Chapter 47: In an Instant, One Thousand Five Hundred Cuts!

In a rage, Wang Bing pulled out his last resort at any cost.

As Lu Jin had predicted, Wang Ai had indeed prepared something for Wang Bing.

But it was not the Wang family’s ancestral divine art, Shentu, but several powerful spirits!

These spirits, whether used as expendables or as spirit-substances to directly boost his qi and strength, were Wang Ai’s guaranteed winning cards for Wang Bing.

But unfortunately, after taking two consecutive strikes of Wu Lei Zheng Fa from Luo Fu, Wang Bing, consumed by fury, had long forgotten Wang Ai’s instructions.

Glaring at Luo Fu, Wang Bing summoned without hesitation the cards Wang Ai had prepared for him, swallowing down more than one spirit at once.

In that instant, his qi surged violently, becoming uncontrollable, and Wang Bing was instantly engulfed in an illusory sense of overwhelming power.

“Hahaha… Itachi dare fight me? Do Itachi even have the qualification?” Wang Bing snarled with laughter, his cheeks bulging with veins that faintly darkened with ominous black.

“I am destined to stand atop the clouds of this world—this world exists only to welcome my arrival. Since Itachi dare defy me, dare hurt me, prepare to pay with your life!”

As he spoke, Wang Bing charged at Luo Fu with reckless ferocity.

“Bing’er!!” Trapped under Lu Jin’s multiple Wu Lei Fu, even with Wang Ai’s utmost effort, he could not break free in such a short time.

Seeing Wang Bing lose his reason, Wang Ai glared at Lu Jin and said, “Lu Jin, that’s enough. I’ve already conceded for Bing’er. What more do Itachi want?”

“What do I want?” Lu Jin sneered. “Your concession means nothing—your grandson is still fighting my disciple!!”

At that moment, Wang Ai, who hated Lu Jin with every fiber of his being, unconsciously entertained a vile thought.

If Wang Bing died here at Luo Fu’s hands, would the Wang family finally escape Luo Fu’s abyss?

The thought had barely formed when Wang Ai crushed it immediately.

But at that very instant, as Wang Bing charged forward, behind Luo Fu, the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper materialized instantly—when a streak of starlight flashed, Luo Fu vanished from his original spot.

Star Breathing: Seventh Form—Yaoguang Pojun!

The next moment, starlight flickered in and out around Wang Bing; each time it flared, a deep, bone-exposing wound appeared on his body.

The starlight flashed continuously for several breaths before Luo Fu reappeared, and by then, Wang Bing lay broken and battered, utterly defeated.

Demon Slayer Luo Fu developed this Star Breathing by taking the Sun Breathing and Moon Breathing as his foundation, incorporating traits from numerous later breathing techniques he had studied.

The Seventh Form, Yaoguang Pojun, was modeled after the technique that left Ji Guo Yuan Yi’s terror embedded deep into the genes and soul of Muzan Kibutsuji.

In an instant, one thousand five hundred cuts!!

Of course, neither Demon Slayer Luo Fu nor Zhang Luo Fu had yet reached Ji Guo Yuan Yi’s peak blade speed.

Even so, in that single flash of starlight, Luo Fu, using his palm as a blade, struck Wang Bing with precisely two Akatsuki Zhou Tian counts.

Akatsuki Zhou Tian count: one hundred eight. Da Zhou Tian count: three hundred sixty-five. Two Akatsuki Zhou Tian counts: exactly two hundred sixteen strikes.

Each cut pierced deep to the bone. Though delivered with his palm instead of a blade, the extreme speed granted devastating lethality, reaching the sharpness of a blade that could sever hair.

“Bing’er!!” Wang Ai cried out in unbearable grief.

Seeing Wang Bing’s horrific fate, Lu Jin hesitated for a moment, giving Wang Ai the opening to break free from the Wu Lei Fu seals—he rushed to his grandson’s side in an instant.

Seeing Wang Bing’s body, as if flayed alive, Wang Ai’s heart first burned with rage—but he quickly suppressed it.

This was not the time to seek revenge against Luo Fu. Not even a single threat could be uttered.

Otherwise, the Wang family would be dragged completely into Luo Fu’s abyss.

Without even glancing at Luo Fu, Wang Ai lifted Wang Bing and turned to the referee: “My grandson is severely injured and unconscious. He has lost. Can Itachi declare the result?”

The Longhu Mountain Daoist referee, shocked by Wang Bing’s wounds, immediately shouted: “Winner of this match: San Yi Men, Zhang Luo Fu!!”

After announcing the result, the referee hurried to Wang Ai’s side and said, “Master Wang, your grandson is critically wounded. Would Itachi like Longhu Mountain to provide treatment?”

Wang Ai carried Wang Bing toward the edge of the training ground without looking back. “No need. My Wang family has our own healing methods!!”

“This kid’s brutal— even the duck-slicing masters at the roast duck shop don’t have this skill!”

In the audience seats, Wang Ye, who had witnessed Luo Fu’s final starlight flash—nearly flaying Wang Bing alive—could not help but gasp.

The Seventh Form Luo Fu had just displayed was truly chilling.

Fast!!

Too fast!!

The speed reached its ultimate extreme—his body movement was swift, his blade technique faster still; the momentum of speed gave every strike unstoppable force.

Wang Ye admitted to himself: even if he deployed all his techniques, even activated the Feng Hou Qi Men, unless he could evade far away before Luo Fu unleashed this move—or in that instant, use the Eight Gates to teleport—he was doomed.

Once caught, the only outcome was being flayed alive.

In that fleeting moment, countless judgments, countless slices through Wang Bing’s muscles—each cut exposing bone, yet never touching the bone itself.

Even the most skilled duck-slicers in Beijing could not match this precision.

“So… so terrifying! This is literally flaying alive!!” Zang Long said, still shaken. “Thank heavens, when we fought Luo Fu before, he never used this technique!!”

“What are Itachi afraid of?” Bai Shixue, equally terrified by Luo Fu’s brutality, her face pale, still forced herself to speak: “It’s fine—Itachi’re fat, Itachi’ve got plenty of flesh. Even if Itachi took this, Itachi’d only be seriously injured.”

“What kind of thing is that to say?” Zang Long grumbled. “Even if I’m fat, I’m sincerely devoted to the Ice Goddess Linglong!”

“Zang Long, don’t drag me into everything!” Lu Linglong, still brooding over Lu Jin’s marriage proposal last night, shot him a glare.

Zhi Jin Hua chuckled, wrapping her arms around Lu Linglong from behind. “Linglong, Itachi should tell Zang Long not to say things like that—otherwise, Luo Fu might misunderstand!”

“Itachi little bitch, stop talking nonsense!” Lu Linglong flushed with embarrassment.

Zang Long looked utterly confused.

What did she mean by “don’t say that”? What would Luo Fu misunderstand?

Bai Shixue chuckled, her gaze quickly shifting to the training ground.

(End of Chapter)