Chapter 149: Cutting Worldly Ties

Su Zhanxian whispered a chant, like a Sanskrit hymn or a Daoist verse: “I have one sword—not to sever flesh, not to cut the soul, but to sever… the threads of cause and effect, to break the ties of worldly attachment.”

He lifted his head, his gaze truly falling upon the swirling mass of the “Source of All Evil” approaching him, and beyond it, the Taowu.

“This sword—its name is—Zhan Hongchen!”

As his words faded, he moved.

No evasion, no parry—he merged with his sword, becoming a dull, unremarkable streak of gray light, advancing straight toward the devouring “Source of All Evil!”

This sight left everyone stunned.

“Is he mad?! He’s charging straight into it?!”

“That’s the primordial evil will of Taowu, a half-sage’s power!”

Under countless pairs of horrified eyes, the gray sword-light collided violently with the colossal black energy sphere.

Yet, the expected cataclysmic explosion never came.

The gray sword-light was not a physical thing—it was a concept, a law. It simply “pierced” into the heart of the “Source of All Evil!”

Then, an unbelievable sight unfolded.

The black energy sphere, condensed from infinite malice and destruction, did not explode—instead, from within, it began to melt away like snow under sunlight.

Not annihilation through force-on-force clash, but a more fundamental “unraveling.” Countless negative emotions, karmic threads, and laws of destruction were severed, one by one, strand by strand, beneath the sword intent of “Zhan Hongchen.”

Greed was severed, reduced to nothingness.

Hatred was severed, sunk into stillness.

Rage was severed, dissipated into air…

As countless evil thoughts and karmic threads were cut, the massive black sphere visibly grew transparent, thinning rapidly.

“No! This is impossible!!”

Taowu roared in terror and disbelief—he felt his connection to the "Source of All Evil" being swiftly severed; the portion of his primordial power condensed within it was being dismantled at its root by a force he could not comprehend!

“What kind of power is this?! How can it sever karma?!”

In but a few breaths, the “Source of All Evil,” capable of crippling or killing an ordinary half-sage, vanished entirely beneath Su Zhanxian’s gray sword-light—as if it had never existed.

The sword-light Su Zhanxian had become, after piercing through the “Source of All Evil,” did not slow—it pierced through space itself, instantly appearing before Taowu’s true body!

The tip of the sword did not aim for Taowu’s vital points, but for its core—its center of malice and desire for destruction.

Taowu sensed mortal peril!

This sword sought not to kill his body, but to sever his very “meaning”—the primordial evil will that defined him as the beast Taowu.

“Roar!! I’ll fight Itachi to the death! Taowu True Form! Invincible to All Laws!”

Taowu went utterly mad, abandoning all restraint—his half-sage demonic power erupted violently.

His black fur bristled like countless blades; the law of destruction solidified into a tangible black armor covering his entire body—he would meet this strange sword with absolute force.

“Ding——!!!!!!”

The tip of the Wangchen sword touched the center of Taowu’s forehead, where the destruction armor had coalesced.

This time—it was a true, unadorned, ultimate clash of laws and power.

An indescribable terror wave, blending the gray sword intent of annihilation with the black law of destruction, exploded outward like a galaxy detonating!

“Wum——!!!”

The defense barrier of the Fallen God Platform, upheld by ten SS-rank magic treasures, emitted an unprecedented, ear-splitting shriek!

Its light flickered wildly, dimming and flaring; fine cracks began spreading across its surface.

“Reinforce the barrier!” Ye Qing, Ye Ting, and Lu Wujiu all acted at once, pouring three Saint-level powers into the barrier—barely stabilizing it from collapse.

On the arena, the light lasted ten full breaths before slowly fading.

Everyone strained to look.

There, at the arena’s center, Su Zhanxian and Taowu remained frozen in their final poses.

Su Zhanxian’s Wangchen sword, its tip pressed against Taowu’s forehead—the destruction armor there bore a tiny puncture.

Taowu’s claws, halted just three inches from Su Zhanxian’s chest, could not advance an inch further.

Both stood like statues, utterly motionless.

“Who… won?” someone whispered, voice trembling.

The next instant.

“Puh—!”

Su Zhanxian spat a massive gout of blood—not red, but gray and lifeless. His face turned paper-thin gold; the “emptiness” sword intent that had surrounded him receded like a tide, becoming chaotic and unstable. His body swayed, barely held upright by the Wangchen sword. His aura plummeted, his eyes dimmed—he had paid an unimaginable price to unleash the ultimate “Zhan Hongchen,” his soul and foundation grievously wounded.

Opposite him, Taowu’s twisted human face froze in its snarl. From the tiny puncture at his forehead, no blood flowed—only thick, pure black malice seeped out like smoke.

His eyes, once filled with destructive desire, rapidly dimmed, becoming hollow and confused.

“My… hatred… my rage… my destruction… where did they go…?” he murmured, broken and bewildered, as if he had lost something irreplaceable.

“Zhan Hongchen… Zhan Hongchen… ha… hahaha…” He suddenly laughed—a laugh devoid of malice, filled instead with a strange, hollow emptiness.

Then, his massive body collapsed like a mountain falling, crashing heavily onto the arena, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He did not die.

But his aura became extremely faint—and more importantly, the signature, pure destructive malice that defined him had been utterly “cut” away by that single sword. He lay there, eyes vacant, staring at the shifting three-colored sky, like a soulless shell.

Su Zhanxian, too, did not die—but he had lost all combat capability, critically wounded and on the brink.

Mutual ruin. A draw… as if both had perished.

The entire battlefield fell into deathly silence.

All were deeply shaken by this battle—beyond the comprehension of Wanghou-level cultivators, touching upon karma and conceptual realms.

Long after, the grand voice of cosmic law echoed slowly, carrying an unprecedented complexity:

“Ninth Battle… both combatants have lost combat capability. Draw.”

Draw.