“Fellow Daoist, there’s no need to be intimidated by them. My reinforcements will arrive shortly. If you can protect me for just a moment, we’ll have nothing to worry about.” These words came from the 10,000-year-old Corpse King, Xuan Ye.
Han Li’s unexpected appearance had clearly been seized upon by the old fiend as a lifeline.
At this moment, Han Li stood with his arms crossed, a contemplative expression on his face.
Seeing this, the yellow-robed man’s eyes flashed with malice, but he suppressed it immediately. Though the youthful-looking cultivator before him had not displayed any other abilities, the fact that a single arc of lightning had shattered the demonic serpent formed from the dark clouds made him wary of underestimating him.
With his thoughts racing, the man abandoned any pretense and spoke bluntly, “Brother Xuan Ye, haven’t you noticed? The Demon Wind Seven and the Yellow Dust Three Fiends, who should be by my side and Tianfeng’s, are nowhere to be seen. The moment you left your tomb, I ordered them to set up a formation, sealing your mausoleum completely. While they may not be strong enough to breach the tomb chambers, they can certainly delay you for a day or two. And what’s more… heh!” The yellow-robed man let out a cold laugh.
“And what’s more?” Xuan Ye’s heart sank, his fists clenching as he glared at the man.
“And more importantly, it’s nearly noon—the weakest time of day for the Yin energy of the earth veins. Your Corpse King’s Great Art must be significantly weakened now, wouldn’t you say?” The Venerable Kuangsha glanced at the sky, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
Xuan Ye’s face darkened, a layer of black energy faintly surfacing.
“Good, very good! I never imagined you’d studied my Corpse King’s Great Art to such an extent, even knowing about the earth vein’s Yin energy. But no matter how much you think you know, it’s only superficial. Today, I’ll show you the true power of this art!” Xuan Ye suddenly threw his head back and let out a furious laugh, his voice dripping with malice.
With no hope of reinforcements, and consumed by rage, he refused to simply await death. Moreover, he knew that unless he demonstrated his strength, he wouldn’t sway Han Li to his side.
Xuan Ye opened his mouth and spat out a glob of black blood, which transformed into a fist-sized black rune midair before shooting back into his forehead, imprinting itself clearly. The rune emitted an eerie black glow as the gray-white corpse energy around him churned violently. A bestial roar erupted from his throat.
Seeing this, the yellow-robed man, though unsure what technique Xuan Ye was preparing, knew he couldn’t let him complete it unhindered. Without hesitation, he shouted, “Attack now! No more delays!”
With that, the Venerable Kuangsha stomped on the giant gourd beneath him.
The gourd trembled slightly before spewing forth a torrent of yellow sand, which instantly coalesced into a massive sand flood dragon several zhang long, lunging straight at Xuan Ye.
The other two cultivators acted simultaneously. From the white hurricane came the sound of slicing wind, followed by the eruption of over a hundred massive wind blades, each over a foot long, blindingly white and shrieking with terrifying intensity—far beyond ordinary wind blade techniques.
Meanwhile, from the demonic cloud, a dozen black daggers shot forth. Initially only inches long, they swiftly expanded into dark rainbows several zhang in length, silently slashing forward under the cover of the wind blades.
As the attacks closed in, Xuan Ye completed his spell.
With a furious roar, his high crown flew off, his hair wildly whipping in the wind before lengthening and turning a deep purple-black. His body swelled several feet taller, his arms crossing as thick green fur sprouted across his skin. His fingers extended into sharp purple-black claws, his face hollowed into a ghastly visage, and a pair of inch-long fangs jutted from his mouth.
Xuan Ye had fully revealed his true form—the 10,000-year-old Corpse King.
Just as the sand flood dragon, wind blades, and black rainbows reached him, Xuan Ye’s face twisted into a savage grin. He spat out a golden pearl the size of a fist, which spun once before transforming into a massive golden hand that seized the sand flood dragon by the neck. Meanwhile, his own arms blurred into motion, countless green claw shadows weaving into a protective net around him.
The old fiend intended to rely on his bare claws to withstand the remaining attacks.
The wind blades and black rainbows struck the claw net with a deafening crash, white and black lights intertwining as Xuan Ye’s figure was momentarily engulfed.
A thunderous explosion followed as green energy surged from where Xuan Ye stood, repelling the wind blades and black rainbows with overwhelming force.
The Corpse King’s claws, now fully revealed, were harder than refined metal—surpassing even ordinary magic treasures. With a single strike, he shattered the combined assault of wind blades and daggers.
Meanwhile, the golden hand wrestled with the sand flood dragon before finally gripping its neck, temporarily restraining it.
Han Li, watching coldly from the sidelines, was slightly taken aback. Despite his grievous injuries, the corpse energy-wreathed fiend was far more formidable than expected.
However, the yellow-robed man, far from being angered by the sand flood dragon’s capture, smirked and pointed at the struggling creature. The flood dragon’s body glowed yellow before dissolving into loose sand, slipping free from the golden hand’s grasp before reforming and enveloping it entirely.
Without pause, the man cast a cold glance at Xuan Ye and Han Li before silently forming hand seals. The surrounding yellow sand mist stirred, suddenly surging into towering waves over a dozen zhang high, rolling inward from all sides. Eerie wails and ghostly cries echoed from within the sand, fluctuating in volume, enough to unnerve even the most steadfast.
He had activated the formation, intending to crush Xuan Ye within its confines.
Yet, the moment the yellow-robed man’s gaze flickered toward him, Han Li realized he, too, had been included in the trap. If he hesitated even slightly, allowing the formation to fully close in, the man would undoubtedly eliminate him as well.
With an inward curse, Han Li—who had no intention of wasting further time—finally made his move.
His sleeve flicked, releasing dozens of golden flying swords that swiftly formed a storm of sword shadows, slashing toward the nearest sand wave. Simultaneously, his other hand raised the ancient purple mirror he had been holding, channeling a burst of spiritual power. A violet beam shot forth, striking the sand mist before the swords.
But something strange happened—the purple light, normally capable of dispersing fog, vanished into the sand without a trace.
Frowning, Han Li grew wary as his sword radiance struck the sand wave, carving a massive gap.
“Be careful! The Soul-Sundering Sand corrupts flying swords—don’t let them touch it!” Xuan Ye, still fending off multiple magic treasures, shouted urgently upon seeing Han Li finally act.
“Corrupts flying swords?” Han Li blinked, but before he could react—
The gap in the sand suddenly darkened as a chilling wind rose. Countless black sand grains materialized around his swords like specters, spewing thick black threads that coiled around each blade.
The moment the black threads made contact, Han Li felt his connection to the swords grow sluggish, his spiritual sense being forcibly expelled. His control was slipping away.
His expression turned icy as he pointed at the swords and uttered a single word: “Explode.”
A series of thunderous detonations erupted as countless golden arcs burst from the swords, obliterating the black threads and clearing a vast swath of the sand mist.
Han Li narrowed his eyes, peering deeper into the mist, his expression darkening.
Within the heart of the sand storm, countless grains floated densely in the air. Though they appeared ordinary, their sheer numbers made breaching them no simple task.
As he hesitated, his expression suddenly hardened. Silver wings materialized on his back, and with a crack of thunder, he vanished, reappearing a dozen zhang away just as a crimson halberd-like treasure pierced through where he had stood.
Even from a distance, the scorching aura of the weapon was palpable, fueling Han Li’s fury.
The halberd circled back, returning to its owner.
Han Li’s cold gaze locked onto the demonic cloud from which it had come, his pupils flashing blue. Despite the cloud’s density, his Brightsight Spirit Eyes saw through it effortlessly, revealing the movements of a green-robed elder within.
The elder, equally startled by Han Li’s lightning-based teleportation, stared back in shock.
Without a word, Han Li’s wings flapped once, and with another thunderclap, he vanished again.
The elder’s face paled as he slapped his storage pouch, summoning an ancient green shield to block his front.
At the same moment, silver light flickered at the edge of the demonic cloud as Han Li reappeared, his fists clenched, golden lightning wreathing his body in a crackling mantle.
Then, without expression, he vanished once more.
The elder’s heart chilled. He spat out a phosphorescent green sword, which transformed into an emerald streak, circling him defensively.
But before he could deploy more treasures, thunder boomed from one side—
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