"Z-Zhang, please turn this array off!!"
The once-arrogant cultivator, who had mocked Zhang earlier, was now on his knees, forehead pressed to the cold ground. His voice trembled, eyes bloodshot with fear.
"T-That's right!" A woman, her voice sickly sweet, tried a different approach. She pressed her body closer, her trembling hands reaching for Zhang's robes. "We're all humans, right? Please, forgive us! We'll be'll be your dogs!"
Zhang looked at her with cold indifference, watching as the desperation in her eyes turned to horror.
"You!! If you don't let me out, my ancestor will definitely find out!" A skinny man, barely holding himself together, pointed at Zhang, his face contorted in rage. "He's a Rank 4 elder! Do you know what that means?! He can kill you secretly—no one will ever know!"
Zhang didn't even blink.
He simply said, "Fight against this ghost." His tone was calm, absolute. "Didn't I tell you? Either die or be useful."
Their begging turned to silence. Then, to despair.
Because at that moment—the ghost laughed.
A wave of eerie laughter echoed as the ghost's half-transparent figure flickered between the living and the dead. Shadows twisted unnaturally, coiling around the panicked cultivators trapped within the Misty Cage Formation.
But unlike the terrified humans, the ghost wasn't afraid. Instead, it sounded amused.
"Hehe… isn't this a Misty Cage Formation?" The ghost's hollow eyes gleamed with a sinister light. "A Rank 2 trapping array that only requires medium-grade spirit stones? Quite costly for someone of your level. Your sect must've poured quite a fortune into you."
It grinned. "But it's pointless. I only need fifteen breaths to break it."
As if to prove its point, the mist thickened, and the glowing runes on the ground flickered. The spirit stones embedded in the formation pulsed weaker than before. The ghost's presence was actively destabilizing it.
"Not bad, human. You actually forced me to act. But you made a fatal mistake—"
"Mistake?" Zhang sneered. "Ever since I arrived, I knew someone was watching me."
The ghost's smile faltered slightly.
"You think this is about trapping you?" Zhang continued, his voice calm. "I knew from the start that a Rank 2 formation wouldn't hold you forever. The real question is—what are you going to do before it collapses?"
The ghost's eyes narrowed.
Zhang smirked. "Are you going to break it… or are you going to survive?"
Before the ghost could reply, dozens of resentful spirits lunged forward.
A man in golden robes tried to retreat, but a spectral claw burst from the ground, piercing through his chest. His soul was yanked from his body before he could even resist, his corpse collapsing like a broken puppet.
Another cultivator swung his sword wildly, slicing through an approaching specter—only for the ghostly figure to reform behind him and sink its fangs into his neck. His body convulsed, eyes rolling back as his flesh withered.
Zhang watched, unmoved. These were the same people who had mocked him. The same people who had tried to threaten and seduce him. Now, they begged for their lives.
Yet, he had warned them.
"You two, just heal," Zhang commanded Yun and Linglong. "We might have to face something stronger soon."
The two nodded, suppressing their own horror as they focused on mending their wounds. They had no time for pity.
The ghost hovered above the battlefield, its expression no longer amused.
It glanced at the fading runes of the formation—just a few more breaths, and it would break.
But it also saw something else.
Zhang wasn't panicking. He was watching. Calculating.
And that's when it realized—this wasn't just a cage.
This was bait.
"Clever little rat," the ghost murmured, its grin returning. "You trapped me… to force me to use my full power, didn't you?"
Zhang chuckled. "Oh? You finally noticed?"
The ghost's expression darkened.
The moment it destroyed the array, it would reveal its full strength. And if it revealed its full strength… Zhang must have prepared a countermeasure.
Was it an item? A hidden technique? Or worse—a second array hidden beneath the first?
The ghost clenched its spectral fists.
For the first time in decades… it hesitated.
The formation was on the verge of collapse.
The battlefield was a nightmare—humans and ghosts slaughtering each other in a frenzy.
The surviving cultivators were barely holding on, their faces pale with exhaustion. The arrogant ones were dead. The weak-willed had lost their minds. Only the desperate and the ruthless remained.
And in the center of it all—Zhang stood with a small smile.
"Ten breaths left."
The ghost scowled. "Tch."
It had two choices.
Break the array and risk falling into Zhang's second trap.
or
Delay breaking the array and let Zhang control the battlefield even longer.
No matter what… Zhang had already won the first move.
And that realization infuriated the ghost.