Chapter 369: Void Hunt

Wang Ping's words had not yet fully faded in the secret chamber when the whole space began to tremble violently. This tremor was utterly different from the law fluctuations when the Order Apostles had approached before—it was grander, more thorough, more… absolute.

It was as if an invisible giant hand were tearing this patch of heaven and earth from the universe, isolating it.

"Not good!" Madame Xuanhu shouted sharply, her silver pupils contracting suddenly, "A Void Refinement expert is sealing the void! Not just one!"

Tianyan Senior's face turned deathly pale; he flicked his whisk repeatedly, and dozens of probing runes that had just flown out three feet instantly struck an invisible wall, shattering into a cloud of light. Those rune fragments hung in midair, neither dissipating nor falling, frozen at that instant, as if time itself had stopped.

"Order seal..." he murmured, his voice tinged with despair, "This is a true 'Order Seal'! It's stronger than the force fields of those three giants by more than tenfold!"

Wang Ping made a snap decision: "Retreat to the secret chamber! Rely on the law corridor—"

Before his words finished, the void outside the secret chamber suddenly split open.

It was not a tear, not a shatter, but a "split"—as if an invisible giant mouth slowly opened, pulling space itself apart like a curtain. Along the edges of the rift, countless silver lights surged wildly, the power of "Order" forcibly invading this corridor belonging to "Chaos".

Three figures stepped out from the rift.

The first figure wore a silver robe from head to toe, his visage sinister, with strange silver flames flickering in his eye sockets—exactly the silver-robed cultivator leader who had escaped from Mo Yan Star. His aura was deeper and more solid than before, evidently having received some kind of "enhancement" or "compensation" after his defeat.

Early Void Refinement.

The other two figures likewise wore silver robes and exuded the pressure of Early Void Refinement. On the left, a burly man with a rugged face was wrapped in countless silver runes that slowly rotated like planetary rings. On the right, a thin man with a cold expression had his eyes shut tight, but a vertical silver scar marked his brow, as if hiding a third eye.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, the three wove their Early Void Refinement pressures into an impenetrable "Wall of Order" that completely sealed the secret chamber's entrance, not even a ripple of law could leak out.

Behind them, the rift continued to expand.

One silver-colored figure after another streamed out of the rift in single file.

These were enhanced battle puppets—their bodies gleaming with silver light, about three zhang tall, humanoid in shape but covered head to toe in dense arrays of runes. Each puppet's aura had reached late Nascent Soul, with several attaining Nascent Soul Perfection. They stood in neat rows behind the three Void Refinement cultivators, like a silent army.

And at the rear of the puppet formation, there were several more figures.

Those figures differed from the silver-robed cultivators and silver puppets—they wore dark purplish-black robes, their bodies suffused with a strange aura, the unique "Netherworld Power" of the Netherworld Clan. Yet now their eyes glowed silver, empty and dazed, as if they had lost their souls.

Nascent Soul Perfection cultivators of the Netherworld Clan.

Netherworld Clan experts transformed by "Order-ification".

They drifted through the void like walking corpses, their aura still mighty but devoid of any vitality. They were no longer cultivators, but "Order Puppets" remade by the Purification Court—retaining their former cultivation yet stripped of their former will.

Six.

Exactly six Netherworld Clan Nascent Soul Perfection cultivators transformed by Order.

Together with over ten late Nascent Soul to Perfection battle puppets, plus the three Early Void Refinement silver-robed cultivators, this force could sweep any Nascent Soul faction and even contend head‑on with a Mid Void Refinement existence.

Behind Wang Ping, the five others all changed color at once.

The Old Mountain Mover's grin vanished for the first time. His face grew unprecedentedly grave, the earth‑yellow light around him surging wildly, yet under the pressure of those three Void Refinement auras it was compressed to a mere thin layer.

Cangxuan rested his hand on the sword hilt, his knuckles whitening, but the blade remained sheathed—not from unwillingness, but inability. Under the Order Seal, any action demanded ten‑ to a hundred‑fold the usual cost; his sword felt like a mountain, so heavy it could scarcely be drawn.

Yuliuli's face turned ashen, her zither laid across her knees, yet she could not produce a single note. The moment her musical intent coalesced, the Power of Order crushed it into nothing.

Tianyan Senior lowered his whisk, cold sweat beading his forehead. His divinatory runes could not fly out of his body at all; all his calculations were confined to his mind.

Madame Xuanhu's body flickered with unstable silver light—the instinctive resistance of her illusionary arts under the pressure of Order. Yet facing the combined seal of the three Void Refinement cultivators, her illusions were like a candle in the wind, liable to gutter at any moment.

Only Wang Ping stood still.

His expression remained calm, chaotic light slowly swirling in his eyes. Within his dantian, the Chaotic Nascent Soul apparition stood solemn; the Heaven‑Overturning Seal and the Chaotic Tribulation Sword trembled slightly, the Verdant Light of the Jianmu Seed blazed brightly, the Xuanming True Soul exuded a frigid chill, and that strand of "Chaos Origin" pulsed gently inside him, like a second heart.

His gaze swept past the over ten puppets, past the six Netherworld cultivators under control, and finally settled on the leader of the silver‑robed cultivators.

He had crossed blows with him on Mo Yan Star before.

That time, he had won.

This time…

"Hand over the Myriad Phenomena Star Chart and the Law Imprint."

The silver‑robed leader spoke, his voice cold and imposing, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as if stating an indisputable fact.

"I can grant you the chance of Order Conversion."

"Order Conversion."

This term matches the "reset" recorded in those earlier scrolls. It is not a boon, but a remaking of people into empty‑eyed, self‑lost walking corpses.

Wang Ping said nothing.

He merely lifted his Chaotic Tribulation Sword slowly, pointing its tip at the silver‑robed leader.

That single gesture already said everything.

In the silver‑robed leader's eyes, the silver flames flickered faintly. He felt no anger, no disappointment, not even a ripple of emotion—he simply gave a slight nod, as if he had long anticipated this outcome.

"Stubborn." He said softly, "Then execute Article Seventy‑three of the Order Purge—target resists, kill without mercy, collect memory fragments, refine souls into puppets."

The instant his words fell, the over ten battle puppets behind him moved as one.

Their motions were perfectly synchronized, like a single entity. More than ten silver silhouettes turned into streaks of silver light, shooting from all directions toward the six. Each streak contained terrifying power capable of heavily wounding a Nascent Soul Perfection cultivator.

Meanwhile, the burly silver‑robed Void Refinement cultivator merely lifted his hand casually toward the Old Mountain Mover and gave a light sweep.

A blade of silver light shot forth from his palm.

Though the light seemed simple, it actually embodied the Void Refinement cultivator's ultimate comprehension of Order—it was neither spell nor divine ability, but a pure "Spear of Order," perfectly fusing the laws of "penetration," "confinement," and "disintegration" into an unavoidable, unstoppable strike.

The Old Mountain Mover's pupils contracted sharply.

He had no time to think, let alone shout; instinctively he drove the ultimate of the Mountain‑Sealing Void Technique, gathering the essence of his eight‑hundred‑year‑long body refinement into his chest.

Earth‑yellow light condensed before him into a three‑foot‑thick "Mountain Shield." Its defensive power could block a full‑force strike from a Nascent Soul Perfection cultivator, and even withstand three breaths of an ordinary Early Void Refinement attack.

But against that silver Spear of Order, it held only…

…an instant.

"Pfft—"

A soft sound, like a blade piercing rotten wood.

The Spear of Order pierced the Mountain Shield without hindrance, tore through the Old Mountain Mover's chest, dragging a crimson rainbow that shot out his back and lodged in the void, lingering there.

The Old Mountain Mover's massive body, like a kite with its string cut, flew backward.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but only spat out a mouthful of fresh blood. In that blood, specks of golden light mingled—it was the essence of his eight hundred years of painstaking cultivation of his flesh, now rapidly draining away with this strike.

"Moving Mountain!" the Heavenly Derivation Venerable exclaimed in shock.

"Senior!" Yuliuli's face turned deathly pale.

Cangxuan shouted angrily and finally drew his sword. That sword contained his full understanding of the Sword of Laws, transforming into a peerless blade of light that directly slashed the silver-robed Divine Transformation cultivator who had made the move.

But as soon as the sword light entered the Order Seal Domain, it was like sinking into a mire. The sword intent that could originally cleave the void was now weakened layer by layer, finally vanishing silently three feet before the silver-robed Divine Transformation cultivator.

That silver-robed Divine Transformation cultivator didn't even glance at him, merely waving his hand lightly, as if shooing away an annoying mosquito.

"Watch out!" the Lady Mystic Fox's sharp cry rang out at the same moment.

On the flank, three combat puppets had already lunged forward. Their speed was too fast, to the point that even divine sense struggled to catch them. Their assault was too fierce, each strike capable of heavily wounding a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator.

Wang Ping frowned slightly, his Chaos Domain unfolding instantly.

But the next moment, he felt that indescribable pressure—the Order Seal Domain was frantically suppressing his Chaos Power. This suppression was not a simple "opposition," but a more insidious "infiltration"—Order Power sought to invade his Chaos Domain, turning Chaos itself into something "orderly," a constant that could be predicted and controlled.

Perhaps this move would have worked before.

But now…

Within his dantian, that thread of Primordial Source of Disorder twitched lightly.

An indescribable power burst from within it, instantly merging into Wang Ping's Chaotic Domain. The range of his Chaotic Domain, which had been suppressed, suddenly expanded by three chi—though only three chi, it was enough.

The three charging battle puppets, upon entering this three-chi range, all halted simultaneously.

The silver runes covering their bodies flickered violently, as if they had encountered something that left them "confused." This confusion was not conscious thought but a conflict at the level of their programming—their "Order protocol" could not parse this mass that was neither Order nor pure Chaos, plunging them into a brief disorder.

That was the pause.

Wang Ping's Chaotic Tribulation Sword had already been swung.

One sword, and the cores of the three battle puppets shattered simultaneously. Their silver light instantly dimmed, turning into three heaps of cold scrap iron that fell into the void.

This sword was unbelievably fast, unbelievably precise.

In the distance, the gaunt cultivator with tightly closed eyes and a silver fissure between his brows suddenly opened his eyes.

No, not opening his eyes—rather, the silver fissure in his brow suddenly split open.

It was an eye.

The silver pupil had no iris, only endless silver light. Wherever that light passed, all laws became "manifest"—not destroyed, but "seen through." Under the gaze of that silver eye, Wang Ping's Chaotic Domain began to "turn translucent," faintly revealing the flowing trajectories of its laws.

"Chaotic inheritance..." the gaunt cultivator said, his voice hoarse and low, "... and... the aura of disorder?"

He turned toward the silver-robed leader, the silver light in his brow-eye flickering slightly.

"This person must be taken alive. He bears traces of the primal disorder on him, worth far more than that star map and jade disc."

The silver-robed leader nodded, his voice still cold: "Capture him alive. The remaining five, kill."

The instant his words fell, the six Order-infused Netherworld cultivators moved simultaneously.

Their movement was even more uncanny than those battle puppets. The Netherworld clan's "Netherworld Escape Technique," after being reshaped by the power of Order, became harder to grasp—no longer mere concealment, but a constant shifting between Order and Chaos, making them impossible to pin down.

Six purple-black silhouettes, like six phantoms, instantly surged onto the battlefield.

One of them headed straight for Cangxuan.

Cangxuan snorted coldly, his sword light flaring again. His sword way was always offense as defense, speed against speed—but facing this Order-infused Netherworld grand perfection, his fast sword met its match for the first time.

That Netherworld cultivator's movement was exceedingly uncanny; every dodge was just right, every counterstrike crafty and vicious. Its motions had no extraneous movement, no wasted energy, as if calculated by some "optimization program" into a perfect combat style.

This is the terror of Order-infusion—not raising cultivation, but stripping away all excess, leaving only the purest, most efficient "combat instinct."

Cangxuan grew more astonished the longer he fought, yet the battle intent in his eyes only grew stronger.

"Good!" he shouted coldly, his sword momentum shifting abruptly—"Now that's more like it!"

Another Netherworld cultivator slaughtered toward Yuliuli.

Yuliuli's zither notes surged forth; this time they were no longer a gentle soothing but a sharp, killing tone. The Fallen Immortal Clan's secret immortal sound transformed into invisible blades, slicing at that Netherworld cultivator.

But that cultivator's movement was too uncanny; the sound blades brushed past him each time yet never struck. He was like a ghost, threading through the gaps in the zither's notes, step by step closing in on Yuliuli.

Tiányan Elder wished to lend a hand, but was entangled by the three battle puppets. Though his formation was strong, under the Order seal each rune's condensation required paying several times the usual cost; he could barely maintain defense, unable to divert his focus.

Lady Xuanhu's situation was even more perilous. Her illusion techniques had limited effect on the Order-infused cultivators—their wills had been "reset," rendering them immune to illusion. She could only rely on her keen perception, clumsily dodging amidst the siege of several puppets, danger lurking at every turn.

And as for the Mountain-Moving Old Ancestor…

That burly man lay now in the void, a great hole in his chest, blood gushing like a spring. His breath had weakened by at least seventy percent compared to before, yet he had not fainted. He gritted his teeth, fixing his remaining strength on the silver-robed cultivator who had wounded him, his eyes full of reluctance and anger.

"Old Stone... I'm not dead yet..." he muttered, struggling to rise, yet even his fingers could barely move.

Wang Ping saw all of this.

His heart felt as if clenched by an invisible hand.

But he did not move.

Not that he didn't want to, but that he couldn't.

Because those three cultivators were firmly locking onto him. Especially the gaunt cultivator with the silver fissure in his brow—that uncanny eye was fixed on his every move; any slight disturbance would provoke all three to strike simultaneously.

Even if he were stronger alone, he could not simultaneously oppose three cultivators.

Moreover, behind him were five companions he needed to protect.

"What to do?"

That thought flashed through his mind.

But the next moment, he suppressed it.

The more critical the moment, the greater the need for calm.

He closed his eyes, his Chaotic Domain unfolding to its fullest. This time it was not defense, not perception, but… fusion.

That strand of "primal disorder" throbbed wildly in his dantian, as if sensing his intent. It was no longer passively granting power, but actively merging into his Chaotic Domain, into his Chaotic Nascent Soul, into every inch of his flesh.

What he needed to do was not to resist the Order seal.

But to "merge into" it.

Chaos encompasses all things. Order, too, is among all things.

As long as he can find the "pattern" of the order's blockade, he can disguise his chaotic power as order power, infiltrate the blockade, and then—

Find the flaw.

The Silver-robed Leader seemed to sense something. He frowned slightly, looking at the gaunt Spirit Transformation cultivator.

"What is he doing?"

The silver pupils in the gaunt Spirit Transformation cultivator's brow flickered slightly; after a moment, his expression changed slightly.

"He is…… analyzing our order's blockade?"

A flash of cold light passed through the Silver-robed Leader's eyes: "Stop him."

Before his words faded, he had already turned into a silver streak of light, shooting straight at Wang Ping.

At the same moment, the burly Spirit Transformation cultivator moved as well. His target was the blood‑fighting Cang Xuan—he struck with a palm, as if trying to smash this heaven and earth into dust.

And the gaunt Spirit Transformation cultivator's silver pupils locked firmly onto Wang Ping, ready to unleash a deadly strike at any moment.

Three Spirit Transformation cultivators attacked simultaneously.

This strike could annihilate any Nascent Soul existence.

But at this critical moment—

"Roar!!!"

A roar echoed through the void.

That was Ban Shan Lao Zu.

He somehow found the strength to struggle to his feet. Blood still flowed from the wound in his chest, but his eyes burned with fierce fighting spirit.

"You want to move my brother?" He grinned, his smile still bold yet tinged with resolve: "First, get past my Old Stone!"

He raised his hand and struck his own chest with a palm.

Not an attack, but… a sacrifice.

Within him, the Mountain Core he had cultivated for eight hundred years exploded.

It was the core of all his cultivation, the foundation of his Mountain-Earth Void Suppressing Art. Shattering it meant destroying his own path, which meant……

Death.

A terrifying power burst from within him.

That power far surpassed any of his strikes at his peak. It was the fruit of eight hundred years of bitter training, now burning completely into the purest, most violent Mountain Power.

He threw a punch.

This punch was not aimed at the burly silver‑robed Spirit Transformation cultivator, but at the Order's Wall sealing the void.

"Boom—"

A tremendous roar shook the entire void, making it tremble.

The order blockade jointly set up by the three Spirit Transformation cultivators was actually cracked open a tiny fissure by this punch.

That fissure existed only for an instant.

But an instant was enough.

"Go!!!" Ban Shan Lao Zu's roar echoed across heaven and earth.

Wang Ping opened his eyes.

He saw the resolve in Ban Shan Lao Zu's eyes, the bold smile still on his lips, and the life force rapidly draining from his body.

His heart felt as if it were being sliced by a thousand knives.

But he knew this moment had been bought with Ban Shan Lao Zu's life.

He could not waste it.

"Everyone, follow me!"

The Chaos Domain unfolded to its fullest, a thread of disordered primal essence jumping wildly, turning into a streak of chaotic light that enveloped all five. The light, following the fissure that was rapidly healing, shot through the order blockade like a swimming fish.

"Chase!" the Silver-robed Leader bellowed.

But it was already too late.

As the chaotic light passed through the fissure, Wang Ping glanced back.

He saw Ban Shan Lao Zu's burly body being struck simultaneously by the attacks of the three Spirit Transformation cultivators.

He saw Ban Shan Lao Zu's smile still hanging on his face, even as his body disintegrated.

He saw Ban Shan Lao Zu's lips move silently.

The shape of those lips, Wang Ping recognized.

"Brother…… take care."

The chaotic light completely pierced the blockade.

Before him lay endless void, the path they had come, and the Law Wasteland they had once crossed.

Behind him were the healing fissure, the three enraged Spirit Transformation cultivators, the dozen or so pursuing puppets, the six cultivators of the Netherworld Clan transformed by order, and……

It was Ban Shan Lao Zu, who had traded his life for this sliver of hope.

Wang Ping did not stop.

He gritted his teeth, driving the Chaos Domain, leading the five toward the entrance of the Law Corridor in a frantic escape.

Faintly from behind came the Silver-robed Leader's angry roar.

"Seal all exits! They won't get far! Alive, we want to see them; dead, we want to see corpses!"

Wang Ping did not look back.

He simply stared fixedly ahead, the chaotic light swirling in his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Ban Shan Lao Zu's final scene, like a brand, was deeply etched into his soul.

His heroic smile, his silent mouth shape, that sliver of life he burned himself to buy for them……

"Senior Banshan……"

He muttered, his voice low and deep, yet carrying the force of a thousand jun.

"I have taken note of your life."

"The Pure World Court's debt will sooner or later……"

"I will, bit by bit, reclaim it."