Chapter 242: Give Me a Reason Not to Kill You

Ji hurried ahead as a guide, with Song Ce and Lu Fang silently following behind; as time passed, the path grew increasingly remote, and after traveling day and night, they reached a great mountain.

“Why did you suddenly stop? Are we there?”

Song Ce asked in confusion.

He had sensed nothing nearby, hence the question.

Lu Fang, at the rear, raised an eyebrow slightly; he too had sensed nothing earlier, but when Ji halted to observe, he closed his eyes and focused his perception—and beneath the mountain’s foot, there seemed to be a faint energy fluctuation.

It was too subtle; without deliberate attention, it would be utterly undetectable.

Could the King of the Wuyi Clan be there?

Had he used some secret technique to conceal his form, rendering normal cultivators unable to detect him—even Lu Fang, with his heightened perception, had almost missed it?

Ji frowned, his expression clouded with confusion; he had clearly sensed the King was here, yet there was no trace of him.

Logically, after issuing the call, the King should have remained at that location for a while.

As Ji puzzled over this, a dark dot streaked from afar; as it drew near, it revealed itself as a mass of black mist, which parted to unveil a sturdy middle-aged man.

Like Ji, the man bore a mist-like mark on his forehead—the distinctive emblem of the Wuyi Clan, which glowed when their cultivation base was activated.

Most importantly, even if the mark were hidden, the unique aura of the Wuyi Clan could not be concealed.

“Ji, why have you brought two humans here? Have you betrayed us?” the burly man glared at Ji.

Ji snorted impatiently. “Hui, don’t spout nonsense. If I had truly betrayed you, would I have brought only two such weak humans? One of them is also an ancient race.”

“I brought them here for my own reasons.”

“In terms of rank and status, you have no right to lecture me. I will explain myself to the King when I meet him.”

The burly man called Hui glanced at Song Ce and Lu Fang, then fell silent; after all, he was a Third Rank, Second Stage, Ji a Third Rank, First Stage—these two low-rank human cultivators were no threat to them.

“How have you only recovered to Third Rank, First Stage? I sustained minor injuries too, yet I’ve already regained Third Rank, Second Stage.”

Hui asked.

Ji cursed angrily. “Our cultivation is restricted by this realm’s heavenly dao, making recovery painfully slow. I was injured before and nearly died in the Lesser Upper Realm.”

He pointed to Song Ce beside him. “This fellow, who claims to be an ancient race, saved my life—that’s why my recovery has been so slow.”

Song Ce cast a thoughtful glance at Ji; it seemed his earlier claim of establishing a faction led by ancient races had been accepted, hence the mention of “saving his life,” though he had done nothing at all.

Even if Song Ce had not been there, Ji would have survived.

Hui nodded slightly, dissatisfied. “After sleeping so long, I never imagined the heavenly dao here would so severely restrict us. In ancient times, we were the favored children of heaven and earth.”

Ji’s expression softened with memory. “You must have come here after hearing the King’s call. I wonder whether our Wuyi Clan’s Four Guardians managed to survive the sealing grounds.”

“Unclear. But the situation is grim,” Hui frowned. “Many of our elite perished in the sealing grounds. If the Four Guardians still lived, they should have arrived here before us.”

Ji nodded in agreement; silence fell over the group.

Song Ce glanced around, then spoke gravely. “Are we just going to wait here? Could it be that your clan’s King isn’t even here?”

The moment he finished speaking—

A vast expanse of black mist surged from the mountain’s foot, coalescing and refusing to disperse, gradually forming a tunnel of darkness stretching endlessly into the distance.

“The King is truly here! We simply couldn’t see him—he concealed his location. I should have realized sooner,” Ji exclaimed, his expression alight with excitement as he advanced toward the black mist tunnel.

Suddenly, a Wuyi Clan member with long flowing hair leapt from within the tunnel; he appeared young, with an unusually slender build, and behind him stretched a pair of black wings.

A Super-Ninth Rank ancient race!

When Lu Fang sensed the young Wuyi’s cultivation level, his eyelids twitched violently—he had not expected that within such a short time, a Wuyi Clan member would have recovered to Super-Ninth Rank.

That was a level rivaling a Great Confucian.

Not to mention the ancient races possessed even greater power, making them nearly unbeatable within their own realm.

Is this the King of the Wuyi Clan?

Hui’s earlier words proved true: this race had once been favored by heaven and earth. A King of an ancient race, so young, yet so powerful.

“Guardian Huan, you’re here too. We came upon hearing the King’s call, hoping to lend our strength.”

Ji bowed respectfully.

Hui also bowed deeply. “Guardian Huan.”

Lu Fang’s eyes widened; this Super-Ninth Rank Wuyi youth, so immensely powerful, was not the King—only a Guardian.

Then what was the King’s current strength?

Half-Saint realm?

Or Saint realm?

In that instant, Lu Fang regretted coming here. He had assumed the Wuyi Clan’s King would not recover much power in such a short time; now he saw he had been deluded.

He had already imagined the Wuyi Clan as strong as possible—yet he had still underestimated them.

But now, escape was impossible.

Facing a Super-Ninth Rank Wuyi Guardian, he had no confidence he could survive.

Song Ce’s face had turned pale; he too had not expected that so soon after escaping the sealing grounds, someone from the Wuyi Clan had already regained Super-Ninth Rank.

As the Guardian Huan’s crimson eyes turned toward him, Song Ce forced a smile. “Guardian Huan, please don’t misunderstand—I am also an ancient race, here to pledge allegiance to the King. I...”

Guardian Huan stared at Song Ce without expression. “Give me a reason not to kill you.”

Song Ce trembled like a leaf; the vast gap in cultivation level crushed him under Huan’s pressure, nearly forcing him to his knees—only his divine power, unlike ordinary mortals, kept him upright.

He struggled to speak. “I am also an ancient race—I escaped the sealing grounds earlier than you, so I understand this world well...”

At that point, Song Ce could no longer speak; sweat drenched his face, his legs quivered violently, as if he would collapse at any second.