Jiuyou has existed since the dawn of the world’s creation. It is the origin of evil demons, malevolent deities, and yin ghosts, and serves as the dwelling place of numerous powerful innate divine beings, such as the Demon Emperor, the Heaven-Sundering Daoist, and this one—Huangquan.
Although He has never been as renowned as the most celebrated figures of Jiuyou, He remains a formidable presence and has long stood as the embodiment of the axis between life and death, far surpassing the current attainment of the Dharma Body!
Could it be that the Kingdom of Bomi truly wanted to dig through to Jiuyou and summon “Huangquan” into the world, thus inviting great calamity?
Or did the Great Emperor Zhenwu seal “Huangquan” within the Worry-Free Valley?
Meng Qi’s mind was in turmoil, and he felt a suffocating pressure. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that the ancient era had ended over a million years ago. Even if “Huangquan” had truly been sealed within Wuyou Valley, He would have long since exhausted His lifespan and perished. This was only the third step of the chain quest—there was no way he would confront such a formidable entity directly!
“King of the Underworld…” the Soul-Taking Yecha frowned slightly.
Meng Qi understood that he was puzzled why the leader of his organization would adopt the title “King of the Underworld.” Pretending not to hear, Meng Qi glanced around.
This hall only had the passageway they entered and the painted murals, seemingly ending here, with no way forward.
Suddenly, Jia Zhen, the “Primordial Heaven Deva” who rarely spoke, walked up to the mural of the “King of the Underworld,” knelt down, and kowtowed solemnly.
Silently, an entrance split open between him and the central part of the mural, exuding damp, cold air as it sloped downward.
“Old Jia…” the Soul-Taking Yecha sucked in a breath, surprised that he knew how to open the entrance.
Jia Zhen, dressed in scholarly attire, remained composed: “I have encountered similar cases of evil deity worship before. I know that when no leads can be found, one can simply kneel and kowtow sincerely before the deity’s statue or mural to move the god.”
“I see,” the Soul-Taking Yecha, finding his explanation reasonable, outwardly dispelled his doubts.
To him, whether Jia Zhen spoke truth or lies, or had ulterior motives, it made no difference. With the King of the Underworld secretly following them, he could simply watch coldly, perhaps even uncover hidden secrets and gain more rewards.
The five of them did not speak further and proceeded through the entrance.
This passageway spiraled downward, deep into the earth. The air grew increasingly cold and damp, and a faint sound of flowing water reached their ears.
They did not know how long they walked, but eventually the passage opened into a wide space. Grayish stone tiles formed a plaza, and in the distance stood a dark, deep cave. Around its edge grew a ring of flowers—seven-petaled like orchids, with bright red stamens.
“Worry-Free Flowers!” the Soul-Taking Yecha could not hide his joy.
Seeing Worry-Free Flowers near the entrance meant this was indeed the entrance to safety!
A less experienced martial artist might have rushed forward immediately, but the Soul-Taking Yecha, with his vast experience and deep caution, continued step by step, wary of lurking yin spirits and his potentially treacherous companions.
Meng Qi stood in the middle of the group, following the Soul-Taking Yecha onto the gray plaza, silently counting in his mind:
“One step, two steps…”
If the ancient records were accurate, even though the area outside the entrance had been transformed into this plaza, as long as the Pentagram Formation of Reversal and Restriction remained intact and one did not possess the identity token of Carefree Valley, every three steps would activate an illusionary array. Coupled with the guardian stationed here, it could effectively repel intruders and stall them until reinforcements arrived.
But now, with the formation inverted, the illusions might have changed!
“Three steps!” As Meng Qi finished counting, mist surged around them. Visibility dropped to less than ten feet, their senses dulled, as if they had been rejected and abandoned by heaven and earth.
Meng Qi gathered his aura, observing his surroundings and recalling his previous position. Suddenly, he took a diagonal step.
As soon as he took a step forward, the scene before him suddenly transformed. The mist dissipated slightly, revealing a faint figure ahead—holding a Gengjin sword, with graying hair, his expression cautious and vigilant. It was none other than Yang Zhenchan, the “Eight Wildernesses Subduing Demon Sword.”
Finally, the opportunity had come. Meng Qi steadied his breath, holding the sword in his left hand and gripping the hilt of the Tianzhishang blade with his right.
At this moment, Meng Qi still treated Yang Zhenchan as being at his peak. Even when hunting a rabbit, a lion uses its full strength!
His acupoints opened, yet his Dharma Manifestation did not manifest externally—it functioned internally instead. The golden crow, the great sun, the stars, and the primordial chaos swiftly contracted, converging into the myriad heavens before surging forward once more, gradually dissolving back into primordial chaos.
Meng Qi’s presence became dim and obscure, his aura indistinct. Then, a layer of ordinary aura surfaced, making him seem no different from usual, concealing his abnormality.
Glancing at Yang Zhenchan, who remained alert and unrelenting, Meng Qi could not find an opening and thus deliberately took a step forward.
Yang Zhenchan, holding his sword, was fully alert, his spiritual sense covering the surroundings, giving no opportunity to lurking yin spirits or potential traitors within.
Suddenly, he heard a crisp footstep, turned his head sharply, and his vigilance reached its peak.
Then he saw Meng Qi, walking out with his hands behind his back, showing no hostility.
“The Great Sun Hermit Shen Bao…” Seeing a familiar face approaching openly rather than stealthily attempting an ambush, Yang Zhenchan instinctively relaxed slightly, but quickly refocused his attention, wary of any internal traitor.
Just as he slightly relaxed but had not yet fully regained his vigilance, Meng Qi, closely monitoring the changes in Yang Zhenchan’s aura and the tension in his sword-holding hand, took a step forward, and the blade of light flashed!
In the dimness, the blade of light tore through heaven and earth, as if nothing could resist it, nothing could be unbreakable!
Before Yang Zhenchan could fully react, the blade was already upon him!
His eyes suddenly blazed with ferocity and determination. The timid aura vanished. His sword qi condensed, and his long sword, in a posture that defied logic and made it impossible to channel sword qi, rose directly.
Clang!
The sword was struck by the blade of light!
Surprisingly, Yang Zhenchan reacted even faster than Ze Luo Ju. His move was executed at the peak of perfection, precisely intercepting the blade.
Clang!
The sword was cleaved aside by the heaven-splitting blade of light, swinging to the right. Yang Zhenchan’s chest and abdomen were exposed, a deep slash appearing from his forehead to his lower abdomen, nearly revealing his internal organs and grayish flesh.
But he had still blocked it slightly, and Yang Zhenchan was only wounded!
He was pretending to be weak to catch the strong… A thought flashed through Meng Qi’s mind, but he did not waver. His left hand, holding the sword, thrust forward. Each inch it pierced released an explosion of flames, like a chain reaction deep within the sun.
Propelled by the explosion’s force, the sword light was faster than ever before, directly aiming for Yang Zhenchan’s forehead.
Yang Zhenchan was in a desperate situation, yet his eyes blazed with ferocity. He seized the sole chance for survival. Instead of parrying, his sword thrust forward. Gengjin erupted—the blade’s radiance moved with unparalleled speed, like a meteor chasing the moon, piercing through the scorching heat as it aimed straight for Meng Qi’s forehead.
Attack against attack, speed against slowness!
Though Yang Zhenchan struck second, his speed was slightly superior, seemingly capable of mutual destruction with Meng Qi, forcing him to change tactics.
His swordsmanship was outstanding and ruthless, no exaggeration!
The swirling mist around seemed to be drawn by the two sword beams, yet the Pentagram Formation of Reversal and Descent absorbed all the energy, leaving both the stone slabs and the mist completely undisturbed.
Just as mutual destruction seemed inevitable, Meng Qi’s back muscles bulged, growing two more arms, and an additional head emerged from his neck.
His hands formed seals, and golden lotuses bloomed around him, heavy and solemn, connecting to the earth, vast and boundless.
Clang!
Yang Zhenchan’s sword radiance was blocked by the Immovable Golden Lotus, yet his sword’s momentum remained unstoppable. His cultivation surpassed Meng Qi’s, shattering lotus after lotus. The residual force seemed poised to pierce both of Meng Qi’s heads.
Suddenly, Meng Qi’s body stretched and grew, tearing his clothes. The spot where the sword aimed shifted from his head to his chest.
Clang! The clash of metal resounded. The sword, its force largely absorbed by the Immovable Golden Lotus, only left a faint mark on Meng Qi’s chest.
Meanwhile, Meng Qi’s sword hand did not waver in the slightest, as if prepared to trade lives. As Yang Zhenchan’s sword pierced his chest, Meng Qi’s sword point struck Yang Zhenchan’s forehead!
Yang Zhenchan’s eyes widened, showing ferocity, surprise, and unwillingness. He heard a soft “plop” sound, and his vision turned completely dark.
As Yang Zhenchan collapsed, his blood spilling into the Liuhuo (Flowing Fire), Meng Qi let out a sigh of relief. Though he had yet to fully master the Heavenly Mimicry Technique, he could still slightly enlarge his body. Without this ability, he would have suffered a fatal wound from Yang Zhenchan’s desperate sword strike—one that would have taken considerable time to recover from.
“Truly worthy of being a disciple personally taught by a Dharma Body; his swordsmanship is indeed exceptional…” Meng Qi’s extra head and arms retracted.
The Liuhuo, absorbing the blood, seemed to express joy, surging and boiling, expanding and contracting. Gradually, it solidified into a section of a crimson jade-like sword body, its heat hidden within, no longer spewing flames as before.
Meng Qi swung the Liuhuo, feeling its lightness and responsiveness, like an extension of his arm, its power sufficient to melt metal and stone.
Finally, it had been refined into a supreme-grade weapon… Meng Qi felt both joy and emotion.
Suddenly, he saw Yang Zhenchan’s body begin to decay, rotting at an indescribable speed. Even the Gengjin longsword in his hand was covered in rust.
Within two or three breaths, Yang Zhenchan was reduced to bones, surrounded by a puddle of decayed flesh and a sword that crumbled at a touch.
Observing this transformation, Meng Qi slightly furrowed his brow. Was this due to something Yang Zhenchan had previously experienced, or was it the formation’s effect? Considering even the treasure weapon decayed, it was likely the latter…
It appeared that Yang Zhenchan had exchanged everything for alchemy, leaving only various spirit herbs on his person. However, these too had lost their vitality, decaying into mud.
Meng Qi pondered for a moment, changed into identical clothing, burned the torn set into ashes, and then stepped back, re-entering the mist.
After a cup of tea’s time, the formation naturally operated, and the mist dissipated.
The Soul-Taking Yecha looked at the visibly increased distance between them and was about to speak when suddenly he smelled a foul stench. Looking intently, he spotted Yang Zhenchan’s skeleton and recognized his identity from the decayed treasure sword.
“You killed him!” The Soul-Taking Yecha pointed at Meng Qi, his aura surging, as if poised to strike at any moment. The Dushou Demon Monarch and Jia Zhen, the Primordial Heaven Deva, also remained on high alert, ready to attack.
Meng Qi sneered, coldly laughing: “Why say it was me? I think it was you!”
He wore an expression of being wronged and angered.
The Soul-Taking Yecha narrowed his eyes, his voice seeming to swirl like whirlpools: “Earlier, you deliberately mentioned Yang Zhenchan’s name. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?”
“I just happened to overhear him meeting with you,” Meng Qi pointed to his back, intentionally restored to its original state of injury, “Then who attacked me?”
The wound from the previous attack was on Meng Qi’s back. Even though he could alter his bones and reverse his hands, the force applied differed, and the palm mark was distinct enough to tell the difference.
Would he have torn off his own hand, embedded it in the wall, and used his back to collide with it?
Remembering this, the Soul-Taking Yecha gradually eased his hostility, casting a cold gaze at Dushou Demon Monarch and Jia Zhen.
Jia Zhen mediated: “It doesn’t necessarily mean internal conflict. Perhaps there’s some invisible monster hidden in the passageway that caused Bomi’s downfall.”
The Soul-Taking Yecha nodded, growing more cautious.
Seeing their suspicions dissipate and no attack forthcoming, Meng Qi felt a sense of accomplishment, thinking that playing the “villain” wasn’t so bad…
Taking three more steps toward the Worry-Free Valley entrance, they were once again enveloped in mist.
With the precedent of Meng Qi attacking Yang Zhenchan, Meng Qi grew even more vigilant, deliberately changing his position.
The mist churned, and after a cup of tea’s time, it vanished on its own. Meng Qi saw the Soul-Taking Yecha.
As he was about to speak, his gaze suddenly froze. On the ground lay a corpse, torn into two halves, with internal organs scattered.
“It’s him!” Meng Qi was quite shocked.
He was not shocked by the corpse’s gruesome state but by the identity of the deceased—he had believed this person to be absolutely safe.
The Dushou Demon Monarch!
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