Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Yang glanced back as Ji Wudao disappeared into King Yu's Mansion.
Above King Yu's Mansion, the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords streaked across the sky, launching towards the distant horizon. Behind the sixteen Flying Swords, a white-clad swordsman with disheveled hair followed closely, exuding a terrifying aura that sent shivers down the spines of everyone below.
Ji Wudao carried Zhao Yang at breakneck speed towards Zhongzhou's Northwest Falling Flower Valley. The air friction was so intense that it felt as if their clothes were on fire, and their faces stung painfully. Even with a protective barrier, it felt like they were being scorched.
The Sword Saint's Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords relentlessly pursued them, closing in with every moment. Zhao Yang's Divine Sense was powerful enough to accurately gauge the comparison between the speed of the Flying Swords and their own flight. It was already challenging for a cultivator to carry another while flying at maximum speed, consuming immense energy. Yet, the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords showed no signs of fatigue, maintaining their relentless pace despite slowing down slightly. However, Ji Wudao would tire; his unstable cultivation made using such extreme speed even more taxing, causing turmoil within his Dragon Ball Divine Power and pain to etch across his face.
Zhao Yang noticed this and said, "Brother Ji, let's stop here. I've almost recovered."
"No, I can hold on a bit longer." Ji Wudao gritted his teeth against the burning pain in his meridians and urged Zhao Yang to accelerate, momentarily leaving the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords far behind.
That day, many people witnessed a fireball streaking across the sky like a meteor, trailing a long tail. Behind the fireball followed numerous Flying Swords, with a white-clad swordsman in hot pursuit.
Half an hour later, Ji Wudao's complexion had turned pale as he finally slowed down. The corners of his eyes twitched involuntarily, clearly suffering from immense pain.
"Zhao Yang, I can only hold on until here; the rest is up to you." After saying this, Ji Wudao let go and plummeted to the ground, fainting from the pain.
Zhao Yang released a strand of True Qi that enveloped Ji Wudao as he fell. Suddenly, he vanished. Although his flying speed was fast and did not consume much True Qi, it was still not enough to outpace the Peerless Killing Sword; his only reliance was Time Walk.
However, he had just used Transform into Sheep Technique moments ago and then invoked the essence of Time Walk. There was no way he could recover in such a short time, even with the unique Perfect Foundation Cauldron of the cultivation world and the fearsome Haotian Pill.
But the Sword Saint was too strong; among all the Great Ascension experts in the cultivation world, none could rival him. Even those in the Tribulation Period would find it incredibly difficult to kill him. His mastery of swordsmanship had already reached sainthood—how many throughout history could truly be called saints?
As the Peerless Killing Sword descended upon him, Zhao Yang could only use Time Walk to flash away over ten miles, temporarily evading the pursuit.
But as shadows and light intertwined, the Peerless Killing Sword followed closely. The Imperial Scripture Fragment on Zhao Yang's body immediately flickered, and golden-red characters floated, forming a powerful shield around him.
Zhao Yang was a natural Body Refinement practitioner who had consumed countless Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures. After learning the art of fusion from Datong, his blood contained the essence of the universe's first elixir, the Supreme Nine-Turn Golden Pill. His flesh was tougher than diamond, and ordinary Dao Artifacts could not harm him. So when he turned to face the sixteen swords falling like shooting stars, a series of metallic clangs echoed as the blades pierced through the golden-red characters and struck Zhao Yang's body. Though his flesh remained intact, he was sent flying several miles, blood spurting from his mouth as he crashed through countless mountain peaks.
Covered in dust, Zhao Yang lay with numerous broken bones. Countless hidden medicinal energies within him erupted, beginning to heal his injuries, while his blood bubbled like boiling oil.
During the two years he lay unconscious, Little Beast had found countless Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures to feed him. However, at that time, his soul had left his body and his physiological functions were non-existent, so these herbs were stored in the Perfect Foundation Cauldron. Today, suddenly suffering such severe injuries with his meridians and bones shattered by the Peerless Killing Sword, the hidden medicinal powers were activated, causing his bones and blood to boil and burn.
Filled with rage, Zhao Yang turned to leave, staggering as he clearly struggled with his strength.
A white light descended from above as the Sword Saint followed closely behind. The Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords returned to their sheaths as he coldly regarded Zhao Yang. "Among all those I have hunted down, I must admit you are the weakest."
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Zhao Yang laughed. "In a battle of equal realms, killing you would be like slaughtering a dog."
The Sword Saint laughed heartily, waving his sleeve to send Zhao Yang crashing to the ground like a scarecrow. With a smug expression, he said, "Unfortunately for you, we are not in the same realm. Moreover, even if we were in the same realm, you would still be no match for me. In terms of swordsmanship and combat prowess, I have already reached the Holy Realm at Nascent Soul Stage. You are merely a fool; offending me means certain death."
Zhao Yang also laughed heartily but coughed slightly more out of mockery than anything else.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the Sword Saint.
"I laugh at your pathetic state. Achieving holiness in swordsmanship? Pah! At your age, you should know better than to feel shame; it seems your years have been devoured by dogs," Zhao Yang replied bluntly.
"There's no reasoning with someone like you who disrespects their elders. Hand over the Ten Thousand Year Ginseng King to me, and I might consider giving you a complete corpse." The Sword Saint spoke with an air of superiority, not even bothering to glance at Zhao Yang.
"Idiot." Zhao Yang couldn't help but curse under his breath. Ignoring the splitting headache, he activated the essence of Time Walk once more, instantly transporting himself to a royal city a hundred miles away, landing right in the middle of a bustling street.
A crowd of pedestrians parted as a blood-soaked youth suddenly appeared among them. Zhao Yang got up and wasted no time running forward, while the Sword Saint, far behind, roared in fury. The Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords struck again; he vowed that even if he couldn't obtain the Ten Thousand Year Ginseng King, he would first eliminate this ant that was too lively in his eyes.
Zhao Yang had barely taken a few steps when he suddenly vomited a mouthful of blood.
"Zhao Yang, junior brother?" Among the passersby, a bald monk rushed over to help him up. "Who dared to hurt you like this?"
It turned out this monk was Yuan Ci, a disciple of the Great Compassion Zen Master, who happened to be traveling through the cultivation world and had just witnessed Zhao Yang's severe injuries. Zhao Yang briefly recounted what had happened and was about to move again, sensing that the Sixteen Supreme Killing Swords were closing in on him once more, locking onto his position.
"I'll go fetch my master and several senior brothers. The Sword Saint is simply too much; how dare he offend my Xuanfo Temple? What does it matter if he's from the first sect!" Yuan Ci was furious upon hearing that Zhao Yang was being hunted by the Sword Saint. Although he wasn't very familiar with Zhao Yang, they were still fellow disciples. Xuanfo Temple may not excel in many areas, but their greatest strength was unity; he couldn't stand by idly.
"There's no time! The Sword Saint intends to use the Peerless Killing Sword against me. Only someone of Consort of Rain's caliber can save me. Even if my master and the others arrive, it won't help; that person on the back mountain isn't suitable to intervene right now. I can only leave my fate to chance," Zhao Yang explained with a pale face, filled with anger at being hunted by older masters while having no power to fight back.
After speaking, Zhao Yang used Time Walk again to move thousands of feet away; he didn't want to drag his fellow disciples into danger. However, given the distance to Falling Flower City, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out until then.
Meanwhile, in a distant palace, He Qing opened her eyes. Her expression was filled with worry but also excitement because she sensed Zhao Yang's aura. All along, she had thought her son was dead, but just now she had indeed felt his presence!
Deep within the palace on an ancient altar, Zhao Tianlang also suddenly opened his eyes and looked toward a certain place in Zhongzhou, murmuring to himself, "Could it be that my son is not dead?!"
Comment 0 Comment Count