With dense smoke billowing, the four gates of Celt City were wide open. The heavy scent of blood within the city was carried by the wind, detectable from miles away.
An agonized scream tore through the smoke-shrouded skies above the battered Celt City, where a figure engulfed in purple flames, wings flapping wildly, held its head with hands covered in purple scales.
Circles of gray and blood-red light radiated from the body. Eyes shifted from gray to blood-red and then back to normal. Snow-white hair began showing signs of turning blood-red.
Ye Han was in extreme danger. It's difficult for a zombie's soul to cultivate, especially in an environment filled with slaughter and violence, where it could easily become lost. Once lost, a zombie becomes a pure killing machine, controlled by the overwhelming negative energy within—this is the cultivation of the dark yin energy of zombies.
The intense shock of having killed his mother drove Ye Han into a frenzy of slaughter. His soul was gradually being controlled by the negative energy within him, influenced by the thick aura of death, resentment, and negative emotions.
Just as the blood-red light was about to completely overtake the gray, the words of Ye Han's mother echoed in the depths of his soul, "Child, it's not your fault. It is I who am incapable of giving you a happy childhood and a good environment."
"Enough," she said, "As long as you live well, that's all that matters. I may not have had the love of the head of the family, but at least I had you."
"Child, don't harbor such hatred; it will make you unhappy."
Ye Han's roars gradually subsided as he reminisced about his life with his mother, her words echoing in his soul.
Gradually, his soul became clearer, and the gray light on his body started to overpower the blood-red light. Ye Han stood quietly in the air, motionless.
Suddenly, an immense suction force emanated from Ye Han, drawing in all the death energy, resentment, and negative emotional fluctuations within a thousand yards. Having learned from his past experience, Ye Han quickly reacted, purifying these energies.
Pure death energy, resentment, and negative emotions were refined and directed towards his corpse pill and soul.
Days passed, and Ye Han maintained his posture, absorbing and refining the energies, until three days later.
Celt City was almost completely destroyed, with nine-tenths of its population gone. The death energy and resentment from over tens of thousands of people, especially those above the fifth rank, were equivalent to the energy emitted by several hundred thousand ordinary people.
It took three whole days for Ye Han to absorb and refine all of it, significantly strengthening his soul and body.
Despite having absorbed energies equivalent to over two hundred thousand ordinary people, impurities remained in his body, filled with violent and insane killing intent. This intent almost caused Ye Han's lucid soul to lose itself again.
After completing the absorption, Ye Han began the final step: release. He had to expel the unnecessary energy from his body, or it could cause immeasurable damage.
With a heaven-shaking roar, an aura so fearsome that even holy-ranked warriors would tremble and lose their fighting spirit burst forth from Ye Han. His body exploded, and dark red blood spurted out.
Under this apocalyptic energy, Celt City was utterly destroyed, with Ye Han enduring it all through the resilience of a zombie's pride until everything was released.
Three months later
Walking on the bustling streets, surrounded by the incessant sounds of hawking and trading, Ye Han, who had long been in the desolate Transverse Mountains, felt somewhat out of place in such a large city.
Not heading towards Celt City, Ye Han moved in another direction towards an even more prosperous city.
In a crowded street, he purchased some black robes. As a magician, he did not receive any disdainful looks, for the nobility of magicians was unquestionable.
Ye Han then saw a luxuriously decorated hotel. Entering it, he was stopped by two fifth-rank swordsmen.
"Why can't I enter?" Ye Han asked calmly.
"This place is for those of status and class, not for someone like you," the swordsman replied with disdain.
"And if I insist?" Ye Han said before proceeding inside.
Laughter followed him, "Look, a lowly commoner thinks he's a magician just because he's wearing a magic robe."
"Repeat what you just said," Ye Han said coldly, not facing the speaker.
The arrogant man, Rich, arrived, greeted respectfully by the guards.
When Rich's sixth-rank swordsman guard tried to push Ye Han away, Ye Han quickly subdued him, shocking the onlookers with his strength.
Turning, Ye Han faced a young man not much older than himself, flanked by a pretty young girl.
"Waste," the young man called to his guard lying on the ground, then angrily ordered his men, "Attack, cripple him." It was a blow to his pride to be humiliated in front of so many.
Four sixth-rank swordsmen drew their swords and lunged at Ye Han, but they froze mid-air and fell to the ground, the bystanders unsure of their fate. Ye Han didn't want to waste time on such trivial confrontations.
Seeing his men defeated, Rich finally felt fear, but it quickly dissipated at the thought of his powerful family backing.
"Do you know who I am?" Rich started to say but was cut short as a black dagger suddenly appeared in Ye Han's hand, pulled from a space ring, eliciting gasps from the knowledgeable onlookers.
The hotel guards recognized the space ring's significance, their gaze shifting from disdain to respect. Space rings were rare even among lower nobility, and here was this young boy possessing one.
Rich was truly frightened now; such rings were scarce even in his family. He had heard of them but never seen one, and the boy he had just scorned owned one.
"I—I," Rich stammered, trembling with fear.
Suddenly, Ye Han smelled an odd scent and looked down, his usually cold face showing surprise. The surrounding crowd burst into laughter, revealing the nature of Rich's fear.