Chapter 654: Building Houses, Raising Towers

BOOM!

A deafening roar, a mountain of flesh surged forward, the golden canopy exploding into a shower of fabric.

Crackling.

Countless chunks of flesh rained down; a severed thigh, mixed among them, landed in Liang Qu's arms.

The thigh was white as jade, silver chains dangling at the ankle, toenails dyed bright red with balsam pear flowers—truly a beauty's leg, yet unnervingly slick, the pale yellow mutton fat hardened into lumps by the cold wind.

He tossed it aside carelessly.

Liang Qu moved against the crowd, braving the wind forward, using the state of Heaven and Man as One to avoid danger.

The blade's wind scattered the hardened snow, exposing brown earth for miles around, crisscrossed with deep slashes.

Countless slaves clutched gold and silver vessels, scrambling past each other, but the Zonghenggangfeng gave them little chance to survive; those unlucky turned instantly into blood-mud, frozen to the ground alongside shattered vessels.

Roars echoed through the high sky, scattering clouds.

"Yan Yan Dongjun, how dare you come to the Northern Court to seek death? Today, I shall make Great Great Qian lose another Wu Sheng!"

"Yan Yan Dongjun, you are too arrogant! Do you truly believe yourself invincible? When Qiyan Khan arrives from a thousand li away, you won't live!"

"Yan Yan Dongjun, do you intend to spark war between our nations? Can you bear the sin of countless lives laid waste?!"

"Yan Yan Dongjun, we have no grudge against you! Why come to destroy our tribe?!"

"Hahaha, Naiman, too many words! The divine weapon is forged—let me test it on you!"

The Naiman Khan's eyes flashed with shock.

At the very instant the figure spoke.

Outside.

Lan Lan Jicai had just poured the last remnants of the Master's essence into the Altar.

Liang Qu, riding the wind closer, suddenly understood—he felt his perspective shift abruptly.

When he came to his senses again.

Liang Qu held a black iron spear, standing on empty air; the spear's grip was not smooth wood, but layered, dense dragon scales, as if he gripped a living dragon.

Here it comes!

Liang Qu focused entirely—he had experienced this scene no less than three times, knew it intimately.

With the Heaven and Man as One realm enhancing him, it was like adding wings to a tiger—nothing more than…

CRASH!

Like a mountain collapsing, the moment the spear tip met the blade, Liang Qu felt countless pieces of information violently cramming into his mind, bombarding him—as if that spear had not struck the Khan, but pierced straight into his own skull, even twisting slightly!

Instantly, the Naiman Khan's three-meter blade shattered piece by piece, his eyeballs burst with blood, leaving two hollow, bloody sockets.

Slish!

The spear pierced through his chest.

Like a water bag punctured!

The massive hide clung tightly to the Khan's bones, grotesque and terrifying!

"Thrilling! Thrilling!"

His laughter roared to the heavens.

"It's being consumed too fast."

Lan Lan Jicai stared in shock, looking down at the empty pottery jar.

He had indeed poured out every last remnant.

First time: two remnants, sat for a day and a half.

Second time: four remnants, sat for three and a half days.

Third time, again two remnants—how could half be gone in the blink of an eye?

At the center of the Altar.

Liang Qu grunted, blood trickling from nose and mouth, his aura plummeting sharply.

"Hm?"

WHOOSH!

Several figures flashed behind Lan Lan Jicai.

Long Long Binglin, Long Yao, Yang Xu…

"Master Mo!"

Lan Lan Jicai immediately sought outside help—he had never seen such a sight.

Logically, unless one's will was weak and haunted by "demonic shadows," falling into illusion, a normal altar session should carry no danger!

The figure flickered lightly.

A withered old man stood atop the opposite mast, glanced twice, and said coolly: "Those with exceptional talent can merge with the Altar Master's true spirit, learning a fraction of his skills. The gap between Wolf Smoke and Heavenly Dragon is immense—such shock is inevitable."

Lan Lan Jicai caught the implication: "So he's fine?"

"Fine."

As expected.

Soon after bleeding from nose and mouth, Liang Qu's aura stabilized, even stronger than before—several times more potent, sharper, like a newly honed blade.

Those on the deck relaxed, watched briefly, then returned to their posts.

Inside the Altar, the Master's remnants vanished rapidly; Liang Qu greedily absorbed the final glow.

A completely different experience from the River Lord's spear strike against the dragon.

The River Lord's spear felt like forcibly learning a skill in a game—you press the button later and the move executes.

Effective, but no extra benefit beyond the skill itself; mimic it, and without the original, you can't replicate it—your usual attacks remain unchanged.

Yan Yan Dongjun's true spirit technique was different.

Perhaps because his realm was lower than the River Lord's, and aided by Heaven and Man as One, Liang Qu gained far too much—he felt bloated, forced to swallow it all whole, memorizing every sensation, burying it deep in memory to chew slowly later.

A treasure!

Truly a treasure!

Snow fell, snow stopped; sun rose, sun set.

In a flash, two more days passed; the sunset painted the river in broken gold.

The luxury boat headed toward Jishuitan.

As they neared the imperial capital, merchant ships grew more numerous, revealing a touch of prosperity—vessels bound for the capital all had powerful backing, none feared the Golden Leaf Boat as those from afar did.

The curious even deliberately drew near, wondering why someone sat so high upon the ship.

The Altar had long since fallen silent.

With the Master's remnants fully consumed, Lan Lan Jicai sealed it immediately, lest the Altar's true spirit be damaged.

But Liang Qu still had not awakened from his meditation.

Fortunately, his aura grew increasingly thick and stable—steadily improving.

"Whose young lord is this? So young, yet such profound cultivation—planning to enter the Tiger Hunt?"

On a three-story pleasure boat, a young man in long robes leaned on the railing, studying Liang Qu, silently astonished.

He himself was nearly thirty, barely at Earth Bridge; this youth seemed several years younger.

"Oh? Isn't this Song Song Jili? You're not training in the Northern Ridge—why come to the capital? Planning to return home for the festival this year?"

Song Song Jili turned, recognized the speaker, and chuckled: "I thought it was someone else—it's Brother Liu! Three years have passed, of course I'm going home. Aren't you?"

"Heh, not me." Liu Liu Qiaosheng waved; a plump woman stepped out from the cabin, and he pulled her into his arms, pressing her waist against the railing as he laughed, then looked up again: "I returned to the capital two days before you. Today I'm cruising with friends to enjoy the snow. If you're not in a hurry, join us? My treat!"

Song Song Jili's heart stirred.

Travel was dull, and here was an invitation—truly elegant. He turned to leap aboard, when suddenly—he froze.

Crack!

A faint, crisp sound drifted through the river wind.

"What's this…?"

Liu Liu Qiaosheng's gaze sharpened; he crossed the boat, saw the Golden Leaf Boat, saw the figure seated high upon it—and instantly understood what Song Song Jili had been staring at.

"Breaking through?"

The two exchanged glances, both startled.

Earlier, the crisp sound had clearly been from blood qi surging, bones and tendons grinding.

"So young? Could he be imperial royalty?"

Crack!

One sound, then another, then another…

Suddenly.

The crisp sounds exploded into a dense chorus.

More and more people noticed, drawing closer; among them, several with sharp eyes spotted what Liang Qu sat upon.

That was…

The Altar?!

"What's going on? What's happening?!"

Inside the pleasure boat, several youths pulled on coats and joined Liu Liu Qiaosheng, following his pointing finger to see Liang Qu's face—they all reacted with shock.

"So young? A Great Martial Master barely twenty?"

Before the words faded, the cracking sounds grew faint—not gone, but drowned beneath a vast, roaring tide!

Almost at the moment the tide roared, brilliant red light burst from his body, turning the golden leaves of the pavilion boat into blood-red leaves.

The waves recoiled.

Foam piled layer upon layer.

The figure seated high above stepped on the wind into meditation, his entire body radiating torrents of red light, even suppressing the sunset on the horizon.

His vast, surging blood qi condensed and refined at a visible pace, surging in Cengceng layers!

Ten zhang, twenty zhang, thirty zhang...

In an instant.

A pillar of blood pierced through the clouds.

Boldly fluttering!

(End of Chapter)