Chapter 48: Chapter Forty-Eight: Zhu Gaoyang

In truth, even if Zhu Gaoyang had come, Pei Ye couldn’t imagine what he could do.

Back then, in full condition, he had fought three at once—killed one, yet barely escaped with his life; now, grievously wounded, though one opponent was gone, a beast had joined them—how could he possibly respond?

Pei Ye sighed inwardly and withdrew his gaze from the horizon.

But as he pulled it back, he suddenly froze—he saw no Zhu Gaoyang, yet he noticed the posture of the two purple-robed men.

They, too, seemed alert to the valley’s exterior.

Pei Ye’s heart sank—what did this mean? Did they also know Zhu Gaoyang was coming?

At this final step, the Candle World Sect had planned for years—their “ultimate weapon” was about to be born; vigilance was natural. But their vigilance was too pointed, as if they knew with absolute certainty that someone was coming to disrupt things right here, right now.

Zhang Siche hadn’t just told me… wait—telepathic transmission!

Pei Ye’s thoughts halted here.

Could a top-tier master intercept telepathic transmission?

Had every word Zhang Siche whispered in the cave been overheard?

Pei Ye’s heart sank completely.

At that moment, a telepathic voice echoed in his ear: “Hurry and activate it! What you hold isn’t a defense talisman—it’s a teleportation talisman!”

Fuck, still using telepathic transmission!

Pei Ye’s heart and lungs stopped. What confirmed his suspicion was this: the instant the voice reached him, the two purple-robed men snapped their heads around, their gazes locking onto him.

The next instant, they were before him.

Hair standing on end, Pei Ye had no time to think—he immediately poured Qi into the iron talisman.

Pei Ye felt a sudden silence at his ears.

The air around him seemed instantly emptied; he even felt a touch of suffocation.

It was like an oil peddler floating calmly on a small puddle, suddenly drenched from above by a bucket of water.

Pei Ye, at the center, was that oil peddler.

Upside down, whirlwind and storm—he was flung to the ground in an instant; the two purple-robed men also flew apart, like two sheets of purple cloth swept away by gales.

Violent, immense, dense sword qi erupted from him, shattering the entire battlefield in an instant.

Pei Ye’s first thought: So this is how mountains are torn apart.

His second thought: Bullshit defense talisman! Bullshit teleportation talisman!!

So I was meant to play Zhu Gaoyang!

Then where was the real Zhu Gaoyang?

At the moment Pei Ye formed this thought, Zhang Siche’s Qi coalesced into clouds.

The clouds thinned into filaments, which curled into a lantern woven of silk, enveloping him.

“Spirit Illuminates the World; Dust Knows No Restraint.”

A clear, ethereal voice rang out; Zhang Siche formed a single hand seal, like a celestial descending, posture expansive, face solemn.

Everything was now explained—he had drawn everyone’s attention, while the one feigning death gained the chance to cast the spell.

Zhu Gaoyang!

Zhu Gaoyang!

He hadn’t been too late to take Zhang Siche away—he had teleported the real Zhang Siche away, and assumed his form to remain here!

No matter what Pei Ye thought now, Zhu Gaoyang had already set his target.

His next move was Qiongqi.

The Candle World Sect’s most core element had never been the light cocoon—even if this ultimate victor had been forged from hundreds of lives over fifty years.

Nourishment and incubation sites could always be replaced; only the seed was irreplaceable.

Zhu Gaoyang never intended to kill it here—that was impossible. He meant to use divine art to take Qiongqi away, then kill it at leisure.

When he told Pei Ye in the cave that preparation time was insufficient and he might not have time to take a third person, it was indeed the truth.

But the one ahead of Pei Ye wasn’t “Zhang Siche”—it was Qiongqi.

So he had half-tricked Pei Ye: yes, he used Pei Ye to draw attention, but if Pei Ye had truly seized this chance to flee, the Candle World Sect’s subsequent pursuit would center on Zhu Gaoyang, who carried Qiongqi—not Pei Ye.

At least the two purple-robed men wouldn’t join the chase.

At this moment, the purple-robed men, distracted by Pei Ye and pushed back by sword qi, couldn’t return to aid Qiongqi; Zhu Gaoyang had already stepped before it, one palm reaching for its mane to take it away.

In that instant, Zhu Gaoyang fully revealed the pressure of a Crane List master; Qiongqi wasn’t entirely powerless, but it could not possibly evade the touch of his hand.

And once taken away, into a one-on-one confrontation, Zhu Gaoyang’s absolute strength surpassed Qiongqi’s.

Qiongqi’s tiger eyes widened; at this critical moment, it opened its mouth wide and spat out a radiant, pearl-like object, which stretched into a beam of light, striking straight for Pei Ye’s abdomen.

Zhu Gaoyang reacted instantly, sharply altering his trajectory to pursue it.

But Pei Ye had no time to react—the pearl-like object, half-flesh, half-metal, slammed into his abdomen; pain flared, and the light cocoon inside his belly, impatient, tore open his skin to welcome it in.

Pei Ye had just gritted his teeth and looked down—two You blue tentacles still writhed outside his belly—when the wind ahead intensified sharply. He raised his head: Zhu Gaoyang’s towering figure stood before him.

Zhu Gaoyang’s original intent was to draw the purple-robed men near Pei Ye, leaving Qiongqi temporarily isolated, making it easier for him to take it.

But the situation had changed abruptly—the seed and the light cocoon now both resided within Pei Ye; to take Pei Ye away now, he had to deliberately expose his back to the two purple-robed men.

A heavy palm struck his spine—he spat a gout of crimson blood, while the tip of a sword wreathed in Qi pierced through his chest.

But the next instant, his strong hand gripped Pei Ye’s shoulder; Qi scattered like fireworks, and both vanished from the scene.

…

…

The Xincang Mountain range rose like pillars piercing the heavens.

The sky gradually shifted: farthest east, a patch of white; beyond it, a dim blue; further still, gray, deepening into a black curtain.

People always praise towering peaks as piercing the blue heavens, overlooking the clouds—but they never compare the height of the sky to mountains.

Because the sky truly towers higher than all mountains.

This isn’t really humanity’s fault; constrained by perspective, observers always look up at these colossal pillars that seem to reach the clouds.

People cannot stand atop the sky to gaze down upon these mere lumps of earth; the sky naturally forgave this lesser thing praising another lesser thing for its presumption.

And during Pei Ye’s experience of this divine art, he seemed for an instant to glimpse the sky’s perspective.

The myriad mountains and valleys—natural barriers to mortals—were crossed in a single step, like pebbles.

But this lofty sensation lasted only an instant; the next moment, dense branches slapped against his body, the world spun wildly, sounds of rustling, snapping twigs, falling leaves, and startled night birds erupted chaotically.

Then his back slammed hard—he realized he had landed on the ground, but immediately after, a near-vertical slope sent him tumbling headlong into darkness.

Pei Ye didn’t know if it was a ten-foot slope or a hundred-foot cliff; he frantically grabbed at anything for purchase, his mind frantic—If I can’t adjust in time, fine, but you, Zhu Gaoyang, a master—why don’t you pull me up?

Then he grabbed a limp arm.