Immortality Starts From Making Money. Chapter 47: A Battle With The Wailing Revenant

Looking at the complicated arrays, a smile crept up Mo Jian’s face. From the Codex of a Thousand Arrays, he had co across sothing like this before.

The Nether Gate Formation.

The Nether Gate Formation was a dangerous and sinister array that opened a temporary gateway to the demon realm.

Such a sinister formation was not sothing easily found in modern tis. Against ancient formations, many formation masters would have been helpless—but not him.

After studying the formation for a few seconds, Mo Jian ca up with a plan.

"To destroy the formation, I can only use the Sunlight Dispersion Array..."

But the real problem was that the entire area was shrouded in darkness, and there were still a few hours before sunrise.

Apart from that, the Sunlight Dispersion Array was a Tier-2 array, and he was not yet capable of setting it up.

Still, he chose to proceed.

He turned to the two n behind him and saw their dreadful expressions.

"Relax, I’ve got a plan," he said, hoping to ease their worries.

Hearing Mo Jian’s words, the two n could only force out a smile.

What else could they do? Could they escape and leave Mo Jian behind?

Taking a deep breath, the captain asked in a low voice, "What should we do?"

Mo Jian smiled, impressed by their courage. "Nothing. Just stay on the lookout."

With that, he turned to observe the ruins for a mont before leaving their hiding spot at swift speed.

He quickly arrived at one of the array nodes, took out a sword, unsheathed it, and drove it into the ground like a rod.

One by one, he moved from node to node, driving swords into the ground.

Watching Mo Jian’s strange actions, the two n exchanged confused looks.

"Captain, do you understand what he’s doing?" the younger man asked.

"If you ask , who am I supposed to ask?" The captain rolled his eyes and continued to watch Mo Jian.

At first, Mo Jian’s movents seed random, but as he continued, a clear pattern erged.

The captain’s eyes brightened, and anticipation filled his heart. Whatever he’s doing, I hope he succeeds.

Hiding behind a dilapidated building, Mo Jian held his breath as another group of vengeful spirits passed by.

The wails and whispers from thousands of Restless Phantoms nearly drove him mad, but he held on. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

Just as he was about to lose control of his body, the ntal strain on his soul gradually faded.

When he opened his eyes, they had turned blood-red, with veins protruding on his forehead.

Huh!

He exhaled the turbid air and watched the departing backs of the Restless Phantoms.

"That was close..."

Steadying his emotions, he bolted out of his hiding spot and continued placing the swords at the nodes as quickly as possible.

When he reached the last node—close to the core of the formation—the Wailing Revenant suddenly raised its head and looked in his direction.

I’m fucked!

Screech!

A deafening wail reverberated through the ruins, and Mo Jian was sent flying. He crashed into a nearby wall, blood gushing from his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears.

His ears rang like a bell.

His brain felt fuzzy, his thoughts disoriented.

He tried to stand, but the world spun around him, and he collapsed to the ground.

Thud! Thud!

The heavy footsteps of the Wailing Revenant echoed through the ruins, drawing closer by the second.

The tension thickened, and fear gripped Mo Jian’s heart like a vice.

I must escape! I need to move now!

He bit his tongue hard.

Blood gushed into his mouth, but the pain jolted his mind awake. He sprang to his feet.

Without looking back at the approaching Wailing Revenant, he ran at full speed.

Once again, he was reminded of how poor his movent technique was.

Fuck! I swear, when I leave this damn ruin, I’ll learn the best movent technique!

However, his situation was growing worse. The Wailing Revenant attacked.

A grayish chain shot toward him at a bizarre speed.

In the blink of an eye, it was upon him.

Mo Jian swiftly pulled out a shield from his spatial pouch—just in ti.

Bang!

The chain smashed into the shield, shattering it to pieces. Mo Jian was sent flying once more, crashing into the ruins and rolling for several ters before coming to a stop.

Covered in dust and blood, he looked utterly wretched.

He tried to stand, but another mouthful of blood spilled from his lips. His breathing was erratic, his vision blurry.

But he could still see the wailing face of the Wailing Revenant.

He struggled to rise, staggering. He refused to die such a aningless death.

Just as he prepared for one final, desperate struggle, he noticed sothing from the corner of his eye—the captain picking up the last sword.

A renewed sense of hope surged within him.

"Move ten steps forward and nail it to the ground!" Mo Jian shouted before dashing in the opposite direction.

The captain froze for a mont but quickly regained his composure.

He rushed forward, counting his steps. On the tenth step, he drove the sword into the ground.

With the final sword in place, Mo Jian stopped running.

He turned toward the incoming chain and smiled.

"Now, my turn."

He stomped the ground.

Hum!

A low hum echoed throughout the ruins, and the ground trembled. The remaining dilapidated buildings collapsed.

The vengeful spirits erging from the gateway froze, their faces contorting in fear.

The Wailing Revenant halted its attack, shifting its gaze from Mo Jian to the swords.

The once-ordinary swords now glowed with fiery light.

Before the Wailing Revenant or the other vengeful spirits could react, the temperature surged.

The spirits began to burn.

Roar!

The Wailing Revenant let out an agonized wail and turned to flee toward the gateway.

But it was too late.

The flas consuming the spirits were no ordinary flas—they were Ember Flas, the bane of all vengeful entities.

Watching the vengeful spirits burn like dry leaves, the captain and the young warrior stood frozen in shock, their jaws slack.

They could hardly believe what they were seeing.

The once-terrifying Wailing Revenant fled into the gateway, and in an instant, the gateway closed.

...

As the Nether Gate Formation beca a hellfire for the vengeful spirits, far beyond the western border, an old, withered man erged from a cave.

He raised his head and scread.

"Noooooo!"