Translator: CinderTL
The Middle-Aged Male Cultivator smirked coldly as the Demonic Path vermin fell beneath his sword.
He swept his divine sense through the collapsed cave, searching for the vermin’s storage ring, but paused in surprise.
Where’s the storage ring?
As he hesitated, he suddenly sensed an eerie presence behind him.
His heart sank. Without a mont to think, he channeled his spiritual power and conjured a mana shield.
To his surprise, the anticipated ambush never ca.
He whirled around and finally noticed the vermin standing perfectly unhard a hundred zhang behind him.
Even more bizarrely, nine tentacles had sprouted from its head, writhing wildly in the air with a piercing, ear-splitting screech.
He instantly felt invisible blades piercing his Sea of Consciousness, tearing through it with unrestrained ferocity.
"Agh—!"
A low, involuntary groan of agony escaped his throat.
His eyes beca bloodshot, his teeth clenched so hard they ground together, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Veins bulged across his skin like gnarled tree roots, pulsing grotesquely beneath the surface.
The intense pain seed to blur his consciousness, causing the mana shield surrounding him to flicker erratically.
Yet he stubbornly endured the agony, summoning a fist-sized pearl.
The pearl was perfectly round, radiating a lustrous glow like mutton-fat jade.
But before he could activate it, a flash of cold light slashed through the mana shield.
Crack!
The crisp sound of shattering echoed as the already faltering shield exploded into fragnts, dissolving into motes of spiritual light that scattered into the air.
The cold light was the Soul Cleaving Blade. Though its power had diminished, it continued its trajectory toward the Middle-Aged Male Cultivator, aiming straight for his forehead.
Panic flickered in his eyes as he instinctively raised his left hand to strike the blade.
Pfft!
The Soul Cleaving Blade severed a small portion of his palm, but the imnse force of the strike deflected its course. The blade dipped slightly downward, piercing the cultivator’s left shoulder.
Blood blossod.
The Soul Cleaving Blade pierced through the cultivator’s left shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone. His left arm now hung limply from his body, connected only by a thin strip of skin.
The Soul Cleaving Blade missed its first strike, arcing through the air before slashing back from behind.
Even before the blade arrived, its razor-sharp blade qi tore several gashes in the cultivator’s robes, revealing pale skin beneath.
But then, the Treasure Pearl suddenly erupted with a silver-gray light, enveloping the Middle-Aged Male Cultivator entirely.
The pain etched on his face eased considerably, replaced by a sinister grimace.
A dazzling spiritual light flared from his right hand, instantly coating his palm with a layer of shimring, gold-like radiance.
Whirling around, he channeled the force of wind and thunder into his palm, striking at the approaching Soul Cleaving Blade.
Clang—!
A deafening clash of tal echoed across the battlefield.
The Soul Cleaving Blade was sent flying backward.
Song Wen’s pupils narrowed slightly. The Treasure Pearl was clearly a Divine Soul Defense Spirit Treasure, though its grade was only mid-grade. While it couldn’t completely block the shadow void’s divine sense attack, it significantly weakened its impact.
Body Integration Stage cultivators were indeed not so easily killed.
Realizing the situation was hopeless, Song Wen recalled the Soul Cleaving Blade and turned to flee.
The middle-aged male cultivator stared at his severed left hand and shattered left shoulder, his expression darkening to a sinister grimace.
Without any visible movent, the flying sword still buried deep within the mountain’s belly burst forth, piercing through the rock and hurtling straight toward Song Wen.
The sword pierced Song Wen’s skull once more, obliterating his entire head.
As the middle-aged cultivator watched the headless corpse plumt from the sky, he noticed sothing peculiar: not a single drop of blood stained the body.
"A Substitute Puppet!"
His expression turned to astonishnt as he frantically searched his surroundings. Suddenly, he realized the Demonic Path ant had already fled over three thousand miles away.
Just as he was about to activate his escape technique to pursue, a searing pain tore through his chest, and blood gushed from his mouth.
Earlier, when the Soul Cleaving Blade shattered his left shoulder, it had left behind a massive influx of Golden Sharp Qi, which was now rampaging through his body.
The middle-aged cultivator glared at Song Wen’s retreating figure, his eyes burning with malice. Yet he didn’t imdiately give chase. Instead, he channeled all his spiritual power to expel the Golden Sharp Qi.
Even if the enemy gained a head start, how far could a re Void Refinent Stage cultivator possibly escape?
Seeing that his pursuer hadn’t followed, Song Wen dared not relax even slightly, fleeing at full speed.
After covering over three hundred thousand miles, a dark silhouette appeared on the distant horizon—a human city.
After a mont’s thought, Song Wen recalled its na: Chu’an City, a large human settlent under the jurisdiction of the Spirit Jade Palace. Directly administered by the palace, it was permanently garrisoned by a Body Integration Stage cultivator.
Song Wen’s eyes lit up. Surely the Middle-Aged Male Cultivator wouldn’t dare act recklessly within the city.
He flipped his hand, producing an iron mask, which he fastened to his face. Suppressing his aura, he darted toward the city.
Upon entering, Song Wen imdiately slipped into an inconspicuous inn.
He requested a private room and, once inside, swiftly altered his appearance.
Less than twenty breaths later, when he erged from the room, he had transford into a young male cultivator in the early Divine Transformation Stage. A cyan robe swayed gently in the breeze, the jade pendant at his waist chiming softly, exuding the leisurely air of a noble scion.
Strolling through the bustling streets, Song Wen surveyed the shops lining the road with keen interest. He occasionally stepped inside, chatting with shopkeepers or apprentices, and purchased Spirit Herbs or demon beast souls.
He now exuded an air of composure and tranquility, showing no trace of the frantic urgency that had driven his earlier escape.
Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure descended upon the entire city like a tidal wave, causing passersby to crane their necks and gaze skyward—Song Wen among them.
The Middle-Aged Male Cultivator had arrived!
He had changed into fresh robes, concealing his injuries. A black glove covered his left hand, hiding the severed palm. His face was grim, his eyes as cold as if steeped in icy poison, and the air seed to thicken wherever his gaze fell.
His fury stemd from his fruitless search for his severed hand after Song Wen’s departure. The Soul Cleaving Blade’s blade light had pulverized the hand, leaving only two mangled fingers.
His divine sense swept ruthlessly across the entire city.
Every cultivator, every dwelling, and even the most secluded chambers were brutally swept by this overwhelming divine sense.
The cultivators within the city trembled in fear, and so with weaker cultivation levels fainted on the spot.
"Brother Gu Huang!"
A figure soared from the towering mountains beside the city.
The newcor was a female cultivator who appeared to be in her thirties, her face bearing a hint of displeasure.
"Chu’an City is not your Myriad Swords Pavilion’s territory. Such reckless behavior is a clear overstep."
The middle-aged male cultivator, addressed as "Gu Huang," reluctantly withdrew his divine sense upon seeing the woman’s arrival.
Though the woman’s cultivation was only at the early stage of body integration, even if he were uninjured, he would still be no match for her within Chu’an City. After all, the city’s trapping and killing formation was no re decoration.
"Ah, Fellow Daoist Wang Qiuyue. I was pursuing a rogue cultivator whose hands are stained with the blood of countless mortals. In my haste, I acted rashly. Please forgive my impudence."
(End of the Chapter)
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