This was not yet the most severe consequence. What truly made Wang Mu hard to accept was that, despite Ming’s overwhelming victory, they continued to pursue relentlessly, determined to annihilate the King’s Swordsmen Corps completely.
Wang Mu clearly understood that the King’s Swordsmen Corps and the Heavenly Fleet were the sole reasons the Wang family could maintain its standing within the Empire. Although the Empire appeared powerful, it was in fact on the brink of collapse. If one day the Empire disintegrated, how could the Wang family survive in the galaxy, surrounded by countless powerful rivals? They had no other support besides the Swordsmen Corps and the family army. Therefore, no matter how devastating Wang Mu’s defeat today was, the Swordsmen Corps absolutely could not be destroyed. He would rather die himself than allow the flame of the Swordsmen Corps to be extinguished.
Thus, under the relentless bombardment, Wang Mu turned back. Although the Corps had suffered heavy losses, about thirty percent of its members had survived. Combined with those who had remained aboard the fleet, the core strength was still intact. Therefore, Wang Mu decided to draw enemy fire upon himself to allow his subordinates to escape.
Kevin, that big clumsy bear, never had a flexible mind. When he saw Wang Mu emerging from the barrage of blue bubbles, he was overjoyed. He hastily ordered his men to turn their ships around, aiming all their cannons at Wang Mu.
Fighting alone against over a thousand powerful blue “fart shells” was beyond anyone’s capability. Worse still, the stench from the exploding shells was so unbearable that it could make anyone surrender immediately.
Despite using the defensive techniques from the “Nightfall” sword style, Wang Mu was still battered relentlessly. With no other choice, he retrieved a silver object from his staff and forcefully injected it into his heart.
Suddenly, a violent surge of black aura erupted from Wang Mu’s body. This aura was visible to the naked eye, spreading out and causing suffocation, as though it were absorbing the surrounding air. Wang Mu’s hair turned completely white, and his eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty hunger.
This gaze was all too familiar to Yang Hao. He exclaimed in shock: “Super-Warrior Hormone! He’s injected himself with the Super-Warrior Hormone!!”
This sentence startled everyone. The Super-Warrior Hormone was a recent technological product of the Galactic Empire, a forbidden drug. When injected into the body, it could instantly restructure the body, granting the user ten times their normal strength. However, due to its severe side effects, it was commonly known as a trade of ten years of life for tenfold power.
Wang Mu, already advanced in age, injecting this hormone meant he had truly reached his last resort. After his sudden power surge, the strength of his black short sword was unleashed to the fullest. He not only successfully blocked several waves of fart shells from the Bear Corps, but also began to unleash a new technique.
As the saying goes, “Don’t press a desperate foe too hard.” This was a timeless truth, because when cornered, an opponent often unleashes an extraordinary burst of strength, making it difficult to avoid a complete reversal of the situation.
Moreover, Wang Mu himself was a top-tier expert. It was said that his strength had already surpassed the fifteenth level of combat power, making him unmatched in this star system. After injecting the Super-Warrior Hormone, his combat power became even more formidable. Not only were the Bear Corps no match for him, but even if Yang Hao, Maya, and all others combined their strength, their total power might still fall short of Wang Mu’s.
Even more so, Wang Mu was now about to unleash a technique he had created but never used in battle before—his ultimate move: “Night Rain Like Threads.”
Wang Mu had always viewed his sword techniques as poetry. Just as poetry has a beginning, a middle, and an end, so too did his swordplay. As his techniques evolved, when he created “Night Rain Like Threads,” he suddenly realized that this seemingly endless poetic swordplay had finally reached its conclusion. His poetic inspiration had come to a full stop. Within the “Night Rain” sword style, “Night Rain Like Threads” was the final stroke, the ultimate ending.
A sword technique regarded as a final move by a swordsman naturally incorporated one’s entire lifetime of cultivation and all of one’s energy. Thus, no matter when it was used, it possessed the power to reshape the heavens and earth and completely reverse the battlefield.
Wang Mu had never used this move—not because the technique was weak, but because “Night Rain Like Threads” was simply too powerful, so much so that it was unnecessary. Whenever the Imperial Army launched an attack, no matter how formidable the enemy, they were crushed like ice beneath a mighty warship, leaving Wang Mu with no need to draw his ultimate sword, let alone unleash his final technique.
But now the situation was different. Wang Mu’s glory had reached its final twilight. His subordinates and his army had been defeated, in a manner so humiliating that it was hard to even speak of. His life had been pushed to the edge of a cliff. He had no face to return to the warship. Although he knew that if he could just make it back aboard, he could launch a full barrage and destroy the entire Saint Bear Planet, what dignity would remain for a lone survivor who had lost his entire Swordsmen Corps?
His sole purpose now was to ensure the remaining members of the Swordsmen Corps escaped safely. Therefore, he had no choice but to fight with everything he had. This fight would push him to his absolute limit.
Wang Mu gathered all his combat power, all his inner energy, into one ultimate strike—the “Night Rain Like Threads.” A name filled with poetic beauty, yet carrying a deadly intent.
Yang Hao watched as Wang Mu, suspended midair, seemed to tear open a black cloud with his presence. As the short sword swung violently, the black cloud grew larger and larger, even threatening to blot out the sky. At this moment, Wang Mu’s power had reached its peak. His appearance in the air no longer resembled a human, but a demon.
A human demon!
Yang Hao had no idea how powerful Wang Mu’s technique was, nor could he imagine what was about to happen. He simply stared, completely mesmerized by the eerie and dazzling swordplay.
Wang Mu lightly flicked his sword and uttered four words: “Night Rain Like Threads!”
Although the voice was barely a whisper, Wang Mu’s body seemed to be drained of all strength. His eyes instantly dulled, his entire body stiffened, and the energy that had surged within him moments ago flowed entirely into the black cloud. The cloud had become so dark that it was impossible to see through, like ink, yet it radiated a sense of unease and malevolence, as if an ancient beast lay hidden within, ready to awaken and wreak havoc upon the world at any moment.
The beast would indeed awaken—and faster than anyone could imagine.
After Wang Mu’s strength was drained, he sighed and closed his eyes, as if unwilling to witness the devastation about to unfold. Immediately, the black cloud in front of him suddenly expanded, gently exploding in the air.
Puff!
It sounded as gentle as popping a soap bubble. But the entire world changed color. The black cloud, after bursting, transformed into countless threads of black silk, finer and lighter than willow fluff, like an oily rain, drifting toward Yang Hao and the others.
In every corner of the world, within several kilometers, black threads floated everywhere.
Those caught beneath the threads, especially the Bear Clan members, had no idea of the danger. They thought it was just actual rain, and some even opened their mouths to catch a few drops.
Only Hun Yuanzi was terrified beyond measure. The old man was the most cautious and careful. From the moment Wang Mu began his move, he had been watching closely. It was only when the threads began to drift downward that he fell into despair: “That’s Soul Rain! No, it’s even more powerful than Soul Rain! Oh my God, how could such a thing exist!”
“What’s Soul Rain?” Yang Hao naturally knew that Wang Mu was fighting desperately, but he couldn’t see how dangerous it was.
But for Hun Yuanzi, the very name “Soul Rain” was terrifying. In the ancient days of cultivation, besides the orthodox sects, there were many unorthodox sects that practiced outside the norms. These sects, though they had their own masters, were generally unable to achieve great success due to their unconventional methods. However, there was one sect that had developed a certain artifact, unrecognized by the orthodox schools, but which caused tremendous chaos in the world.
That was the Soul Rain. The Soul Rain was created by extracting the vengeful spirits of the dead and using their power to create a rain of evil spirits on the battlefield. At its peak, the Soul Rain once killed thousands of orthodox cultivators in a single strike. Later, the orthodox sects united to eradicate this cult, and the Soul Rain disappeared from history.
But Wang Mu’s move now bore a striking resemblance to the Soul Rain, even surpassing it in power.
In truth, no one knew that Wang Mu’s creation of this move had indeed been influenced by the Soul Rain. The world believed that after the sect’s destruction, the Soul Rain had completely vanished, but they had forgotten that human hearts are greedy, and even among the so-called orthodox sects, there were those who harbored dark ambitions.
Thus, fragments of the Soul Rain techniques had survived in the hands of some cultivators. Although no one in later generations had successfully mastered them, these techniques continued to exist, even falling into the hands of one of the Elder Council’s elders. After Wang Mu had achieved several great feats, the Elder Council had passed the Soul Rain techniques to him. It was called a reward, but in reality, it was just a way to get rid of something no one else could use. Who could have predicted that fate and opportunity would bring Wang Mu to understand the Soul Rain techniques?
Thus, Wang Mu was able to independently create the terrifying and immensely powerful move “Night Rain Like Threads.” But due to his lack of sufficient combat power and his fear of being discovered by the Elder Council, he had never dared to use it—until today, when he had nothing left to lose.
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