Chapter Forty-Three: The Rampaging Sacred Qilin (Part One)

After defeating Morrison tonight, for the first time, Zhou Yu felt truly powerful. Yet this confidence lasted only half the night before being brutally shattered by reality.

From the moment he set foot onto this frozen lake, Zhou Yu had been ceaselessly confronted with the truth about his own strength. First, there were those corpses—one of them a Realm Guardian with C-rank power, yet instantly killed and sealed in ice. Then came Xuan Zhan, who single-handedly faced off against three masters: Old Man Nan Fenglang, Bei Chenwan, and the enigmatic Black Robed Man, whose ghostly skills allowed him to kill elite cultivators in an instant…

Then, the arrival of Jin Buhuan, the appearance of Liu Wujian, and the sudden manifestation of the Grand Elder Tianxing—these three were the top powerhouses of the Road of Samsara. Though they did not fight each other, Jin Buhuan’s thunderous strike of golden light from a hundred miles away, Liu Wujian’s effortless stroll that commanded the awe of all, and the Grand Elder Tianxing appearing out of thin air, his presence undetected until now—all spoke to their strength.

If he were to face any of them, would he even amount to a single finger? Zhou Yu assessed his own strength, then, struck by a thought, spoke to Du Niang, “Scan them—find out what level they are.”

Du Niang’s voice, sweet as honey, sounded in his mind. “To probe experts of this level, I’m afraid I might be detected.”

“What? They could detect you?” Zhou Yu was surprised. In his mind, Du Niang’s probing techniques were completely unrelated to cultivation and should have been undetectable.

“If someone has reached A-rank—a lower god’s power—then I may not be able to scan them. Those at A-rank possess the ability to manifest a domain: a world whose rules favor themselves, centered on their own being. This is the most salient trait of a deity.”

“So you mean, if someone’s domain is active, you can’t enter it to scan them?”

“That’s right. You understand perfectly. I must say, you’re very clever,” Du Niang replied.

Zhou Yu curled his lip and thought, “Hmph, who doesn’t know that? That’s how it’s always written in novels.”

“Still, scan them. I want to know if any among them are god-ranked.” He hesitated a moment, then added, as if to comfort himself, “A god-level expert wouldn’t bother with a rookie like me, right? It’s fine to scan them.”

Du Niang fell silent for a moment, then began the scan. Countless microscopic green points of light filled the air in an instant.

Zhou Yu watched nervously as Liu Wujian and Grand Elder Tianxing walked side by side toward the Sacred Qilin.

Du Niang’s honeyed voice sounded in his mind, “Scan complete. Both are B-rank.”

Zhou Yu let out a long breath of relief, though a faint disappointment lingered in his heart. If even such figures were not god-level, then what would a god truly be like? Would he be as insignificant as an ant when facing a god?

Suddenly, Zhou Yu felt a chill, as if someone were watching him. Instinctively, he looked up, but saw only a figure with a sword at his waist and another, rotund as a meatball, heading toward the Sacred Qilin. He stared after them, feeling inexplicably as though they were watching him.

“Could you have made a mistake?” Zhou Yu couldn’t shake his disbelief that these two were merely B-rank.

“Impossible,” Du Niang replied flatly.

Zhou Yu fell silent, but his doubts only deepened. He had never met an A-rank expert, but something told him Liu Wujian and Tianxing’s true strength could not be so simple. Perhaps it was just intuition, or perhaps he simply could not accept that such beings weren’t yet A-rank.

The newly awakened Sacred Qilin roared endlessly, white breath of frost spewing from its nostrils and mouth. A Beast Sect disciple, petrified by fear, was touched by the frost and instantly turned into a block of ice, which then shattered into powder with the Qilin’s roar.

Terrified, the Beast Sect disciples all hid in the crevices between shattered ice blocks. The Ling Realm disciples had already retreated to the icy cliffs surrounding the gorge, joining the late-arriving cultivators from various sects and factions. Some, bolder than others, tried attacking the Sacred Qilin with hidden weapons or magical artifacts. Yet all these attacks were frozen by an invisible chill a yard before reaching the Qilin. Whether physical weapons, hidden darts, spells, energy, or talismans—none had any effect. The Sacred Qilin, one of the four holy beasts, was indeed worthy of its name.

As Zhou Yu put it, these idiots weren’t attacking the Sacred Qilin—they were just drawing its aggro!

The Sacred Qilin was unharmed, but the attacks had thoroughly enraged it. Though still a juvenile, its divine dignity was not to be defiled.

Its blood-red eyes swept over the cultivators standing on the icy cliffs, its gaze almost tangible and bitterly cold. These were all elite cultivators, yet each felt a chill so deep it seemed to freeze their very souls. The weaker ones even felt as if they were about to be frozen solid. One leaped desperately from the cliff and ran for his life—which, indeed, he was doing.

Others soon came to their senses. Someone shouted, “Run!” and the crowd scrambled down from the cliffs, fleeing en masse. Only the Ling Realm disciples remained on the icy walls, focusing their energy, bracing themselves for the Sacred Qilin.

Zhou Yu watched the line of Ling Realm disciples standing resolute and somewhat tragic atop the ice wall. He couldn’t help but sigh in admiration, “No wonder the Ling Realm is the cradle of the world’s greatest heroes.”

“I thought you’d call them fools,” the old man, somewhat recovered, said as Zhou Yu helped him to his feet. His gaze was fixed ahead, particularly on the two figures advancing against the tide of retreating cultivators.

Zhou Yu turned his eyes to Liu Wujian and Grand Elder Tianxing, shook his head, and said, “At any time, in any place, the brave are forever worthy of respect.”

The old man said nothing more, straightening his body with effort. His aging form stood stubbornly in the cold wind. Whether from the chill or exhaustion, he trembled now and then, but each time, he stood taller—like a spear planted deep in the earth, swaying in the wind, yet always reaching for the sky.

“Ling Realm disciples, fall back,” Tianxing’s voice rang out across the field—not as domineering as Jin Buhuan’s, but gentle as a spring breeze. With his words, the chill in the air noticeably diminished.

Hearing the order, the Ling Realm disciples retreated in unison, leaping gracefully from the ice wall and withdrawing swiftly, their movements precise and fluid.

“Hmph, I thought they weren’t afraid to die, but look how fast they run—nothing but pups pretending to be elephants,” sneered a cultivator who had retreated to Zhou Yu’s side, mocking the Ling Realm disciples as they withdrew.

Zhou Yu frowned, then replied, “Those unafraid of death deserve respect, but more admirable are those who, though afraid, still dare to face it head-on.”

The cultivator scowled, unable to refute Zhou Yu’s words. He shot Zhou Yu a fierce glare and hurriedly fled even farther.

Humans are herd creatures—especially in times of danger. Once one starts to run, the rest follow like a flood, unstoppable. In just a few moments, nearly everyone present was fleeing. Even the Beast Sect disciples, previously hiding in the gorge, took advantage of the chaos to slip away, carefully making their escape.

“You two aren’t leaving?” Nan Fenglang approached Zhou Yu and the old man.

But Zhou Yu and the old man ignored her, offering no response.

Zhou Yu’s eyes were fixed on the Sacred Qilin, which was breaking through the ice wall and striding out of the gorge, as if beholding the most beautiful, seductive woman in the world.

Nan Fenglang gently shook Zhou Yu and said, “If you don’t leave now, it’ll be too late.”

Zhou Yu didn’t even turn his head. In a calm voice tinged with excitement, he replied, “It’s already too late.”