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墨書 Inktalez
He dragged his fingernails along his chest, tearing apart the flesh bit by bit as he moved toward his abdomen. It seemed as if he felt no pain, almost as if he were numb. He murmured to himself, then grasped the flesh on either side of his ribcage and yanked it violently, producing a tearing sound. He had opened his own chest!
Strangely, in such a tragic scene, no blood gushed forth. His organs had long since withered into dry husks. What remained was hardly recognizable as human innards.
Zuo Ci looked gently at Qing, his slender fingers curling like fishhooks as they pierced through the torn wound, the tips twitching. Qing turned his head to look at Zuo Ci. On that face, now a parched visage, hollow eye sockets wept streams of blood-tears while he chuckled eerily.
The tearing continued. Qing Pi was exceptionally difficult to peel away because the husk had grown from within him; his skin was riddled with holes, devoid of any artistic value. This was the worst piece Zuo Ci had ever handled, even worse than Jin's old skin.
This could no longer be called human skin. It resembled hardened, decayed cowhide instead. Zuo Ci's expression remained impassive as his fingers danced relentlessly; that layer of tattered human skin was ultimately stripped away through his persistent labor.
The loss of human skin transformed Qing into a shapeless, rotting husk. He had long since lost all vitality.
"You are nothing but a demon, a devil, Satan!"
Nekomata was spewing bluish flames, barely managing to suppress the reckless Ashura. As it turned its head, it witnessed Zuo Ci forcefully peeling away Qing Pi's husk. The sight sent chills down its spine, leaving it shivering in horror.
Even a tyrant like it was having second thoughts at this moment. This guy was nothing short of a monster, his cultivation completely inscrutable. Kamo-kun, a descendant of the Yosan-kei Onmyoji from Eastern Japan, already possessed remarkable talent. Yet in front of this individual, he felt as weak as a child. Previously, he had regarded him as nothing more than a plaything he could easily dispose of; such thoughts now seemed utterly foolish.
"Don't be in such a hurry; you'll meet the same fate!" Zuo Ci laughed. "Aren't you capable of manipulating corpses? Perfect! You can serve as the focal point for my formation. I will peel off your skin and use your flesh to create a cat Gui Yao fetus, drying it into wax and burying it beneath the Old Huai Tree at my doorstep. Rest assured, your Ling Ti will be of great use; I won't waste it!"
The Nekomata's eerie blue pupils stood upright in disbelief. How dare this man think he could turn him, a great deity of Eastern Japan, into a wax corpse? This was all because you Huaxia people struck first; diplomacy is about maintaining face for every nation. You openly slapped us in the face—shouldn't we Easterners retaliate? The Nekomata seethed with anger.
"So, you must die!" Zuo Ci chuckled. "From the moment you and this guy stepped into Tongcheng, your fate was sealed!"
"Baka!" The Nekomata felt as if its tail had been stepped on. It was only supposed to toy with others, yet now it found itself manipulated by a mere Chinese person. It refused to accept this; after all, it was a noble Nekomata, a Cat God revered by millions in the Eastern Kingdom.
Suddenly, the Nekomata revealed a cold smile reminiscent of a night owl. Zuo Ci turned to ask, "Any last words?"
"Foolish Chinese person, you will never understand the power of deities; it is unmatched!" The Nekomata roared, its aura surging dramatically. Its body swelled to the size of a small hill, and dark blue flames enveloped it, transforming into a sea of fire that instantly scorched the arm of the Asura.
Secret arts? These are esoteric techniques passed down through generations. Such secret arts involve sacrificing one's own strength to amplify spells and can only be used when facing life or death situations.
Zuo Ci furrowed his brow slightly. The presence of Nekomata vaguely brought him a pressure reminiscent of the Old Celestial Master. Unfortunately, it was only a fraction of that intensity. After all, he had not truly stepped into the realm of Tongjing. Breaking through to Tongjing was no easy feat. Otherwise, with the rich heritage of ancient cultivation in Huaxia, there would be more than just one Old Celestial Master who had seemingly reached Tongjing.
Deities, A Jie Drum, incense offerings, willingness! Zuo Ci gazed at the faint golden halo that enveloped Nekomata's body. This was the golden body formed by the willingness of its followers' incense offerings, somewhat akin to the Golden Light Spell! Was this what they called a divine backup?
The Seven Mountains and Nine Ridges all bowed in submission, summoning clouds and rain to call forth celestial soldiers. The Chimera dissipated entirely, and with a single talisman, the land was secured—inviting Gui Yue Tai Yin!
To deal with formidable foes like high-powered beings or similar to Fa Tian Xiang Di's spells, or summoning massive beastly creatures, Zuo Ci would handle everything with the Moving Mountain Technique. There was no other reason; it was simply a matter of familiarity.
A thick blood mist descended like a mountain of flesh and corpses. A violent gust of wind shattered the golden light surrounding Nekomata's body. Nekomata looked up at the Blood Mist Corpse Mountain, its pupils wide with fear. Why did this Chinese person's methods seem endless?
Zuo Ci held the Lu Hun Fan, black smoke billowing from within. At its tip, azure-white energy gathered and burst forth in a flash. Zhan Xian Fei Dao—striking before it even revealed itself.
The Moving Mountain Technique served as a defensive spell. The golden body formed by divine incense offerings was included within that defense. Moreover, Nekomata was hardly a true deity; it was merely a case of Easterners flattering it with false prestige. They were most adept at playing tricks and deception.
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