Outside the tent, led by Xu Wei, Jiang Zhiwei and others wound through the camp following the path to the main tent where “Marquis of Calming the Sea” Zhu Shou resided.
The dawn had passed, yet the sky remained shrouded in darkness, thick with the threat of an impending storm. The wind wailed like a harbinger of doom, and the Nu River thundered with a deafening roar.
Crash!
The waves surged skyward, towering nearly a hundred zhang high, crashing toward the rebel camp. The sky above swiftly darkened as clouds and fierce winds gathered, coalescing into a colossal fist descending from the heavens.
“Enemy attack!” The experienced outer-scene guardsman, filled with true yuan, shouted, his voice echoing throughout the camp.
Zhu Shou, Wenshi Zhenren, Du Huaishang, and others rushed out. On the Nu River, masts stood like a dense forest, and banners blotted out the sky. At the forefront stood the “Emperor of Martial Arts,” standing proudly with his robe fluttering in the wind!
Seeing this, Jiang Zhiwei and Ruan Yushu immediately understood: the imperial army had discovered the Shadow King’s death and sought to launch a powerful assault before Du Huaishang’s recovery, creating chaos to lay the groundwork for internal strife and opportunities for spies!
Just as they were about to join the battle, Jiang Zhiwei suddenly sensed something. Her left sword, still in its sheath, was swiftly drawn backward, as if she had anticipated this move.
Puh!
The sound of metal striking wood rang out—autumn winds hadn’t stirred, but the cicadas sensed it first!
…
In the western hills, Miao Cong’s expression briefly showed shock before he quickly composed himself. A dark bronze staff appeared in his hand, and he chuckled, “You’re quite alert, avoiding the trap. But traps are just the icing on the cake. The most important thing is one’s own strength.”
His aura surged, rising from the early stage of the outer scene to the fourth heavenly tier, connecting with heaven and earth, like a mountain or a cliff, pressing down so heavily that the nearby hills trembled.
It was said that the only son of Miao Hu possessed merely the ninth rank of Earth Class. But now, he was incomparably stronger than what Bai Xiaotang had assessed. Moreover, his age seemed comparable to that of the Senluo Heavenly Monarch. Yet, he was absent from the public’s list of outstanding talents of this generation!
Meng Qi’s heart stirred, but he didn’t rush to attack. “Are you a reincarnator?”
He was ninety percent certain. Only a cyclic warrior could achieve such power at this age without public knowledge!
“Indeed, you must be the enemy faction in this confrontation.” Miao Cong laughed loudly, seemingly delighted.
He had seen the two black-clad figures merging and separating, engaging in a bizarre battle with Qi Zhengyan.
“Never thought the enemy would be within our own ranks.” Meng Qi raised his eyebrows slightly.
He had long known about the existence of native cyclic warriors; he had encountered one before!
Miao Cong’s smile vanished. His voice turned grave, “The Six Dao schemed, placing us in the same faction. We can only pretend to cooperate for now. Once we kill you and accumulate enough merit, we won’t fear erasure anymore!”
Fear no erasure? Wasn’t this a death mission? Judging from this, their overall strength must be far superior to ours! Meng Qi deduced the hidden meaning.
“Does Marquis Miao know about your betrayal?” Meng Qi suddenly asked.
Miao Cong sneered mockingly, “You guess!”
He swung his staff, which transformed into hundreds of staff shadows, a mixture of real and illusory, triggering earth cracks as it struck Meng Qi fiercely.
Meng Qi remained calm. He drew out Tianzhishang (Heaven’s Sorrow) with his right hand. Though the blade seemed slow, it concealed infinite variations.
Dang! Dang! Dang! Dang! The blade cut into the staff shadows, slicing, chopping, flicking, and parrying. Lightning surged along the copper staff toward Miao Cong, unstoppable by qi, as the weapon conducted electricity!
Peng!
With just one strike, the staff shadows shattered. Miao Cong flew backward, crashing into a cliff, bringing down countless rocks that buried him in dust and debris. His hands were slightly charred, and a bloodstain ran across his chest and abdomen.
“You’re quite strong. Your swordsmanship is impressive. I have to admit, I’m no match for you right now.” Surprisingly, Miao Cong remained calm.
A sudden sense of unease rose in Meng Qi’s heart. He swung his blade, ready to cleave the heavens.
At that moment, mysterious energy surged and burned around Miao Cong. His aura soared, instantly breaking through a barrier, approaching the second tier of cultivation, matching Meng Qi’s realm. His body wounds began to regenerate!
“Burning one’s lifespan? No, the Twenty-Seven Death Limit?” Meng Qi furrowed his brow, shouting fiercely to disrupt with thunderous words!
The Twenty-Seven Death Limit—something Meng Qi had read about in a comic from his past life. It depicted a martial artist who would inevitably die upon turning twenty-seven. Yet, the closer one got to that age, the more explosively their power grew. By twenty-seven, one might even reach the level of a Dharma Body or beyond. In the Six Dao Cycle, it was a Dharma Body-level martial art that required completing specific tasks to obtain. Meng Qi rated it as both a power-up and a cheat code combined!
So, Meng Qi didn’t think Miao Cong practiced the “Luosha Kui,” but rather something similar. It might not reach Dharma Body level unless he had some extraordinary fortune.
Yellow-brown energy coiled around Miao Cong like tangible mist, his aura nearing that of a Grandmaster, terrifyingly powerful. With a confident smile, he said, “You’ve heard of the Twenty-Seven Death Limit too?”
His eyes burned with madness: “Unfortunately, I couldn’t redeem it, but I was fortunate enough to obtain a similar martial art. Though not as powerful, it’s enough for me to rely on. In the Cycle, without the resolve to risk your life, you can’t survive!”
“This martial art burns my lifespan. The less I have left, the stronger I become. In the final day, each hour grants more power than decades before! I have only three years left. Can you withstand it?”
Meng Qi’s heart tightened. Such a martial art could be countered with longevity pills afterward, extending life as long as the enemy was killed quickly and the pills hadn’t been consumed completely. But how dangerous was the hidden cost? Could the Six Dao compensate for it?
As thoughts raced, Meng Qi slashed without hesitation. Facing such a madman and such a twisted martial art, he had to kill him before his lifespan dropped too low!
This slash traced a mysterious arc, like a fish flowing with the current, but now the current was the laws of heaven and earth.
The blade light surged, and so did Meng Qi’s form. His aura became majestic, mirroring heaven and earth, already bearing the aura of a Grandmaster. The wandering blade shadows suddenly converged, striking down heavily. A black vortex, needle-like, appeared at the tip of his blade!
“Come!” Miao Cong, practicing a similar martial art, had long filled his heart with madness. He roared, gripping the copper staff and smashing it down faster than wind or sound, tearing through the air and generating shockwaves!
Dang!
Miao Cong flew backward again. Blood covered the parts of his hands gripping the staff, his palms torn open. His muscles had torn, and his injuries were severe.
Meng Qi pressed the advantage relentlessly. His left hand wielded Liuhuo, igniting a “solar flare,” releasing streams of sword light that enveloped Miao Cong. At the same time, his back writhed, two new arms sprouting, wielding Xuan Gui Sword and Zhan Yu Blade!
“Good!” Miao Cong roared with madness, his lifespan burning faster, nearly depleted. His aura surged past the second tier, entering the Grandmaster realm, his injuries healing rapidly!
Can he control how much lifespan remains? Meng Qi’s eyes narrowed!
The staff swept sideways, as if tearing the void itself, forming vortexes that absorbed countless sword lights, leaving only the red jade-like blade.
Dang! Meng Qi stepped back. The linked attacks of Xuan Gui Sword and Zhan Yu Blade were interrupted. Miao Cong crashed into another cliff, burying the hills.
Miao Cong’s power kept rising, his lifespan dwindling. The yellow-brown aura solidified into armor over his body.
He grinned savagely, “Earth Class Second Tier, one incense stick’s worth of life. Can you withstand it?”
His madness was evident!
The staff struck once more. This time, had Meng Qi not still been in the state of “法天象地” (mirroring heaven and earth), he might have barely managed to track the staff’s trajectory. Tianzhishang (Heaven’s Sorrow) swung upward, overturning the heavens—its blade radiance dazzling, slicing through darkness and chaos.
Dang! Just as they collided, the staff’s tail swept around. Meng Qi’s left hand, Liuhuo, transformed into thousands of sword lights, forming layers of a net to neutralize the strike.
Dang! Dang! Dang! Dang! Peng! Peng! Peng! Peng!
Miao Cong attacked relentlessly. Meng Qi wielded blade and sword in tandem, four arms moving in perfect rhythm, battling from the ground into the air, unleashing storm bursts, fierce winds, torrential rain, and lightning like hellfire!
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Miao Cong’s speed, strength, and rhythm were unmistakably at the Eighth Heavenly Layer. Meng Qi’s mind could barely keep pace. Were it not for his prior cultivation—where he had unified saber techniques, swordplay, palm strikes, and fist arts into a single system, elevating his martial prowess—allowing him to sense the attack and react instinctively, whether through Dharma Body techniques or outer-scenery moves, wielding both blade and sword in tandem, he would have been utterly crushed by such a relentless, life-threatening onslaught, with no chance of escape!
Honglong!
Meng Qi slashed Miao Cong with a heaven-splitting strike. Miao Cong blocked with his copper staff, deflecting the blades and striking Meng Qi’s left shoulder.
Peng! Both crashed through hills. If Meng Qi hadn’t timely activated the “Kunlun Robe,” his left shoulder might have been shattered by that single strike!
Even so, after such a high-intensity exchange, Meng Qi felt fatigue setting in, nearing the limit of maintaining the state of “法天象地” (mirroring heaven and earth).
Hualaa! Rocks flew in all directions as Miao Cong rose again. His remaining lifespan was but a sliver, yet his aura surpassed the eighth tier, reaching the pinnacle of the ninth, briefly becoming a peak outer-scene expert!
“Within ten breaths, if you can’t hold your defense, you die. If I can’t break through, I die!” Miao Cong’s expression was utterly mad, perfectly suited to this martial art.
Meng Qi’s heart was serene, his thoughts lucid. In an instant, he surged forward. His saber carried immense weight, its blade radiance dazzling—one transforming into an illusory chaos void, the other into a miniature sun. They clashed midair, erupting in a blinding white light and terrifying heat.
Miao Cong’s vision was obscured. His eyes failed him, and his senses of smell and touch were overwhelmed by the scorching heat. Yet he stood resolute, unshaken, brandishing his staff to rend the void, carving out several abyss-like fissures of utmost terror.
Honglong!
The staff shattered the white light, but Meng Qi had vanished. A blade of lightning suddenly appeared behind Miao Cong, silent and swift, delivering a hidden thunder strike.
Meng Qi slashed once, then immediately shifted position, launching another sword strike.
If defense fails, attack!
…
Qi Zhengyan, facing two eerie black-clad figures, defended like an immovable rock. At times, they fused into one, their power rising to the fourth or fifth heavenly tier. At times, they split to attack from front and back.
After a few breaths of combat, Qi Zhengyan’s expression remained unchanged. He threw a punch with his left fist. Instantly, thousands of fist shadows appeared, each deep blue like water waves, solid as reality.
They merged into a vast sea!
Peng! Peng! Peng! Peng! The two black-clad figures couldn’t evade. Their bodies exploded repeatedly, struck like sieves.
Dian Canghai!
Honglong! They flew backward, crashing through hills, their auras extinguished.
At that moment, dark shadows stirred behind Qi Zhengyan, and a slender sword pierced into his back!
Liu Yuntao’s expression was indifferent, as if this assassination had happened countless times before.
But when she tried to withdraw the blade, she found it impossible—as if she hadn’t pierced him, but her weapon had been seized!
Panic surged. She tried to abandon the sword, but her hand stuck to it, unable to let go.
Then she heard a soft sigh. The green-robed man before her gently turned and slapped backward with his left hand.
Without turning, his left hand’s five fingers were pitch black—not dirty black, but the deep black of night, smooth and jade-like.
Liu Yuntao’s gaze was drawn to that hand, her soul sinking into infinite hells, watching helplessly as it struck her forehead.
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