The bull-headed ghost was as tall as the previous ghost woman, pitch-black with protruding fangs and eyes red as magma. Standing outside Yin Ya’s cell, it occasionally exhaled a cold, rank breath.
Fortunately, Yin Ya feared ghosts more than this beast-like creature, which seemed preferable to the ghost mother-daughter duo. He eyed the bull-headed ghost warily.
“W-what do you want?” he stammered.
The ghost stood still for a moment, then, under the curious gazes from surrounding cells, it twisted off one of its bowl-sized horns and offered it to Yin Ya through the cell bars.
From a few cells away, a masked Yuan Ying cultivator scoffed, “The horn is a lot-drawing tube. The previous cultivator was chosen to draw lots but refused and was immediately bisected. With less than an hour until dawn, drawing gives you a chance to live. Decide quickly for everyone’s sake.”
Someone else sneered, “Easy for you to say. Would you be so cavalier facing life and death?”
The masked cultivator retorted, “Whatever it is if it were me, I’d welcome the chance to fight this ghostly thing.”
His words held a hint of confidence, showing no fear.
Nan Yan scanned the surrounding cells but couldn’t spot Ji Yang. Most prisoners were too shocked and angry to notice much else.
As others urged Yin Ya to act and the bull-headed ghost grew impatient, baring its fangs, Yin Ya considered using his trump card. Then, Nan Yan whispered from next door:
“Draw a shorter lot.”
Steeling himself, Yin Ya decided to use his secret technique if he drew badly. Seeing about a hundred lots in the horn, he drew a green-tipped one. Turning it over, he saw the character for “life.”
The “life” lot immediately transformed into light, covering the back of Yin Ya’s hand. Suddenly, the ceiling of his cell split open, and the entire cell rumbled upwards.
“Hey, what’s happening?” Yin Ya’s voice faded as he ascended.
Confused prisoners asked, “What’s going on?”
The masked cultivator explained, “As I expected, there are 100 of us imprisoned and 100 lots, some for life and some for death. He drew a life lot, so he passed this level and was transported up.”
The cultivators, not fools, began to panic.
“What happens when all the life lots are drawn? Bull-head, come here!”
But the bull-headed ghost ignored them, seemingly noticing Nan Yan’s earlier hint to Yin Ya. It tapped on Nan Yan’s cell door, completely sealing her spiritual sense and voice inside. Then it moved to Mu Zhanting’s cell, banging on the door with its axe handle.
Nan Yan, unable to project her senses or voice, anxiously watched Mu Zhanting’s situation.
Soon, Mu Zhanting awoke, startled by the bull-head’s presence. Realizing he was in a cell, he became irritated.
“Draw lots? Get lost.”
The demonic cultivator opposite him exclaimed excitedly, “He’s doomed.”
Angered by the refusal, the bull-headed ghost roared and swung its axe, which phased through the solid stone bars with a sonic boom, striking down with immense force.
However, Mu Zhanting wasn’t afraid. Recognizing the ghost’s Yuan Ying peak strength, he swiftly activated a secret technique, summoning the image of a turtle-bodied, dragon-headed beast.
“The Bashe Shield of the Nine Dragon Scripture?! He’s from the Ao clan… No, he’s the Imperial Son of Chen State!” someone exclaimed.
As everyone watched in shock, the bull-head’s axe came crashing down. The Bashe’s shell cracked, but this intensity triggered Mu Zhanting’s innate Dragon Lord technique. A thunder dragon emerged from his body, blasting a hole through the bullhead’s chest, forcing it to stagger back.
The bullhead, seemingly immortal, devoured half the corpse of the previously killed cultivator, healing its wound. It picked up its axe and again offered the lot-drawing horn to Mu Zhanting.
Realizing the bull-head wouldn’t fight further, Mu Zhanting hesitantly drew a second lot, which read “death.”
Nan Yan tensed again, but when the bull-head struck once more, Mu Zhanting still had strength. He fared better this time, barely deflecting the blow with just the Bashe Shield and about ten defensive talismans.
On his third draw, Mu Zhanting got a “life” lot and was transported to the second floor.
Someone bitterly remarked, “I see. Even if you draw a death lot or defy the bull-head, you get another chance if you survive one axe strike.”
The masked cultivator added, “Correct. The strong compete with heaven, the weak submit to fate.”
Relieved at Mu Zhanting’s safety, Nan Yan pondered something the masked cultivator soon voiced:
“There are only 100 lots. Luckily, the first person died without drawing. But what if later cultivators draw multiple times before dying or passing? What happens when the lots run out?”
Everyone’s faces darkened. The immortal bull-head couldn’t be outlasted.
Soon, the bullhead randomly chose a Yuan Ying cultivator. Weakened by the earlier ghost parade, he couldn’t withstand even one axe strike. His body was split in two, and the bullhead’s axe absorbed his nascent soul.
Despite this, most cultivators didn’t want to be last and tried various tactics.
“Bull-head friend, let me draw first. I have ghost food for you!”
“I have blood offerings! What do you want? Is a fifth-grade spirit beast enough?”
These methods seemed somewhat effective. Nan Yan saw the bullhead attracted to a cultivator who’d spilled purple demon blood at his cell door. However, that cultivator’s luck was poor; he drew two death lots and was killed.
The bullhead seemed to avoid Nan Yan, perhaps due to her earlier hint to Yin Ya. After an hour, fewer than ten people remained.
“By my count, only one lot remains,” a weaker cultivator said fearfully.
Nan Yan sat motionless, noticing the masked Yuan Ying cultivator still in his cell, seemingly unconcerned about who the bullhead would choose last.
Nan Yan was out of options. Demons and ghosts disliked Buddhist cultivators, so even if she set up a meat shop at her door like others, the bullhead would surely avoid her. Seeing the masked cultivator’s calmness, she intuited that the remaining people might not necessarily die.
A distant scream indicated the last lot drawer had drawn a death lot. With only nine cultivators remaining, some began frantically pounding on their cell doors.
“Even in death, I won’t forgive Huo Wuji!”
“Master, junior sister… I’m coming to join you.”
“I can’t die! I haven’t achieved immortality yet! Fellow cultivators, let’s find a way to break these bars and kill this ghost together!”
As the cultivators desperately sought survival, Nan Yan saw the masked cultivator stand up. Simultaneously, the faint sound of bells echoed from the corridor’s end.