A bellow echoed throughout the night sky.

Down on the battlefield, the coarsely-dressed young man’s expression shifted dramatically. He immediately put away his little red cauldron, turned, and ran.

Boom!

A streak of sword light came slashing down, quick as lightning.

The young man dodged, and the sword light missed him by a hair, cleaving a hundred-foot rift into the ground and scattering mud.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The young man still wanted to flee, but several figures had already appeared on the battlefield, blocking off his escape route.

“So, it’s a tiny little heretical cultivator,” said the leader, an imposing, ornately-dressed middle-aged man with a willowy beard.

The others’ eyes flashed like lightning as they locked onto the young man in coarse cloth.

In the face of that terrifying pressure, the coarsely-dressed young man’s expression changed dramatically. “Seniors, you’ve misunderstood. I’m not a heretical cultivator.”

“If you’re not a heretical cultivator, why are you here gathering remnant souls?” said a woman in purple with a cold laugh.

The young man explained, “If I don’t gather these ghosts and lead them away, they’ll mature into something stronger and bring devastation to the popula...