Chapter 535

Beneath the setting sun, sword light flared wildly, echoing with the roars of dragons, the howls of tigers, and the cries of cranes; golden sands rolled endlessly, resembling flying geese surging into the heavens.

The Jianghu is full of storms, entangled grudges and emotions; only in the clash of blade and sword can one briefly forget all turmoil, fixating on life that blooms at dawn and dies at dusk.

Dragon Soul Blade, Phoenix Blood Sword—each strike swift as lightning.

The Dragon-Slaying Saber and the Heaven-Relying Sword—nothing can withstand them.

The warrior held the demonic sword fused with his heart sword, transforming it into Ling Shuang Sword to meet the attack, but Zhang Sanfeng redirected it skyward with his gathered Taiji true qi, recreating chaos with yin-yang forces spanning miles.

Heaven and earth clashed, mountains trembled; a dawn sword rose slowly from the east, slicing through the sky to collide with a golden Buddha's palm descending from the western heavens.

"Auntie, why don't they go next door for the Immortal Dao exchange?" Yang Guo stood at the desert's edge with a group of warriors wielding swords, axes, and halberds, all wearing expressions of helplessness.

First time: awestruck. Second time: lost in thought. Third time: carefully observing. Fourth time: stepping forward to challenge. Fifteenth time: placed bet and stepped back. Twenty-second time: watching from the sidelines.

"Guo'er, but they truly are people of the Wu Lin," Xiao Longnü leaned against Yang Guo's left shoulder. "One day, you'll be able to do it too."

Guo Xiang nodded beside her: "They all use true qi and internal force—that's Wu Gong."

Boom—!!!

A fire meteor crashed behind them, kicking up a storm of dust.

"Damn, this Abi Luo Wang is really hard to convert. The girl was right."

From the smoke stepped a muscular man in black shorts, white-haired, bare-chested; he held a Buddhist offering, biting into a half-eaten roasted chicken.

"Everyone uses true qi and internal force—why deny we're of the Wu Lin? I'm A Xing. Frankly, you two are far more suited than the Divine Eagles Couple upstairs."

"Pah, this chicken's no good. Hey, anyone want to learn the Buddha's Palm? Private lesson: 100 each."

Before he finished speaking, a scholar grabbed him by the brush: "Buddha's head! You ruined my roast chicken without even brushing on sauce—how do you compensate?!"

"Brother Bo Hu, shall I teach you the Buddha's Palm?" A Xing asked.

"Get lost!" Tang Bohu slapped the sand, launching A Xing hundreds of meters away: "Buddha's Palm, First Form—Strike the Ox Through the Mountain. Learn well."

The crowd shook their heads; they were already used to this.

Not far away, a seemingly honest young man held an empty hand as if gripping an invisible sword; though no blade was present, sword techniques flowed endlessly.

"Shi Potian, three years gone—you've taken this step too."

"Big Brother Wu Ming, thanks to the ultimate art you taught me three years ago!"

Wu Ming nodded slightly; earlier, dueling his own reflection was good, but that old man had interrupted him. Though witnessing those two's sword intent deepened his sword sense, something was still missing—it wasn't satisfying enough.

"Come, let me see your current level!"

Wu Ming sensed the opponent's internal breath surging like an endless ocean; he immediately engaged him in battle.

"He got there first," Ye Gucheng turned, gazing at the two standing atop the clouds. "Shi Tianyun, attack together with your twin swords."

Sword qi chilled even marrow, as if time and space froze; blade light was flawless as blue sky and white clouds, while the Sun and Moon Swords merged into boundless, vast power, piercing heaven and earth.

Zhang Sanfeng sighed: "No wonder outsiders misunderstand us—the Sun and Moon Star Lords insist they're of the Wu Lin."

"Come down from the sky before you speak!" someone below in the desert shouted. "Aren't you a cultivator too?!"

"Didn't Miss Guo Xiang just say? Whoever uses true qi and internal force practices Wu Gong," Zhang Sanfeng chuckled, calm, flicking his dust whisk to blast away a violet lightning bolt.

"Old man, you're hundreds of years old and still eavesdropping on young girls?" A fat Daoist Priest, surrounded by Yi Guang Twin Swords, Zi Ying Sword, Qing Suo Sword, and numerous heavenly treasures, retorted.

"Chang Mei Zhenren, what are you doing here?" Zhang Sanfeng's eyes narrowed slightly.

Chang Mei Zhenren smiled: "Though I cultivate the Dao, I am also of the Wu Lin."

Among the onlookers of the Wu Lin, many glanced at their still-practicing Iron Sand Palm, tapped their Iron Shirt with a stone, then looked at the famous and obscure "Masters of the Martial Way," suddenly feeling their advancement hopeless.

Some even summoned eighteen colossal dragons, each a thousand zhang long, stirring tidal waves across the desert.

"They're the face of our Wu Lin, but every 'duel' is like this—I wish someone would rein them in."

Battle roared, sword rain filled the sky, strange phenomena erupted constantly; as weapons clashed, as if hearing their wish, the world suddenly showed a discordant blackness.

Like sudden drizzle descending from heaven, this strange dark rain did not nourish life but brought signs of destruction.

"Who?!"

Every warrior who had just been fighting froze mid-motion, forgetting to breathe, all turning at once to gaze at the space beside Zhang Sanfeng and Chang Mei Zhenren.

Earth shook, heavens cracked; ten thousand silver serpents writhed through the pitch-black sky, each flash of lightning seeming to carry the end of the world.

Black calamity stained the earth, yet coalesced midair into a sacred, peerless deity.

Six pitch-black wings, swallowing all color, fluttered gently; He spread His hands, His closed eyes barely opening, gazing with cold disdain upon the ten-thousand-foot mortal world.

"The mortal realm has grown foul again."

As His toe touched the earth, all light in the sky exploded!

In an instant, sword light, Buddha light, blood light, even the radiance of sun and moon—all dissolved into ash within the sudden ripples; the earth collapsed into a waterfall of tens of thousands of meters of flowing sand.

Weaker warriors couldn't even react; under this terrifying pressure, they fainted instantly, buried beneath the desert.

As if forbidding anyone to stand above Him, countless warriors could not even levitate with internal force or true qi—they all fell en masse to the ground.

"The Heavenly Wu Lin," Su Lin sighed, voice heavy with disappointment: "Is this all the strength you have?"

In response came dozens of sword qi capable of shattering void and cleaving chaos, alongside a dark-gold Buddha hand seal, lustrous as lapis, accompanied by chanting Buddhist mantras.

The phoenix-song of a zither tore through space; Taiji yin-yang manifested beneath His feet; Sword Saint Wu Ming exhausted his primordial qi, transforming into a crimson rainbow charging the demon god, surrounded by floating sword-blood yet wrapped in Wu Haoran's righteous qi, sealing time and space.

In an instant, the Sun and Moon True Flow spun inward from the twin swords rushing from either side, hidden among countless true qi swords, radiating fierce, destructive intent.

Fear?

Facing such a being, it was a natural instinct.

Yet these warriors, at the first moment, unleashed their strongest attacks with decades of martial memory—no holding back, even sacrificing their divine weapons to array before them, solely to grant stronger ones an opening.

Even so—

"You've done your best."

The magnificent, noble demon god raised His right hand; the distance of several meters became a heavenly abyss—all attacks, including those of Wu Ming and Chang Mei, were blocked; boundless light and heat surged into His palm.

"Mortal martial artists…"

Just a gentle push.

An unspeakable, overwhelming terror suddenly spread!

The heavens shattered, the sun and moon fell; torrents of destruction-light tore through the Cave Heaven World, instantly collapsing back into the Yinglong Tower—but even so, the destructive power brought by the Ashen Wings had not dissipated.

The fallen primordial authority of creation, the purest law of destruction, made the tower's space tremble, filled the universe with the unrelenting, unhidden aura of final annihilation.

Several cultivators wearing silver masks emerged from different parts of the Yinglong Tower, staring at the six-winged demon god on the Martial Arts Exchange Arena.

Su Lin looked around and noticed a few figures still standing firm with swords in hand after witnessing the apocalypse, or slowly rising shakily from the ground.

"You still possess some talent. Not bad."

Su Lin gave a slight nod, turned away, and fixed the arena staff with cold eyes: "Hmm?"

"This match is forfeited," the staff said, glancing at the list and swallowing hard: "The Heaven-Abandoning Emperor wins, but..."

"But what?" Su Lin asked.

"But this is the Martial Arts Exchange Competition!" the staff said, pointing to his left as he stared at Su Lin's black six wings: "That way is the area for Magic and Divine Exchange."

"I used True Qi and Nei Li—how is this not Martial Arts?"

With that, his palm oozed blackness, brimming with destruction; once the laws faded, the swirling energy at its center was undeniably True Qi—yet every single thread that escaped carried the power to shatter stars and crush moons.

"Hmph."

He clenched his right hand; terrifying True Qi shattered space and obliterated all things. A burst of white light flared on the noble figure's body, and he vanished from the arena.

The crowd grew larger; those who had fainted earlier awoke to see a strange scene.

The powerful martial artists all wore smiles, their eyes filled with indescribable joy. Even Ye Gucheng remained silent, polishing their weapons and refining their internal power to gather True Qi.

"Master, what's going on? Who won?"

A young boy ran to his master, timidly asking.

"Martial Arts won."

"Luxi."

"Fuck, do you think I've never seen that guy?"

A emperor clad in dragon robes hurried away with his guards; behind him, Constantin took a deep drag from his cigarette and burst into violent coughing.

"I admit that six-winged fallen angel was terrifying, but you can tell from his name—he's an Eastern deity."

What the hell is he talking about?

Constantin glanced at Gabriel, still dazed—the angel had brought back Angela, sworn never to cooperate with Mammon again, but demanded only that Constantin reveal his secrets to her and help her trace the origin of the weapons.

Saint Louis Church in this world had been turned upside down; Gabriel was certain Constantin still held other information, and Constantin wanted to ensure this mad angel wouldn't hand him and Angela over to Hell—so the man and the angel chose cooperation and signed a contract stricter than a life pact.

"Hey buddy, you know who that 'Heaven-Abandoning Emperor' really is? I bet you do."

Constantin grabbed a spectator who looked exhausted.

"The Supreme Martial God of Heaven," Shang Yue said.

Constantin turned to Gabriel beside him: "See? He practices martial arts. Why don't you learn too? I'll buy you a Wu Gong. Next time you see Luxi, you can use the 'Sterilizing Kick.'"

Gabriel shook her head, looking at Constantin: "Their existence and aura are extremely similar."

"But now we should find that monk," Constantin said.

"Who are you looking for, Constantin?" Shang Yue rubbed her temples. "Maybe I can help."

"Really? Our friendship always comes in handy at the critical moment, my good friend—help me find that Tang Dynasty monk who went to Heaven to retrieve the scriptures," Constantin smiled.

Who the hell wants to be your friend? If it weren't for you selling exorcism services in my tower every day, no dog would even look at you.

'But why is this guy looking for Tang Sanzang?'

Shang Yue glanced at the woman beside him, mentally called out Shang Xiaoyue, and learned through the backend that the woman had signed up for the Dark Dao Exchange Competition.

Dark... Dao?

"Only the monk who went to the Western Heavens for scriptures—this way," Shang Yue waved, leading ahead: "Hope you ensure your client's safety next time you take a job."

"I'll try."

"See, little brother? I didn't lie to you."

Su Lin patted Fang Zheng on the shoulder: "You didn't believe me when I said not to join the Martial Arts competition—you're a cultivator."

"Why did you send a clone to compete?" Fang Zheng asked, recovering from his earlier heart-stopping shock.

"One participant gets one prize. Three participants get three prizes. Look at the top ten rewards—I enter, I get three."

Su Lin handed his and Fang Zheng's identity tokens to the staff.

"Gu Yue Fang Yuan and Fang Zheng, this area is for Dao-discussion, not martial combat. Please state your preferred Dao techniques so I may register them."

"Cultivated insects."

"Cultivated insects? That's rare."

The staff peered inside and said: "This way, please. The next few cultivators, wait a moment—we're a bit short-handed... Hey, you few, where are you going?"

The student in uniform stopped.

"Teacher's taking attendance. Gotta go back to class."

The man in the Sui Xifu pushed his glasses up.

"Overtime at the company."

The staff felt baffled, but Dao-discussion was voluntary anyway.

Fang Zheng watched this scene and sighed helplessly: "Hey, big brother, this Tiancheng seems pretty sizable. What if you ever actually run into that demon lord using this name?"

"Simple. Kill him. You and I become our true bodies again," Su Lin said as if it were obvious.

"We don't actually know the Cultivated Insect Dao," Fang Zheng retorted.

He had no idea how he'd even talk to anyone later—give him time to order a set of Nanjiang insect techniques from Taobao.

"What are you doing?" Fang Zheng looked at Su Lin and saw a ball of white light glowing in his hand.

"Craft a fairy gu."

Su Lin kneaded the light cluster a few times, then infused it with the Law of Time, along with the authority of the Sky and Wind Dragon Kings, and several restarts of draconic alchemy, finally shaping out a green cicada radiating a soft, oily sheen.

"Spring-Autumn Cicada."

(End of Chapter)

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