Chapter 258

Another wooden puppet was destroyed by Qi Wendá's hand.

Wu Yang didn't worry that they would notice anything; she must have been quite confident to pull this off.

When the wooden puppet was destroyed, it was no different from a real person's death—it would self-immolate, leaving only ashes, making it impossible to tell it was fake.

After killing the person before him, Qi Wendá immediately rushed toward the direction of the last one.

Another Bear Overlord of the World restrained his aura slightly, began doing the same thing, and the two of them teamed up to drive that person toward the martial arts field.

Along the way, they would pass by the residence of the two shamans of the Fusang Tribe.

By then, the Fusang Tribe's shamans would drive them away, and there were still two shamans on the martial arts field.

Even if this person had the ability to reach the heavens, they still couldn't fly with wings attached.

"Then we don't need to do much more," Batu said, showing he understood Qi Wendá and Bear Overlord of the World's plan.

The five tribal leaders also nodded secretly, quite approving of this move.

It could be seen that this remaining last person should be the strongest; capturing them alive might yield some useful information.

As for forcing this person here and what danger it might cause,

everyone had never thought such a thing was impossible.

This area gathered the top-tier strength of the five great tribes; even if the Grand National Preceptor of the Great You Longya Dao Sect came here, they would only suffer hatred on the spot.

"They want to capture him alive."

Wu Yang also noticed the crowd's plan; inwardly sneering, after forcing the two Fusang shamans out, the wooden puppet immediately self-destructed—how could it give a chance for live capture?

Now these people's plan actually suited her wishes.

Controlling the increasingly satisfactory wooden puppet, she charged straight toward the Fusang Tribe's two shamans' residence, Wu Yang's lips curling with a hint of a smile.

Fortunately, everyone wore much the same confident, smiling expression, so no one noticed that Wu Yang's smile meant something entirely different from theirs.

As the wooden puppet approached the residence of the two Fusang shamans, Wu Yang's mind gradually sank inward, about to command the puppet to act.

At that moment, a thunderous roar echoed— the two shamans' residence suddenly sprouted a large amount of vines, which tangled together to form a giant hand that descended upon the wooden puppet.

Wu Yang's eyes flashed; she subtly made a few hand gestures without anyone noticing.

The wooden puppet's speed surged, narrowly avoiding the giant hand's strike—but consequently changed direction, shooting straight toward this side's martial arts field.

The giant wooden hand left a palm print on the ground before lifting again; the tangled vines retreated, revealing two figures inside.

Both wore white robes and black tall hats, with long hair hanging down; from appearance, they looked about thirty, and were actually identical in appearance.

The two shamans of the Fusang Tribe, Yin Youqing and Yin Youque, were twin brothers, identical in appearance—no one except themselves could tell them apart.

The cultivation of their sorcery also had a few strange aspects.

If fighting alone, they would be slightly weaker than other shamans.

But when working together, they could surpass the combined strength of two other shamans.

Watching this person flee toward the martial arts field, these two shamans weren't in a hurry, moving leisurely.

Their movements were extremely consistent, as if looking in a mirror.

"What's going on..."

In the martial arts field, Wu Yang's face underwent a slight change; after the wooden puppet dodged the giant hand's strike, she inexplicably lost control of it.

Now it flew straight toward the martial arts field—obviously not under Wu Yang's control.

Wu Yang couldn't help but turn to look at Tang Luo.

She clearly remembered that this wooden puppet was made by using this person's fresh blood, transformed into a substitute.

Meeting Wu Yang's gaze, Tang Luo gave a faint smile, saying nothing.

Wu Yang felt uneasy inside, yet in this setting, she couldn't bring herself to ask, feeling rather restless, only able to suppress her emotions and observe the situation's development.

"Could he have seized my control over it? How is that possible?" Wu Yang thought to herself.

The wooden puppet is called "Substitute Puppet"; after she mastered it, although she had used it only a few times, it had never made a mistake.

The blood on the substitute puppet is only used to mimic a human appearance—the more blood, the more lifelike, the harder to detect any flaw.

At Wu Yang's current level, the substitute puppet she refines already reaches its limit with a small bottle of blood.

Adding more wouldn't make the substitute puppet more lifelike.

As for the control of the substitute puppet, it is entirely in her hands as the caster—there's no reason it would run to the blood provider.

"Just how did he manage this?"

While Wu Yang wondered, the substitute puppet had nearly reached the vicinity of the martial arts field, and the person on the high platform could now be clearly seen.

Dressed in white robes, white hair, with a string of small Buddhist prayer beads on the wrist—apparently a monk.

These prayer beads are the identity mark of members of the Martial Arts Myth; during the battle of the Hundred Ghosts Night Walk under the Earth Store King's demonic thought, that string was damaged.

Later, Kongming gave Tang Luo a new set.

Upon entering the mission, Tang Luo has been wearing it to indicate his monk identity. Now, both are "manifested" together.

As for why he wants to reveal his monk identity—of course, to give more donors enlightenment.

"A monk from the Great You?" Several tribal leaders frowned.

They naturally knew about the Great You's situation—the state religion is the Longya Dao Sect, not Buddhism.

So why would a monk come here?

Moreover, the famous monks of the Great You are well known in the Northern Plains; this visitor, so dignified and handsome, able to sneak into the Fusang Tribe, certainly isn't an unknown nobody—he should be quite famous.

Yet they had no impression of him.

Could he be the Great You's "secret weapon"?

Or perhaps, to shout east and strike west, after forcibly boosting his strength, he came here as cannon fodder.

"Then again, he's not afraid of death," Batu said, watching the substitute puppet move without pause, laughing as he stepped forward to meet it.

He didn't even display any sorcery—just stepped forward and threw a straight punch.

Batu walked the path of dual cultivation in strength and sorcery; besides sorcery, his own strength was also very strong—so much so that even without displaying any sorcery at all, he could match the top warriors of the tribe.

Thus, when he threw a punch head-on, everyone found it unremarkable.

But the next second, everyone stared in shock as the white-haired monk likewise raised his hand, did not dodge or evade, and met fist with fist.

Thereafter, Batu flew backward, tumbled once in midair before landing, and retreated several steps, each step leaving a footprint on the ground.

On his right fist, faint redness appeared—he had actually been repelled by a single punch!

"Good!"

Batu's grin turned ferocious as anger ignited in his heart.

Originally, seeing this man's companions easily dispatched by the two other sorcerers, he had thought that although this monk might be somewhat stronger, his strength was likely limited.

He had not expected this punch's power to far exceed his expectations, causing him to suffer a secret loss and lose face.

"This man is mine—you others don't interfere!" Batu roared, wanting to take this man down alone, since the other two sorcerers had each easily subdued an opponent; if he failed to do so single-handedly, he would inevitably invite gossip.

As for the fact that this man was stronger than his companions, no one would deliberately consider that.

Upon hearing Batu's words, the surrounding high priests and tribal warriors participating in the bout merely encircled the martial arena to prevent this man from escaping.

The other two sorcerers, Qitenda and Xiong Batianxia, arrived shortly thereafter.

Qitenda's aura was violent, yet his appearance was that of a withered little old man, dressed rather thickly, with his hands clasped behind his back; after hearing Batu's words, he hehehed and strode straight onto the high platform.

As for Xiong Batianxia, he wore the garb of a black-clad swordsman, with five swords strapped to his back forming a fan shape, his brows and eyes brimming with killing intent—he did not look like a sorcerer, but rather more like a grand master of the Great Obscurity.

Resembling a sword cultivator or similar figure, he stood out starkly from the other sorcerers.

Rumors about his origins might even contain a grain of truth.

Xiong Batianxia merely glanced, then leapt onto the high platform.

"Let's also go back," Wuyang said softly, and she, Tang Luo, and the third person returned to the high platform; in this situation, she could only take things one step at a time.

Being inexplicably deprived of the initiative by this Xuanzang monk was truly hateful.

But hateful as it was, there was nothing to be done—Wuyang could only suppress her feelings, and while doing so, a trace of apprehension spread through her heart.

"Who are you, with such strength—surely not some nameless cannon fodder?" Batu said, staring at the wooden dummy.

Anyway, since we're going to ask about the situation anyway, we can ask after the fight or before it.

If we could get a major identity out of him, it would at least explain why Batu retreated earlier—not because he was weak.

Even if another sorcerer had come instead, the situation would probably be no different.

The wooden dummy gave no answer, merely smiling faintly, raising its hand, and making a gesture of invitation.

"Won't you speak?" Batu said, "Well then, I'll just beat you until you do!"

His tone brimmed with confidence, yet his actions were not rash—only see him produce an object no larger than a palm, then employ sorcery.

The object instantly enlarged, and Batu drove it into the ground.

Its form was simply two rotten logs joined into a cross, as if pulled from before a grave mound.

But as this object landed, the originally normal ground was suddenly shrouded in blackness, becoming like a water surface.

Neither more nor less—it precisely covered the circular "arena."

"Come." Batu chuckled—this was his domain.

In his domain—

"Boom!"

Sound after sound, Batu was flung backward again, but this time he could not land and dissipate the force as he had the first time.

Batu directly dragged a trace across the ground.

At the spot where he had originally stood, the white-robed monk stood, having taken Batu's place.

"Huh?"

"What just happened?" many people stared wide-eyed, utterly unable to comprehend what had occurred in that instant.

On the field, those who could clearly see what had happened were few and far between.

Even the tribal chieftains unskilled in slaughter and battle could not make it out, merely having a vague, hazy sensation.

"Not simple."

Xiong Batianxia said in a deep voice, "This person."

"What just happened?" the chieftain of the Xiongxiong tribe asked, having just slightly zoned out and failed to see what occurred.

"Very simple—this monk gave Batu a punch, Batu couldn't dodge in time, and could only resist with sorcery—his 'Witch Shield'—yet I never expected that one punch would shatter the shield and send the man flying." Xiong Batianxia's voice was cold, his explanation crystal clear.

"This—" the Xiongxiong tribe chieftain began, unable to hold back, "Then you can..."

"I cannot break Batu's shield, nor do I need to." Xiong Batianxia said, "Look at the monk—his path is somewhat similar to Qitenda's."