The azure-painted tent stood far from the golden one, closer to the Gunar River. The water, floating with chunks of ice, could be seen clearly, and the sound of its flowing resembled the pulse of life itself.
Inside the tent, a banquet was set, accompanied by music and dance, creating a lively yet not overly noisy atmosphere.
At the central seat sat a man in brocade robes, cross-legged. He was in his early thirties to late thirties, with plain features and frosty temples. His hair was tied with a wooden hairpin, exuding a mature aura mixed with traces of weariness. His pale face hinted at a sickly madness beneath its calm exterior. One hand held a wine cup, while the other tapped rhythmically to the music, exuding casual elegance.
Opposite him sat a man in a green robe, similarly aged, similarly marked by time, yet his features were sharper, his demeanor more refined. A soft cap adorned his head—none other than Meng Qi in disguise as the “Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch.”
The brocade-robed man gave Meng Qi a half-smile. “Back then, when I chased you into Bomi, I never imagined we’d meet again like this.”
“Nor did I expect you to have become a Grandmaster,” Meng Qi replied, idly toying with his wine cup, his thumb gliding over the smooth jade surface. His expression remained calm and composed.
This brocade-robed man was none other than Ji’e Tianmo, one of the “Eight Demon Monarchs” of the Heaven-Annihilating Gate, ranked forty-ninth on the Black List. It was he who had once pursued the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch, forcing him to flee into Bomi with no escape. Few were better suited to identify the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch than Ji’e Tianmo, aside from the Lu Sect and the Sumei Dao.
Judging by the timeline and cross-referencing information from the Six Gates, the Pure Yang Sect, and others, Ji’e Tianmo had not yet been counted among the Eight Demon Monarchs back then. He had barely passed the first heavenly threshold. It was only a decade ago that he achieved a major feat at the sixth heavenly level, replacing a deceased peer and officially becoming one of the Eight Demon Monarchs. Observing his current demeanor and aura, he had clearly crossed the second heavenly threshold. Whether he had reached the seventh, eighth, or even the ninth heavenly level—Outer Scenery Peak—Meng Qi could not yet determine.
Meng Qi’s calmness unsettled Ji’e Tianmo slightly. He sipped his wine and smiled faintly. “You’ve settled matters with the Lu Sect, but you’ve yet to account for your actions toward our gate. Why are you not even slightly worried that I might turn on you? The Illusion-Dissolving Tianmo, the Nine-Heart Tianmo, and the Blood-Slaughtering Tianmo are all in the golden tent. You’re trapped.”
Among the Heaven-Annihilating Gate, those who reached Outer Scenery could be called Tianmo. Among them, the Eight Demon Monarchs were the most outstanding. At their peak, six of them were Grandmasters; now, five remained. However, the leader of the Eight Demon Monarchs, the “Faceless Tianmo,” had long been absent, with no recent records of his whereabouts or cultivation level. The Black List had temporarily removed him.
“The Demon Master has grand ambitions and lofty aspirations, uniting the Left Path sects to assist the Khan. Why would he tarnish his reputation over a minor matter? If a thousand taels can buy a horse’s bones, then public opinion can also melt gold.” Meng Qi replied with ease, his face betraying no sign of panic.
The more composed Meng Qi remained, the more uneasy Ji’e Tianmo became. Although the failure to kill the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch years ago did not haunt him, seeing the man’s calm demeanor stirred some resentment in Ji’e Tianmo, who was neither a saint nor a sage.
Suppressing his rising irritation, Ji’e Tianmo clapped his hands, signaling the dancers to withdraw. A cold smile curled his lips, his eyes empty of warmth. Beneath his pale, bloodless face lay a hint of madness.
“The Sect Leader indeed has great ambitions, but I’ve always been narrow-minded. If I were to kill you first and report later, would the Sect Leader truly punish me for it? If you doubt me, let’s make a bet?”
The threat was clear, yet his aura remained restrained. He sat still, as if merely issuing a verbal warning. But anyone who let their guard down would find that his strike, once unleashed, would be fatal.
Meng Qi touched his frosty temples, unfazed. “Ah, I’ve grown old before my time, past the days of recklessness. This time, I’ve come to serve the Khan, hoping to resolve past grievances with your sect. Whatever you ask of me, I shall comply.”
Though the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch appeared to yield, his composed yet dignified attitude still displeased Ji’e Tianmo. Finding no reason to attack, Ji’e Tianmo chuckled lightly, returning to his relaxed demeanor. “Indeed, there is a task. Even the real Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch must undergo trials to ensure he hasn’t secretly pledged allegiance to the righteous path. But I haven’t decided yet. Let’s finish the wine first.”
He raised his cup and drank deeply.
Meng Qi smiled faintly, raising his cup in response, seemingly unaware of the murderous intent Ji’e Tianmo had momentarily unleashed and then quickly concealed.
“Poisonous-Hand, I heard you had a rare encounter in Bomi, obtaining a top-tier Buddhist inheritance, realizing that great destruction is also great compassion, thus achieving a union of Buddha and Demon, breaking free from your limitations?” Ji’e Tianmo suddenly changed the subject.
Meng Qi remained composed. “Where did Brother Ji’e hear this from?”
“Your deeds in Jiangdong have spread across the Left Path. You sought a Yin furnace, yet were outwitted by the disciple of the Joyful Bodhisattva.” Ji’e Tianmo teased. “However, your Buddha-Demon dual cultivation impressed Linghu Tao greatly. Though Zhuihun hated you, even he had to admit the power of your Buddha-Demon martial arts.”
Meng Qi smiled. “You flatter me. It was nothing special.”
A single, seemingly casual remark ignited Ji’e Tianmo’s greed. He himself had benefited from top-tier inheritances and countless trials before becoming a Grandmaster. The Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch, trapped in Bomi with limited resources and a cultivation level lower than Ji’e Tianmo’s, had now nearly crossed the second heavenly threshold. That Buddhist inheritance, capable of merging with demonic power, must be extraordinary!
Suppressing another surge of emotion, Ji’e Tianmo felt his mood swings growing unusually intense, prompting an instinct to restrain himself.
He laughed heartily, patting the table. “I have a disciple, a beauty beyond compare, with a stunning figure. Though she’s no longer a virgin, her Yin energy is abundant. She’d make a decent furnace. Poisonous-Hand, are you interested? Perhaps this could help you cross the second heavenly threshold?”
Before Meng Qi could reply, he summoned the disciple. She was indeed beautiful—graceful without being gaudy, her skin delicate and smooth, her snow-purple dress fitting her perfectly. Her demeanor was refined, yet her large, lustrous eyes held a hidden flame, ready to blaze at the slightest provocation.
At her master’s command, the woman gracefully approached Meng Qi, her voice soft and seductive. “Junior offers wine to the elder.”
Her eyes grew even more lustrous, shimmering with allure that held one’s gaze.
“How could I take what belongs to another?” Meng Qi declined with a smile, unmoved.
Ji’e Tianmo’s expression darkened. “Poisonous-Hand, you refuse my face? Just moments ago, you said you’d comply with any request.”
Urged on, the woman quickened her pace, her figure swaying like a flower. Her eyes glistened with desire. At that moment, she met the gaze of the frost-templed, refined man. His lips curled slightly, his deep, unfathomable eyes locking onto hers.
A charm like that of a god or demon surged through her! A rush of desire erupted within her, flooding her body with waves of ecstasy. Her mind went blank.
With a slap, she collapsed to the ground, her face flushed, her body weak.
“This girl is too inexperienced. Not to my taste,” Meng Qi said with a smile, still toying with his jade cup.
Ji’e Tianmo was stunned, unable to fathom how the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch had defeated his disciple without even touching her.
What a skillful move!
As he prepared to speak, a sudden sensation made him lift his gaze to the sky. Meng Qi did the same.
The sky, once painted crimson by the setting sun, suddenly brightened as if it were noon again. A distant sword beam sliced through the clouds, vast and pure. Upon closer inspection, the beam was actually composed of countless thin strands, each strand itself made of even finer, nearly imperceptible sword rays.
These countless sword rays formed arrays, layer upon layer. Each sword contained over ten thousand arrays, reinforcing each other to unleash this dazzling, mighty sword beam—capable of leveling the Khan’s golden tent entirely!
Upon sensing the beam’s structure, Meng Qi’s mind went blank, his soul dizzy, nausea rising. Ji’e Tianmo, too, was already vomiting.
Only with absolute devotion to the sword, with unwavering dedication, could one control such a terrifying, intricate strike!
“One-Mind Sword! Lu Da, the Great Master!” Ji’e Tianmo gasped in shock, momentarily losing composure.
The display was even more terrifying than the Khan. Was Lu Da merely an Earth Immortal?
His shock had barely surfaced when a tall-crowned, ancient-robed Daoist appeared in the sky, his youthful face exuding an indescribable aura, as if embodying the heavens and earth themselves.
The Daoist held a sword in his right hand and pushed up his cap with his left, exhaling a pure aura that formed three more Daoists.
One had a solemn, unsmiling face, holding a pure white sword. With a single point, a heaven-destroying sword qi surged forth.
One was aged and kind, wielding a dark black sword, slicing down gracefully, sword qi bursting.
One was lean and refined, swinging a green sword, its light pure and clear.
The original Daoist, holding a crimson sword, stepped forward, striking toward the golden tent.
Instantly, sword qi slashed in all directions, warping space into a cage, sealing the golden tent. All matter within disintegrated, turning into energy storms. The defensive formation, triggered in panic, was crushed effortlessly.
Even time slowed. Ji’e Tianmo’s thoughts grew sluggish.
“One Qi Manifests Three Pure Ones! Chonghe Daoist!” he suddenly regained his senses.
Before the words faded, Meng Qi felt the world go pitch black. The sword beams vanished. At the golden tent’s location, a monstrous force seemed to rise, swallowing heaven and earth.
Crash!
A deafening boom echoed. Meng Qi barely sensed a towering, ancient bronze giant rising from the tent, as if attempting to pierce the sky. In its hand was no axe, but a rift tearing through space-time—a Primordial Chaos!
The sword qi was sucked in, the beams vanishing as well. The ancient bronze giant raised its right hand again. The axe reappeared—long-handled, growing with its wielder, its color deep and bronze-like. Nine indescribable marks adorned its surface, as if embodying the essence of lightning, fire, or chaos.
As the axe fell, it became ethereal. Meng Qi felt as if he “saw” the Immortal-Degrading Pool, capable of stripping one’s immortal body.
One strike would reduce an Earth Immortal to a Human Immortal. Another would send them crashing down to the mortal realm!
Was this the peerless divine weapon, the “Heaven’s Punishment Axe”? Meng Qi felt both awe and concern.
The sword beams flared again. The Four Swords of Slaughter, Annihilation, Peril, and Carnage slashed across once more, blinding Meng Qi to the battle’s core.
After a while, other Law Bodies seemed to arrive. Lu Da’s sword beam split into countless strands, so subtle they could slip into the tiniest gaps of flesh and soul, striking from all directions, all corners simultaneously at Guld.
With the pressure of the Sword Array of Slaughter, Guld could only defend with his axe. Lu Da and Chonghe Daoist withdrew calmly, their swords vanishing into the distance after breaching the dragon’s lair.
Only then could Meng Qi sense the surroundings. The golden tent’s formation was nearly destroyed, though it protected those inside. Beyond it, the sky was not merely cloudless—it was as if heaven itself had been pierced, raining heavily. The air reeked of destruction, as if a Tianmo had descended.
“The Heaven’s Punishment Axe has truly reached the level of a Celestial Immortal,” Meng Qi sighed. Otherwise, Lu Da’s first strike would have left Guld in dire straits. With Chonghe Daoist’s Sword Array of Slaughter, surviving three heartbeats was sheer luck.
Ji’e Tianmo struggled to calm himself, muttering, “Have Lu Da and Chonghe Daoist both advanced to Earth Immortals?”
And not just ordinary ones. Could the plan still proceed smoothly?
He glanced at the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch, who stood with hands behind his back, his green robe flowing, his expression serene. A sudden irritation flared within Ji’e Tianmo, as if he had been overshadowed.
“Poisonous-Hand, I’ve decided your initiation task,” Ji’e Tianmo said, his pale face losing its mature aura.
“What is it?” Meng Qi remained calm and composed.
Ji’e Tianmo grew even more displeased. “Return to Northern Zhou and kill the couple known as ‘Soaring Dragon and Phoenix.'”
This famed couple possessed a dual cultivation technique, allowing them to temporarily rival a Grandmaster. They were principled, righteous, and renowned among the martial sects.
“Fine.” Meng Qi nodded slightly, still untroubled.
Ji’e Tianmo exclaimed, “Good! I shall see you off.”
His pupils returned to their usual depth, betraying no emotion.
Once the aftermath of Lu Da and Chonghe Daoist’s attack passed, two beams of light shot southward.
After flying a distance away from the golden tent, with no one in sight, Ji’e Tianmo halted his beam, half-smiling. “This is far enough.”
Time to kill and vent his frustration, seizing the other’s rare encounter!
“Thank you for the send-off,” Meng Qi said, his green robe fluttering, hands behind his back, smiling faintly, exuding calm and maturity.
As Ji’e Tianmo prepared to mock the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch for his dulled danger sense, a sudden thought struck him—why had he flown out here to kill someone? His emotions had grown too intense, too extreme.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the surroundings grow darker, as if he were drifting in a primordial chaos. From this chaos emerged figures—each one a manifestation of Ji’e Tianmo himself: wrathful, greedy, resentful, astonished, shocked, and lustful. With every figure that split away, it seemed to sap a portion of his strength.
He turned sharply. Amidst the throng stood the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch—frost-templed, refined, and aged.
He stood with hands behind his back, his green robe deep and flowing, smiling faintly at Ji’e Tianmo.
The eerie scene startled Ji’e Tianmo into blurting out:
“You are not the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch! Who are you?”
“Correct. I am not the Poisonous-Hand Demon Monarch.” Meng Qi smiled, his frosty temples more noticeable, his eyes seemingly indifferent yet filled with longing, as he softly murmured:
“I am the Primordial Tianmo.”
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