Chapter 428: Turmoil in the Martial World, the Black Hand Emerges

On the day of the Nine Stars Conjunction, Tianhe Valley.

The Four Sacred Lands, all sects and schools of the martial world, masters gathered here.

The Fourth Degree Demon Monk consecutively defeated Zhu Chenfu and Ye Bieli, the Falling Flower Sword God, seizing eight sacred weapons.

Afterwards, the Demon Monk revealed the secret of the sacred weapons: the eight sacred weapons condensed into one divine weapon, and only then did the world realize there might be a true god.

The divine weapon hovered in the air for a few breaths, attempting to point to a certain place, but due to being incomplete, it scattered and reformed into the eight sacred weapons.

To contend for the sacred weapons, blood flowed like rivers in Tianhe Valley, casualties were severe.

In the end, the eight sacred weapons fell into different hands.

The Moon Palace, having lost the Seven-Coloured Fairy Silk, seized the Heaven-Shattering Mountain-Splitter.

The Immobile God King, having had the Chengtian Pavilion stolen, snatched the Seven-Coloured Fairy Silk.

The Coiling Dragon Staff fell into the hands of the Zhu Royal Clan.

The Four Sacred Lands, aside from the Flying Sword Sect, all completed the "exchange" of sacred weapons.

Additionally, the Inverted Qiankun was taken by Wuyouzi of the Wuhua Valley; the Crimson Lotus Old Monster, amidst the lull of the great battle, launched a sneak attack and obtained the Immobile God King.

Furthermore, the Soul-Severing, Black Flame Demon Sabre, and Eternal Autumn—three items—were in the hands of the Fourth Degree Demon Monk.

The entire landscape of the martial world underwent significant change in the Battle of Tianhe Valley.

Many powers and sect masters suffered heavy casualties, their strength plummeting.

Including the Wuhua Valley, which had seized the Inverted Qiankun—its sect master and elders all perished, leaving only Wuyouzi.

The Four Sacred Lands also suffered grave losses.

The Moon Palace Sect Master and Lianhua Gongzi were severely wounded.

Zhu Chenfu hovered near death, unconscious; the elite Tianjin Guard were reduced to three survivors.

The core and elite disciples of the Chengtian Pavilion all perished, even the Pavilion Master was slain—fortunately, the Pavilion Master who appeared that day was not Mu Tie Wu himself, but a stand-in.

The Flying Sword Sect suffered the worst: only master and disciple remained, both severely wounded, not to mention losing the Soul-Severing as well, and having obtained no other sacred weapons.

They could almost be struck from the rolls of the Four Sacred Lands.

Even the Fourth Degree Demon Monk ultimately obtained only three sacred weapons.

The Battle of Tianhe Valley can be said to have had no victors; the Crimson Lotus Old Monster barely counts as half—he also lost an arm.

For the entire martial world, this signifies a new appearance and order.

The meaning of sacred weapons is no longer merely that of immensely powerful divine arms; they have become the key to the gates of a new world.

Holding sacred weapons, commanding the heroes, ruling the world?

No, if one could truly obtain the Nine Sacred Weapons, one could obtain divine artifacts, immortality, and become an Earthly Immortal!

Anyway, as the rumors spread and evolved into this, the allure of sacred weapons has grown greater than before.

The martial world has once again been stirred into a frenzy of blood and rain, with nearly everyone joining the scramble for sacred weapons.

Nowadays, sacred weapons are not what they once were; after an unsuccessful attempt at fusion, they consumed vast amounts of power.

They temporarily lack overwhelming dominance.

Only sacred weapons can counter sacred weapons—this has become a thing of the past.

The struggle for sacred weapons has intensified further; even the Zhu Royal Clan, Moon Palace, and Chengtian Pavilion have suffered sneak attacks by unknown assailants.

Chaos, the entire martial world, is now a scene of utter disorder.

Yet amidst this chaos, there remains someone as steadfast as Mount Tai, so fearsome that no ruthless outlaw dares provoke him.

Unless he has lost his mind.

This person is the Fourth Degree Demon Monk, Xuanzang.

"Master, there's still over half a month left—why hasn't there been any news of the Herdsman's Whip yet?" Ao Yulie sat on the balcony railing of the second floor of the Cursed House, gazing into the distance.

After the sacred weapons were scattered, naturally, it was Tang Luo who fueled the flames.

Otherwise, the eight sacred weapons would not have had time to scatter before he would have snatched them back.

Allowing the sacred weapons to be contested, his purpose is naturally to obtain the final Herdsman's Whip.

In Tianhe Valley, the Herdsman's Whip did not appear.

Meanwhile, the Madman's Whip, this imitation, undoubtedly indicates that the Herdsman's Whip is likely in the hands of some person or faction.

The holder hiding in the shadows is extremely cautious.

Tianhe Valley is insufficient to draw him out; thus, we must increase the pressure.

Including Tang Luo donning the Immobile God King—for this very reason, knowing that his bare-handed display of strength against the sacred weapons was too formidable.

The holder of the Herdsman's Whip is so cautious; if we startle him, it would not be good.

Tang Luo specially donned the Immobile God King to let everyone imagine on their own, creating the illusion that "I can counterattack."

This makes it easier to draw him out.

In this regard, Tang Luo wishes to thank the storyteller, who directly explained everything once, with perfect effect.

"Wait a little longer, it will surely appear." Tang Luo said.

All eight sacred weapons were given the simplest illumination by him; their whereabouts are under Tang Luo's control.

The sacred weapons are bait, waiting for the true fish that needs them to bite.

As the fisherman, one needs a bit of patience.

"Master, do you think the Nine-Toothed Rake will lead us to find our second senior brother?" Ao Yulie asked.

"Very likely."

Tang Luo said, when the Nine-Toothed Rake appeared, it clearly wanted to fly toward a certain place, only it never truly reconvened—missing one of the eight, so it scattered again.

Even if Zhu Bajie's true form is not there, that place will still have an extremely close connection with him.

"Hurry up and appear." Ao Yulie sighed.

Night, Chengtian Pavilion.

The burly Mu Tie Wu had a white sash tied around his waist; to those who didn't know, it looked as if his father had just died.

There was no other way; having the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk tied around his waist was already the best way to wear it.

He certainly couldn't have it trailing behind him like the people of Moon Palace did—he, the Lord of Chengtian Pavilion, was no pervert.

Chengtian Pavilion was actually dissatisfied with obtaining the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk, just as Moon Palace was with obtaining the Heaven-Shaking, Earth-Splitting Stone.

The styles were completely inconsistent.

But if they were to exchange, neither Moon Palace nor Chengtian Pavilion would agree; the reason was simple: they didn't trust each other.

The Three Great Holy Lands were like weakened sick lions, surrounded by wolves eyeing them hungrily, tigers watching with intent.

At the same time, they also hoped to tear a piece of flesh from each other to ease the crisis.

Here, there was nothing about the Flying Sword Sect; the advantages and disadvantages of small sects and clans were obvious.

How long does it take to build a power from nothing and make it a holy land of the martial world?

Several years, over a decade, or even several decades.

Mu Tie Wu painstakingly maintained the development of Chengtian Pavilion for twenty years, yet still could not advance it further.

But destroying Chengtian Pavilion was very simple.

For example, the loss of the Immobile God King, the damage to Heavenly River Valley, and the sneak attack by unknown persons.

And also, this group of people who seemed to have popped out of nowhere... or rather, madmen?

In Chengtian Pavilion, many places were lit with firelight, and the sounds of battle echoed everywhere.

Mu Tie Wu wielded a long blade, cutting down those who lunged at him at the waist.

With the current "power" of the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk, in terms of killing power alone, it was utterly inferior to the finely forged steel long blade in his hand.

Only the upper halves of those people remained; before they were completely dead, they actually crawled toward Mu Tie Wu.

"You damn it! What the hell, what thing!" Mu Tie Wu exclaimed again, bewildered—why were these people even more relentless than death warriors, countless times over?

"Because these are ghost messengers."

The voice came, and Mu Tie Wu snapped his head around, seeing a man slowly walking over.

Dressed in white, handsome-faced, with a long beard, this middle-aged man stood out starkly against the surrounding scene.

He seemed out of place in this location.

"Ghost Doctor! Is it you!"

Mu Tie Wu's pupils contracted—he recognized the newcomer.

The greatest physician in the martial world, simultaneously the most infamous doctor, Ghost Doctor.

In this person's eyes, there were no patients—only materials and experimental subjects that interested him.

Many who were destined to die would rise again in his hands, while many who should not have died perished in his "medical experiments."

Ghost Doctor nodded at Mu Tie Wu, smiling: "Not bad—you can become a Second-Rank Ghost Messenger."

"What nonsense are you spouting! Are these things your doing?"

"I merely did a little bit of work," Ghost Doctor said with a smile, "Don't resist—once you become a Ghost Messenger, the joy you'll feel is beyond your imagination."

"Damn it, madman!" Mu Tie Wu cursed, his body like a sudden gust of wind as he appeared before Ghost Doctor and brought down his blade.

The ghost messengers Ghost Doctor spoke of rushed forward fearlessly, using their flesh and blood to block Mu Tie Wu.

Moreover, in the darkness where the flickering firelight could not reach, several figures emerged.

"These people will be your colleagues from now on—come, greet them," Ghost Doctor continued to smile.

"These people!"

Mu Tie Wu's voice trembled with surprise: "So you've defected to the Hate Heaven Gate!"

"Defected?" Ghost Doctor said, "No—I have always been a member of the Hate Heaven Gate; otherwise, how could my medical skills have been honed so easily?"

"... Wrong!" Mu Tie Wu's thoughts raced like lightning, "With just your medical skills, you couldn't possibly create such monsters—Herder's Whip!"

"The Herder's Whip is in your Hate Heaven Gate's hands!"

"How long have you been enduring this?"

"Hehehe..."

His answer was Ghost Doctor's chilling, bone-chilling laugh: "Don't resist— as a Second-Rank Ghost Messenger, you will retain your consciousness and can take revenge on the Four Degrees Demon Monk. But you can only strike him once, for he will be the First-Rank Ghost Messenger."

"Dream on!" Mu Tie Wu roared.

He indeed wanted revenge on the Four Degrees Demon Monk, but to become such a neither-human-nor-ghost monster? Impossible!

Even if I, Mu Tie Wu, die here, I—

"Will my consciousness really be preserved?" the gravely wounded Mu Tie Wu asked, kneeling on the ground, his heart filled with resentment.

If the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk could still fly, he would have fled long ago.

"Of course, Second-Rank Ghost Messengers aren't many," Ghost Doctor said, his smile radiant, his eyes flashing with a chilling gleam that made one's spine tingle.

Chengtian Pavilion, destroyed!

In just one night, the sect's survivors numbered no more than ten; all weapons and wealth were completely looted.

Except for the immovable Chengtian Terrace.

Pavilion Lord Mu Tie Wu, several elders, and the whereabouts of the Seven-Colored Immortal Silk remained unknown.

The next day, internal strife within the Zhu Wang Clan officially erupted.

The Divine Sea Needle Zhu Chenfu lay dying and unconscious; the Zhu clan's collateral branches, along with the Wang family members, could no longer suppress the burning flames in their hearts.

Know this: the Zhu Wang Clan's strongest Heavenly Forbidden Guard could almost be considered destroyed.

Even if Zhu Chenfu's son held the Coiling Dragon Staff, he could not suppress the disloyal elements within the family.

This internal strife would be far more brutal than when the Zhu clan first became the dominant force in the Zhu Wang Clan.

Whether it was the Zhu family or the Wang family, many people died in this internal strife.

In the end, Zhu Chenfu's corpse vanished inexplicably along with the Coiling Dragon Staff during this internal chaos.

The Wang family's people reclaimed the position of clan head, yet the Zhu-Wang aristocratic clan directly declined into a third-rate power.

How long does the formation of a major power take?

A few years, a dozen years?

How long does destruction take?

One night, or one day.