unearthly existence.”

The black-robed person spoke, his voice reminiscent that of a hushed wind entering through a narrow hole, weak yet filled with a dangerous tone.

”In essence, you were all mighty figures once who went against the Hexadra Clan but met a fate worse than death. In the end, they brought you all here to feed a tree of unknown nature that is nurtured using the pure energy of the Ethereal Lumina Tree, but also the deathly blood energy accumulating in you after you have been tortured to death. However, your death didnʼt come until recently since the Hexadra Clan was forced to disband their operations since the twelve Bastion Cities were created here after the advent of the Desolate Era. Hence, some of you were tortured for millions of years at the very least.”

As his voice fell and resounded in the dark space, many of the ghosts felt their souls shudder, their expressions turning full of resentment and hate. Some of them remembered who they were. Some of them did not remember, but they could feel the suffering they had gone through. They wanted to pounce on the black-robed person to satiate their quest for vengeance. However, the moment they noticed the white stone in his hand, they couldnʼt help but tremble heavily in fear.

”Do not misunderstand. Iʼm not here to free you all of your suffering but to give you an opportunity to strike back against the Hexadra Clanʼs members, and also worship me and increase my strength. This way, both parties benefit. If you donʼt comply, then…”

The black-robed person pulled his hood back and revealed his pair of deathly vortex eyes that swallowed the darkness in the area, but it didnʼt give birth to light, but despair.

One of the ghosts who was standing in front of the black-robed person instantly evaporated as they released a shrill cry.

Seeing this, the other ghosts instinctively felt their soul throb with fear.

One of them quickly knelt in mid-air.

”As long as your divine eminence can lead me to make the Hexadra Clan pay in blood, I, Eradun Grayscale of the Grayscale Poison Hound Clan, will declare my loyalty to you even in death.”

The black-robed man didnʼt say anything but turned to look at the others.

The other ghosts followed suit, but many didnʼt seem willing, even though they were aware he could deal with them regardless of whether he had that white stone or not. Still, they learned that as long as they swore to worship him in return for dealing with the Hexadra Clanʼs members, the black-robed man didnʼt seem too stringent, even with his ruthless and mysterious nature.

Finally, someone asked his name after all the ghosts had sworn loyalty to him.

The black-robed personʼs pitch-black eyes swirled like an endless abyss, perhaps even devoid of emotion, as his expression remained unchanged from start to finish.

But at this moment, his lips moved as he revealed a faint smile.

”You can call me- the Founder of the Ghost Tear Hall.”