To hand this opportunity to Ye Chuxue, Heavenly Dao really went all out. It even came up with such an absurd excuse.
Song Wanníng felt the urge to cough up blood. This bias had truly gone beyond all limits. In her past life, she had never been to this Trial Tower, never even heard of it, let alone known what Ye Chuxue might have gained from it.
But she didn't need to guess. Whatever the reward was, it would not be ordinary. After all, how else could it be worthy of Heavenly Dao's chosen daughter?
Her gaze sharpened. Since her rebirth, many things had changed.
She didn't care why this Trial Tower had appeared.
What she wanted was the reward. The treasure.
As for this so-called "erasure"...
They could try, but they'd first have to prove they had the ability.
Without warning, the study before her twisted and vanished, replaced by a prison. From the darkness, countless wronged spirits rushed toward her.
Their faces were twisted with anguish, their shrieks sharp enough to pierce the eardrum. From the looks of it, they had long since lost all sanity.
Song Wanníng let out a cold snort and released the Shenyou Mystic Flame.
The flame, which had been idling without interest, perked up the moment it was called upon and shot forward in excitement.
Wherever it passed, the strange fire burned fiercely.
This flame was made to target the Primordial Soul, and the souls of the dead were no exception.
Blazing torrents of fire wrapped around the wronged spirits one after another.
"Ah—!"
The shrieks grew even sharper, making Song Wanníng's ears ache. These must be the spirits of "outsiders" who had died here. But instead of dispersing, their Primordial Souls had been twisted into tools of attack for this place.
A thought struck her. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
That man had lied.
If this place was a Trial Tower, then the top floor would naturally also be a trial. But perhaps a great battle had broken out here, the master of the tower had perished, and it had drifted in the outside world for years. That man, as its guardian, simply didn't want outsiders reaching the highest floor. So he had made up this "erasure" excuse to turn them away.
The method of killing must have been his own doing, not the work of the tower's restrictions. He had only been putting on an act to scare her. After all, for a wisp of a lingering soul to survive until now was already impressive. Killing her would not be easy.
And the fact that he had sent these trapped wronged spirits against her only proved that he had run out of other tricks.
With that realization, Song Wanníng's heart grew steady. The man had slain countless people without distinction. Killing him would not trouble her conscience in the slightest.
While she was thinking, the Shenyou Mystic Flame had already devoured all the wronged spirits. Its body was puffed up, occasionally bulging as something inside struggled before it finally bobbed back to her, looking utterly satisfied.
To it, these souls were a great tonic.
And purging wronged spirits didn't create karmic backlash. It was a feast delivered right to its door.
The little golden sword swayed its body and leapt to Song Wanníng's shoulder, peering ahead. Sure enough, the man's figure had appeared once more. His expression was grim. Clearly, he had not expected Song Wanníng to possess something that restrained the Primordial Soul, allowing her to break his assault with ease. He ground his teeth, hating that he was no longer the man he used to be.
Years of attrition had left him barely able to maintain a human form, and fighting a cultivator in the Divine Transformation stage was beyond him.
"What's wrong? Weren't you going to erase me? Why aren't you making your move?"
Song Wanníng's brows arched slightly, her tone laced with mockery. She had already seen through his bluff, and a thought stirred in her heart. As her cultivation grew, these so-called legacy souls threatened her less and less.
"Hmph. Such a young thing, yet you talk big. Do you think I really can't do anything to you?"
His eyes turned cold, killing intent radiating outward.
"No matter what your status was when you were alive, after lingering for so many years, you're no longer what you once were. Why keep putting on this act?"
The mockery in her gaze deepened. If he truly had the strength, he wouldn't still be wasting breath.
"If you cooperate, I might let you live a little longer. How about it?"
That shift in tone made him snap.
This was his domain. How could an outsider dare to be so arrogant?
"I'm going to disperse soon anyway. If I take you with me, it's no loss!"
His voice turned vicious, and this time he actually struck.
He was serious now.
Song Wanníng's smile faded, her expression turning cautious. A dying foe's counterattack could still be dangerous. Her sword flashed out in an instant, summoning ten weapons at once. They surged forward in a wave of killing intent.
His palm strike was shattered in the blink of an eye without even raising a ripple, and he was sent flying backward. His spirit body thinned noticeably.
"You… you actually know the Nine Mechanisms Illusory Array?" His pupils contracted sharply.
"Mm-hm."
She spread her hands in feigned innocence.
That only enraged him further, making him feel outright insulted.
He lunged at her again.
Song Wanníng didn't hold back, her blade slashing with no mercy. If he had been polite from the start instead of threatening to kill her, she wouldn't have used a technique learned from the Trial Tower against him.
"Hiss—"
He was sent flying once more, spiritual energy leaking uncontrollably. In just a few breaths, he had turned far more translucent.
The next moment, the scenery shifted back to the study. His conjured space had collapsed under the strain. That clearly rattled him.
In the past, when disaster struck, he had fled back to the Trial Tower with his soul, hoping for a chance to seize a new body. But the tower had been sealed away for a long time.
By the time it resurfaced, his spirit power was already weak, and the moment for possession had passed. With no way to survive, he naturally refused to let other cultivators take treasures from here. So every cultivator who had reached him over the years had been killed by his hand. And the reason he only killed those on the seventh floor was because he was trapped here, unable to leave.
Now, with his soul about to scatter and facing an opponent who was both hard to beat and infuriatingly cheeky, his frustration boiled over. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes. He chose to self-destruct his Primordial Soul.
Song Wanníng's lips twitched. "Really? You're playing that card too?"
Why did every lingering soul she met think self-detonation was the solution when they lost?
With a wave of her hand, countless sheets of paper flew up from the ground and into her grasp.
"You're going to die anyway. No point in keeping these portraits. Let me take care of them for you."
A flame bloomed at her fingertip, and the first portrait turned to ash in an instant.
The man froze for a heartbeat, then completely lost his composure. His eyes bulged blood-red as he lunged at her.
"Stop right there, you wretched girl! Do you believe I won't kill you?! I'll fight you to the death!"
Song Wanníng tilted her body slightly, letting him rush past, and lit the second portrait on fire.