Chapter 118: Not One Left Alive

Hehe, still too young and naive, lacking experience. At this point, you’re still worried about your magic treasures being tainted, reluctant to use them, and instead rely solely on spiritual power to cast spells against my Ten Thousand Ghosts Dark Yin Storm.

My Dark Yin Storm is forged from yin spirits through secret methods; a mere whisper of control is enough—no need to expend much spiritual power. How could you possibly outlast me?

By the time your spiritual power is nearly depleted and you realize your mistake, it’ll be too late to unleash your treasures and break free! Tsk tsk, who’d have thought this Ten Thousand Ghosts Dark Yin Storm, still in its infancy, already possesses such power? Once I complete it and my cultivation advances further, even if I face a Foundation Establishment cultivator, I might still survive!

Too bad, places like Mangzhou—where cultivators rarely engage in large-scale battles—are exceedingly rare. After this fight, I’ll likely need to lie low for a while. When will I find another chance to continue refining the Ten Thousand Ghosts Dark Yin Storm?

Fortunately, the Ten Thousand Serpents Yin Banner, though painstakingly slow to forge—unlike the swift Ten Thousand Ghosts Dark Yin Storm—has finally near completion after six decades. At least now I possess a true, formidable weapon for killing enemies and preserving my life.

Wu Rong watched as the three young disciples each summoned protective true qi shields with their spiritual power, constantly weaving hand seals to cast Qingyuan Sect spells, attempting to break through. A cruel, mocking sneer curled on his lips as his thoughts churned.

Beside the dead horse, Xia Daoming stared at the dark mist rolling low along the ground, his eyes thoughtful, not yet moving to act.

“Those three Qingyuan disciples only attacked when their airship drew within seven or eight zhang of the sorcerer. Clearly, their treasure’s ranged attacks, like a Master’s spiritual force taking form to kill from afar, are limited by distance.”

“The sorcerer’s black mist can only cover about an acre—meaning his demonic art’s killing and trapping range is confined within that mist.”

“My spiritual sense and force are now unified; I can project my force twelve zhang away and still control it fully. Beyond twelve zhang, my spiritual sense scatters, and I lose complete control—the power drops drastically.”

“So neither these three nor the sorcerer are truly formidable. But that black mist is peculiar—it actually taints their treasures, rendering them useless.”

“Yet from the man’s earlier cry, it seems spells cast directly with spiritual power aren’t tainted by the mist. So the mist can only affect treasures.”

“My spiritual force, and the Black Dragon Spear—this mist likely can’t taint them. If so, then for me, the mist would merely serve as a shield.”

“A shield? If my strength is great enough, I can break it. Still, caution first—I’ll wait and observe. These three are from Qingyuan Sect, one of the Three Great Cultivation Sects of Great Liang. They must have some survival tricks, unlike third-rate sect disciples like Ding Chushan.”

In the darkness, Xia Daoming watched the mist while his mind raced through calculations.

Xia Daoming had learned of Qingyuan Sect’s name from Ding Chushan.

—

While Wu Rong and the three young cultivators battled within the mist, and Xia Daoming lurked nearby observing, the battle for Li City had shifted.

After half their numbers fell, the soldiers’ fear of death completely overwhelmed their dread of Ma Tong.

Moreover, Ma Tong’s own situation had turned dire.

Though he’d finally reached the city gate, his Iron Blood Guards and the gray-robed elder had all fallen one by one—now he stood alone.

Standing beneath the gate, Ma Tong raised his long-handled golden hammer, about to smash it open—when shouts erupted from outside.

“Defeated! Defeated!”

“Run for your lives!”

Ma Tong whirled around—and nearly spat a mouthful of old blood.

Behind him, not a single soldier remained. All who were left had turned and fled in a panicked stampede.

Fortunately, the black mist still tightly trapped the three sudden attackers—otherwise, even Ma Tong would have turned and fled.

Ma Tong’s heart eased slightly.

The city gate crashed open, and a roar like dragon’s cry and tiger’s bellow rang out.

A brilliant white blade-light and a black spear-ray surged forth from the opened gate.

Ma Tong’s face turned ashen. He swung his hammer and tapped his toe against the ground, launching himself backward at high speed.

“Clang! Clang!”

A great sword and a long spear followed, bursting from the gate. Blade-rays and spear-points rained like a storm against the golden rock formations Ma Tong summoned.

The golden rock exploded instantly, dissolving into a furious wind that whipped up dust and shattered stones.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Behind Ji Yuanzhen and Liang Jingtang, Yu Chi Xiao and the other Tenglong Mansion disciples surged out with elite city defenders, flooding after the fleeing enemy troops.

The city defenders charged forward, hacking and slashing at the stragglers.

In an instant, the fleeing soldiers collapsed one after another.

Yet many had already fled too far—they seemed beyond capture.

Then, suddenly, countless shadows appeared like ghosts beyond the city walls.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Shouts of battle erupted all at once.

With pursuers behind and enemies ahead, the remaining fleeing soldiers were utterly desperate. Many threw down their weapons and raised their hands, screaming: “Don’t kill me! I surrender! I surrender!”

“Surrender? You devils who slaughtered countless innocent civilians dare ask for mercy? Dream on!” Yu Chi Xiao’s eyes blazed with malice. He charged forward, spear in hand, and skewered a kneeling soldier clean through.

“Leave none alive—kill them all!” Ji Shouli’s eyes burned red, his body radiating murderous aura. His blade rose and fell, heads rolling to the ground one after another.

Inside the black mist, Wu Rong watched the soldiers collapsing outside. Though he cared nothing for their lives, they were still on his side—and their crushing defeat filled him with humiliation and frustration.

Moreover, for the massacre of Li City and the hunt for pregnant women, he still needed lackeys.

If all these men were dead, how could he possibly scour every household in Li City alone to find pregnant women?

Thus Wu Rong’s face darkened with fury—he longed to kill a few city defenders just to vent his rage.

But unfortunately, the three Qingyuan disciples’ spells were strangely potent, and their resources were rich: each carried spirit stones.

They clutched spirit stones, continuously drawing spiritual energy to replenish their depletion, while casting spells—somehow holding back the ghost infants lurking within the Ten Thousand Ghosts Dark Yin Storm.

“Can’t drag this out. If Ma Tong falls and flees, those two Masters will be free to turn on me—I might end up defeated in a trivial way.” Wu Rong glanced toward Ma Tong’s direction. Seeing Ma Tong’s situation worsening under the two Masters’ assault, he grimly pulled out a curved blade of gleaming white bone, its hilt ending in a green-faced, fanged demon head.

Holding the bone-white demon-headed blade, Wu Rong did not throw it immediately. Instead, he slashed fiercely across his own wrist. Blood flowed down the blade’s edge, pooling at the demon head on the hilt.

The once-dead demon head, now stained with blood, came alive—its mouth opened, greedily sucking in the blood.

The blade grew even more bone-white, its body humming and trembling violently, as if eager to fly free.

Seeing this, Wu Rong tapped several points on his wrist to seal the bleeding, then launched the demon blade, pointing it at the red-clad woman far away.

The red-clad woman specialized in Fire Serpent Art—her serpents writhed wildly, flames blazing, highly lethal to yin spirits.

The white-clad man’s silver dragon, by contrast, had only average efficacy against yin spirits.

The demon blade unleashed a chilling, bone-white blade aura, piercing through the black mist toward the red-clad woman.

Before the blade even reached her, she felt a bone-chilling cold, and a shrill wailing echoed in her ears, making her soul tremble with dread.

The red-clad woman hastily commanded her fire serpents to intercept.

But the demon blade merely twisted in midair—the serpents snapped apart, dissolving into sparks.

The white-clad man immediately formed hand seals, pointing at the demon blade—a silver dragon rose, claws outstretched, lunging to strike it.

The white-robed man swiftly formed a hand seal and pointed at the ghost-headed sickle, whereupon a silver dragon coiled its claws and lunged toward the blade.

Only two strikes—and the silver dragon was also severed.

The blue-clad woman swiftly summoned a blue ice sword to block the demon blade.

The red-clad woman recovered and resumed casting Fire Serpent Art, charging forward again.

All three unleashed their spells together, jointly confronting the demon blade, while still diverting attention to the ghost infants’ claws emerging unpredictably from the mist.

Spiritual power poured out like a dam breaking. The spiritual energy drawn from their spirit stones could no longer keep pace with consumption.

“Bone Horror Blade! You’re Wu Rong!” The blue-clad woman suddenly remembered something—her face turned ashen, and she cried out.

“Tsk tsk, it seems I still have some reputation—even the Qingyuan Sect has heard my name.” Wu Rong let out a smug, mocking laugh.

“If this is the sorcerer, we can’t hold back anymore—unleash our treasures and break out!” The white-clad man finally realized the danger and snarled.

As he spoke, he pulled out again the silver sword, seemingly rusted and dull.

Gazing at the sword floating before him, the white-clad man’s eyes filled with anguish.

This sword was his most precious treasure—bought only after draining all his savings. A mid-tier magic treasure, his lifeline in battle—and now he must destroy it here. How could he not grieve?

The red-clad woman, equally pained, withdrew a red ribbon.

The blue-clad woman silently pulled out a mirror, releasing a blue water curtain to shield all three.

She had no influence in the sect—no offensive treasure at all. Even this low-tier defensive treasure, the Azure Wave Shadow Mirror, was something she’d found by accident.

With the blue-clad woman’s defense in place, the white- and red-clad disciples focused entirely on controlling their treasures, charging outward with all their might.

Wu Rong was ranked far down on Great Liang’s wanted list of demonic cultivators.

Yet even so, the three dared not continue fighting—they only wanted to break free.

For anyone on that list was not merely cruel, but possessed formidable skills.

Even the lowest-ranked demonic cultivator could not be underestimated.

Wu Rong’s Bone Horror Blade could, through weapon clashes, disturb the soul, causing opponents to lose composure and fight at only seven or eight tenths of their full strength.

Moreover, it was said the Bone Horror Blade could drain the victim’s blood essence, weakening them further with every strike.

That was precisely why the blue-clad woman had immediately unleashed the Azure Wave Shadow Mirror.

The three, willing to risk their treasures being tainted and damaged, unleashed everything—Wu Rong immediately felt immense pressure, his spiritual power beginning to drain rapidly.

The black mist churned violently.

Today’s update ends. Also, recommend a friend’s new book, “Riding the Kunlun,” currently climbing the rankings—if you enjoy it, please support it. Link below.

Today’s update is complete. Also, I recommend a new book by my author friend Zong Ma Kunlun, currently climbing the rankings—please support it if you enjoy it. The link is below.

(End of Chapter)