Chapter 120: 120. Pulling Heaven from the Brink (Ally Master Bonus: Johannes)

120. Chapter 120: Pulling Heaven from the Brink (Ally Master Bonus: Johannes)

Amidst the rumbling thunder, the dim night pressed down, suffocating and oppressive.

In the dilapidated, abandoned temple, a brutal battle was unfolding.

Nearly twenty martial artists, led by Jin Bufen, summoned their courage, each wielding steel blades as they charged forward with reckless abandon, risking their lives to surround and kill one man.

As the last remaining Blood-Refining martial artist in this pursuit, Jin Bufen understood after witnessing Han Sui’s death that his chance to act was fleeting. Now, with this single slash, he channeled every drop of his blood and qi—the most brilliant blade strike of his entire life.

That slash was fast.

So fast it was nearly invisible; any ordinary Blood-Refining martial artist would have been cut down instantly, with no time to react.

But the man standing before him was a cultivator who had awakened spiritual perception.

What was spiritual perception?

It meant one’s five senses had fully evolved and interwoven into an almost instinctive biological awareness—an ability born of transformation so profound it bordered on divine in the Four Seas and Eight Provinces.

Li Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly.

In that instant, his pupils became vertical.

A pair of glowing white vertical pupils, eerie and supernatural, instantly locked onto the blade’s trajectory—the precise path and point of strike—though exquisitely crafted, were perceived before the blow landed. He merely shifted his body slightly.

Such a brilliant slash missed entirely.

“What?”

Jin Bufen’s heart lurched as he met those luminous vertical eyes.

In that moment, he felt as if a primordial beast had fixed its gaze upon him—a sensation of instant preyhood, triggering involuntary trembling. Even the boldness of a Blood-Refining martial artist shattered beneath it, leaving him utterly engulfed in terror.

Was this man a demon—or a god descended?

That gaze seemed ready to devour all martial artists under heaven?

His spirit in turmoil, Jin Bufen—the usually calm and composed swordsman—was now riddled with openings.

“You should be dead.”

Li Yi’s tall, muscular frame surged forward. He raised a fist and unleashed a killing technique from the Transmission Martial Arts—his body moving as if by instinct.

The punch’s force exploded like thunder within the temple, piercing eardrums, as if the air itself had shattered.

A shockwave erupted from Li Yi’s fist.

“This kind of divine strength—what nonsense.”

Jin Bufen roared, attempting another slash to counter, but his blade was slow—Li Yi’s fist was faster.

One punch. Blood mist burst from Jin Bufen’s chest. The terrifying force pierced through his body, shattering nearly his entire chest cavity—a clear fist imprint Guantongqianhou , extinguishing all life in a Blood-Refining martial artist.

Jin Bufen’s face turned instantly ashen. He staggered backward, stumbling, until he could no longer stand. His breath cut off. His precious blade clattered to the ground as he collapsed.

The second Blood-Refining martial artist was slain in a single blow.

Yet his remaining subordinates did not retreat—they seized the moment to rush at Li Yi.

Li Yi’s vertical pupils flickered, chilling to behold. His towering body moved with the rhythm of the moment, his entire body erupting in qi like a transcendent creature, meeting the bandits head-on. His fists and feet swung, unleashing terrifying force that shattered air and shook the soul.

At this moment,

thunder seemed to echo within the temple.

Every strike from Li Yi was heavy and powerful, like the Thunder God drumming from the heavens, or a true dragon rolling upon the earth. Merely the tremor of his qi was enough to instill dread—as if merely drawing near, caught in his energy, meant certain death. To stand against that fist directly? Unthinkable.

“This, this—”

Rong Niang, the woman rescued earlier, stood frozen, speechless with shock.

This punch looked ordinary—just the core fist posture and force of the Zhao Family Martial Arts. Yet why did Li Yi make it feel like turning decay into wonder? That thunderous punch sound—could a mere martial artist truly produce such a thing? Or had their Master held back, teaching them only half the truth?

No, not that.

The fist technique was fine—it was Li Yi himself. Within his body lay terrifying divine strength; the punch merely unleashed it.

“Li Yi’s divine valor—peerless in a thousand ages.”

Rong Niang murmured to herself, suddenly recalling a phrase her Master often repeated.

She had once thought her Master overpraised this final disciple. Now she saw: Li Yi was the living embodiment of those words.

Such a figure—rare as a thousand-year bloom across the Four Seas and Eight Provinces.

At this moment,

Zhao Ge, her Master, had risen. After consuming the Transcendent Water, his body had recovered significantly; his internal injuries had healed considerably, dragging his old life back from the gates of death.

Now he watched Li Yi strike down enemies with burning eyes—but made no move to assist.

Han Sui and Jin Bufen were dead. The rest were mere paper tigers and clay dogs. They were merely redeeming themselves by sacrificing their lives to train with Meng De.

No threat.

But Zhao Ge could not fathom how his disciple had grown so astonishingly since their last parting—like a complete rebirth.

He had once judged Li Yi to possess dragon tendons and tiger bones, innate divine strength, a martial genius rare in a thousand years. Yet even such a foundation could evolve further? Unthinkable. Li Yi’s potential had now surpassed mortal limits—he was truly a god descended, a divine being incarnate.

“Boom!”

With the final explosion of punch force,

the last Bone-Refining martial artist, along with his steel blade, was shattered outright—no cry escaped him before he fell dead.

Li Yi stood tall amid the pile of corpses, his fists stained red, his vertical pupils glowing, the boiling killing intent slowly subsiding.

“All… all dead.”

Thin Monkey’s lips trembled as he looked at Li Yi—only awe and worship in his eyes.

Tonight, had this senior brother not appeared, everyone would have perished in this ruined temple. Now, the tide had turned: Han Sui and Jin Bufen’s gang were wiped out—no enemy escaped.

“Master, how is your injury? Can you still hold on? I still have another bottle of medicine—if you can’t endure it, drink this one. Don’t you dare die.”

Having finished killing, Li Yi’s reason returned, his mind clear. He immediately realized what was needed and walked toward Zhao Ge.

The second bottle of Transcendent Water was produced.

It was his last bottle. The squad leader, Zhang Lei, had given him one. The doctor had secretly slipped him another upon discharge.

“Good, good, good.”

Zhao Ge studied Li Yi in his embroidered uniform, satisfaction plainly visible in his eyes: “Meng De, don’t worry. After taking that last potion, your old master’s life is saved. I’m no longer in danger. Keep this medicine—you mustn’t waste it on me.”

He refused the second bottle of Transcendent Water.

His remaining injuries didn’t warrant such a potent remedy—proper rest and care would heal them. But his soul wound remained… to cure that, he needed Coffin Lingzhi.

Thinking of this, Zhao Ge’s anger surged again toward the traitor—but he quickly suppressed it.

Now was not the time to settle scores. The crisis had just passed; many tasks still awaited.

Seeing his Master refuse, Li Yi nodded and put the medicine away. Then he sensed something and turned toward the temple’s entrance.

At that moment, a woman’s figure sprinted toward them.

“Father.”

Zhao Qian’s beautiful eyes brimmed with tears, her emotions raw as she arrived from the mountain base.

Earlier, when Li Yi rode the Yin Horse here, he had left her halfway up the mountain to protect her from harm, entrusting her with his backpack and sniper rifle—and even taught her how to use it. Zhao Qian was quick-witted, grasping it instantly.

After all, sniper rifles were idiot-proof: aim and pull the trigger.

At this range, as long as the scope was aligned, hitting the target was nearly guaranteed—hard to miss.

Seeing his daughter safe, Zhao Ge was deeply relieved. He laughed: “You’re back, you’re back. I knew your fortune was great—you found Meng De in Ghost Street. But I never expected you’d return to Xingzhou riding an Yin Horse! When I first saw Meng De, I thought I was seeing things.”

“Father, it was Meng De who heard of your peril and raced here without pause. Only because he rode the Yin Horse did he make it in time.” Zhao Qian wiped her tears, still trembling with relief.

Had they arrived even a moment later, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

“Little sister, you’re safe—that’s all that matters.”

Rong Niang, her arm bandaged, limped over, forcing a smile through the pain.

“Rong Niang-sister!” Zhao Qian rushed into Rong Niang’s arms.

Within the martial arts school, she had always been closest to Rong Niang. Seeing her alive brought her immense joy.

“Ow! You little brat, watch your weight! Can’t you see I’m injured?” Rong Niang gasped, but gently ruffled Zhao Qian’s hair.

Zhao Qian quickly let go: “Sister, are you alright? I didn’t mean to—I was too emotional and didn’t see your wound.”

Rong Niang smiled: “It’s nothing. Just a minor injury. Won’t kill me.”

“Let me see.”

Zhao Ge stepped forward, seized Rong Niang’s arm, and expertly manipulated it.

A series of popping sounds followed. Her arm was quickly realigned. He added: “The dislocation is fixed, but one bone in your arm is cracked. You’ll need rest afterward.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Rong Niang moved her arm slightly—pain had lessened. She exhaled deeply in relief.

“Thin Monkey, come here. Let me check your injuries.” Zhao Ge ordered.

Thin Monkey hurried over.

Zhao Ge examined him, then slapped his back several times. Thin Monkey grunted, spat out a clot of dark blood, and immediately felt lighter.

“Not serious. Han Sui, fearing you’d harm your Master, wanted to take you hostage—he held back. Had he struck your heart with his qi, you’d be dead. Han family’s Heart-Shattering Palm, Jin family’s Wind-Listening Blade—they’re infamous for their cruelty. You’re only Bone-Refining. Facing them normally meant certain death.”

“They couldn’t use us as hostages anyway—when Rong Niang-sister was captured, Senior Brother still rescued her.” Thin Monkey grinned. He was alive, his enemies dead, his spirits high.

Speaking of Li Yi,

Rong Niang’s eyes flickered as she looked again at the young senior brother and spoke: “Rong Niang thanks Senior Brother for saving my life.”

She bowed deeply.

“It’s nothing. We’re family—no need for such formalities.” Li Yi’s tone had changed, seamlessly fitting into this world.

Then he added: “Master, you’re all injured and exhausted. Rest tonight. I’ll stand guard outside. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

Saying this,

Before his master could respond, he walked out of the ruined temple.

Li Yi felt he should set aside some time to let Zhao Qian and the others gather and talk.

Zhao Ge watched Meng De standing silently outside the door on night watch, his heart filled with mixed emotions—he had lived a life of great highs and lows, and never expected that in his old age he would gain such a worthy disciple.

Heaven had truly been kind to him.

“Of all the Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall, only Meng De can turn the tide.” He sighed inwardly.

The thunder above had ceased, but the heavy rain now fell.

A damp, moist air rushed over him; the surrounding mountains and wild forests were shrouded in mist and rain, and the scent of blood in the air seemed greatly diluted by the downpour.

Standing at the door, Li Yi’s gaze fixed on the clay horse lying on the ground.

At some point, the yin horse had reverted to a mere clay horse, its divine qualities gone—but the clay horse showed no damage at all; he simply did not know if it could be reused again, and would need to find an opportunity to test it.

Thinking of this,

Li Yi picked up the clay horse on the ground and carefully stored it away, for this object was precious—it determined how many times he could cross between realms in the future.

“Perhaps I should find a way to obtain the method for crafting clay horses from some old man in the Ghost Street—then I wouldn’t have to worry about running out of them.”

This idea surfaced in his mind.

After all, they cost so much—if he could make them himself, wouldn’t he be free to come and go as he pleased across the Four Seas and Eight Provinces?