Chapter 38: Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Trial of Skill

A sensation of dizziness and vertigo swept over him.

Lu Fang was teleported a hundred meters above ground, plummeting uncontrollably; after stabilizing his posture, he looked around and saw an endless desert.

Wind lashed his face, stinging with embedded sand.

Dozens of small dust devils swirled around him, resembling smoke signals, filling the air with lurking danger.

Boom!

From rolling black clouds, a silver dragon burst into the sky, lightning blazing in ten thousand streaks, spreading like countless electric serpents across the heavens.

The wind grew fiercer; two small dust devils merged, showing signs of further expansion.

This environment is too brutal!

“Qimen Feijia!”

As Lu Fang landed on a sand dune over ten zhang high, he summoned his Xuan Armor to cling to his body, drew a breath, and shot upward like a drifting feather or falling leaf, soaring again.

Whoosh! He became a streak of yellow light, leaping far into the distance.

Forget seizing destiny—unless Lu Fang left this dust devil zone quickly, his life was in danger.

He flew rapidly for half a day.

Lu Fang finally escaped the dust devil zone; as he landed on a rock before a patch of low thorns, a thorn vine over ten zhang long erupted from the sand like a venomous snake, coiling toward his feet.

“What the hell is that!”

With a thought, the Xuan Armor on Lu Fang’s body flashed, yanking him off the ground and dodging the vine’s strike.

Clang!

As Lu Fang summoned the Book Spirit Yan Chixia, the Yingyue Small Sword shot toward the ten-zhang thorn vine.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh…

In moments, the thorn vine was sliced into hundreds of pieces.

The vine’s branches rapidly withered; tiny glimmers, like fireflies, rose from the dried stems.

“Unclaimed destiny!”

Lu Fang, delighted, immediately pulled out his Destiny Stone and absorbed the unclaimed destiny.

In the Lesser Upper Realm, all things could be infused with destiny, gaining supernatural power—clearly, the thorn vine had been infused with destiny.

Not a trace of demonic aura—truly impossible to guard against.

Just as Lu Fang was about to draw the destiny into his body, over a dozen thorn vines, as thick as arms and dozens of zhang long, erupted from the sand around him, wildly lashing out at the human before them.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Each vine struck empty air, crashing onto sand dunes and rocks, carving trenches over a zhang long—clearly, each strike carried tremendous force.

The thorn vines were powerful, but not fast.

At least, when Lu Fang activated Qimen Feijia, he could easily dodge their encircling strikes.

In this case, the thorn vines became experience targets.

“Wanjian Jue: Jian Bai!”

Yan Chixia formed a sword seal; the Yingyue Small Sword split into a hundred blades of light, cutting down the thrashing thorn vines with unstoppable force.

Until the entire patch of low thorns was consumed.

“No wonder the Lesser Upper Realm is called so dangerous—yet so many still rush in. The destiny here is too easy to obtain.”

Lu Fang wandered about, absorbing destiny with his Destiny Stone, the unclaimed destiny rising from the withered vines, grinning so wide his mouth wouldn’t close.

The destiny was small in quantity, but there was so much of it.

He was quite satisfied.

Lu Fang’s luck was undeniably good.

Places where vast stretches of thorns were infused with destiny were not common in the Lesser Upper Realm.

And if someone else had come—even a seventh-rank third-tier Confucian—without Qimen Feijia’s ghostly speed, facing so many thorn vines would have been deadly.

Even if one could eliminate this patch of thorn vines, the consumption of Haoran Zhengqi would be enormous.

Remember, those entering the Lesser Upper Realm aren’t just Confucians—it’s easy to be killed and have your destiny stolen.

“Heh heh, kid, you’re awfully happy, heh heh…”

A wild boar spirit emerged from the reverse slope of a sand dune.

The spirit stood eight chi tall, with a long snout tipped with tusks, eyes gleaming with ferocity; it wore a loose black-gray robe, its exposed coarse fur dark brown streaked with faint gold.

Don’t be fooled—it was cunning.

When it arrived, Lu Fang was already slaying the thorn vines.

It had planned to ambush, but Lu Fang’s displayed power gave it pause—it feared expending its demonic energy only for someone else to reap the rewards.

So it chose to wait, letting Lu Fang exhaust his Haoran Zhengqi before stepping in to kill him and steal his destiny.

Such caution was unique.

Any other demon, seeing Lu Fang was only eighth-rank first-tier, would have attacked immediately.

“You finally show yourself?”

Lu Fang licked his lips—he’d read in books that demon flesh was more nourishing and delicious than poultry, especially pig, sheep, and beef.

It also strengthened the body, making it an ideal ingredient for martial cultivators.

Due to frequent exposure to scholarly qi, Lu Fang’s momentum far surpassed ordinary people’s, granting him heightened perception.

During his battle, he’d sensed faint demonic aura.

The human’s confident demeanor annoyed the wild boar spirit; it snorted twice and growled:

“Weak human, don’t try to scare me. With your eighth-rank first-tier realm, that little sword can’t even pierce my hide.”

“Then… try!”

Lu Fang grinned.

He’d often heard that demons of the same rank were far stronger.

He wanted to test how the seventh-rank first-tier Book Spirit Yan Chixia would fare against this wild boar spirit.

“Wanjian Jue: Jian Bai!”

With a thought, Lu Fang commanded Yan Chixia to unleash his strongest attack.

The wild boar spirit roared, its coarse fur and skin visibly thickening, hardening, and lengthening before their eyes.

It hadn’t intended to block directly—but the Yingyue Small Sword moved too fast, forcing it into a defensive posture.

Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing!

A hundred blades struck the wild boar spirit’s body; only the final Yingyue Small Sword pierced half an inch into its chest, where its powerful muscles clamped shut, halting further progress.

“So tough!”

Lu Fang exclaimed in surprise.

Even with the Yingyue Small Sword’s bonus damage against demons, the wild boar spirit suffered only minor injury.

No wonder the texts said demons held overwhelming advantages at the same rank.

The wild boar spirit roared, gripping the Yingyue Small Sword with both hands; demonic aura surged from its body, forming a roaring wild boar within the energy.

It had actually seized the Yingyue Small Sword, trapping Yan Chixia’s spirit and preventing its withdrawal.

Lu Fang dropped his playful attitude—demons sent to the Lesser Upper Realm were clearly stronger than ordinary seventh-rank demons.

“Wu Hun: Qinglong Yan Yue Zhan!”

The spectral shadow of Guan Yun Chang appeared behind Lu Fang; after merging his soul with two souls, he gripped the air and slashed downward at the wild boar spirit.

The wild boar spirit’s grin hadn’t faded when the blade aura split it cleanly in two.

Even in death, it couldn’t understand!

Wasn’t that little sword the human’s ultimate weapon?

How could an eighth-rank first-tier Confucian cut it down with a single slash?

In demonkind, it was a rising star of the “Golden-Haired Wild Boar King” bloodline; when entering the Lesser Upper Realm, it had boasted it would seize destiny equal to the height of Ten Thousand Demons Mountain.

And now it was dead?

Hadn’t its clan elders said its strength could rival the top three humans of its rank?