Chapter 696 - 427: Seventh Life! Warlord Chief! Digging the Great Tomb! (2)

Chapter 696: Chapter 427: Seventh Life! Warlord Chief! Digging the Great Tomb! (2)

Memories are frozen at a cataclysmic transformation: the last feudal emperor abdicated, and the Heirloom Seal of the Realm, which maintained the order of the Nine Provinces, lost its efficacy alongside.

The thousand-year imperial fortune it carried did not flow into the newborn nation as expected. Instead... it violently disintegrated, dissipating entirely into the heavens and mountains.

This was akin to withdrawing the stabilizing needle pinned on the dragon veins of the Nine Provinces!

From then on, yin and yang were reversed, and spectral entities roamed freely.

The flame of science struggled to spread, yet the shadow of the supernatural had silently seeped into every corner of the world.

Thinking of this, Lu Xuan’s gaze once again swept over the ominous "White Tiger Grasping Corpse" grave before him, then over the fervent-looking advisor and the fawning adjutant.

Finally, it landed on the thousands of soldiers clutching rudimentary weapons, looking earnestly at him.

The loss of the Heirloom Seal of the Realm, the disintegration of imperial fortune, had created this blurred world between man and ghost.

His former self, Lu Xuan, with thirty-eight years of life, embodied the epitome of the era’s fragmented warlord domination.

He was neither a revolutionary noble returning from overseas nor a decadent bureaucrat remaining from the previous dynasty, but rather a pragmatic survivor crawling out from the blood-soaked battlefields step by step.

His former self believed in guns and cannons, even more so that in this increasingly bizarre world, there were beings that couldn’t be killed by guns.

Therefore, his group, ostensibly called the "Southern Army," yet in truth just a ragtag force of over five thousand people, always harbored a few odd talents.

The advisor to his right, saliva flying, was once a lay Taoist well-versed in feng shui divination, serving as his most relied-upon "eyes."

His former self used ruthlessness and "practicality" to firmly control two or three nearby counties, acting tyrannically as a local emperor.

However, in a chaotic world, rowing against the current, a larger warlord began pressing against his borders crazily.

To secure his territory and resist annexation, his former self urgently needed a breathtaking fortune and... the legendary "Demon Suppressing" treasure capable of countering evil.

Consequently, he turned his gaze toward the infamous forbidden land under his reign, General Hill.

It was at this moment that the deadly "White Tiger Grasping Corpse" land lay beneath his feet.

After memories faded, Lu Xuan instinctively sank his mind into his brain.

However, when the system panel surfaced clearly, he almost failed to maintain his warlord demeanor, his mouth twitching involuntarily.

Host: Red Dust Immortal Lu Xuan (Seventh Incarnation)

Realm: None

Cultivation Technique: None

Points: 0

?????

Lu Xuan: "..."

What’s this unbeatable beginning? This is simply hell mode!

Apart from a seemingly grandiose yet void and unrealistic title of "Red Dust Immortal", he had absolutely nothing—no realm, no cultivation technique to speak of!

Thinking of this, Lu Xuan scanned the soldiers beside him, holding weapons like "rotten sweet potatoes and smelly bird eggs."

Recalling those demons in his memory impervious to guns and cannons, a massive sense of absurdity and crisis instantly gripped him.

In this world rampant with spectral entities, fraught with peril, starting as a "local emperor" warlord with thousands of guns and a bunch of hungry subordinates, could he really survive... and successfully acquire vast amounts of the world’s origin, transcending this mundane world?

Immediately, Lu Xuan ignored the advisor’s relentless flattery beside him and precisely cast his gaze toward the men being held at gunpoint by soldiers in the distance.

More accurately, they were three "experts" dressed in faded black Taoist robes, wearing Primordial headscarves.

According to his predecessor’s memory, these three were the most reputable Taoists from the local Symbolist Temple.

When his former self resolved to act on General Hill, he thought of them—as this grave was notorious, shrouded in mystery, it was naturally best to let professionals lead the way.

Thus, a team of soldiers "politely" escorted these three from the temple.

His former self’s plan was shrewd: use professionals’ lives to scout the way, to dissolve the invisible dangers that might lurk within the ominous grave, while he would lead the army and reap the benefits.

Wasn’t that wonderful?

Though the three Taoists in front forced composure onto their faces, their pale complexion revealed their inner terror.

What they faced was not only the legendary ominous grave but also the firmly pointed, unreasonable gun barrels behind them.

Lu Xuan’s gaze slowly swept over them; his lips curled slightly.

Interesting! I’m just fretting over having no cultivation technique!

In the next moment, Lu Xuan ignored all the flattering or fearful gazes around him, striding directly towards the three Taoists.

Military boots stepped on the rubble with clear sound, each step seemed to tread on a person’s heart.

He finally stood before them, his shadow completely enveloping them, his gaze locked onto the old Taoist with white hair and beard in the center.

This sudden invisible pressure caused cold sweat to immediately form on the old Taoist’s forehead.

"I’ve heard," Lu Xuan spoke, his voice not loud, "that your Symbolist Temple, ancesters... possessed some true skills."

He subtly leaned forward, approaching the old Taoist, his words crisp as he hammered each point onto the opponent’s heart: "Now, give yourselves, as well as me, an opportunity."

"I’ve recently taken a sudden interest in acquiring some genuine skills to protect myself, and smartly, hand over the hidden, taught-in-secret skills."

"Hidden, taught-in-secret skills?"

Upon hearing this, the old Taoist’s cloudy eyes flashed with a trace of imperceptible surprise.

Raising his eyelids, he quickly scanned this warlord who ruled locally like a tyrant, his heart surging with absurdity.

This usually power-hungry, oppressive warlord leader is now coveting the minor magic skills that their reclusive kind rely on for survival?