Chapter 504: Critical Mont
The strange roar still echoed through the Cangbo Mountain Range, causing rocks to tremble and clouds to churn.
"This is..." The Mountain-Moving Sage frowned deeply, unable to comprehend the situation.
The other four demon sages also looked toward the main peak with confusion.
Before the furious shout of "Fire!" could fade away—
BOOM BOOM BOOM—!
A series of thunderous explosions erupted as if a hornet's nest of lightning had been disturbed.
In an instant, radiant beams of spiritual energy as blue as the ocean poured down from the main peak's summit toward the demon horde.
These luminous spears, like divine weapons hurled from the mountaintop, struck the densest concentrations of demons.
One particularly thick beam annihilated demon soldiers instantly wherever it passed, reducing them to dust before they could even scream.
The demon battle lines were torn open with hundred-zhang-wide gaps in an instant.
Alongside these massive beams ca countless thinner but continuous streams of light.
These beams cut through the demon ranks like scythes through wheat, leaving trails of carnage and rapidly clearing entire battle zones.
The five demon sages stared dumbfounded at the beams erupting from the main peak.
At first they thought it might be spell light or sword energy.
But even if the peak housed tens of thousands of cultivators, such a torrential barrage would be impossible!
Moreover... their spiritual senses weren't faulty—they detected only a few hundred cultivators in the main peak.
"Are those... Cangyun M4s? M4 rifles and Terminators?!" Li Ziping's eyes flashed with excitent, his lips curling into an uncontrollable grin.
Zhang ngchu was equally stunned, murmuring, "The Ancestor's creations are truly extraordinary!"
Extraordinary indeed.
The devastation caused in re breaths nearly matched that of two major formations.
Yet those formations could only be deployed by Void Treading Stage experts like themselves.
While those chanical contraptions? Any ordinary person with basic intelligence could operate them.
The resource efficiency spoke for itself.
...
The five demon sages wore ugly expressions.
If Moon Shadow Sect kept this up, they'd lose their entire demon army.
Though these were only part of the Hundred Thousand Mountains' demon forces, and demons reproduced quickly...
Returning as five commanders without troops would be humiliating.
Especially with Tu Shan Yue watching from the shadows!
After a mont's thought, the Roc Sage's eyes glead as he spread his wings and shot toward the main peak:
"This king will see what tricks Moon Shadow Sect is playing!"
Before his words faded, several blue beams converged on him.
The Roc Sage flapped his golden wings, deflecting the spiritual energy beams with tallic clangs like rain on banana leaves.
"Such pitiful power!" The Golden-Winged Roc sneered, diving toward a cliff on the peak's western side.
Inside that cliff, Moon Shadow Sect disciples were raining destruction on the demons with Cangyun Terminators, oblivious to approaching danger.
"Sister Zhaole, look out!" soone shouted—too late.
The Golden-Winged Roc descended like a golden thunderbolt. His claws sheared through half the mountain with one swipe, then shattered the defensive formation's core with another. РαƝ∅BĘ𝙎
The earth shook as Moon Shadow Sect disciples hidden within were exposed. Many weaker disciples vomited blood and trembled under the demon sage's oppressive aura. With a casual gesture, the demon summoned a gale that delivered a female disciple into his grasp.
Claws piercing her shoulder, the disciple scread in agony, dropping her Terminator—finally giving the five sages a clear look.
Yet even then, they couldn't comprehend this six-barreled contraption, only recognizing it as chanical.
"No wonder Cangyun Realm's human cultivators haven't progressed in millennia—they've been tinkering with toys!" The sages exchanged glances and laughed.
chanical weapons were far preferable to divine techniques.
The barrage didn't frighten them—as Great Ascension Stage beings, even the strongest beams only singed their fur.
What terrified them was human cultivators wielding such power at their level.
Wouldn't that an facing thousands of Great Ascension opponents?
Machines were far simpler to handle.
The peak's defenses ant nothing to them. Destroy the weapons, and their demon army could advance on Moon Shadow Sect!
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
More energy beams ca—all intercepted by the Roc Sage.
The ineffective attacks only enraged him further.
Eyeing the main peak with a vicious grin, he lifted the wounded disciple with his massive talons.
"Want to save her? Hehehe! Then this king shall devour her before your eyes—rip her apart piece by piece!"
The Roc Sage opened his maw, fetid breath washing over Zhaole as blood dripped from her shoulder.
Seeing her stiffen and await death, he mocked:
"Worm! Grovel and swear loyalty to the demon race, and this king might spare you!"
The other sages roared with laughter.
But Zhaole opened her eyes with steely resolve:
"Sword Pavilion disciples die standing, never kneeling! Kill then! The Ancestor will avenge !"
"The Ancestor? Hehehe!" The Roc Sage guffawed. "If he's so powerful, why wait until you're dead? Why not save you now?!"
"The Ancestor..." Zhaole's face darkened as she gritted her teeth. "He's in seclusion! You think you can sever our bond? Spit on you!"
A bloody glob landed in the demon's mouth, enraging him beyond restraint.
No more gas—he'd swallow this insolent disciple whole.
Just then—
"Clang—"
This sword resonance wasn't tallic, but like so primordial order awakening.
The soundwave made space itself tremble, giving even the five sages pause.
A swordsman's phantom appeared beside the Roc Sage—sword light flashing—then vanished.
So fast the demon barely registered the arm pain until seeing blood spread.
His claw still gripping the disciple tumbled into the abyss below.
Another phantom dove after it, disappearing into the depths.
"Raising my cup, I invite the moon; Together we make three."
A calm voice carried from the heavens, unhurried yet brimming with sword intent.
Demons looked up to see clouds parting for a descending figure—white-haired, black-robed.
Eyes closed as if intoxicated, yet his bearing radiated quiet majesty.
At his waist: the Black Scales Sword, humming with dragon energy.
In his hand: a gourd exuding fragrant wine.
None other than...
Sword Pavilion's Ancestor—Chen Huaian.
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