Half a month passed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, a pill glowing faintly shot out in the courtyard before quickly falling back down.
Wu Rouyun immediately rushed inside and finally saw Song Wanníng and the Valley Master emerge.
"Why not, just accept me then!"
The Valley Master looked at Song Wanníng expectantly, his eyes full of admiration. He held immense respect for Song Wanníng's pill refinement skills. Now, he simply wanted to follow her to refine pills.
Song Wanníng shook her head. "My disciple could never accept a senior brother of such advanced age."
The Valley Master: "..."
He glared at Song Wanníng in mock irritation but was not truly angry.
In just half a month, their relationship had grown remarkably close.
With a cold shout, Fang Wei immediately rushed in.
"Apologize to your Martial Uncle!
"If your Martial Uncle is not satisfied, you can leave Ghost King Valley later!"
If she could not become his master, then she would be a younger sister. As for the false accusation Wu Mingxu had spread about Song Wanníng, he knew about that too.
Purely his own fault.
Fang Wei's face darkened at the words but he did not dare argue. He bowed sincerely to Song Wanníng, apologizing. The Valley Master was still unsatisfied. With a gesture, Fang Wei fell to his knees.
This time, Fang Wei truly submitted, harboring no thoughts of luck or escape. He kowtowed again. "It is my fault for failing in guidance, letting a rebellious disciple disturb the Martial Uncle. I hope Martial Uncle will not hold it against me!"
He pounded the floor a few more times in earnest.
Song Wanníng did not make things difficult and nodded. "Forget it. Let this matter end here."
Out of respect for the Valley Master, the incident was closed.
"You are magnanimous, little sister!"
The Valley Master beamed, ready to flatter Song Wanníng again. This ancestor was not only astonishing in pill refinement but also frightening in cultivation power. In just a few days, he had already been surpassed…
Song Wanníng glanced at him helplessly, twitching the corner of her mouth in silent amusement. Despite his ethereal appearance, his behavior was thoroughly sycophantic.
"Leader Wu, here are your pills."
Song Wanníng took out more than ten bottles and handed them to Wu Rouyun. She would not be stingy with someone who risked themselves to cooperate. After all, if not for the Langya Gang, her Primordial Soul power would not have risen so quickly.
"Thank you, Dàrén!"
Unconsciously, Wu Rouyun had altered her address, holding the pills with utmost respect.
"We have reached an agreement. Ghost King Valley will continue to supply pills to Langya Gang, so you need not worry. And I must depart!"
Her objective accomplished, she could not remain at Langya Gang indefinitely.
"Dàrén, you are leaving?"
Wu Yaozu panicked upon hearing this.
"I—I—why not accept me as a Ghost Attendant too? I want to follow you!"
He had sensed Song Wanníng's immense power and realized how reckless he had been in the past. Now, he wanted to follow Song Wanníng to improve his own strength.
But Song Wanníng merely gave him a disdainful look.
Wu Yaozu: "..."
He was crushed, pouting in grievance.
Wu Rouyun could not hold Song Wanníng back either and could only watch them leave with reluctance.
From that moment on, Song Wanníng's name spread far and wide across the Underworld.
Everyone knew it, everyone recognized it.
Not long after, Song Wanníng parted ways with the Valley Master. She bought an umbrella in the city and headed toward the Eighteen Layers of Hell.
The Valley Master had told her he once saw a Rebirth Flower within the Eighteen Layers of Hell.
Having missed one before, Song Wanníng naturally did not want to miss a second.
Over ten days later, a graceful figure holding a red umbrella appeared in the Valley of Rebirth. Almost every soul could not help but glance at her. Yet no one dared meet her gaze directly. The aura surrounding her was like a sharp blade, forbidding approach.
Song Wanníng reached the outskirts of the Eighteen Layers of Hell. She looked up at the towering structure ahead, a glimmer of determination in her eyes.
Then she stepped in without hesitation.
At King Yama's Mansion, King Yama watched her enter the Eighteen Layers of Hell, a trace of change crossing his expression.
First, it had been that Mahayana cultivator. Now Song Wanníng. Both had entered the Eighteen Layers of Hell. What exactly were they planning?
With a flash, he appeared outside the Eighteen Layers of Hell, then followed her inside.
Each of the eighteen layers corresponded to a unique form of torment.
The purpose was to cleanse the sin within evil souls, forcing them to atone in endless agony.
The layers were: Tongue-pulling Hell, Scissors Hell, Iron Tree Hell, Sin Mirror Hell, Steaming Cage Hell, Bronze Pillar Hell, Mountain of Knives Hell, Ice Mountain Hell, Boiling Oil Hell, Bull Pit Hell, Stone Press Hell, Pestle Hell, Blood Pool Hell, Wrongful Death Hell, Spiked Torture Hell, Volcano Hell, Stone Mill Hell, Saw Hell.
Each layer was distinct.
Upon entering the first layer, Song Wanníng saw countless evil souls.
They were nailed to walls by Soul-binding Pins.
Then their tongues were mercilessly pulled out.
Screams filled the entire space.
Even Song Wanníng scratched her ears uncomfortably.
The tongues of the evil souls immediately regrew, only to be pulled out again. For them, the greatest suffering was not physical but endless mental torment.
They did not know when the pain would end, trapped in eternal anguish…
From struggling to survive, to numbness, to finally longing for death…
Once in the Eighteen Layers, survival was impossible, death unattainable.
Song Wanníng felt no pity.
If their sins were not so deep, they would not have reached the Eighteen Layers of Hell.
She opened her umbrella and continued toward the second layer. This time, she did not stop, heading straight to the ninth layer. Here, evil souls fried in boiling oil were everywhere. The one she had met before was among them.
Song Wanníng paid no attention, her gaze fixed on the Rebirth Flower growing among the bones. She strode toward it, but before she could reach it, her expression changed sharply. She had run into a familiar face—the cultivator who had previously stolen a Rebirth Flower.
Enemies always meet on narrow roads.
The Mahayana cultivator noticed Song Wanníng's aura and turned sharply.
"You again?"
His gaze darkened, then a light laugh escaped him.
"You just cannot leave, can you? Do you want this Rebirth Flower too?"
He sneered, eyes on the flower, filled with determination.
"Too bad, I have claimed this flower. No one will take it from me."
From the start, he had not considered Song Wanníng a threat—just an Out-of-Body stage ghost cultivator.
One palm was enough to kill her easily.