Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Pursuit!

The detonation of a Grandmaster-level Wind and Thunder Pearl unleashed countless bolts of lightning, its power truly devastating, annihilating everything in its path!

Yang Nan’s expression changed drastically. In front of him appeared a crystalline, translucent ice mirror to block the assault, but in the blink of an eye, innumerable wind blades and electric arcs pierced through the ice and struck him directly. A myriad of lightning bolts crashed upon his body, forcing a muffled groan from his lips as he was hurled far into the distance!

His body surged with lightning, arcs of electricity coursing across his form. Even his peerless demonic physique could not withstand this blow—it instantly disintegrated, and a thousand demon soldiers, either dead or gravely wounded, plummeted from the sky, smashing heavily into the ground below!

Amidst the raging tempest and thunder, Yang Nan felt his very flesh on the verge of shattering, and even the indestructible soul forged by the Nether Lunar Wheel was nearly scattered by the lightning!

Endless bolts of thunder cascaded down one after another. Facing certain death, Yang Nan felt as if all around him had fallen into a dead silence; every sound vanished in an instant. His soul and mind became as one, and suddenly, his figure contracted into a tiny point of light. Not far away, the shadow serpent’s body expanded wildly, transforming into a colossal, single-horned black serpent several fathoms long, which swallowed Yang Nan whole.

The black serpent twisted its massive body, lunging headlong into the oncoming storm of thunder!

Ten thousand streaks of lightning battered the serpent’s body, but ultimately dispersed and could no longer do harm.

In the next instant, Yang Nan leapt from the serpent’s maw, looking utterly bedraggled. The self-destruction of the Wind and Thunder Pearl was not true heavenly thunder, but its power was considerable. The black serpent artifact, grievously wounded, its dark radiance greatly diminished, flew back into Yang Nan’s hand with a low, mournful wail.

Yang Nan was lost in confusion. Just now, his mind and spirit had become perfectly unified, and without conscious thought, he had invoked the Divine Art of Man and Weapon as One, narrowly escaping calamity. Yet, recalling it now, he found he could not reproduce that state at will.

Man and Weapon as One—its might was immense and its physical strength unparalleled; if he could master it, his power would soar by leaps and bounds! Since he had achieved it once, the day he would truly master this divine art could not be far off...

The Roc King seized the opportunity created by the self-destruction of his Wind and Thunder Pearl, retrieving its battered remnants. His true form, a giant roc, beat its wings with desperate speed, summoning a tempest that shrouded heaven and earth. Suddenly, the massive wings gave a violent tremor and, in an instant, vanished mysteriously into the sky. His escape light was blindingly swift—the Flower Demon King poured her power into pursuit, but could not intercept him.

“Boundless Roc’s Flight!” Yang Nan regained his composure and forced a bitter smile. Watching the Roc King unleash his supernatural technique, Yang Nan felt powerless. The Roc King’s ruthlessness was chilling—he had detonated his own life-bound artifact, unleashing extraordinary power. Had it not been for Yang Nan’s supreme demonic body, and his inexplicable invocation of a third divine ability, he would have perished.

This Roc King was truly formidable: Boundless Roc’s Flight was a technique that drained one’s spiritual power, allowing the user to traverse a thousand miles in an instant, but could not be used again immediately. It was the ultimate wind-element escape art. He had both detonated the Wind and Thunder Pearl and used Boundless Roc’s Flight, which not only set his cultivation back but also exhausted his power. The ability to invoke such arts in a moment of crisis was terrifying.

Yet, if the Roc King was not eliminated, he would surely return to seek vengeance—one must always root out trouble at its source! Yang Nan said to the Flower Demon King, “Fairy Begonia, please cleanse the remaining enemies here. I will pursue him.”

‘The Roc King can cross a thousand miles with a single beat of his wings—how can he possibly be caught?’ The Flower Demon King was shocked and was about to protest, but saw Yang Nan produce a Heavenly Origin Clear Emptiness Talisman. A giant Dao character unfurled, his body flashed with spiritual light, and in an instant, he vanished into the sky. His speed was in no way inferior to the Boundless Roc’s Flight. That streak of spiritual light flickered like a star and disappeared without a trace, leaving the Flower Demon King inwardly astonished.

Yang Nan covered a thousand miles in one leap, then immediately stowed away the talisman. Mounting his shadow serpent, he began searching in all directions. The spiritual radiance of the Heavenly Origin Talisman was powerful but could not be used openly—if seen by other cultivators, it would inevitably draw the attention of Mount Dragon-Tiger in the future, bringing endless trouble.

Yang Nan focused his spiritual sight downward, searching for fluctuations in the aura. In the distance, he spotted a flash of spiritual light above an island; magical artifacts flew through the sky, as if a fierce battle were underway. His heart stirred, and he sped his light toward the island.

On the island, two factions were locked in fierce combat. A group of monks and Daoists beset several men and women in black robes. The monks’ magical artifacts gleamed with golden light, while the black-robed ones wielded sinister, blood-stained artifacts, each exuding a murderous aura. Wraiths and evil spirits howled amid swirling black mist—their numbers were few, but their ferocity kept them on even footing.

After watching for a while, Yang Nan suddenly noticed the Roc King, unconscious and in the grasp of a middle-aged scholar. Not wanting to create trouble, Yang Nan descended, landed his artifact, and bowed to the scholar, saying, “Greetings, fellow Daoist.”

The scholar’s face was wary at first, but seeing Yang Nan in Daoist robes, his guard eased a little. “Fellow Daoist, from whence do you come? Are you here to help eradicate these demonic remnants?”

Yang Nan saw the Roc King unconscious, clearly subdued by the scholar, and inwardly found it amusing. If the Roc King—at the Grandmaster level—had not sacrificed his life-bound treasure and forced his supernatural ability, how could he have been subdued by this man? Noting the scholar’s possessive grip on the Roc King, Yang Nan sighed but said, “I am an inner disciple of the Kunlun Sect, steward of the Seventy-Two Demon Valleys. This Roc King is a demon king from the valley—I have come to recapture this fiend.”

The scholar looked at Yang Nan with deep suspicion, his eyes full of disbelief. After scrutinizing him for some time, he sneered, “What a joke—you, a mere weapon master, claim to be an inner disciple of Kunlun? And to oversee the Demon Valleys? Are you not a traitor to Kunlun, spouting such nonsense here?”

Yang Nan sneered inwardly. Clearly, the scholar had no intention of handing over the Roc King. The Roc King, having cultivated for two thousand years, possessed both a demon core and a powerful body—both treasures for artifact forging. How could the scholar let him go?

“Fellow Daoist, here is my Kunlun identity token. If you doubt me, examine it for yourself.” Yang Nan removed a jade token and offered it. Though the scholar’s strength was unremarkable, Yang Nan preferred to avoid unnecessary trouble.

With a wave of his hand, the scholar refused to accept it. “If you are indeed a traitor, what’s so rare about having a token? Begone, but the Roc King stays!”

Only then did Yang Nan understand—the scholar dared refuse him only because he was merely a weapon master. Whether or not he was a traitor was irrelevant; what mattered was that the Roc King, a peerless treasure, was in his grasp and would not be given up.

Yang Nan was never one for losing bargains. Having orchestrated the Roc King’s injury at great effort, how could he let another take the spoils? Fury rose within him, and he was about to act when suddenly the monks and Daoists cried out in agony. The black-robed cultivators combined several small flags, which merged into a gigantic demon god—fiendish and mighty, shrouded in rolling black mist. The demon god devoured the monks’ and Daoists’ artifacts and bodies in a single gulp, killing five or six in an instant.

With the demon god’s aid, the black-robed group drove their opponents back in disarray. Watching them lose ground despite their numbers, Yang Nan felt only disdain. The remaining scholars launched their own counterattacks—reciting holy words, wielding scrolls or brushes that unleashed golden characters—finally suppressing the demon god.

The scholar speaking with Yang Nan abruptly changed his demeanor, smiling. “Fellow Daoist, it is our righteous duty to subdue demons and defend the Dao. If you wish to reclaim the Roc King, then help us annihilate these demonic remnants. When it’s done, I’ll return him to you.”

Seeing the tables turn, the scholar conveniently forgot about calling him a traitor and now hoped Yang Nan would join the fight.

Yang Nan found his wishful thinking amusing. Did the scholar take him for a fool? Refusing to return the Roc King before, and now, when pressed, offering to return him if Yang Nan helped kill the black-robed ones—would he truly keep his word?

This scholar was bold, indeed! Did he take Yang Nan for some pious, soft-hearted fool?

Sensing Yang Nan’s mocking gaze, the scholar frowned. “What, are you not of the Daoist lineage? Would you really consort with the demonic path?”

Yang Nan sneered, “My conduct requires no instruction from you! You’d best be careful yourself. It’s of little concern to me if you won’t return the Roc King, but my artifact knows no master!”

The scholar shouted angrily, “Well, you wretch, consorting with demons! I’ll seize you and have your teachers punish you myself!”

Yang Nan’s anger flared. When he had first ascended Kunlun, Li Changqing had also accused him first, then acted against him with righteous pretense. What kind of upright Confucian was this? Such venom easily surpassed the vilest bandits!

If it was ruthlessness he wanted, Yang Nan would show him true ruthlessness.

Without another word, he summoned the black serpent artifact to attack. Though the artifact had been damaged by the Wind and Thunder Pearl’s explosion, it still radiated a fierce aura. Its illusory edge, like a crescent moon, slashed viciously at the scholar.

The middle-aged scholar traced a line with his palm, intoning, “Benevolence is righteous energy; with it, one blesses the world. Thus, the superior man prevails without war. The virtuous find victory everywhere!”

Before him, golden light surged and formed a massive character for Benevolence, shining with gentle, enduring radiance. Clearly, he had great faith in his Confucian arts, for he boldly met the black serpent artifact head-on. Yang Nan laughed coldly—his own grandfather was a Confucian grandmaster; there was no Confucian art he had not seen: brush, ink, paper, zither, chess, calligraphy, painting—the eight Confucian skills. For this shallow scholar to show off before him was the height of folly!

Confucian arts could be supple but not forceful, defensive but not offensive! If he courted death, he could not be blamed.

“Colossal Weapon Manifestation!”

With a low shout, the black serpent artifact’s dark light swelled, transforming in an instant into a massive black crescent that slashed down. In a flash, the character for Benevolence was obliterated!

The scholar was shocked. A vermillion brush appeared in his hand. “All things are base, save for study! Through brush and ink, my will is conveyed; all evils shall retreat!”

He swept the brush, scattering drops of ink that outlined myriad characters, forming a misty black aura that tightly shielded him. The myriad vigorous characters interlocked, forming a barrier no ordinary master could breach.

‘Hmph, shaping ink into form? You court death! Do you not know that the Weapon Sect’s divine arts are unstoppable?’ Yang Nan sneered inwardly at the scholar’s futile defense.

“Entangle!”

At his command, the black serpent artifact coiled around the scholar like a living snake, each of its thousands of scales opening. In an instant, Yang Nan unleashed three thousand weapon shadows—sharp black threads piercing every gap, enveloping the scholar in an impenetrable fog.

“Pierce!”

A thousand razor-sharp spikes, as fine as needles, stabbed in an instant! The scholar’s Confucian defense was that of an ordinary master—how could it withstand the supreme sharpness of the Weapon Sect?

In the blink of an eye, the three thousand sharp threads shattered the scholar’s protective characters, boring into his body, threading through him like countless snakes, leaving him riddled with holes!

Within the scholar’s flesh, it seemed as if countless little serpents squirmed—truly a horrifying sight.

Had the scholar refrained from using Confucian arts, he might have stood a chance, but in the eyes of one born to a family of Confucian masters, who had seen every technique, his strengths and weaknesses were plain as day. To attack his weakness with one’s strength—how could the scholar survive?

With a sweep of his artifact, the three thousand black threads flowed back into Yang Nan’s hand like a river, once more forming a cold crescent moon. The scholar stood dead on his feet, eyes wide and unseeing, his body slowly splitting into countless wounds before collapsing into a heap of mangled flesh.

‘He brought this upon himself—he cannot blame anyone else!’ With a stony expression, Yang Nan strode forward, placed a seal on the unconscious Roc King, and stored him within the Mountains and Rivers Ring. He turned and gazed coldly at the remaining cultivators.

The small team of monks, Daoists, and scholars, seeing the scholar slain in an instant and the captured Roc King stolen away, were both shocked and enraged. Still, they were locked in a desperate struggle with the black-robed group and could spare no attention for Yang Nan.

Yang Nan was about to depart when a black-robed man suddenly called out, “Daoist Yang, do you not recognize an old acquaintance?”

Startled, Yang Nan turned to look carefully and saw that the black-robed man was strikingly sinister and handsome, with a fierce aura between his brows. It was none other than Ai Muyun, the one who had embroiled him in enmity with the Li family and driven Yuan Na to leave the mountain in sorrow! Ai Muyun wielded a bone ring, driving a blood demon that overwhelmed his foes, yet found time to greet Yang Nan.

With a cold laugh, Yang Nan replied, “So it’s you—what a long-awaited reunion, truly an honor.”

The hostility in his words was unmistakable. Ai Muyun was taken aback and hurriedly said, “The three of us once climbed the mountain together in search of the Dao—that was a fated bond. What do you mean by these words, Daoist?”

Yang Nan was about to reply when suddenly two divine generals descended from the sky, attacking without a word. Enraged, Yang Nan unleashed the shadow serpent artifact, which, like a black crescent moon, flashed around the divine generals, slicing them to pieces in an instant. Yet when the generals fell, they transformed into two broken talismans, drifting to the ground.