Chapter 81: My Lord, Save Me

The sudden pause of the Angry Sword Elder allowed Hong Lei to finally breathe easier.

He stepped back several paces, adjusted his breath, and found his sword hand numb from the sword aura’s vibration.

Ssssh—

In a single breath, over a dozen chains instantly wrapped around the Silver Thread Elder’s limbs and waist, and the Golden Eagle Captains seized this hard-won opportunity, finally pinning him in place.

The Elder still looked utterly unconcerned.

He merely lowered his head, gazing deeply at the longsword in his hand; facing this old companion of three hundred years, his cloudy eyes suddenly filled with threads of hatred.

The two characters “Qingfeng” on the blade seemed like a nightmare piercing his heart.

“I should never have entered the Sword Pool to take you.”

His voice, thin and hoarse as a throat long deprived of water, carried heavy self-mockery.

Upon hearing the name “Sword Pool,” many Captains showed expressions of surprise.

This sacred place had nurtured numerous Golden Core experts for Qingfeng Mountain, sustaining its millennia-long prosperity and making it one of Qingzhou’s most renowned sects—even they had heard of it.

Hong Lei seemed to guess something, his gaze turning complex as he looked over; the man had consorted with demons and was now on the verge of death, nearly costing his entire group dearly—there was no longer any need to speak to a dead man.

Yet he couldn’t help but say: “The Demon Suppression Bureau may be harsh, your life always hanging by a thread, but at least this cultivation base...”

His words cut off abruptly.

The Elder suddenly plunged his sword into the ground, then raised his palm and struck decisively, gathering all his formidable aura into his palm.

Crack!

The five-foot-long sword snapped cleanly in half.

Sparse silver strands fluttered; his withered face was utterly lifeless, his cloudy eyes now covered in white cataracts—clearly, all vitality was gone.

Below the cliff, a group of disciples clutching torches, hastily trying to flee, gradually halted their steps, their faces filled with despair.

The Elder had told them to run fast once he and the demons became entangled with the Demon Suppression Bureau... but they had barely descended the cliff via the back path when they witnessed the old man’s suicide.

They gazed distantly at the aura hovering in the air—a vivid crimson that unsettled their spirits.

The old man was using this method to warn them to stop.

That masked young man with the slung blade, strong enough to fight demons while still suppressing the Elder from afar, still had energy to spare—he wouldn’t mind summoning another storm of aura to crush them all.

At that moment, wails echoed through the cliff!

A chilling figure burst forth from the strange flames.

It was less a wound exposing bone than a skeleton with scraps of flesh clinging to it.

The Turtle Dragon’s armor was less than one-tenth intact, its flat skull missing nearly half, as if burned away by fire; its eyes held only that tall, slender figure.

“Die!!!”

It scrambled forward with all limbs.

Just a little closer, and it could clamp its body around the opponent, turning its furious rage into overwhelming force, tearing him apart completely.

Shen Yi breathed steadily, watching the approaching Turtle Dragon, his feet suddenly spreading apart.

His five fingers clenched tight, the tattered sleeves fluttering.

One punch launched—aimed straight at the meridians surging across the demon’s body!

Boom! The demon staggered, the struck spot instantly numb! Boom boom boom! His fists rained like a storm, forcing the Turtle Dragon back step by step until—pfft!—his fingers pierced its abdomen.

When he pulled them out, his fingertips clutched a blood-dripping demonic core.

The demon’s body collapsed with a crash; even as it died, the remaining blood-evil demonic fire still licked its bones, hissing softly.

【Slain: Turtle Dragon at Jade Fluid Realm’s Peak. Lifespan: 1,820 years. Remaining lifespan: 763 years. Fully absorbed.】

Since eliminating the River Demon, Shen Yi had not seen such a prompt in a long time—he felt a faint sense of familiarity.

He then looked helplessly at his arm, several gashes revealing glimpses of white bone.

Not all demons rush in blindly; the hidden tail the demon had concealed could kill even a martial artist of the same realm if one slipped up.

Fortunately, he possessed the Heavenly Gang Blood Evil as a devastating weapon; compared to his earlier self, the damage this technique now inflicted was more than ten times greater... but the upper limit of Jade Fluid martial arts had been reached.

Shen Yi’s desire for new martial arts grew stronger—he would carefully select one upon returning.

Having thought this through, he turned his gaze toward the group of Captains approaching him.

“Brother Shen... you truly shocked me.”

Hong Lei’s expression was complex, desperately searching his mind for praise, yet he couldn’t hide the horror in his eyes.

What was there to praise?

Even Lin Baiwei herself could not have done more.

That girl was the Regional Commander’s direct disciple, unquestionably the top young talent in Qingzhou—and in Hong Lei’s eyes, her position was already beginning to feel undeserved.

Because even now, Shen Yi showed no signs of exhaustion...

Slaying a thousand-year demon, and casually intimidating the Angry Sword Elder—each feat alone was terrifying, let alone both happening together.

“I’ve got some healing ointment here—use it first.”

Hong Lei’s expression was odd; he’d assumed this was a death sentence, yet the only one injured was the strongest among them.

As he spoke, a thud suddenly came from behind.

All the Golden Eagle Captains dropped to one knee, fists raised above their heads in salute, silent for a moment, then rose in unison.

Those who entered the Inner Camp all came from families whose names were known throughout Qingzhou.

Compared to ordinary Outer Camp Captains, they were more arrogant—but on this mission, under Zhao Kanglin’s command, they had lost all dignity.

Hong Lei let out a bitter laugh: “These brats are truly disgusting when they want to be... grateful to you, yet they won’t hide it.”

“We’re comrades—no need to take it to heart.”

Shen Yi took the ointment and applied it to his wounds, paying it little mind.

The habits of Qingzhou youths could be seen clearly in Li Mujin: they truly showed gratitude, and weren’t stingy—but their aristocratic airs ran deep, and whatever they offered always carried the scent of their families; one misstep and you’d be dragged into their webs.

“Hong Lei’s a rough man—anytime you need something, just call.”

Hong Lei nodded, turning his gaze toward the Qingfeng Mountain disciples afar, leading the group over.

The young disciples kept their heads bowed, their expressions lifeless.

“Go back—do you expect me to invite you?”

Hong Lei waved his hand irritably; this whole mess was utterly frustrating.

Over a dozen Golden Eagle Captains had died because Zhao Kanglin disobeyed orders and stormed the Sword Gorge.

Then Zhao Kanglin died.

Killed by demons he had consorted with.

The guilty Angry Sword Elder had exhausted his own life force... so the blame fell squarely on Qingfeng Mountain.

“My lord, save me...”

A cowardly disciple collapsed to the ground, clinging to Hong Lei’s leg.

“You yourself poured your essence into the Sword Pool, you yourself nurtured the blade, you took every benefit—now you want me to save you?” Hong Lei gritted his teeth, yanking him up, his voice dropping lower.

“General Chen forbade you from leaving for a reason—I served under him. If he didn’t care about your lives, do you think he cared about mine?”

“Go back. Don’t make this harder for me.”

He patted the boy’s back, frowning tightly.

(End of Chapter)