Chapter 26: Sacrifice

Such a dazzling scarlet radiance pierced the thick fog, undeniable and brilliant. At that moment, Zhao Rucheng was just rising from the ground, the swarming wandering souls threatening to drown him entirely.

And Du Yehu was here!

He didn't even need to act; the sheer power of his Qi and blood scattered the nearby wandering souls with its forceful impact.

Du Yehu was direct and to the point. He seized Zhao Rucheng by the collar and hoisted him towards Ling He.

Having endured a savage blow from the malevolent spirit, several of the martial brothers were consumed by worry, yet Zhao Rucheng himself appeared utterly unscathed, bellowing indignantly, "Hey, hey, hey, I can walk on my own!"

Du Yehu paid him no mind, merely flinging the ceaselessly chattering Zhao Rucheng towards Ling He mid-stride. Simultaneously, he spun around, his fist enshrouded in a rich surge of Qi and blood, and unleashed a devastating blow upon the malevolent spirit.

In the immediate aftermath, Ling He caught Zhao Rucheng mid-air, a moment that coincided precisely with Du Yehu’s strike.

Compared to the elegance of the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword, the fist art he cultivated lacked refinement, indeed, it was rather unfavored even within the outer sect of the Dao Academy. Yet, when wielded by him, it was extraordinarily fierce and unyielding.

This punch sought no clever opening; instead, it met the malevolent spirit's immense claws head-on, a clash of pure strength against strength, offense against offense. It was truly rigid and indomitable!

The iron fist, enveloped by the power of Qi and blood, collided with the azure-black colossal claws, locked in a momentary stalemate.

Just then, Jiang Wang had already leapt forth, his sword light flashing like lightning, and had already carved open another eye of the malevolent spirit.

"Retreat!"

Jiang Wang succeeded and retreated swiftly. Du Yehu also fell back with haste.

And the now-blind malevolent spirit, standing where it was, grew increasingly frenzied, its colossal claws thrashing wildly, whipping the surrounding air into a tempest.

When its assault momentarily weakened, Jiang Wang circled back. His long sword traced a graceful arc in the air, descending gently like a fallen leaf upon the malevolent spirit's right claw, almost without a whisper. But the instant it made contact with the azure-black claw, it erupted with an unparalleled, piercing shriek of sharpness!

The third move of the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword Technique – its very essence is acuity!

With but a single stroke, the malevolent spirit's right claw was severed.

Jiang Wang had no desire to linger in combat and began to retreat the moment he struck.

The malevolent spirit, stripped of its sight, could only lash out desperately at the empty air before it, while Du Yehu, at this moment aflame with blazing Qi and blood, had already reached its back and leapt high. He gripped his left hand with his right, his hands forming a hammer, and brought it down fiercely upon the malevolent spirit's monstrous head.

*Boom!*

The smoke of Qi and blood was inherently anathema to spectral forms, not to mention the ferocity of Du Yehu's attack. The fist, layered in the power of Qi and blood, utterly obliterated the malevolent spirit's entire head!

Du Yehu was unable to evade and was splashed with azure-black foulness, but it was swiftly incinerated by the power of Qi and blood.

It was not until the headless remains of the malevolent spirit crumpled that the scarlet light on Du Yehu’s body abruptly subsided, his face instantly turning ashen.

Jiang Wang leapt to Du Yehu's side and supported him, "Brother Hu, this..."

Qi and blood were the very foundation of a cultivator. Jiang Wang was now condensing his Dao Yuan, a process that began with the nourishment of Qi and blood. The power Du Yehu unleashed a moment ago was consuming his very essence with every passing instant. Furthermore, he was not a martial practitioner specialized in martial arts, and utterly incapable of containing such vast Qi and blood. This battle would require him to cultivate for at least five years to fully recover.

Five years at the dawn of cultivation – how lengthy a span! Not to mention the inevitable decline of Qi and blood once a certain age was reached. One step slow now meant every step would be slow thereafter; this could signify his eternal isolation from the path of transcendence.

Yet, Du Yehu had been utterly resolute moments before, without the slightest hesitation. In that critical moment of life and death, he could not afford such considerations, and it was precisely this kind of subconscious choice that revealed his true nature.

"A small matter." Du Yehu subtly regulated his breathing, recovering a fraction of his strength, then pushed Jiang Wang away. "I'm not yet at the point where I can't walk. Let's go, the situation in the central palace is surely more perilous."

Ling He was naturally filled with worry, but it was not a suitable time for excessive words. He shifted Zhao Rucheng onto his back, then stepped forward to retrieve his own sword from the malevolent spirit's remains, silently positioning himself at Du Yehu's side as a guardian.

He too had burned Qi and blood earlier, but only a small amount, which had not affected his foundation. Therefore, he still possessed the strength to fight for their lives.

Jiang Wang, as the sole complete and strongest combat force among the four, naturally had to maintain his flexibility to act at any moment. Thus, he merely held his sword and walked at the front, not offering a helping hand.

Only Zhao Rucheng continued to mutter and complain, "The boss is still the most thoughtful. The tiger is clumsy, truly, carrying me like a little chicken, what sort of spectacle is that? If Miss Miaoyu knew, wouldn't my heroic image be utterly ruined?"

Miaoyu was the preeminent performer of the current Sanfen Xiangqi Tower and the most sought-after maiden in all of Maplewood City. Zhao Rucheng had already lavished over a thousand taels of silver at the Sanfen Xiangqi Tower, yet had not achieved his aims.

Du Yehu remained silent, not because he didn't wish to thrash him, or at least berate him, but because he genuinely lacked the strength.

"Alright, alright," Jiang Wang said impatiently, "Besides the mindless wandering souls here, there are also malevolent spirits with confused consciousness. Who are you presenting your image to?"

"Who knows?" Zhao Rucheng grew more animated, gesticulating from Ling He's back. "What if there's a beautiful female ghost hiding somewhere, peeking at me? Originally a fortuitous encounter, ruined just like that. Will the tiger be responsible for this loss?"

Du Yehu was nearly resurrected from his exhausted state, erupting with a trace of residual strength, almost tempted to silence this incessantly talkative fellow.

Ling He had already used the hilt of his sword to nudge upwards before he could erupt.

"Hiss..." Zhao Rucheng gasped, his bravado instantly extinguished.

......

......

It is said that beyond the heavy wall of fog, the central location of Xiaolin Town, which also served as the central palace of this Nine Palaces formation.

A colossal vortex slowly rotated. It was impossible to discern the original appearance of this place; everything had dissolved into this silent maelstrom. There was naught but this vortex. The core of the vortex was a pure, inky black, as if capable of drawing in the gaze, from which none could escape.

Beside the vortex stood four cultivators with deep breaths, each with abundant Dao Yuan. They were all clad in black robes, staring straight ahead.

And not far in front of the vortex, there was a house that had been utterly shattered, leaving only a brick wall.

The woman in red leaned against this wall, her posture languid.

She was tightly wrapped, yet it gave rise to endless temptation. In her hand, she held a small, oval mirror, and what was reflected within was not her beautiful face, but the figures battling the malevolent spirit within the Nine Palaces formation.

"The disciples of the Maplewood City Dao Academy this year are not particularly impressive. Only those few sword techniques are halfway decent," the woman in red murmured, then turned over and put away the mirror.

"Alright, the time has come. Had I known it would be this smooth, I would have taken a nap." The woman in red yawned and walked gracefully towards the vortex. "So sleepy..."

As she approached the mysterious vortex, her expression grew slightly more serious. She bowed sideways in a proper manner. "Please, Elder."

The four black-robed monks also bowed alongside her.

Thus, an old man with white hair emerged from the thick fog. The old man's face was wrinkled like ancient tree bark, and his eyes were also clouded. He was hunched over and even walked with a limp.

But as he walked step by step, his back straightened inch by inch, and the momentum of his entire being ceaselessly soared.

He paid no mind to the woman in red and the others, but gazed intently at the vortex, as if staring at his own eternal beloved, his eyes filled with profound piety.

When he reached the front of the vortex, his momentum was already like an abyss, pressing upon them to the point of breathlessness.

The woman in red lowered her head even further.

The white-haired old man closed his ring and little fingers, his thumb, index, and middle fingers forming a triangle over his chest, and whispered, "The bottom of the Forgetful River, the abyss of the Yellow Springs. The divine spirits return to the world, illuminating all."

Then, he produced a white bone dagger and plunged it decisively into his own head. The entire person fell straight into the vortex!