Chapter 89

Yue Muzhou gritted his teeth and swung one final sword; the power of “Heaven and Earth United as One” still lingered, and the Immortal Lord’s shattered body was severed again and flung backward.

Then he swayed, leaning against a tree as he slowly collapsed, breathing with the last of his true qi.

The Immortal Lord likewise crashed into the tree, his hollow, bone-like frame sliding down, flesh and bone flowing to adjust balance and support, reassembling itself into a standing form.

The body through which the sword qi had passed seemed scorched by molten iron; His head was grotesquely mangled, nearly reduced to a skeleton, yet those twin golden pupils still gazed with cold disdain.

The arm clutching the pearl had lost all flesh, as if melted and dripping—black scales, deep blue, and blood-red smeared into a garish mosaic, sharp bones gripping the pearl like a demon’s claw.

Just as Yue Muzhou had nearly been crushed by a single punch moments ago, the Immortal Lord’s mighty body had now truly crossed the line between life and death.

But Yue Muzhou had no strength left to strike another sword.

Yue Muzhou had undoubtedly won this battle, yet he had lost to his own body—the broken vessel that had clung to life for eighteen years.

Though the Immortal Lord had lost this fight, His purpose had never been to defeat or kill the man before Him, but to destroy the thorn embedded in this life-thread.

Now it was held within His grasp.

The pearl was clear and luminous, still stained with fresh blood, warm to the touch.

Within it flickered faint, coral-like radiance, invisible to the naked eye, but to the Dragon’s gaze, the coral appeared tender and fragile, like the delicate stamen within a bud.

Because it had just been removed from its previous master’s abdomen, the energy surrounding it had not yet dispersed, yet it had immediately slipped into dormancy.

In this state, it was indestructible, capable of enduring for thousands upon thousands of years, awaiting its next master’s awakening.

A hard, translucent layer encased it, like amber-like liuli; it had formed in an instant of peril, weaving every ounce of energy it could command into a protective shell.

The Immortal Lord extended his other hand and beckoned toward Fenghuai County.

Simultaneously, the bony claw clutching the pearl slowly tightened, replaying the moment when it had pierced Zhanxin—dragon’s blood crystallized into sharp frost flowers, slowly creeping up the pearl’s luminous surface.

The outermost layer of defense instantly emitted a hiss like quenching steel; frost and true qi clashed once more.

But this time, the dragon’s blood frost was far weaker than when it had pierced Zhanxin; it no longer surged with the ferocious, thousand-fold assault of venomous dragon serpents—this latest wound had visibly weakened the Immortal Lord.

Yet the dragon’s blood pressed forward steadily and slowly; gradually, the frost-blue engulfed the entire surface, the “sizzling” sound faded, silence followed, then the pearl emitted a soft “crack”—the frost and true qi shell shattered into fragments, peeling away like an eggshell.

The pure, luminous core was exposed.

Next, not only the sharp dragon’s blood, but also the frostfire wrapped around it; through hundreds and thousands of cycles of extreme heat and freezing, the pearl finally cracked open a fine fissure.

For the first time, the Immortal Lord’s eyes revealed something that could be called “emotion.”

A satisfaction of purpose fulfilled.

He clenched His claws, focusing all His remaining power upon that fissure—suddenly, His body became utterly unresponsive!

Even the dragon’s blood and frostfire began to slowly recede.

From the woods, a black cat stepped forward, stepping on dry leaves, its emerald eyes lifting to stare at Him with flat, cold intensity.

The Immortal Lord lowered His head; flesh on His neck coalesced into a chi-head, which seized the pearl and tossed it before the black cat.

The black chi, also possessing the [Chunshou], had carefully hidden itself within Qiongqi flesh since ancient times, and now, at last, revealed its presence without concealment—like a spy striking only at the most fatal moment.

In the instant this soul was exposed, the Immortal Lord’s consciousness violently crushed down; even reduced to half by Zhanxin and shattered in its host by Yue Muzhou, erasing it would take only a few breaths.

But the black chi clung fiercely to control of its body, refusing to let Him move freely.

A white shadow flashed like a startled swan!

Zhanxin severed the Immortal Lord’s head.

But before the head could fall, it liquefied and flowed back into the body.

The real damage lay in the soul—the black chi immediately felt the consciousness tearing at it had grown markedly weaker.

“Not enough!” the black cat closed its eyes, furrowed its brow, and roared.

Zhanxin trembled in agony; Ming Qitian swung her second sword with blinding speed, driving it deep into the Immortal Lord’s chest.

This time, a tendril of flame lunged at her; Ming Qitian did not dodge or retreat, relying on her true qi to endure the searing burn, then swung again.

The black chi had already told her: its restraint over the Immortal Lord was severely limited; the most precious thing was time.

“Again!” The force attacking her was slashed again; the black chi’s own consciousness was on the verge of collapse.

Ming Qitian stabbed once more, piercing the divine seed—this strike was devastating!

The black chi felt the pressure nearly vanish; it mustered its last strength for a counterstrike.

“Strike here again!”

The black chi’s soul shattered completely, yet in its final glance, the cold, haughty consciousness had become as frail as a candle in the wind.

“Just one more strike!” it cried in its final moment.

Ming Qitian calmly thrust her sword forward.

But the sword did not pierce.

As if an iron curtain had suddenly descended from the sky.

The forest darkened for an instant; something flew overhead, as if a flock of birds had blotted out the light.

The black cat, freed from its grip on the Immortal Lord, opened its eyes and looked up—its body froze cold.

Not birds.

But blue liquid—or more accurately, dragon’s blood.

Vast quantities of dragon’s blood, torrents of it, cascaded down like a waterfall, drowning the Immortal Lord’s shattered form.

Ming Qitian was already wounded; though she poured every last ounce of strength into her thrust, she could not pierce this flood. She gritted her teeth, pressing the hilt forward, white true qi bursting like a lotus.

Yet the blade did not advance an inch; instead, something surged within the waterfall—in an instant, the boiling dragon’s blood exploded outward, hurling her away.

Ming Qitian staggered two steps beside the black cat, then raised her head, gazing with it at this scene that plunged the heart into despair.

They were the creatures of the city, corrupted by the dragon’s saliva rain.

Cats, dogs, pigs, cows, donkeys, horses… and of course, humans.

A feast.

The Immortal Lord’s shattered body became a bottomless pit, swallowing every drop of falling dragon’s blood; at the same time, His feeble aura surged upward—though far from restored to peak, He was no longer something Ming Qitian could confront.

Only one final strike of Zhanxin remained.

Even if His body was mighty, with the divine seed shattered, His consciousness had no place to repair itself.

Within this reformed body, that sliver of consciousness must still flutter, as frail as a candle in the wind.

Just one sword!

But before this restored, mighty dragon body, who could deliver that final strike?

“I will.”

A withered voice spoke.

Ming Qitian turned; a withered hand rested upon her shoulder.

Not rested—supported; his entire body seemed ready to collapse.

Merely walking here had drained all his true qi.

“Sword… true qi… give me,” Yue Muzhou gasped weakly, his lungs like a broken bellows. “The sword I promised to teach you this morning—watch closely.”