Ghost-God Domains—such was the name cultivators gave to those inexplicable and eldritch places ruled by unnatural laws.
These places often defied reason. For instance, outside the provincial capital of Xinxiang lay a place called Huixing Town. Once you entered it, you'd live the same day over and over again, endlessly repeating the cycle until death claimed you.
In Nanmen County, there was another such domain. Those who stepped into it turned into paper-thin versions of themselves, their cultivation utterly nullified, no matter how mighty their divine powers.
But these were famous sites, well-documented and feared throughout the land.
Huangpo Village, by contrast, was a backwater village under a small county jurisdiction in Xinxiang Province. How could such a place harbor a Ghost-God Domain—and yet be completely unknown?
"Xinxiang's vile spawn! Shameless little wretch!" the purple-robed woman cursed under her breath.
Even as the realization dawned on her, panic erupted among the Jin Yi Wei officers who had followed her in. Some activated spells, trying desperately to reverse their transformation; others fled in all directions, thinking they could escape the domain's influence by running. A few stumbled in their panic, shattering their own fragile porcelain limbs into pieces on the forest floor.
"Don't scatter! Obey my command!" she barked.
Her voice, crisp and authoritative, steadied the crowd. Gradually, they regrouped, their glazed eyes now turning toward her for guidance.
She took a deep breath, composing herself. "This place is indeed a Ghost-God Domain. That means we're in the right location—this must be the rumored Tomb of the True King…"
Just then, a voice called from ahead.
"Big sister, why haven't you caught up yet? The nest of the porcelain dolls is right here!"
She turned her head sharply. From behind a large mound of dirt peeked a familiar head—it was Chen Shi. His face looked innocent, eyes clear and foolish, not at all like the scheming manipulator she had imagined.
"He's just a child. Maybe I've overthought things…" she reflected guiltily.
But then she noticed—he, too, had turned into a porcelain doll, just like them.
"He's clearly been here before… Then he must know how to revert the porcelain transformation!"
A sharp gleam lit her eyes. She raised her voice: "After him! Seize him while we still can!"
The group surged forward. The dense forest thinned as they ran, giving way to open terrain littered with massive mounds of earth.
The mounds were hollow, scorched by fire—clearly, they were ancient kiln chambers.
All around them stood towering ceramic jars. Some were shattered, others intact, and all were four to five times their height—immense and oppressive.
As they weaved between the kilns and jars in pursuit of Chen Shi, the purple-robed woman at the rear suddenly halted, her gaze sweeping over their surroundings. Realization dawned like lightning.
"This isn't the Tomb of the True King… This is—this is a kiln factory!"
Her thoughts raced. How could a rural kiln site become a Ghost-God Domain? And those porcelain dolls—where did the ceramics come from? Why did Chen Shi bring us here?
Her questions were cut short by a shout from the front.
"We lost him! Wait—someone's over there! It's the porcelain dolls!"
She rushed forward. There, huddled in the shadows of a broken kiln, were the very porcelain children who'd been playing by the stream earlier. Now they trembled in fear, shrinking back as if expecting to be devoured.
One of them waved frantically—not to greet them, but to warn them away.
"They're afraid…" a Jin Yi Wei murmured. "Afraid of us?"
"No," the purple-robed woman's face paled. "They're not afraid of us. They're afraid of—something else! Fall back, now!"
Too late.
The ground shook violently. The sky darkened. A howling wind rose as three towering figures emerged from the gloom.
They were giants, dressed in grey-blue kiln-worker robes, their bodies tall and gangly—each one standing nearly twenty feet tall. But with the cultivators now reduced to mere dolls less than a foot tall, the giants seemed like titans.
Their limbs were long and spindly, faces emotionless and smooth like unpainted clay. They moved like puppets, yet stirred a chilling wind as they approached.
Without hesitation, the kiln workers reached out.
The cultivators turned and fled in terror.
One of them was caught mid-stride. A crack sounded—the porcelain neck snapped, the doll-head crumbling like dry clay and sifting through the giant's fingers.
The others ran faster.
But the kiln workers moved with terrifying ease—one step from them spanned dozens of the cultivators' strides. Another man was soon plucked up and crushed.
The purple-robed woman was horrified. She had cultivated to form a divine fetus—her spiritual power far beyond ordinary means. But here in this Ghost-God Domain, her powers were nearly useless. She was a toy in the hands of these giants.
She sprinted through the factory, weaving through furnaces and jars, barely dodging the grasp of death. One by one, her companions were captured—until she alone remained.
Desperate, she remembered the hiding porcelain dolls. With a flash of inspiration, she ducked into a broken kiln.
Inside, several dolls huddled silently. When they saw her, they waved frantically—stay quiet!
The entrance darkened. One of the kiln workers stooped low, its blank face blocking the opening. The woman held her breath.
The giant's eyes were dull and colorless, like overfired porcelain. Its gaze swept the kiln once—then it straightened and walked away.
Moments later, the others followed.
The dolls sighed in relief and gestured for her to follow.
Crouched low, the purple-robed woman crept after them.
In the distance, one massive kiln blazed with roaring fire. The three kiln workers tossed their captives—still writhing porcelain dolls—into the flames.
They screamed and twisted in agony before melting into shapeless ruin.
The woman's heart ached. Those had been Zhao family Jin Yi Wei—now destroyed in this cursed village.
She followed the dolls in silence, eventually slipping out of the kiln factory.
"Miss," one of them asked quietly, "did that little bastard from Huangpo Village trick you too?"
"I… I don't understand your language," she began, but then stopped in surprise.
Somehow, ever since she had become porcelain, she could understand their chirping, birdlike voices.
She explained everything.
"He said his name was Cheng Shi—'Honesty'—but he's full of poison and lies!"
Another doll sighed. "He tricked us too. We came seeking treasure… ended up like this."
More voices chimed in.
"So did we…"
"And us…"
More and more porcelain dolls emerged from the trees, each with gloomy expressions.
"We heard the Tomb of the True King was nearby," one of them explained. "We thought we could find opportunity… but who would've guessed this innocent countryside would birth such a little demon?"
An elderly doll pounded his cane in fury. "He lured us in, turned us into ceramic! More and more fall into his trap every year!"
"Wicked spawn!" someone cried.
"Yeah! Wicked spawn!" the rest echoed.
The purple-robed woman nodded solemnly, though her mind churned. These people were after the tomb as well… perhaps they too planned to silence others for the treasure, just as I did. That child—he saw right through us.
Her teeth clenched. Is that little brat really only ten years old? And how the hell does he turn back into a human?
One middle-aged doll stepped forward, examining her closely.
"Wait… are you the second young lady of the Zhao family from Xinxiang Province?"
She blinked. "Yes… and you are?"
"I'm Li Xian of Quanzhou," he said. "We met a year ago."
She was stunned. Li Xian of Quanzhou—renowned for clearing the Dragon Abyss alone, seven times in and out, untouched! Even my father had me address him as Uncle Li. And now… he's here, reduced to this?
Another spoke. "I'm He Qinghe from Danjiang. Greetings, Lady Zhao."
Her heart skipped again. He Qinghe—a rising star of the younger generation, already formed his Golden Core!
Others followed.
"Lin Feishuang, a humble cultivator."
"Long Gang of Xinxiang."
"Huaqingchi of Yudu."
One after another, each name a legend in their own right—even one Nascent Soul master among them!
She was stunned. All these mighty cultivators… all fallen victim to that child. All turned to porcelain, powerless to resist.
But I… I'm still a daughter of the Zhao family. If I go missing for days, my father will send people to search. Once they find Huangpo Village… they'll track me down and rescue me!
In the kiln yard, the flames roared high.
Chen Shi crept into a dark corner, avoiding the roaming kiln workers. A cluster of massive urns stood there. As he approached, the urns shuffled closer together, trying to keep him out.
But the spaces between them were wide enough. He squeezed in.
The kiln workers passed by. One glanced at the urns, and one of the jars—panicked—suddenly grew a leg.
The other two giants turned instantly.
The jar sprouted arms and another leg and bolted away, its lid clattering as it fled.
The kiln workers gave chase.
Moments later, two returned, bending low to peer at each urn in the corner, scanning for movement.
Their eyes were dull gray, lifeless as ruined pottery.
When they found nothing, they departed.
The third returned, dragging the rebellious jar, and hurled it into the roaring fire.
Chen Shi and the few surviving urns slinked off together. But once the kiln workers were gone, the urns turned on him, ready to settle a score.
Too late.
He was already gone.
Vanished without a trace.