Chapter 112

Wang Yu halted in midair, waiting silently. Soon after, the sound of air tearing behind him came rushing forth.

A chariot of gnarled white bones, wreathed in swirling black mist, flew in from the distant horizon and arrived within mere dozen zhang, its three black-robed demonic disciples now faintly visible.

Wang Yu had no intention of wasting words; he flicked a finger in a seal, and a crimson fireball materialized before him. He muttered incantations and pointed with his finger.

The fireball split into two, two into four, four into eight, eight into sixteen… He shook his sleeve, and all the fireballs surged forth in a dense barrage toward the white bone chariot.

“Suicide.”

The white bone chariot did not slow. One of the three on board roared in fury, raised a hand, and a shadow shot out, flaring in the wind to become a giant centipede, ten feet long.

The monstrous insect’s body was covered in thick, glossy black carapace, its underside writhing with countless tiny limbs. The moment it manifested, it opened its maw and spat a wave of black light, swallowing every fireball whole, then whipped its tail and lunged viciously at Wang Yu.

Wang Yu stared, momentarily stunned, then his face twisted with strange amusement. He flicked another seal and spat a single word: “Boom.”

A deafening explosion.

The giant centipede’s body swelled several times its size before bursting open. A mushroom-shaped fire cloud erupted skyward, blurring the air within a hundred meters, as if trapped inside a furnace.

“My spirit insect!”

The Black Soul Sect disciple who had released the centipede screamed, blood gushing from all seven orifices, collapsing instantly into unconsciousness.

“Waste.”

The other two paid no heed to their comrade’s shattered spiritual sense. They leapt from the chariot: one a middle-aged Daoist priest in black robes, a jet-black iron sword strapped to his back; the other a cold-faced young man, cradling a white bone demon statue with two horns sprouting from its head.

Though the air around them burned fiercely, they ignored it entirely, staring at the massive fire cloud with clear astonishment.

At that moment, Wang Yu raised his hand and gripped the fire cloud with five fingers. A vast wave of red light surged forth and sank into the flames.

The next instant, roaring flames surged from within the cloud, crashing down toward the two men with overwhelming force.

The cold-faced youth snorted, slapped the white bone statue in his hand. Instantly, the statue’s arms moved, lifting upward in a supporting gesture.

“Puff.” A pale, milky light barrier suddenly appeared above their heads.

The sea of fire was halted, unable to descend further.

At that moment, the middle-aged Daoist priest flicked a seal. A jet-black light shot from behind him, vanished in a flash, and appeared before Wang Yu—then blurred into a torrent of freezing light sweeping toward him.

So fast!

Wang Yu was startled, but the next moment, a deep crimson light shield formed over his body. The freezing light crashed against it with a clang, yet failed to pierce it by even a fraction.

Now it was the black-robed Daoist’s turn to be stunned. He tried to change his seal—but it was too late.

Wang Yu’s arm shot out like lightning. A massive hand wrapped in golden sand mist snatched the black iron sword from within the freezing light. His arms thickened abruptly, and he prepared to snap the blade in two.

“Hummm.”

The black iron sword trembled and hummed—but proved astonishingly resilient.

Yet the middle-aged Daoist, still controlling the sword remotely, turned pale and spat a mouthful of blood.

Wang Yu paused, then reacted instantly. One hand gripped the hilt, the other clenched into a fist and hammered the blade’s shaft seven or eight times in rapid succession.

“Puff.” “Puff.”

Each strike caused the Daoist to spew another gout of essence-blood. After a few blows, he arched backward and plummeted from the sky, crashing heavily to the ground—unconscious, his life or death unknown.

Meanwhile, the cold-faced youth still held the statue aloft, preventing the fire sea from falling, watching silently—showing no intention to save his comrade.

“You didn’t move earlier?” Wang Yu casually stuffed the iron sword into his storage pouch and asked coldly.

"Why should I? You're just a mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator. Do you think you deserve to team up with me and those two useless guys?" the cold-faced youth sneered.

“So you’re not a waste?” Wang Yu asked, expressionless, unsurprised that the man had seen his cultivation level.

“When you’re dead, you’ll know the answer.” The cold-faced youth laughed wildly—then Wang Yu suddenly raised his hand and slapped the fire sea above.

“Boom!”

The fire sea surged violently, engulfing the nearby white bone chariot.

A scream.

The unconscious Black Soul Sect disciple instantly turned to ash. Even the white bone chariot glowed red-hot, softened, and melted into a pool of liquid.

“So you really want to die this quickly?”

The cold-faced youth roared in rage, shoved the white bone statue into his own body, and growled: “White Bone Devil Body.”

Instantly, the youth bent forward, his face contorted in agony. White, glistening bone spines erupted from his spine, and white bone scales surfaced across his skin. His body began to swell.

Wang Yu’s pupils contracted. Without hesitation, he reached out and grasped the air toward the youth. The fire sea reversed course, engulfing the cold-faced youth.

He flicked another seal. Flames surged inward, coalescing into a thick pillar of fire rising toward the heavens.

“Heh. Upper-grade Fire Spirit Root, eh? Your fire spells even carry a trace of Semi-Polar Flame power. But such strength may work on ordinary sect disciples—it won’t touch my White Bone Devil Body.”

From within the fire pillar came the cold-faced youth’s mocking voice. No sooner had he finished than the flames split apart, and a monstrous figure burst forth like a storm.

In a few blurs, it reached Wang Yu’s side—giving him no time to cast. Four thick arms rained down like a storm upon the deep crimson shield.

Thunderous crashes echoed continuously.

The demonic figure blurred wildly around Wang Yu, each of its four arms striking like a giant hammer, shaking the crimson shield violently.

Wang Yu was initially startled, but seeing the shield unharmed, he relaxed. He flicked another seal. Twelve crimson spiritual runes appeared on the shield’s surface, then burst into roaring flames.

“Swoosh.”

The monstrous figure recoiled instantly, landing steadily several zhang away, revealing its grotesque true face.

Wang Yu stared through the shield, a chill creeping into his heart.

The cold-faced youth now stood over two zhang tall, his entire body sheathed in thick bone armor, with dozens of foot-long bone spines jutting from his back.

His skull, save for his eyes, nose, and mouth, was entirely covered in white bone scales. Two long, jet-black curved horns protruded from either side. Worse still, behind his towering frame, two additional thick white bone arms had sprouted.