Chapter Thirty-Nine: All of You Must Die

“Damn it!” Zhou Yu muttered under his breath. Earlier, he’d overheard from those around him that the armored man named Xuan Zhan was incredibly formidable. Still, he recalled what Baidu had said: in this world, a B-rank powerhouse was already at the pinnacle. The old man, after performing the blood sacrifice with his sword, could barely reach B-rank. With Nan Fenglang and that cunning fellow from the Beichen family, three of them against one—surely they could hold their ground. Who could have imagined Xuan Zhan was this overwhelmingly strong?

In an instant, Xuan Zhan unleashed an unmatched force, his fists sending out dozens of blood-red shockwaves. The formation between the old man, Nan Fenglang, and Beichen Wan had crumbled from the outset. Now, the three fought separately—if it could even be called fighting. Each was frantically dodging Xuan Zhan’s relentless attacks, all barely clinging to life.

“Tsk tsk… This collectible’s combat prowess is truly impressive. No wonder he’s known as the God of Slaughter, the Ten-Thousand Slayer. Since you can’t even withstand him, I’d feel bad joining in,” the black-robed figure said, then turned into a dark shadow, floating up toward the ice wall like an enormous bat.

The old man was in utter misery; he’d never faced such power before. Years ago, when he’d battled the Demon Queen White Bone Cry, she’d disabled his shoulder in just three moves, but he hadn’t had time to use the Blood Sword Technique then. Had he used it, he’d have held her off for a while, he was sure. But now, not only had he already sacrificed blood to his sword, he’d also stuck Nan Fenglang’s Gale Talisman to himself, his movements vastly quicker—yet he still had no chance to retaliate.

Another red shockwave swept toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, the old man saw the black-robed figure already airborne, headed for the ice wall. He steeled himself: he couldn’t keep being so passive!

Gritting his teeth, he stabilized himself, then frantically channeled his blood into the Iron-Blood Sword. Instantly, the blade turned a deeper crimson, thick red light flowing along it like fresh blood. His left hand, gripping the hilt, was utterly drained of color and began to tremble.

“Hey!” the old man roared. His left hand clenched the hilt tighter, and he swung the Iron-Blood Sword hard against the oncoming red shockwave.

A crescent-shaped arc of red light formed before him—the sword’s aura, thick with the scent of blood, but different from the murderous air in Xuan Zhan’s fists.

The old man’s sword unleashed hot blood; Xuan Zhan’s fists released killing intent.

The deathly red shockwave collided with the heated, crescent-shaped sword aura. There was no thunderous explosion, not even much sound—just a rending noise.

The blood-red crescent sliced through the shockwave.

“Damn you!” the old man’s face flushed, his little wooden hairpin lost somewhere, his silver hair now flying wildly. Cursing, he surged forward, following the crescent that had cut through Xuan Zhan’s shockwave, his body shrouded in a mist of blood, charging like an enraged lion straight at Xuan Zhan.

Xuan Zhan’s attention shifted to the old man; his shriveled eyes glanced his way, then he threw another punch.

The old man’s sudden assault gave Nan Fenglang and Beichen Wan a brief moment to catch their breath. In the lull, they steadied themselves.

“Storm!” Nan Fenglang cried. From her flowing sleeves, two small whirlwinds shot out, growing larger as they spun away from her. Over a dozen meters out, they became two azure tornadoes, each ten meters wide, churning with ice and snow as they spun toward Xuan Zhan.

Beichen Wan pointed to the sky, then at Xuan Zhan. Three beams of starlight converged, forming a thick pillar that blasted toward Xuan Zhan.

“No matter how strong you are, your body is still fragile! What are you so arrogant about!?” the old man bellowed, charging up to Xuan Zhan. The blood-red crescent before him had already sliced through two of Xuan Zhan’s shockwaves, its glow much dimmer—at most, it could withstand one more attack.

Xuan Zhan’s dead eyes locked on the old man. Suddenly, he spoke: “It’s useless. You will all die.”

As he finished, red light gathered in Xuan Zhan’s hands, forming a gigantic, blood-red Heaven-Splitting Axe. “This is the Ten-Thousand Slayer,” Xuan Zhan announced.

The Ten-Thousand Slayer—Xuan Zhan’s peerless battle-axe, the Heaven-Splitting Axe that had slain ten thousand cultivators. Stained by their blood, it had become a supreme weapon of carnage.

Xuan Zhan raised both hands, gripping the axe tightly, and brought it down in a vertical chop.

“Hell with that! I don’t believe in your damnation!” the old man cursed back, raising his sword to meet the descending Ten-Thousand Slayer. In that instant, the Iron-Blood Sword blazed with crimson light, illuminating the night, the old man’s entire body enveloped in a blood-red aura.

A thunderous boom erupted as sword and axe collided.

A second explosion sounded as the pillar of starlight struck Xuan Zhan.

“Hisss…” The two azure tornadoes collided, then merged, slamming into Xuan Zhan.

As Xuan Zhan’s figure was engulfed by rampaging energy, Zhou Yu shouted, “Master!” Leaping from the hundred-meter-high ice wall, he rushed toward the chaos. The wall was so high that he nearly crashed down, barely managing to catch himself with his hands—otherwise, his legs would’ve shattered.

Nan Fenglang’s chest heaved violently, her ample bosom quivering with each frantic breath. She was drenched in sweat; those two tornadoes had nearly drained her energy. As the tension eased, she even felt faint—these weren’t ordinary tornadoes, but ones laced with countless wind blades that would shred anyone caught within.

The violent energy didn’t last long. Before Zhou Yu could reach them, the storm and explosions had died down. The ice where Xuan Zhan had stood had completely melted, water surging up from the ten-meter-deep pit. The old man was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s my master?” Zhou Yu shouted at Nan Fenglang.

“Your master was a hero,” Beichen Wan approached, gently patting Zhou Yu on the shoulder in consolation.

Zhou Yu fell silent, then suddenly looked up at Beichen Wan and spat, “Screw you!”

“What?” Beichen Wan stared in disbelief. In his mind, the old man was powerful but clanless—a perfect pawn. He couldn’t believe this boy Zhou Yu dared speak to him that way.

Zhou Yu didn’t reply, but slammed a fist into Beichen Wan’s gut, sending him flying and crashing into the snow.

“If not for my master, you’d all be dead! Yet you still betrayed and tried to kill him along with Xuan Zhan!” Zhou Yu shouted at Nan Fenglang after flooring Beichen Wan.

“There was no other way. Xuan Zhan was too strong—someone had to sacrifice themselves. Your master was the only one who could create a chance for a fatal blow, and he did. If we’d hesitated, we’d all have died, including him. When your master charged forward, he knew what he was doing,” Nan Fenglang explained, guilt in her eyes.

“Excuses!” Zhou Yu, furious, charged at Nan Fenglang.

“What are you—wait, I’m not dead yet…” a weak voice called from behind.

Zhou Yu stopped, turned around, and saw his master, soaking wet, climbing out of the water.

“Master!” Zhou Yu hurried over, dragging the old man out. “Are you alright?”

The old man waved a hand. “Not dead yet.”

Zhou Yu touched his hand—ice cold, not a trace of warmth. Quickly, he stripped off his own coat and wrapped it around the old man, rubbing his hands briskly.

“What are you all standing around for? That bastard’s already gone up!” the old man snapped at the dazed Nan Fenglang and Beichen Wan.

The black-robed figure was now atop the ice wall, dodging attacks from cultivators with ghostly agility. Whenever he struck, he’d break someone’s neck with those withered hands, tossing bodies from the wall like rag dolls.

Beichen Wan climbed from the snow, clutching his abdomen, and asked Nan Fenglang, “Miss Nan, what now?”

Nan Fenglang gathered the surrounding winds into her hands. “Zhou Yu, take your master and get away. Beichen Wan, can we use the Seven Stars Formation yet?”

Beichen Wan nodded. They’d set it up at the outset, but the battle had been outside the ice valley, so it hadn’t been activated. Now, with the black-robed man atop the valley, it was perfectly placed.

The red shockwaves that had passed through the ice wall hadn’t all been blocked, but the rest were absorbed by a gentle force just before reaching the Sacred Qilin—that was the Seven Stars Formation set up by the Beichen family.

“Demon! Xuan Zhan is defeated! You’re next—prepare to die!” Beichen Wan pointed skyward with one hand and at the rampaging black-robed man with the other, his voice harsh.

“Tsk tsk… Quite capable, aren’t you? But… are you truly sure the so-called Ten-Thousand Slayer Xuan Zhan has been killed by a few juniors like you? And it seems you know nothing about the perfect body I have created,” the black-robed figure’s chilling voice echoed from the ice wall.

“What…” Beichen Wan suddenly felt a chill crawl up his back, goosebumps rising all over. His pores stood on end—he wanted to turn, to leap aside, to shout, but could do none of those things.

He was enshrouded in a blood-red aura of killing intent—completely paralyzed.

Behind him, Xuan Zhan’s shattered body began to reassemble, the scattered fragments drawn together by a sinister force, slowly forming a figure behind Beichen Wan.

“I said, you will all die.” Xuan Zhan’s dry, rasping voice grated in Beichen Wan’s ears like a death knell from the underworld.

Nan Fenglang turned—too late to warn or help him. Beichen Wan’s body was sliced cleanly in two, falling apart to either side.

“Tsk tsk… And so, the Big Dipper Formation is broken,” the black-robed man drifted aside, evading another cultivator’s attack, snapping his neck, and tossing the corpse off the ice wall. Smacking his lips, he muttered, “How dull… The big fellow in the valley looks far more interesting. Let’s see if I can wake you up, little white dog!” With that, the black-robed man floated toward the Sacred Qilin cub, still sleeping in the valley, like a bat spreading its wings.