7: Chapter 7 The Mad Yaksha

Meanwhile, fifty li away.

The temporary settlement of the Yaksha Clan.

This place was once the ruins of the seventeenth city of the Yaksha Realm; now, only broken walls and debris remained. The surviving Yaksha warriors gathered in the center of the ruins, sitting around a bonfire.

Calling it a bonfire was a stretch, as what burned within were the bones of their own kind.

An exceptionally burly Yaksha stood up. His skin was a deep purple, a sign of having devoured too many of his brethren.

"Several more are missing."

His voice was hoarse and low, sounding like two stones grinding together.

The other Yakshas around him looked up, their eyes flashing with the light of madness and hunger.

"Were they eaten?" A one-eyed Yaksha grinned, revealing yellow-black teeth. "Who ate them? I'm starving too."

"They weren't eaten." The purple Yaksha shook his head. "Their presence vanished, right in that direction."

He raised his hand, pointing toward Su Bai's location.

"There are outsiders there."

A brief silence fell over the ruins.

Immediately after, the one-eyed Yaksha stood up and grabbed a stone axe at his feet. "Outsiders? Is there meat?"

"There is meat."

A greedy glint flashed in the purple Yaksha's eyes. "I can sense a thick Yin Qi on those outsiders. It's not the scent of living things, but it doesn't matter. As long as it's edible, dead or alive is all the same."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Another Yaksha stood up. He was missing an arm, but the bone club held in his other hand was as thick as an adult's arm. "I haven't eaten in three days. If I don't eat something soon, I'll eat you first!"

He stared at the clansman beside him, his eyes filled with genuine killing intent.

"Enough."

The purple Yaksha let out a low growl, the sound wave causing the surrounding rubble to rattle and fall.

"Gather everyone and follow me. No matter what has come, we devour them."

He licked his cracked lips, revealing a mouthful of jagged yellow teeth:

"And then, we'll eat their world clean."

The ruins began to stir.

One by one, Yakshas crawled out from the broken walls, emerged from burrows, and stood up from mountains of bones.

Some were missing limbs, some had unhealed wounds on their bellies, and some had half their faces gnawed away to the bone. Not a single one possessed full sanity.

The Yaksha Clan of this world had completely degenerated into beasts that knew only hunger.

Three hundred.

Four hundred.

Five hundred.

The final count of gathered Yaksha warriors reached five hundred and seventy-three.

They gripped stone axes, bone clubs, rusted iron scraps, and even the leg bones of their own kind. They stood before the ruins in a dark mass, madness burning in their eyes.

The purple Yaksha raised his hand, pointing toward Su Bai's direction.

"Go."

Five hundred and seventy-three frenzied roars erupted simultaneously, making the dim, yellowish sky tremble.

They moved.

Like a turgid torrent, they rolled toward Su Bai's location.

Su Bai was standing before a set of ruins, watching the Ghost Bride absorb another batch of resentment from the Yakshas.

This was the fourth batch.

In one hour, they had successively cleared out four small Yaksha settlements, killing more than one hundred and fifty Yakshas in total.

The Ghost Bride's aura had clearly grown stronger. Though she hadn't broken through to the Second Rank yet, the red clothes on her body were more vibrant, her complexion was paler, and those deep, ghostly eyes were even more soul-stirring.

"Master!"

She floated back to Su Bai's side, tilting her face up coquettishly. "I'm hungry, are there more?"

Su Bai was about to speak when his brow suddenly furrowed.

He sensed the ground vibrating.

The vibration came from afar, becoming increasingly intense and clear.

It was the sound of footsteps.

Countless footsteps.

He looked up toward the end of the wasteland.

On the horizon, a turgid torrent was rolling their way.

It was the Yaksha Clan.

Hundreds upon hundreds of Yakshas.

Some were running, some were crawling, and some were even sprinting on all fours like beasts. In every pair of eyes burned the light of frenzied hunger, and saliva dripped from every mouth.

Su Bai narrowed his eyes and quickly estimated.

Over five hundred.

Likely close to six hundred.

Almost all the remaining warriors of the Yaksha Realm were here.

"Master?" The Ghost Bride floated into mid-air. Looking at the approaching torrent, there was no fear in her eyes; instead, they sparkled with excitement. "So many! Can I eat them all?"

The Slit-Mouthed Woman silently stood by Su Bai's side, her grip on her scissors tightening slightly.

Behind them, one hundred Yin Soldiers stood in a silent phalanx, their rusted spears pointing diagonally forward.

Five hundred and seventy-three.

Against one hundred and two.

The corners of Su Bai's mouth curled up slightly.

"Form ranks."

One hundred Yin Soldiers stepped forward in unison, their footsteps perfectly synchronized, creating a dull thud on the cracked earth.

Their faces were blurred, their armor tattered, and their spears rusted. But not one retreated, not one trembled, and not one even breathed.

Because they were not living things to begin with.

They were merely tools.

Tools that knew no fatigue, feared no death, and obeyed orders absolutely.

The Yaksha torrent drew closer.

Five hundred meters.

Three hundred meters.

One hundred meters.

The Yakshas at the very front could already see the expression on Su Bai's face. They saw that young human in a school uniform, and a faint smile was actually hanging on his lips.

In that smile, there was no fear, no tension.

Only anticipation.

The purple Yaksha vaguely felt something was wrong, but hunger and madness had already consumed his remaining reason.

"Eat!"

He roared and was the first to charge.

Behind him, five hundred and seventy-two Yakshas let out frenzied shrieks simultaneously, like a turgid giant wave slamming violently toward those one hundred and two figures.

Su Bai raised his hand.

"Ghost Bride."

"Coming!"

The red-clothed figure floated to the front of the formation. Facing the oncoming Yaksha torrent, she opened her arms, her smile as bright as a child receiving a new toy.

"You all."

Her voice was as cold as ice, yet it carried an eerie echo that clearly reached the ears of every Yaksha.

"Do you want to marry me?"

Her red clothes erupted with a blinding red light.

The red light spread out like a physical substance, instantly enveloping the over one hundred Yakshas charging at the very front.

[Soul-Claiming Red Makeup]!

The purple Yaksha at the very front felt an icy chill rise from the depths of his heart.

What did he see?

He saw the clansmen he had eaten.

They formed a circle, standing before him, staring at him with hollow eye sockets.

"You ate us."

"Now, it's our turn to eat you."

No!

The purple Yaksha suddenly bit his tongue, the sharp pain forcing him to regain clarity for a moment.

He was the strongest warrior among these Yakshas, having devoured the most of his kind, and his will was the most resilient. He had stubbornly resisted most of the fear-inducing impact of the Soul-Claiming Red Makeup.

But the other Yakshas were not so lucky.

The over one hundred Yakshas at the front collapsed almost simultaneously. They threw down their weapons, clutched their heads, and screamed frantically; some knelt on the ground shivering, while others began attacking the companions beside them as if those companions had turned into the most terrifying monsters.

The vanguard of the torrent instantly disintegrated.

But the Yakshas behind were still charging forward.

They trampled over the bodies of their fallen kin, stepping on their heads and spines as they continued to pounce toward Su Bai's line.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman moved.

She stepped forward, meeting the fastest-charging Yaksha.

That Yaksha was two and a half meters tall, with a mouthful of exposed fangs, holding a bone club stained with flesh. Seeing the white-clothed woman approaching him, he grinned.

Woman.

Living thing.

Edible!

He swung the bone club, smashing it down with all his might.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman did not dodge.

She simply raised her hand and slowly removed her mask.

It was a slit mouth.

From the root of the left ear to the root of the right ear. Bright red gums and forest-white teeth appeared shockingly vivid against her pale face.

She split her mouth open and smiled.

"Am I pretty?"

The Yaksha's bone club froze in mid-air.

His pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints, and his mouth opened as wide as it could, yet he couldn't make a sound.

The next second, his body slumped down, never to get up again.

[The Slit-Mouthed Woman's Eerie Gaze]!

But this was not the end.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman did not stop her pace. She continued forward, walking toward the second Yaksha, the third, the fourth.

Every time she reached a Yaksha, she would remove her mask and ask the same question.

"Am I pretty?"

One by one, the Yakshas fell.

Some bled from their seven orifices, some had their eyeballs burst, and some even suffered direct cardiac arrest.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman moved through the Yaksha torrent like a god of death. Wherever she passed, Yakshas fell in swathes; not a single one could answer her question.

Because they were already insane.

How could an insane person possibly give the correct answer?

But there were too many Yakshas.

Five hundred and seventy-three.

The number of those the Slit-Mouthed Woman could kill simultaneously was ultimately limited.

More Yakshas bypassed her, bypassed their collapsed kin, and pounced toward the one hundred silent Yin Soldiers.