Chapter 304: Purple Rosy Clouds Overthrown

Yun Feiyang and Leng Wanqing also rejoined the battle, forming a siege together with Du Ying Lao Ren.

Although Zixia Lao Zu was incredibly brave, under the siege of the crowd he gradually found himself overpowered.

His swordsmanship was exquisite and unparalleled, but his stamina was severely depleted.

Each swing of his sword seemed to exhaust all his strength.

The Ye Family Old Ancestor stood aside, coldly observing, as if waiting for something.

His eyes flickered with cunning and ruthlessness, sending a chill down one's spine.

The battle grew ever fiercer, and Zixia Lao Zu now found himself in dire straits.

"Purple Rosy Clouds Fill the Sky!"

Zixia Lao Zu suddenly shouted loudly, attempting to unleash a final strike.

He thrust out both palms, and a mighty surge of purple qi swept in all directions.

However, this attack failed to repel the enemies as he had hoped.

Yun Feiyang, Leng Wanqing, and the Ye Family Old Ancestor coordinated seamlessly, easily neutralizing Zixia Lao Zu's strike.

"Zixia Old Man, tonight is your death!"

Du Ying Lao Ren laughed sinisterly.

Saying that, he moved like a ghost, attacking Zixia Lao Zu.

As an assassin, Du Ying Lao Ren's killing sword technique was vicious and merciless; each strike aimed to take Zixia Lao Zu's life.

Zixia Lao Zu was already overtaxed, and his figure in the moonlight appeared increasingly lonely and helpless.

He tried to dodge the enemies' attacks, but each attempt proved extremely difficult.

His heart was filled with helplessness and sorrow; having roamed the martial world all his life, he ultimately met such an end.

At this point his body was covered in wounds, blood staining his clothes red.

He could only grit his teeth and cling to the final battle.

Finally, in a fierce clash, Zixia Lao Zu was pierced in the chest by Du Ying Lao Ren's sword.

He staggered back several steps, his face as pale as paper.

"Hahaha! Zixia Old Man, you have finally fallen into our hands!"

Zixia Lao Zu pressed tightly on the wound, blood seeping out between his fingers, dyeing his hands red.

He lifted his gaze to the four who besieged him, his eyes revealing a hint of regret and sorrow.

"I, Zixia, have lived an upright and honorable life; though I die tonight, I have no regrets!"

Zixia Lao Zu spoke proudly, his voice filled with endless sorrow and helplessness: "It's just a pity that I couldn't personally witness the brilliance of this great era."

Having said that, he slowly closed his eyes, as if recalling his lifelong journey through the martial world.

Moonlight showered upon Zixia Lao Zu's body, illuminating his tragic and desolate figure.

His eyes gradually lost their luster, yet the corner of his mouth held a faint smile.

Suddenly, Zixia Lao Zu opened his eyes, erupting with his last vitality as he charged at the enemies.

His swordplay grew even more fierce, as if seeking to place all his enemies in deadly peril.

Yet, his wounds were too severe, and he ultimately could not turn the tide.

Under the crowd's siege, his movements grew sluggish, and he was finally run through by a sword.

Zixia Lao Zu's figure collapsed heavily, kicking up a cloud of dust.

His eyes remained open, as if gazing upon the martial world he loved so deeply.

A line of clear tears slid from the corner of his eye, merging with the soil.

The four besiegers remained silent, as if infected by Zixia Lao Zu's tragic heroism.

Perhaps they once had grudges and entanglements with Zixia Lao Zu.

But now they had turned into boundless grief and respect.

The night wind gently swept across the battlefield, carrying away Zixia Lao Zu's tragedy and sorrow.

Moonlight like water fell upon Zixia Lao Zu's motionless body, as if draping him in a thin veil of silver.

All around was silence, only the sound of wind and people's breaths echoing in the air.

Yun Feiyang and Leng Wanqing silently put away their weapons, a flicker of complex emotion crossing their faces.

Du Ying Lao Ren coldly gazed at Zixia Lao Zu's corpse, his expression indifferent yet tinged with a hint of respect.

And the Ye Family Old Ancestor drew a deep breath, slowly walked to Zixia Lao Zu's side, lowered his head, and gazed upon his former opponent.

Their gazes met in the moonlight, as if speaking of the grudges and emotional debts of the martial world.

"You old immortal, you ultimately went ahead first."

The Ye Family Old Ancestor murmured, his voice hinting at a touch of regret.

He reached out to wipe Zixia Lao Zu's eyes, then Ye Ming turned around.

"May you rest in peace beneath the Nine Springs."

As the Ye Family Old Ancestor's words fell, the atmosphere on the battlefield grew even more solemn.

Everyone stood silently in place, as if mourning Zixia Lao Zu.

Moonlight like water poured down upon this silent battlefield, illuminating every face.

And just as Zixia Lao Zu fought to the death on the summit of Purple Rosy Clouds Mountain,

beneath Purple Rosy Clouds Mountain, in a hidden underground passage, several figures silently appeared.

Their clothing was tattered, their faces gaunt, as if they had endured countless hardships and frosts.

"Senior Brother!" a mournful cry shattered the silence of the passage, filled with endless grief and despair: "Our masters, and our Purple Rosy Clouds Dao Sect, are all gone… all gone… wuu wuu!"

That was a somewhat youthful voice, its tone revealing an indescribable sorrow.

The person called senior brother, a flicker of reluctance and determination flashed in his eyes.

He was the second son of the Purple Rosy Cloud Sect Leader, An Zixiang.

Once, he too was a vigorous youth.

Yet now, his shoulders bore the hope and future of all the Purple Rosy Cloud Orphans.

And his elder brother, the eldest son of the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect Leader, was also the sect's eldest senior brother.

Following their father, who was both the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect Leader and the Purple Rosy Cloud Ancestor, they were buried together on the summit of Purple Rosy Cloud Mountain.

As the master of Purple Rosy Cloud Mountain for countless years.

Facing this situation where a storm looms.

Naturally, the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect Leader and the Purple Rosy Cloud Ancestor would not fail to make preparations.

Moreover, when it comes to familiarity with the various terrains of Purple Rosy Cloud Mountain.

Even if the Night Fiend Army doubled in number, they might not be able to capture these seeds prepared by the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect.

"Junior brother, do not be overly sorrowful."

"Although the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect has suffered this great calamity, as long as we remain alive, the sect's spark will not be extinguished."

He walked slowly to the side of the grieving junior brother, lightly patted his shoulder, his voice low and full of strength.

"Senior brother, what should we do?"

"Master, elders, and senior brothers are all gone; we… do we still have hope to rebuild the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect?"

As his words fell, another little junior sister could not help but tears stream down her face, speaking with a choked voice.

"Junior sister, you must believe; as long as our will is steadfast and we inherit our master's dying wishes, the spirit of the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect will surely endure."

An Zixiang drew a deep breath, his eyes flashing with determined light.

In the underground passage's air, heaviness and sorrow lingered, yet within this sorrowful atmosphere, a new strength quietly grew.

The senior brother looked around, seeing these fellow junior brothers and sisters who once trained together, a feeling beyond words welled up in his heart.

These people are the last seeds of the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect.

They are also the hope for rebuilding the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect in the future.

"Today's pain is etched deep into the bone; but we must remember, sorrow is not the end, but a new beginning."

"The inheritance of the Purple Rosy Cloud Dao Sect now rests solely on us."

He slowly opened his mouth, his voice revealing endless sorrow and resolve.

(End of Chapter)