Chapter 20: Chapter Twenty: Then Take the Enemy

Kang Qiandeng, leading the trio of Sword Masters, heard the sound but merely flicked his right wrist—a thin thread of silver light flashed from his waist, straightening instantly as it shot like lightning toward the source of the laughter in the darkness.

The divine weapon, Jinghong Sword, was in fact a flexible sword that could be fastened to a belt…

A muffled groan echoed; Kang Qiandeng retracted Jinghong Sword, yet showed no sign of triumph, for the figure collapsing against the darkness, clutching his throat, was unmistakably a young disciple of the Four Seas Hall in black robes.

Kang Qiandeng said heavily, “He was sealed by a pressure point… I couldn’t retract my sword in time.”

Just as Kang Qiandeng was deeply distressed, another shadow lunged at him from the darkness; as he raised his sword to strike, he saw the shadow was still clad in Four Seas Hall black robes—just as he shifted from thrust to embrace, intending to catch the figure, Qian Chen’s figure suddenly darted from behind him, and the Tianluo Umbrella behind him tapped the shadow’s body.

The shadow erupted violently, a dagger flashing like a phantom.

Qian Chen opened his Tianluo Umbrella; no spiritual light manifested, yet when the dagger struck the umbrella’s surface, it met the resistance of tough cloth—unable to pierce the thin Tianluo Umbrella.

Qian Chen twisted the umbrella’s handle; the spinning edge sliced like a blade across the man’s neck.

The shadow collapsed; Qian Chen closed the umbrella and slung it back over his shoulder. Kang Qiandeng stared at Qian Chen deeply and said, “Thank you.” Qian Chen offered no explanation—by now, why explain further?

Someone had already checked the dead shadow, pulled off its mask, and returned with a grim face: “This isn’t human… it resembles a ghost.” Kang Qiandeng stepped forward and saw the enemy’s face was bluish-black, more ghostly than human. He turned to examine the corridor and saw the corpses of Four Seas Hall disciples leaning against the pillars on both sides.

Half-submerged in water, half-exposed above its surface, the corpses were pale under the moonlight, devoid of a single drop of blood.

Their eyes bulged wildly; many still bore expressions of utter terror. The wounds on their necks were unmistakably bite marks—these people had been drained of all their blood…

“Corpse Ghouls! These are corpse ghoul assassins bred by the Nether Palace—they cultivate their bodies with corpse poison and have long lost all sense of pain. Fearless and relentless!” Kang Qiandeng said grimly.

“It seems one of the Twelve Zodiacs is from the Nether Palace!”

“Now is not the time for idle talk,” Qian Chen said calmly. “Someone is still waiting for us ahead.”

The group passed through the corridor into the rear courtyard, where a chilling, maniacal laugh had already erupted. A figure drenched in blood swung a massive hammer down onto a Four Seas Hall expert before him—flesh and blood sprayed everywhere; the expert flew away like a ragdoll. The figure raised its head like a demon, revealing a grotesque, hideous visage.

He held the hammer, scanning the few who had come to reinforce…

Around him lay mangled flesh and blood, even splattered across his own face; he extended his tongue and licked it with unsatisfied relish: “More fools come to die!”

Qian Chen glanced at the corpses around him, then at the man’s eight-faceted bronze hammer—he immediately understood who had inflicted the wounds on Bi Tongtian that day. Among the corpses were not only Four Seas Hall disciples but also many innocent servants, even cooks and maids. Qian Chen even spotted a boy, about sixteen or seventeen, trembling in the kitchen corner, clutching a broom, as if preparing to muster courage and rush out to fight.

“Suo… San… Guan!” Kang Qiandeng murmured each syllable slowly.

“So you know Grandpa’s name!” Suo San Guan sneered grotesquely. “When I take your head to make a piss pot, I’ll surely drench it in your blood! Hahaha…”

“Of course. Among this band of Twelve Zodiacs, how could there be no you, beast? When your master saw your hardened sinews, he took you in—but you coveted his family’s divine weapon, the Crush-Armor Hammer, ambushed him, smashed his skull, then raped and murdered his entire household of five.”

“Later, the righteous sects uncovered this. Several revered elders joined forces to hunt you down, yet you escaped, then became a bandit, roaming the land, striking with such brutality that victims were crushed into pulp.”

“You stole wealth merely as an afterthought—your true pleasure was slaughter. Even if travelers surrendered their goods, you still tortured and killed them. Fifteen years ago, you vanished without a trace; the world assumed you’d been slain by righteous heroes. We never imagined you’d joined the Twelve Zodiacs!”

“Correct. I am the Gladiatorial God of the Twelve Zodiacs!” Suo San Guan sneered. “Let Grandpa send you all to heaven!”

Kang Qiandeng drew Jinghong Sword from his waist; his blade was already swift—but Suo San Guan simply slammed the Crush-Armor Hammer straight ahead. This divine weapon shattered defensive qi barriers. With this momentum, Kang Qiandeng’s sword would pierce Suo San Guan first—then Suo San Guan’s hammer would crush Kang Qiandeng’s skull.

The massive eight-faceted bronze hammer, though wielded slowly, was inherently hard and enormous.

Suo San Guan’s reckless, all-out strike meant the hammer itself shielded most of his vital upper-body areas. To strike his head, throat, or chest, one must first break the hammer’s momentum.

Kang Qiandeng’s sword, if it missed vital points, might not seriously wound Suo San Guan’s hardened sinews—but Suo San Guan’s hammer would surely shatter Kang Qiandeng’s protective qi.

Kang Qiandeng, of course, would not make such a lopsided trade. He sidestepped and withdrew his blade—but though the hammer’s initial motion was slow, once in motion, its sheer weight gave it speed rivaling a sword. Suo San Guan’s strike followed a straight line; Kang Qiandeng’s retreat had already lost the initiative, leaving him only able to barely parry.

This river bandit had opened with a reckless, no-holds-barred style—but it was rooted in decades of lethal combat experience.

He traded injury for death, forcing Kang Qiandeng to retreat, then pressed the advantage—this time leaving Kang Qiandeng with no chance to trade blows at all. The slender Jinghong Sword’s light moved with astonishing speed and sharpness, yet against a hammer weighing thousands of jin, Kang Qiandeng’s qi was shattered in an instant.

His entire body was then violently flung backward.

He sought to use that immense force to retreat swiftly.

But the hammer’s power far exceeded his expectations—upon contact, it shattered his protective qi like dry grass, spewing blood from his mouth as he was hurled into the air.

The massive bronze hammer, in Suo San Guan’s hands at this moment, moved with needle-like precision—not losing any force from Kang Qiandeng’s retreat.

Instead, it twisted, turning the smash into a thrust, driving straight toward the retreating Kang Qiandeng.

At this moment, the young Sword Master regretted bitterly: “I should’ve just traded my life for his injury—break one of his legs, and I’d have given the others behind a chance…”

At that instant, his back touched a soft, elastic curve—it was Qian Chen’s Tianluo Umbrella opening to catch him.

Qian Chen leapt into the air, used the Tianluo Umbrella to fling Kang Qiandeng backward, and turned to face the death-dealing bronze hammer himself.