Chapter 1266: Sacred Altar Battle

The black vulture elder, pierced by the Zhu Que arrow yet still alive, his body maimed but spirit unyielding, gazed up at the altar with longing, climbing step by step through the flames of Zhu Que fire.

"Kill him! Do not let him summon the god!" shouted Dan Lie, the Great Chief.

That single arrow had already drained most of his cultivation.

At this moment, Dan Lie's tone, though steady, carried traces of weakness and fear of the Wu Jiao divine descent.

Lord Lugu and several other Great Chiefs also knew the gravity: if the Wu Jiao Great God descended, all would be lost, beyond redemption.

Though they all possessed late Jin Dan cultivation, their spiritual senses were ordinary and utterly incapable of enduring the Zhu Que flames, rendering them unable to set foot on the altar.

Moreover, they were all typical barbarian body cultivators—strong in close combat, weak in ranged attacks.

Some ranged techniques might suffice to kill low-level Jin Dan cultivators temporarily, but to assassinate their Wu Zhu amidst the Wu Jiao Young Master and his array of generals was pure fantasy.

At that moment, Lord Yan Zhu stepped forward and said:

"All of you, aid me in ascending the altar."

This altar war had raged until now, and as the Wang Ting's Supreme Wu Zhu, Lord Yan Zhu had done little so far.

In other words, he had been conserving his strength.

Close-range Jin Dan flesh battles were never the Wu Zhu's domain.

The confrontation upon the altar was their true mission.

Lord Qing Zhu also stepped forward and said: "Let us kill that black vulture elder and stop the divine descent."

Dan Lie bowed deeply and said solemnly, "We entrust this to you both."

Lord Yan Zhu said no more, immediately transforming into a streak of fire and dashing upward toward the altar.

Lord Qing Zhu, wreathed in shimmering green light, followed close behind.

As their light-speed dashes reached mid-air, the Wu Jiao Young Master sneered, "Seeking death," and activated the dragon markings—black energy surged like an ocean, striking Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu.

Other Wu Jiao generals also closed in to surround and attack.

Dan Lie, Lord Lugu, and the other tribal Great Chiefs all launched their attacks, clashing with the Wu Jiao generals to buy time for Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu to reach the altar.

Hundreds of rounds of combat passed, yet the stalemate remained unbroken.

Seeing the black vulture elder climbing ever higher toward the altar, Lord Yan Zhu ceased holding back.

His face hardened with murderous intent; a flicker of fire flashed in his eyes. He activated his spiritual mind witch art, pressed two fingers together, and in the split instant before the enemy could react, stabbed toward the eye of a Wu Jiao general.

This was precisely the same technique he had once used against Mo Hua.

The targeted Wu Jiao general felt searing pain in his eye—his spiritual sea burned as if mountains and seas were boiling.

When used against Mo Hua, a late Foundation Establishment cultivator, the technique had been negligible.

But against this late Jin Dan Wu Jiao general, its effect was instantaneous and devastating.

Added to this, the battle occurred upon the altar square, where Zhu Que flames permeated the surroundings.

Though the Zhu Que flames on the square were not as fierce as those upon the altar, their power was still formidable.

Lord Yan Zhu's spiritual mind witch art shattered the general's spiritual defenses; Zhu Que flames then surged into his brain. The two spiritually related forces amplified each other, instantly obliterating the general's consciousness.

The Wu Jiao general clutched his skull, knelt on the ground, and died, flames pouring from his eye sockets.

Lord Yan Zhu struck once—and killed a Wu Jiao general.

On the other side, Lord Qing Zhu was no less formidable.

Her figure, wrapped in a green robe, suddenly became exquisitely alluring, drawing the gaze and holding it immovable.

Simultaneously, her face began to shift, revealing a faint "fox shadow"—her features grew more refined and seductive, her eyes glowing with a pale pink light.

Anyone who met those eyes would have their mind devoured by lust.

All Wu Jiao generals sensed the danger and dared not look.

Yet desire arose from the heart; anyone who glimpsed Lord Qing Zhu's alluring form could not help but yearn to see her face.

They longed to see what kind of captivating face belonged to such a seductive body.

All the Wu Jiao generals struggled desperately to suppress their inner turmoil.

One Wu Jiao general, who had always indulged in wine and lust, could no longer resist—he glanced at Lord Qing Zhu's face.

Naturally, his gaze met hers.

Those were eyes brimming with tender affection, stirring the soul—exquisitely alluring.

Those eyes seemed to speak, whispering intense love and lust to men—as if merely one glance would render one helpless, unable to look away.

The Wu Jiao general, ensnared by those eyes, grew feverish, frenzied, his body trembling.

Yet as he drowned in desire, he failed to notice his spiritual sense being drawn from his spiritual sea, sucked into Lord Qing Zhu's pupils.

Once spiritual sense was excessively drained, the surrounding Zhu Que flames would inevitably "seize the opportunity."

The Wu Jiao general lost his mental control and involuntarily walked toward Lord Qing Zhu, reaching out to touch her body, to caress her face.

But his spiritual sea endured the dual burning of Leng Qingqiu's lustful fire and Zhu Que's divine flame; after only a few steps, he collapsed to the ground, his desire spent, his mind extinguished.

Even in death, his pale face remained suffused with lust.

Within moments, two Wu Jiao generals lay dead.

The Wu Jiao Young Master's expression turned icy with fury.

Seizing this opening, Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu finally transformed into streaks of light and stepped onto the altar.

Stepping onto the altar meant trespassing into the forbidden ground of mortals.

For barbarian cultivators of flesh and blood, this was a place of death.

But for Wu Zhu like Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu—who worshipped the gods and cultivated the Witch Dao—this was their true domain.

The coming struggle could be controlled only by these Wu Zhu.

No mortal cultivator, no matter how high their realm, how strong their body, or how noble their bloodline, could ever touch the domain of the gods.

After ascending the altar, Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu did not hesitate—they rushed straight toward the black vulture elder.

Kill the Black Vulture Elder, and you can completely prevent the descent of the Witch Vulture God.

If the Witch Vulture God's descent fails, the Witch Vulture Clan's ambitions will be utterly shattered.

This great battle can then come to an end.

Thus, Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu showed no mercy whatsoever—they struck with lethal intent from the outset.

Both pushed the paths of their revered deities to their utmost limits: one was covered in fire patterns, his mental force surging like raging flames; the other's gaze flowed like silk, his mental force weaving to entice desire.

One focused on offense, the other on disruption.

The two joined forces and charged toward the Black Vulture Elder.

The Black Vulture Elder's face darkened—he knew victory or defeat hinged on this battle.

Win this battle, and he could ignite the altar. The Witch Vulture God would descend, and great matters would be accomplished.

Lose this battle, and all would turn to ash; every drop of effort would be wasted.

At this very moment, it had become a matter of fighting to the death.

The Black Vulture Elder threw back his head and roared—a strange, piercing cry like the shriek of a Witch Vulture. Simultaneously, his face transformed: his eye sockets darkened, his nose curved like an eagle's beak, half-man, half-vulture.

The flesh on his face rotted away in patches.

His vitality drained rapidly, replaced by his mental force, which continuously climbed higher.

He was exhausting his life, overextending himself to bear the Witch Vulture God's divine power, making this his final desperate gamble.

Seeing this, Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu dared not slacken for an instant—they pushed their mental force and witchcraft to their absolute limits.

Three Jin Dan late-stage Witch Lords, each possessing the power of a Supreme Witch, clashed in fierce, mortal combat upon the ancient altar.

Lord Yan Zhu's mental force followed the Candle Flame Path of the Great Wasteland Wang Ting, capable of burning and destroying others' mental force with immense power.

Lord Qing Zhu's mental force drew from the deity of Leng Qingqiu, capable of bewitching hearts and absorbing souls—unpredictable and impossible to guard against.

The Black Vulture Elder's mental force, borrowed from the Witch Vulture God, carried the power of decay and rot—like a deadly poison that clung like a burrowing worm, rotting the mind-sea.

The three fought with their cultivation and physical bodies, but their true lethal strikes lay in the mental forces attached to every move and technique.

This invisible battle on the level of "divine thought" was the true peril.

A single misstep could inflict irreversible damage upon the mind-sea—or even lead to divine death and Dao extinction.

Added to this was the fiercer, ever-present Divine Fire of Zhu Que, surging endlessly upon the altar.

The clash of the three Supreme Witches was like fighting on the edge of a cliff—every move and strike filled them with dread, as if walking on thin ice.

The chieftains and generals below the altar watched, hearts pounding in terror.

They could not step onto the altar; they could not intervene in this battle.

The outcome of this clash—the victor among the Witch Lords—would nearly determine the final course of the prolonged tribal war.

No one was free from anxiety and dread.

The three Witch Lords unleashed every technique, leaving no mercy whatsoever—they wished to crush each other's brains out.

The scene became horrifically bloody.

But after a long bout of fighting, the Black Vulture Elder ultimately fell into disadvantage.

Originally, he had been the highest in cultivation, deepest in Dao, strongest in mental force—but he had been gravely wounded by Dan Lie's arrow, faced a two-on-one situation, and was now exhausting his life to borrow divine power, making it impossible to sustain much longer.

In the intense combat, the Black Vulture Elder finally revealed an opening—his mind-sea was struck by Lord Yan Zhu's Candle Flame mental force.

Then, Lord Qing Zhu's gaze ensnared his desires.

Once desire arose, reason briefly vanished—the Black Vulture Elder lost control, unable to restrain himself.

Such a "loss of awareness" was nearly fatal.

Lord Qing Zhu used her mental force to bind the Black Vulture Elder and seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, ready to signal Lord Yan Zhu for a killing blow.

But when she turned her head, she saw Lord Yan Zhu had not struck the Elder—he had instead used the moment when both she and the Black Vulture Elder were locked in combat to climb alone toward the upper reaches of the altar.

Lord Qing Zhu instantly understood Lord Yan Zhu's intent—her heart filled with fury, and she cursed:

"Wretch!"

Lord Yan Zhu sneered, ignoring her, and focused his mental force—resisting the Zhu Que Divine Fire above while stepping one by one up the stairs toward the divine seat.

His eyes saw only the Zhu Que statue.

And the ancient divine seat beneath it.

Lord Qing Zhu's hatred burned fiercely, and her enthralling mental force weakened slightly.

The Black Vulture Elder regained a sliver of awareness, glanced at Lord Qing Zhu, and rasped: "Release me. I'll stop him."

Lord Qing Zhu naturally did not wish to release him—but she would not let another reap the fruits of her labor. Seeing Lord Yan Zhu climb higher, she gritted her teeth and severed her desire-thread.

As the Black Vulture Elder's desire faded, his mind cleared instantly—he made no hesitation, summoned black wings to shield himself, and charged toward Lord Yan Zhu.

Lord Qing Zhu's gaze turned icy, and she too pursued Lord Yan Zhu.

But they had wasted too much time—during this interval, Lord Yan Zhu climbed ever higher.

Before the Black Vulture Elder and Lord Qing Zhu could catch up, Lord Yan Zhu had already reached the summit, crossed the long staircase, and arrived atop the altar.

The Zhu Que statue, lifelike as flowing flame, stood before him.

The ancient golden divine seat, radiating primordial divine aura, lay but a step away.

The Zhu Que statue held a golden ring in its beak; beneath the ring hung a golden tree, at the base of which rested a golden tray—empty.

Ordinary offering trays held sacrificial offerings.

But the golden tray was different—it held the "divine object."

Placing the deity's "token" upon the golden tray would ignite the Zhu Que statue and summon the divine path.

This was a kind of "secret lore" among the Witch Lords.

Lord Yan Zhu stepped toward the golden tray—but after two steps, his gaze was once again drawn entirely to the distant divine seat.

"This is the divine seat… said to be accessible only to deities and their incarnations…"

"I am Lord Wuzhu..."

"I revere the gods, I..."

"I... can..."

Lord Yan Zhu's eyes began to glow red; his inner ambition filled his chest, causing his heart and every drop of his blood to boil.

He nearly lost control, walking toward the divine throne.

But after only two steps, still nine zhang away from the throne, a thunderous roar suddenly struck his ears—as if the gods above had erupted in wrath.

The wrath of the gods was mighty, shattering hearts and souls.

Lord Yan Zhu instantly knelt on the ground, trembling all over, too terrified to lift his head.

His ambition, along with the blood in his body, turned icy cold.

In that instant, he felt himself nothing but a "maggot," a wretched worm, daring enough to covet the divine seat—truly deserving of ten thousand deaths...

"I deserve to die... I deserve to die... I deserve to die..."

Lord Yan Zhu's heart seemed to die, bit by bit, under the terror of divine might.

At that moment, the fire markings on his body flashed once. His revered candle-flame deity automatically absorbed part of the divine wrath.

Lord Yan Zhu's heart slowly revived.

"Yes, that's right... I must believe in my god, I must walk my own Dao—I cannot betray my faith. Only faith can save me..."

Lord Yan Zhu murmured.

He struggled to rise again; this time, he dared not gaze upon the divine throne, but turned toward the golden basin beneath the Zhu Que golden ring.

He intended to offer his deity's sacred relic upon the golden basin.

The Wu Jiao tribe sought to use the Zhu Que altar to summon the great Wu Jiao god.

And Lord Yan Zhu, as the Wuzhu of the Candle-Flame Dao, also wished to summon his own deity to the wilds.

Otherwise, he would never have cared about the fate of Zhu Que Mountain.

At most, he would have granted minor favors to the Dan Que tribe, just to obtain Dan Ling, this "jade."

That way, he could later coerce Dan Ling into repaying him with her body—under a perfectly legitimate pretext.

But ultimately, it was all for the god, for his own Dao.

Still trembling from the divine wrath that had shaken his soul, Lord Yan Zhu approached the Zhu Que statue, trembling with fear, and tore open his own chest with bare hands, pulling out a crimson, flame-flowing crystal from his bloody chest.

Candle-Flame Crystal Jade.

This was the sacred relic of the deity he worshipped.

Lord Yan Zhu's hands were drenched in blood; he sought to place the Candle-Flame Crystal Jade upon the Zhu Que golden basin as a "fire seed" to ignite the divine flame.

But just then, a black wind surged violently, carrying a stench of decay straight at him.

Lord Yan Zhu hastily clutched the Candle-Flame Crystal to his chest, rolled desperately on the ground, and avoided the black wind.

When he looked up, he saw the grim-faced old Wu Jiao elder standing before him.

Lord Yan Zhu cursed inwardly.

Had he not been greedy, had he simply offered his sacred relic right away, he would have already ignited the Zhu Que divine flame and summoned the Candle-Flame god to Zhu Que Mountain.

But he had been arrogant, greedy, and delayed his chance—giving the old Wu Jiao elder the opening to catch up.

And soon, a shadow flickered—Lord Qing Zhu appeared upon the altar.

Lord Qing Zhu, seeing Lord Yan Zhu, glared with fury: "You vile worm—how dare you call yourself Wuzhu?"

Lord Yan Zhu sneered: "All is for the gods—what is vile about that?"

Lord Qing Zhu stared at Lord Yan Zhu with icy eyes, but in the next instant, those cold eyes softened into tender, lingering affection.

Lord Yan Zhu was startled—he looked inward with his spirit-sense and immediately felt his desires stirred. He cursed aloud:

"You bitch!"

But as desire surged, reason weakened.

At that exact moment, the old Wu Jiao elder's fingers twisted like the talons of a Wu Jiao bird, hurling venomous spiritual force toward Lord Yan Zhu.

Lord Yan Zhu could only grit his teeth and fend off the old Wu Jiao elder.

After dozens of exchanges, Lord Yan Zhu sensed something wrong—he turned and saw that, while he had been forced backward by the old Wu Jiao elder, the graceful figure of Lord Qing Zhu had already reached the base of the Zhu Que golden tree.

She was cutting off a strand of her own hair—hidden at the Bai Hui point, glowing with pure light—and placing it upon the golden basin.

Qiu Silk.

This was also her sacred relic.

Lord Yan Zhu was suddenly furious, shouting: "You bitch! You're scheming the same thing too?!"

The old Wu Jiao elder and Lord Yan Zhu immediately ceased fighting each other and turned together to kill Lord Qing Zhu.

Lord Qing Zhu's ritual was interrupted; she cursed under her breath and could only fight desperately against the two.

Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu both despised each other's treachery, and thus fought with the greatest ferocity.

But as they fought, they noticed the old Wu Jiao elder had vanished—they turned to see him standing before the golden tree, having plucked out his last remaining eye, preparing to offer it upon the Zhu Que golden basin.

Wu Jiao Eye.

This was his sacred relic—and the key to summoning the Wu Jiao god.

Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu broke into cold sweat; without hesitation, they joined forces again to kill the old Wu Jiao elder.

Of the three gods, the Wu Jiao god was the one least to be summoned.

Once the Wu Jiao god descended, it would mean the end of the Zhu Que Mountain tribes.

The old Wu Jiao elder's ritual was also interrupted; he was forced to turn and fight Lord Yan Zhu and Lord Qing Zhu once more.

Thus, the three most powerful Wuzhu were locked in a deadly battle, the situation utterly chaotic.

In the melee, each sought to place their own sacred relic upon the Zhu Que altar, while treating others' relics as worthless trash.

The Candlefire Crystal Jade, just placed on the golden tray by Lord Yan Zhu, was slapped away by Lord Qing Zhu.

While Lord Yan Zhu went to retrieve the Candlefire Crystal Jade, Lord Qing Zhu placed the "Silk of Leng Qingqiu" upon the golden tray.

But in the next instant, a black wind surged and blew the "Silk of Leng Qingqiu" away.

Lord Qing Zhu went to retrieve it, while the Black Vulture Elder seized the opportunity to place his own "Eye of Wu Vulture" onto the golden tray.

At this moment, Lord Yan Zhu, having retrieved the Candlefire Crystal Jade, turned back and charged again at the Black Vulture Elder…

This cycle repeated endlessly.

Upon the altar, the three exalted "Wu Zhu my lords" forgot their dignity, forgot their decorum, exhausting every ounce of strength to fight and clash, each trying to block the others and guide their own deity.

Each hoping that their own deity would descend.

Every clash was fought with all their might, desperate and brutal.

Each clash could decide the war's outcome, decide the fate of the entire Zhu Que Mountain Realm.

The sect cultivators below the altar watched, their spirits taut to breaking, trembling with fear, even struggling to breathe.

This contest among the Wu Zhu lasted long and agonizing.

In the end, Lord Yan Zhu, Lord Qing Zhu, and the Black Vulture Elder were all utterly drained.

They had expended every last bit of cultivation within their Qi Seas, every shred of physical strength, even their mental focus nearing exhaustion.

Their once-powerful consciousness seas, long scorched by Zhu Que's fire, teetered on dryness.

Their respective divine relics lay scattered upon the ground.

Yet they themselves, in utter exhaustion, could barely move a single finger.

All three were crippled.

The once chaotic and frenzied altar sank into deathly silence.

The three drained Wu Zhu, still struggling to withstand Zhu Que's fire, barely clung to life, unable to move.

No one else could ascend the altar.

In this stagnant, lifeless state, before the eyes of all, upon the lofty altar, a frail and slender figure suddenly appeared…

(End of Chapter)