Chapter 20: The Formless Divine Scripture

At these words, the man in black robes immediately changed expression, his mind instantly on guard as he scanned all around him.

In the end, his gaze even settled on Li Muxian not far away.

“Why are you looking at me? Look over there!”

Li Muxian pointed with his finger, signaling the man to look into the valley.

At that moment, Meng Shan and Yuan Mei, who had been preparing to flee while the masked woman was wounded and surrounded, suddenly felt the world spin wildly.

The next instant, both collapsed straight to the ground.

The poor, shabby scholar who had been following them, protected all along, slowly straightened his posture.

“My senior sister was so obsessed with perfecting the ‘Blood Phase Poison Claw Art’ that she ultimately grew careless.”

The scholar shook his head; his earlier dull, wretched appearance had vanished, replaced by coldness, indifference, and absolute confidence.

“Enough talk, dear brother—act now! If you don’t move soon, our senior sister will be beaten to death by these scoundrels!”

The masked woman braced against the old man’s punch; the black-green poison aura swirling around her was nearly shattered, and she spat out a mouthful of blood.

“I misjudged you, old man. So this poisoness killed so many of our allies just for this scholar.”

The man in black robes narrowed his eyes, but the moment he finished speaking, he struck without warning.

He silently unleashed the Thousand Leaves Wind-Crushing Palm; his internal Qi twisted like wind and leaves, instantly forming a two-foot palm imprint that surged with wind and thunder, striking stealthily at the masked woman.

Clearly, he intended to eliminate the masked woman with the poison art first, then deal with the scholar.

After all, the scholar’s strength was unknown—if the two joined forces, the situation might spiral beyond control.

“Senior sister, be careful! If you block this move, you’ll be safe!”

The scholar suddenly smiled, while the masked woman’s face turned ashen.

Just blocking the old man’s punch had worsened her injuries; with this palm strike from the man in black robes, she’d likely lose half her life.

“You’re truly impressive. From now on, your senior sister can’t protect you anymore—take care of yourself!”

The masked woman gritted her teeth, channeling every remaining drop of Qi from her dantian into her clawed hand, desperately resisting the two-foot palm imprint capable of splitting mountains and cracking rocks.

Meanwhile, the man in black robes and the two other old men suddenly sensed something, their faces turning pale.

They realized their bodies had grown rigid, starting from some unknown point.

The flow of Qi through their dantian and meridians had become sluggish; their limbs, bones, and muscles seemed to be met with an invisible, overwhelming resistance, rendering them unable to move as they willed.

“What’s going on?!”

The man in black robes’ eyes widened in terror—he was certain he hadn’t been poisoned, yet he couldn’t fathom what had gone wrong with his body.

In an instant, he and the two other old men all turned their gazes toward the shabby scholar, who had not moved a single finger since the beginning.

Facing their stares, the scholar’s thin, yellowed face twisted into a sneer.

Then he spread his fingers and suddenly gripped—thin strands of Qi coalesced and scattered from his fingertips.

The man in black robes and the two old men widened their eyes as transparent threads suddenly appeared in the air, densely connecting their bodies to the scholar’s fingers.

The scholar merely twitched his pinky slightly, and one of the old men’s arms lifted involuntarily.

The next moment, the old man raised both fists and smashed them into his own skull.

Though he desperately channeled his martial Qi, trying to snap the countless threads binding him,

he could not do it!

Because his martial Qi was now controlled by those threads—his Qi, cultivated over years of breathwork, no longer belonged to him.

“It’s the Formless Puppet Art.”

Cang Yin Yue, outside the valley, gasped upon seeing this.

Seeing Li Muxian turn to look at her, she whispered:

“The Formless Puppet Art originates from the ‘Formless Divine Scripture,’ which was the supreme martial scripture of the ‘Ten Thousand Phases Demon Sect’ several hundred years ago.”

“But that Ten Thousand Phases Demon Sect was wiped out centuries ago; recently, fragments of its legacy have occasionally surfaced, though they’ve caused little stir.”

“The power of the Formless Puppet Art lies in its ability to condense Qi into threads—colorless, formless, silently invading an opponent’s body and Qi without detection. Once controlled, your life and death are no longer your own.”

As she spoke, Cang Yin Yue turned her head toward the valley.

Now, under the scholar’s control, the man in black robes and the two old men were all involuntarily mutilating themselves.

Though all three were Grandmaster-level martial experts, and since they’d ambushed the masked woman, they’d suffered no injuries and had barely expended their strength.

Yet even so, once controlled by the Formless Puppet Art, they were utterly powerless to resist.

Even in full health, the result would be the same—they couldn’t even kill themselves.

“Your art is truly formidable, dear brother. Too bad I lack the talent—otherwise, our master wouldn’t have passed me only the poison arts.”

The masked woman limped over to the scholar, her body grievously wounded.

The scholar’s fingertips twitched, forcing the man in black robes to strike one of the old men in the face, crushing half his skull and turning flesh to pulp.

The other old man swung his fist into the man in black robes’ shoulder, smashing the scapula into a bloody, deformed hollow.

“I didn’t forget your revenge—does this satisfy you?”

The scholar turned his head toward the masked woman, a smile in his cornered eye.

The masked woman stared coldly at the three, then tore off her veil, revealing her face—crisscrossed with jagged black-and-green scars.

She wiped blood from her lips and said:

“If my brother could hand them over to me for cultivation of the Blood Phase Poison Claw Art, I’d be even more satisfied!”

Hearing this, the scholar shook his head:

“Don’t rush—I’ll capture those two over there first. These men are all yours, senior sister!”

As he spoke, the scholar tilted his head, a faint, elusive smile on his lips, staring directly at Li Muxian and Cang Yin Yue.

“No good!”

Cang Yin Yue’s expression changed drastically; she moved to drag Li Muxian away, but found her own movements suddenly stiffening.

She willed a shadow to emerge from her body and spread toward the soft blade at her waist.

But halfway, the shadow froze and vanished—Cang Yin Yue’s gaze darkened:

“I was careless—this is the complete Formless Puppet Art.”

She understood this art: over the past few centuries, only fragments had circulated in the martial world, limiting its user’s control to within ten zhang.

But the scholar’s range with the Formless Puppet Art clearly far exceeded ten zhang.

(End of Chapter)