Chapter 43: Give My Mount Huaguo a Pair of Chopsticks

Two fingers.

The golden knuckles, like poured Divine Iron, grip the two innate killing swords, the Yuan Tu Sword and the A Bi Sword, with a deathly hold.

The blade trembles.

It's not excitement, it's Fear Heart Demon.

"Impossible!"

Ming He, the elder ancestor, doesn't bother the blood at his mouth corner, and frantically presses the technique with both hands.

These two swords, accompanied by countless Yuan Assemblies in the Blood Sea, have long been refined to a man‑sword unity; how could anyone catch them with bare hands?

"Explode for the elder!"

A fierce resolve flashes in Ming He's eyes.

Rather than be taken, it's better to detonate the killing aura in the sword and blast this monkey's hand to pieces.

"Hum—"

Two mournful sword cries reverberate through the nether.

The pale killing aura on the Yuan Tu Sword turns into tens of millions of fine needles, frantically stabbing Sun Wukong's finger‑palm skin; the A Bi Sword spews black corrosive toxic mist, trying to seep into his meridians through the pores.

Space is ripped open with a dense web of black fissures.

Sun Wukong doesn't even furrow his brows.

"Itchy?"

He thrusts his palm forcefully.

"Crack!"

The protective sword aura shatters like an eggshell.

The originally razor‑sharp blade, under this grip, oddly emits a twisted sound that makes one's teeth ache.

"Pfft."

A strand of golden blood drips down Sun Wukong's palm.

It truly is an innate supreme spirit treasure; if it were ordinary iron it would have turned to powder, yet these swords are indeed sharp enough to cut through the skin of the Chaotic Demon God.

But that's all.

The moment that golden blood appears, it seems to gain sentience, turning into golden flame that sizzles as it burns away the filthy killing aura on the blade.

"Fine sword."

Sun Wukong grins, showing a set of white teeth.

"Hard enough, just right to give the old monkeys of Mount Huaguo as a cane."

Ming He feels a sharp pain in his Original Spirit.

It's the backlash from his life‑bound treasure having its imprint forcibly erased.

Sun Wukong simply doesn't heed Irrational.

He also doesn't use any exquisite refining technique.

He relies on the overwhelmingly domineering Chaotic Demon God Primordial Source within his body, brutally surging into the sword's interior, flushing out all of Ming He's divine consciousness imprints like flushing a toilet, crushing them all.

"Wow!"

Ming He spits out another mouthful of old blood, his aura sagging to the extreme.

His connection with the two swords is severed.

"Catch it!"

Sun Wukong casually tosses the black A Bi Sword backward.

The blade slices through the void, humming with wind, heading straight for Kong Xuan's face.

Kong Xuan's eyelid twitches.

A flash of five‑colored divine light behind him smoothly pulls the A Bi Sword into his sleeve.

"Rotten dead."

Kong Xuan shakes his sleeve disdainfully, as if he had caught a dead fish.

"Take it back, wash it with Divine Water, and give it to that fool Jin Peng for toothpicking."

Ming He feels his heart bleeding.

It's a priceless killing treasure!

It's something even Saints envy!

In the mouths of these two demons, it's either a cane or a toothpick?

"Too much deceit!"

Ming He, using the force of spitting blood, leaps backward in a sudden retreat.

Since he can't win, he runs.

As long as he plunges into the Blood Sea Eye, which leads straight to the filthy earth of the deepest nether, even Saints would not want to stain the karma there.

"Blood Escape!"

Ming He erupts, turning into countless drops of blood rain, blasting outward in all directions.

Each drop of blood is him.

As long as a single drop escapes, after a short time he can reform himself.

"Trying to run?"

Sun Wukong doesn't even glance at the rain of blood filling the sky.

He leisurely plants the Yuan Tu Sword into his lower back, freeing his hand, and rummages in his chest.

He pulls out a purple‑golden gourd.

This thing looks extremely unappealing.

Its surface is pitted and hollow, as if it had been kicked like a ball for tens of thousands of years, and a rotten wooden plug was carelessly jammed into the gourd's mouth.

This was tossed to him by Bodhi before descending the mountain.

It was said to have been used for storing wine before, but later, being deemed leaky, it was thrown into a junk pile to gather dust.

"Old thing."

Sun Wukong pulled out the wooden plug and shouted a roar toward the sky‑filled blood rain.

"Ming River!"

The voice was not loud.

Yet it carried a strange causal rhythm, completely ignoring spatial distance, resonating deep within the Original Spirit of every droplet‑clone of Ming River.

The frantically fleeing Ming River instinctively sensed someone calling its soul.

Such a summons originating from the true spirit layer is utterly uncontrollable.

"Who…"

Ming River subconsciously replied with a single word.

It's over.

At the instant he uttered the sound.

The cracked gourd's mouth suddenly generated a black hole.

No raging wind.

No suction.

Only a rule.

A domineering rule called "If you agree, you must come in".

The sky‑filled blood rain seemed to have been pressed on reverse.

Whether they had fled a thousand li away or had just burrowed into the soil, all were frozen, then rewound and returned.

"No!!"

Ming River's desperate Cànjiào just rang out, then was stretched and warped.

All the clones, Blood God Son, and Primordial Source, at the moment they approached the gourd's mouth, were compressed to the extreme.

"Swoosh."

The final beam of blood light vanished into the gourd.

Sun Wukong casually shoved the rotten wooden plug back in.

He shook it in his hand.

"Splash splash."

A water sound emanated from within.

"It sounds like a lot of water; I wonder if it can turn into pus water."

Sun Wukong slung the gourd over his waist and patted his belly.

"Done."

The entire Netherworld was a patch of Deathly Silence.

Qin Guang Wang lay on the city wall, his dislocated jaw feeling nothing.

That was the ancient ancestor of Ming River!

A ruthless being who has lived since Pangu opened the heavens, famed as the "Sea of Blood never dries, Ming River never dies" tough candy.

Just like that…

Gone?

Stuffed into a broken gourd, not even a bubble emerged?

Kong Xuan flew over, his gaze at the gourd looking somewhat odd.

"This also came from that old man?"

"Hmm."

Sun Wukong scratched his head.

"Master said this gourd is useless except for holding wine; seems they fooled me."

Kong Xuan's mouth twitched.

This gourd contains top‑tier spatial and causal rules; even a Heavenly Dao Saint trapped inside might not emerge for a while.

In that person's eyes, it was merely a leaky‑wine junk?

Sun Wukong turned around.

He looked down at the largely dried Sea of Blood.

And those trembling, bewildered remnants of the Asura clan.

"Since the boss is gone."

Sun Wukong lifted the Golden Cudgel, his tone gentle.

"You youngsters, who has any objection?"

Countless Asura warriors, along with the lucky demon lords who hadn't been burned, all knelt down in unison.

They dared not even lift their heads.

That scene just now had completely shattered their courage.

Even the invincible ancestor was captured like a bug; they amount to nothing.

"Willing to surrender!"

"I wish to serve the Great Sage as my lord!"

Deafening pleas for mercy reverberated over the empty sea of blood.

Sun Wukong curled his lip.

"No vigor."