Chapter 970: The Unknown Entity, Searching for Something

The life aura of Baizu Tianjun vanished completely.

Not only here, but within three breaths of his main body’s death, the nascent form of the Golden Cause Sword, Golden Cause, spread everywhere through the connection between the main body and the split soul.

In this instant, across the world, seven cultivators—one of them from Hunyuan Fa Tian Du—and sixteen demonic cultivators had a faint crimson blood-gold pattern appear on their foreheads, cold and chilling.

Golden Cause confirmed multiple times: these were lifeforms formed when a split soul of Baizu Tianjun devoured others’ spiritual souls, many of whom were unaware themselves.

Then, these human and demonic cultivators fell dead without a sound, their spiritual souls utterly extinguished.

These numerous deaths occurring publicly caused widespread panic among surrounding cultivators.

Many cultivators immediately reported to the authorities, summoning cultivators from the Great Sun Long Sword Capital—these sword cultivators bore nearly all assassination missions in Tushan’s Central Court; tracking killers was cheap, efficient, and they offered excellent service.

They had no choice, for Tushan law forbade them from killing without rules, even internal duels were prohibited.

If anyone violated this, the Tushan Maidens would appear and execute them.

To find their enemy, the Great Sun Sword Sect’s sword cultivators grew so desperate their hair turned white; normally restricted to controlled duels, they turned green-eyed at any killing mission compliant with Tushan law.

Fortunately, there were still some such missions.

Cultivators draw power from within themselves, with no central array-spirit computer constantly watching, compounded by the original social climate of the North Plain, many old cultivators nearing the end of their lifespan falling into madness, alongside countless grudges, emotional entanglements, and narrow-minded human-demonic racial prejudices… and so on—while the small world remained largely stable, numerous murder cases each year involved Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, and Nascent Soul cultivators.

These were the livelihood of the Great Sun Sword Sect’s sword cultivators.

They established a Commandant’s Office specifically to handle such matters.

Of course, these murders never reached Jiang Ding’s attention; in his eyes, everything was beautiful—cultivators were orderly, polite, everything ran smoothly, and indeed it did.

If he did not deliberately seek them out, nothing unpleasant ever appeared in his life.

“Cleaning is finished…”

Jiang Ding opened his eyes, a look of satisfaction on his face.

In the perception of Golden Cause, no lifeform directly connected to Baizu Tianjun existed in this world anymore.

The only surprising thing was that Baizu Tianjun had truly left no resurrection backup on that sixty-year-old little centipede named Jiajin—no split soul, nothing—as if he had forgotten.

It seemed that even the cold and heartless Baizu Tianjun had paternal affection.

Jiang Ding gestured, and a golden-green centipede carapace flew to his Mianqian .

Baizu Tianjun had burned everything—his flesh and spiritual soul reduced to ash; the only thing left was this golden-green carapace, a top-grade fifth-rank heavenly treasure, suitable for forging armor, star fortress cannon barrels, engine compartment walls, etc., as biological material to enhance star fortress performance, immensely valuable.

“A fifth-rank top-grade demonic carcass, condensed essence—should be worth over ten trillion lower-grade spirit stones…”

Jiang Ding estimated.

His spiritual sense scanned the carapace repeatedly, confirming it, then snapped off a segment of the centipede limb, as tall as a person.

This was Baizu Tianjun’s storage magic treasure.

“After all, he was the master of the Southern Frontier—this money can’t be small…”

Jiang Ding happily played with it in his hand: “Brother Baizu, rest assured—I’ll deduct my appearance fee and donate five percent of this ill-gotten wealth to the hundreds of millions of human and demonic beings in the Southern Frontier, helping them recover from hardship. Consider it your atonement.”

He released a fine thread of spiritual sense and sword intent, landing on the limb’s seal.

He had no intention of opening the storage treasure now—after all, it was a Soul Transformation seal; it would take at least half a year to a year or two just to probe its depths.

“This seal is quite crude.”

Jiang Ding glanced and felt assured.

Crack~

He was about to examine it closely when the centipede limb flashed with spiritual light, revealing a faint spiritual fluctuation—the storage treasure’s seal spontaneously opened, releasing a complex, indescribable spiritual-wave-like energy that spread outward.

“This…”

Jiang Ding froze, then his expression turned grave.

He stared at the limb, silent.

A clump of brown, dried flesh.

It floated slowly out of Baizu Tianjun’s storage limb, emitting a murky fluctuation that swept across all directions, searching for something.

“Ten thousand years… this little centipede is dead…”

“...Not found…”

The dried flesh whispered, sounding like a living being, yet like a magic treasure, executing an unfinished spell.

“...Attached to life… searching…”

It murmured, possessing a method to identify the most potent nearby lifeform, unwilling to frequently change hosts.

Soon, it locked onto its target.

It drifted slowly toward Jiang Ding’s third eye.

Though clearly before him, it seemed illusory, existing in another space, swaying as if about to fall—but those who witnessed it felt a strange premonition: it would inevitably land on his third eye, fate-bound and unchangeable.

“Above Soul Transformation…”

Jiang Ding’s heart trembled, every hair on his body standing on end.

Without hesitation, he immediately sought to contact the broken sword tip and flee.

At this moment, facing Void Refinement, he would die!

Not just against a Void Refinement’s physical body—but any technique, any spell, any spiritual sense attack from it was utterly useless!

Not only was the Void Refinement’s physical form immune, but every technique, every spell, every spiritual sense attack was utterly useless!

At that moment, a blue-marked city imprint appeared on Jiang Ding’s third eye, radiating concentric ripples; his entire body grew hazy, as if vanishing, carrying him away.

At that moment, a Zhan blue city mark appeared on Jiang Ding’s third eye, sending ripples outward in concentric circles; his entire form grew hazy, as if vanishing, taking him away.

Simultaneously, strands of blue electromagnetic light—radiating unknown power—fell upon the dried flesh.

The dried flesh halted, suspended in midair.

“...Human…”

That obscure, complex spiritual-wave-like energy reappeared.

It scanned the young man before it, sensing the radiance on his third eye.

Then, silently, it departed, vanishing.

“What was that?”

Jiang Ding’s heart pounded wildly; he fought hard to suppress his instinct to touch the broken sword tip and flee, and the fear within.

Amidst the fear, accompanied by the soft chime of the Taiqing Sword, his spiritual sea grew colder, stripping away emotion, becoming as precise as a machine.

This world was vital—involved with Void Refinement, even paths beyond it; unless facing certain death, he was unwilling to abandon it.

Jiang Ding remained frozen in midair.

For a long time, he did not move, did not leave, lost in thought, his expression shifting constantly.

Months passed in a flash.

The dried flesh never reappeared—it had truly left, even the memory of it gradually blurred, as if it had been an illusion.

Only within the chime of the Taiqing Sword could he recall it again.

Only in the sword hum of Taiqing Flying Sword could he recall it again.