The little zombie was being led by Gan Tang, its small head held high, face full of worry, whimpering softly, the cheerfulness all gone.
Gan Tang reached out and gently stroked the little zombie’s head.
"Silly little thing, I’m not stepping in only because I’m afraid I’ll harm him.
He’s the descendant of the Scorching Sun—how could he always rely on others to protect him? Sooner or later, he must venture out on his own.
If I sheltered him all the time, that would just be overindulgence, and would drown his future."
The little zombie shook Gan Tang’s hand back and forth, about to burst into tears.
Gan Tang chuckled softly.
"Don’t worry. I finally made this trip out of the house, not to watch him die right in front of me—have I no pride?
If he truly can’t handle it, and I want to take him away, nobody could possibly stop me."
Hearing this, the little zombie relaxed; if fighting didn’t work, then running away wasn’t such a big deal anyway. No psychological baggage—she could report to the parents with full confidence, what’s scary about losing face from fleeing?
As long as Wen Yan didn’t die, nothing else really mattered.
Gan Tang soothed the little zombie, then gazed into the distance, murmuring to herself.
"Scorching Sun and the Big Executor...
Last time, I didn’t even get to see her one final time.
This time, no matter what, I have to see with my own eyes how the Big Executor falls..."
Gan Tang stared without blinking.
Ever since she learned the Scorching Sun had reappeared, along with the emergence of a Big Executor,
there was no way she could simply go back to sleep.
After awakening, she learned the current language, figured out the ins and outs, then resolved that she must come personally.
Even without the little zombie tattling about being bullied by zombies—a perfectly justified reason—she would have come on her own anyway.
In the past, she’d never had the chance to see the Big Executor one last time, or to witness her final journey.
She’d wondered countless times: the Big Executor was so powerful—was it possible her sister had not actually fallen back then?
After all, nobody had seen what she looked like at the moment of her fall; no one really knew what happened.
All anyone knew was that the Demon Kingdom perished, leaving nothing but eight hundred li of yellow sands, the place turned to a thousand-year deadland.
So is there a chance, her sister is still buried beneath the sands?
She’d tried searching before, but found nothing, felt nothing; everything was exactly like the legend—nothing left at all.
She’d also heard that a hundred years ago, the Sacred Fire Sect had seized an opportunity to hire many people to explore there, but in the end, aside from a few ruined walls buried beneath the sands, they found nothing.
Now, what she wanted was to see with her own eyes what became of the Big Executor after fulfilling her obsession.
Is there still even a glimmer of hope?
In the distance, with a deafening boom, the walls collapsed in an avalanche.
Huge tentacles glowing with a ghostly blue swept past, and swathes of buildings and walls toppled like they were made of paper, crumbling nonstop.
Qin Kun’s body surged with Yang Energy, the whole person burning like fire, turning into a gigantic fireball and being blasted out from inside.
Uncle hunched his body, one sharp claw stabbing into the ground, gouging out a ten-meter-long trench.
And Wen Yan was entwined by a thick tentacle and lifted into the air.
Wen Yan felt the massive force from the tentacle, and a power like it was trying to siphon away his soul. Too bad—he no longer had a soul.
From this alone, Wen Yan sensed something was off.
Last time, he’d seen the Soul Devouring Beast in a dream—back then, what it wanted wasn’t the soul in the literal sense, nor did it feel .
He had no soul, so of course he wasn’t afraid of being devoured. He closed his eyes, pressed close to the tentacle, and let go of his mind to sense it carefully.
The Fake Mo Zhicheng merely glanced at Wen Yan, saw him being snatched up, then simply closed his eyes and sprawled out on the thick tentacle, ignoring everything else.
He’d felt it himself before and knew—usually, just being nearby, your soul would almost tear out of your body; if the thing directly caught you, there was no escape.
For Wen Yan to enter the Old Ice Warehouse—such people were called "Soul-less Ones", but that was just a title, not that they were truly without a soul.
He’d read countless books, used his connections to find a trove of ancient texts.
Nowhere in any record was there ever a living human who had lost their soul yet still survived.
A Soul-less One was actually just someone with extraordinary talent—their soul’s fit, fusion, and solidity with the body far surpassed ordinary people.
In ages past, such people found Daoist cultivation hard—pretty much no future, since they’d be utterly stuck at Condensing the Yin Spirit.
Such people couldn’t even form a Yin God, much less let their Yin Spirit leave the body.
But later, when the Last Dharma began and the Martial Path rose, these former losers were instantly turned into martial wonders.
A hundred years ago, the Last Dharma era had fully taken shape; put simply, spiritual energy was totally exhausted.
At that time, there was a so-called Soul-less One who, refining his body alone, could stride atop the waves, water no higher than his knees—just pure muscle power accomplishing something truly unthinkable.
Anyway, from ancient times to now, there never was a literal soul-less living person.
Without a soul but retaining consciousness—basically, only zombies fit the bill.
If you’re still alive, then at most your soul is just fully fused into your body, almost impossible to separate.