Chapter 181

Two muffled thuds echoed.

A transparent qi membrane surfaced over Wang Yu's two ankles.

The immense force surging from the two black hands struck the membrane, causing only a ripple across its surface—then the force violently rebounded, flinging the fingers of the black hands apart.

The two black hands instantly retracted swiftly into the ground.

Almost simultaneously, Wang Yu abruptly lifted one foot and slammed it down like lightning, pinning one black hand firmly in place.

A series of crisp cracks rang out—the black hand's five fingers were crushed into fragments under the pressure.

But upon hearing the sound, Wang Yu's heart tightened; he instantly shook his sleeve, and a long green-red blade appeared in his hand, which he swung without hesitation at the nearby ground.

A blade of green-red light, over a zhang long, swept out and slammed into the ground.

A thunderous boom.

A deep fissure appeared on the ground—but at that moment, from another direction beneath the earth, a pale yellow figure shot out of the soil, raised a hand, and flung a dozen yellow grains, each the size of a bean, toward Wang Yu.

Without hesitation, Wang Yu's blade blurred, and a storm of blade shadows erupted, engulfing all the yellow grains.

A series of muffled explosions erupted within the blade shadows, and clouds of yellow mist spread outward, instantly enveloping a radius of several zhang in impenetrable fog.

Wang Yu snorted, flipped his other hand, and a silver folding fan materialized; he merely fanned it forward, and immediately a sandstorm howled into existence.

Yet the yellow mist remained utterly unmoved by the gale, as if rooted to the earth.

As Wang Yu hesitated slightly, a flash of light appeared behind him—a slender, emerald-green sword, inscribed with talismans, silently stabbed toward his neck, soundless as a ghost.

Wang Yu's eyes flickered with crystalline light; his blade blurred, and a brilliant slash of white light struck the slender sword like lightning.

A soft *ding* rang out—the slender sword was cleanly severed in two.

At the same moment, Wang Yu's body surged backward with a gust of wind; he drew a deep breath, his frame swelling slightly, and his other arm blurred—space nearby shrieked as a golden fist shadow blasted outward with full force.

A thunderous *boom*.

A pale yellow figure flew out of the yellow mist, crashing heavily onto the ground, motionless.

Wang Yu's figure flickered; he took several strides and stepped out of the yellow mist, but after glancing at the body on the ground, his expression shifted slightly.

The figure lying there was no corpse—it was an intricately crafted humanoid mechanical puppet.

The puppet wore a yellow robe, its limbs jet-black, seemingly forged from iron essence; its head was bald, its face featureless like a duck egg, and its chest bore a large hole revealing complex internal gears and mechanisms, along with mysterious colored spirit inscriptions of unknown purpose. One arm ended in a black palm that had vanished; the other clutched tightly the emerald-green broken sword.

Wang Yu's eyes glinted as he scanned the surroundings; his vast spiritual sense swept outward—but detected no anomaly.

Yet at that moment, a low, genderless voice suddenly emerged from within the humanoid puppet:

"Impressive. One punch ruined this puppet I spent a fortune to buy from the Tian Gong Sect's Stiletto Series. But no matter—I have many more. Next time we meet, I'll succeed."

As soon as the words ended, the exposed mechanical components of the puppet glowed faintly red.

Without hesitation, Wang Yu kicked out, sending the broken puppet flying high into the air.

*Boom.

The puppet exploded into a fireball over ten zhang above ground, scattering countless mechanical parts in all directions.

Wang Yu, seeing this, was utterly speechless.

At the same moment, in a cave over ten li from Wang Yu's location:

A fat youth wearing the attire of the Happy Palace, with five or six storage bags hanging from his waist, exhaled deeply after watching the reflection in the mirror before him vanish, patting his chest repeatedly as he muttered:

"That was terrifying—he didn't even show a tenth of his power. Lucky I sent the assassin puppet to test him first—if I'd gone myself, I'd be dead. Forget it, I'll pick another target. This guy's too dangerous."

As the Happy Palace fat youth spoke, he picked up a crystal ball from the ground, infused it with spiritual energy, and prepared to search for his next target.

…

Wang Yu naturally had no idea the puppet's true master was ten li away; after failing to find anything nearby, he left with a grim expression.

Being assassinated for no reason—and still unable to find the attacker—left him deeply frustrated.

But this time, after traveling a long distance, the crystal ball in his hand began vibrating wildly again, far more intensely than before.

Wang Yu pulled out the crystal ball, glanced inside, and his heart jolted.

In one direction of the ball, dozens of red dots—large and small—appeared densely clustered, totaling over twenty, all gathered in a single location.

Wang Yu immediately rejoiced; such a concentration of disciples from the Four Sects likely meant a True Disciple was present.

Thinking this, he no longer concealed his movement—he rose into the air and shot straight toward the location, eight li away.

But before he had flown half the distance, a disciple of the Four Symbols Sect flew directly toward him from the opposite sky.

"Young Master Wang, it's you." The man's face lit up with surprise upon seeing Wang Yu.

"Young Master Wan, I never expected to meet you here." Wang Yu, looking at Wan Shan, also showed astonishment.

"Hah! This proves we're destined to cross paths! Come with me, Young Brother—many of our sect's brethren, and disciples from the other three sects, are all gathered over there." Wan Shan laughed heartily.

"Oh, I was just looking to join up with my fellow sect brothers. But who's leading the group here?" Wang Yu nodded naturally and asked casually.

"Who else but Elder Brother Tian? Oh, and there's also a True Disciple from the Thousand Bamboo Sect there." Wan Shan smiled, then turned and flew alongside Wang Yu.

"A True Disciple from the Thousand Bamboo Sect? That's perfect. With two True Disciples present, we needn't fear the demonic sect's True Disciples." Wang Yu exhaled softly, his face relaxing slightly.

"Hah! Young Master Wang, you arrived at the perfect moment—we're about to give those demonic bastards a proper beating." Wan Shan grinned.