Chapter 143

On the shore of the East Sea, a distant, soft humming sound suddenly came:

"A man's conduct should be violent and tyrannical; deeds and benevolence cannot both stand."

"A man's place is on the killing battlefield; his courage is like a bear and tiger, his eyes like a wolf's."

"If one is born male, one ought to kill; do not let a male frame conceal a female heart."

The voice, brimming with killing intent and illusory, made countless people feel their hair stand on end, instantly raising gooseflesh.

Fortunately, after the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, the faint humming that seemed far away yet near at hand gradually faded; otherwise, one would truly think they had bumped into a ghost in broad daylight.

One month later.

The martial world of the Shenzhou was shaken, for merchant ships traveling to and from the Dongying brought news that the Dongying suffered successive hurricane disasters; wherever they struck, cities were destroyed and people died, leaving no survivors.

At first, this news was taken as a joke, but as it spread wider and seemed more true, an unending stream of people sailed their boats to approach the coast of the Dongying.

Gazing out, they saw the sky filled with a blood-red mist, a scene like the apocalypse; faintly they could see one after another what looked like pillars connecting heaven and earth—tornadoes—ravaging the land.

On a ship at sea, Youruo and four others had gathered, all wearing a silent expression.

After a while, Nie Feng spoke with an indescribable expression:

"I never expected that Master would actually learn the 'Moha Wu Liang' that I and my Senior Brother Yun once used to defeat him—a supreme technique that ought to require both of us working together—and he would so easily unleash it with his own hand, its power nearly that of the so-called heavenly punishment."

Upon hearing this, Youruo seemed to recall something and said:

"Some years ago, when my father was resting under the old peach tree, he would from time to time emanate a formless, traceless aura, as if merging with all things, no longer bound by any form or color."

"Afterward came a sudden, unpredictable shift, an inexplicable emanation of elusive, unfathomable qi; clearly, after witnessing your execution of the 'Moha Wu Liang', he grasped its essence and naturally attained it."

Qin Shuang sighed and said:

"The crucial point now is not knowing when Master will stay his hand; just look at this extremely thick blood mist and the increasingly bloody seawater around—surely, in just a short month, he has already killed several million, perhaps truly intending to exterminate a nation single-handedly."

"Killing one is a crime; slaughtering ten thousand makes a hero; slaughtering nine million makes a hero among heroes." Bu Jingyun's complexion was complex:

"He had already made it abundantly clear in the poem he chanted earlier: his intent is to carry out a massacre that leaves none alive."

Nie Feng said in utter helplessness:

"Recently, many experts have come here to observe, all noticing that the heaven‑shattering, earth‑destroying tornadoes of the Dongying do not seem like any natural disaster; moreover, because Master chanted the 'Man's Conduct' before his departure, people cannot help but associate something."

Upon hearing this, Youruo instead broke into a smile:

"It's just that some busybody has pinned the title 'man‑slaughterer' on my father; if I were to say, even if my father heard it, he would merely chuckle and find it mildly amusing."

Seven days later.

Dongying, the full moon hung in the sky, but under the veil of the blood mist, the moon above seemed a horrifying blood moon.

In a place where corpses littered the wild, while two hurricane tornadoes nearby had not yet dissipated, there appeared a white‑haired figure in a black robe whose garments fluttered loudly, hovering above the ground.

Gentlemen, do you know why I, having clearly detected you, do not expose your whereabouts but merely silently block your path of escape?

As his words fell, two elderly men in their sixties or seventies stepped forward.

One appeared ordinary in build, wearing a set of blue full‑body attire, with eight sashes tied at the back and covered in patterns resembling trigrams; his face was rather round, his hair ordinary, with a few small braids bound at the back of his head.

The other looked like a plain farmer, yet his tall, burly frame bulged with veins; in his bearing, a deep demonic aura emanated, and his visage bore a strong resemblance to the blue‑robed elder.

The former is naturally the chief of the Dongying Xuanhua Sect, Xiao Aoshi; the latter is his brother, nicknamed the Great Demon God, Xiao Jingtian.

There is an old immortal who says that in the future, an island nation shaped like a crescent moon, bearing the sun as its emblem, will push the so‑called Millennium Calamity.

That is, as long as Dongying's power rises like the morning sun, then the martial world of the Shenzhou will face great calamity, and countless innocent beings will inevitably be slaughtered.

Xiao Jingtian opened his mouth with a blank expression:

I never imagined that we brothers have not yet triggered the Millennium Calamity, yet it seems destined to fall upon ourselves.

Xiao Aoshi continued:

The only reason you have waited until tonight to reveal our whereabouts is that there is no one left to kill; by now, even the forces we built and the disciples we took in have been utterly wiped out.

The white‑haired black‑robed man repeatedly laughed and asked:

If that is so, why do you not just go die? Why must you force me to act? Why are you so unyielding, refusing to shed tears until you see the coffin?

A flicker of ripple appeared in Xiao Jingtian's eyes:

Hearing your words, I feel ever more that my title of Great Demon God ought to be yielded to you; you are truly the worthy demon descended into the world.

To slaughter millions of lives with one's own power and not change expression is like truly just trampling some insignificant ants.

Wrong, have a bit more confidence—it's not 'like', it's exactly those two words." The white‑haired black‑robed man said with a solemn face:

Look at my immaculate appearance—could it not be just trampling some insignificant ants?

He suddenly shook his head:

No, even the sole that steps on ants cannot avoid being stained with blood.

Zhuang Buran's tone paused slightly, his face full of smile:

So, they don't even qualify as ants; how could I possibly take them to heart?

Upon hearing this, the two could not help but catch their breath; aside from feeling the white‑haired black‑robed man utterly vicious, they themselves felt a complex, hard‑to‑express turmoil, yet suddenly a mysterious qi surged, as if a blade's tip were pressing straight against the space between their brows.

I am a diviner who can calculate; most diviners in the world merely like to prognosticate the trend and go with the flow, while a few who consciously follow the trend gradually steer the situation toward what they desire.

The white‑haired black‑robed man's face remained calm:

But I prefer to take myself as the trend, letting heaven and earth be the weapons in my palm; my words are the mandate of heaven, to oppose me is to oppose heaven.

He lowered his gaze, clenched his fists—like a fetus being hidden, his feet neither apart nor together, his soles curling and shifting, as if making a seal sign; the blood mist that had permeated everywhere suddenly contracted, instantly condensing into the seal upon his fist.

The pupils of the Xiao Jingtian brothers trembled; the dread of a blade's tip aimed at their brows intensified, and the indefinable feeling that their life and death lay in another's hands kept rising in their hearts.

Their qi surged greatly, and Xiao Jingtian employed the Heaven‑Mixing Four Absolutes, which he had cultivated to the pinnacle of perfection.

This art takes the sun and moon as a medium, allowing one to draw the four great forces of nature—wind, thunder, fire, and rain—for one's own use; however, due to the special nature of its manual, its power fills on a full‑moon night and leaks during the day, which is why he has hidden it until tonight.

Yet, unexpectedly, when he attempted to cultivate by absorbing the essence of heaven, earth, sun, and moon to refine his own core and turn it into an endless natural force for his technique, he failed to draw in any significant solar or lunar essence.

Meanwhile, Xiao Aoshi cultivates the Myriad Paths Forest of Zen, an art that can encompass various, even mutually opposing, martial techniques for his own use; this art not only embraces the power of heaven and earth, but also can sense an opponent's intent, granting him the initiative in battle.

Yet, as soon as he activates it, he finds he cannot summon the corresponding heavenly and earthly power prescribed by the method.

Thus, in the situation where they cannot draw upon the power of heaven and earth, the two's martial prowess can be said to have greatly diminished.

"You two wouldn't think that I, old man, killed merely for the sake of killing before," Zhuang Buran gave a low chuckle:

"Naive."

A bone‑chilling, heroic fist pressure burst forth, actually pressing the laughing Heaven‑Shocking brothers' legs deep into the mud.

"Using the earth's veins as a foundation, drawing in the resentment and baleful aura born from the millions of lives lost in war disasters, this is the eighth limit of the 'Heaven‑Swallowing, Earth‑Annihilating Seven Limits' that I, old man, have derived by combining the Profound Yin Twelve Swords with my own learning."

"I shall call it 'War Disaster Heavenly Peril', and with it I will refine your two's divine turtle bloodlines a little."

"Boom—" a sound, and actually a mushroom cloud spread over several li of land.

(End of chapter)