Chapter 40: Chapter Forty: Great Omen of Doom!

Ching!

The Yingyue Small Sword struck the spiked club, forcibly deflecting the barbarian man’s attack.

He Zixuan retreated several steps, his face as pale as paper, beads of sweat sliding down his cheeks.

He had just walked through the gates of death.

“Hm?” The barbarian man and He Zixuan turned toward the barbarian woman’s direction almost simultaneously.

The barbarian woman’s head lay rolled on the sandy ground, leaving only a headless corpse spurting blood from her severed neck.

Lu Fang still held his chopping stance, the phantom shadow of Guan Yun Chang behind him still intact.

He Zixuan’s face brightened at the sight of Lu Fang.

The barbarian man’s face twisted in rage as he charged at Lu Fang with his spiked club, “Damned human, I’ll kill you!”

Petals of peach blossoms fell from the sky.

“Spiritual Soul: Green Dragon Crescent Blade!”

Lu Fang slashed at the barbarian man; the slashing aura tore through him like dry grass, severing his head, the gushing blood column beneath the falling peach petals resembling a crimson rain.

Plop!

The spiked club snapped in two and crashed onto the sand.

This battle was over!

“You’re already Rank 3 of the Eighth Tier?”

He Zixuan gasped for breath, staring at Lu Fang with an expression full of complexity.

Two tiers upgraded in less than a day?

That’s absurd.

Lu Fang nodded, took out the Qi Destiny Stone, and absorbed the unclaimed Qi Destiny of the larger barbarian woman. “One unclaimed Qi Destiny each.”

“If not for you, I’d be dead.”

He Zixuan shook his head vigorously. “Take both. The Heavenly Dao’s restrictions barely affect someone like me—you need Qi Destiny more than I do. If you’re uneasy, repay me later when the chance comes.”

“Alright.” Lu Fang didn’t refuse; he took the second unclaimed Qi Destiny as well.

These two barbarians’ Qi Destiny was noticeably larger than the Wild Boar Spirit’s—no one could claim not to covet it.

After seizing their Qi Destiny, he found two storage bags on their corpses and tossed one filled with numerous elixirs to He Zixuan.

This time, He Zixuan didn’t refuse—he had consumed many elixirs during the fight with the two barbarians and was now running low.

“Can barbarians somehow send two people to the same place in the Lesser Upper Realm? These two seemed coordinated, not like a random team.”

Lu Fang looked puzzled.

After swallowing two Xiao Huan Dan, He Zixuan’s expression eased. He shook his head.

“All other races enter the Lesser Upper Realm the same way we do. They met so quickly because they entered one right after the other.”

“For example, I entered right after you. If nothing went wrong, I’d appear near you.”

“His Majesty specifically instructed me to find you in the Lesser Upper Realm. That way, we’d be together—even if we met Xiao Yunru, he’d hesitate.”

“Never thought you’d end up saving my life.”

He Zixuan hung his head. So far, Lu Fang was far more at ease in the Lesser Upper Realm than he was.

“What’s this?”

Lu Fang suddenly sensed a faint red glow emanating from his entire body—had his momentum not been strong enough, he might have missed it.

Upon hearing Lu Fang’s description, He Zixuan frantically rummaged through the barbarian woman’s storage bag and pulled out a one-foot-long “bone horn.” His face turned pale.

“Bad! This barbarian woman had Imperial Barbarian blood. You’ve been marked by the Blood Slaughter Curse—no wonder she was so skilled at communicating with ‘Barbarian Heaven.’”

“Blood Slaughter Curse?”

Lu Fang’s face darkened.

He had read about the Blood Slaughter Curse in texts: anyone who killed a barbarian with Imperial Blood would be marked by it.

All barbarians could sense the presence of the Blood Slaughter Curse.

Once they encountered someone marked by it, barbarians would pursue them relentlessly until death!

Worse still, the curse clings for life—only a semi-sage-level or higher treasure with purification properties can remove it.

…

“Young Master Xiao, where are we headed?”

The short, fat man asked, puzzled.

Xiao Yunru replied in a low tone:

“What? Didn’t you just say you’d follow me? I said I’m going to kill someone—if you’re unwilling, leave now.”

The tall, thin man flattered him:

“I’ll follow Young Master Xiao wherever he goes. Killing one person? Even slaughtering all those fools wouldn’t be too much—humanity’s rise depends on Young Master Xiao.”

The short, fat man quickly explained: “Young Master, I didn’t mean anything by it—this Lesser Upper Realm is vast. In a month, we might never find the person you want to kill.”

“I have my own way to find him.”

Xiao Yunru said confidently.

The Lesser Upper Realm was vast, but if you could pinpoint your target, finding one person was effortless.

For example, the “Fragrant Thread Worm”—a creature that could smell its own feces from extreme distances.

When the crowd at the back mountain of the Wen Yuan Academy welcomed Lu Fang, a member of the Xiao family had secretly smeared some of the worm’s feces on him.

The worm’s feces were colorless and odorless—even washing with water couldn’t remove the scent, which only the Fragrant Thread Worm could detect.

The one month in the Lesser Upper Realm was extremely precious.

Xiao Yunru didn’t want to waste time chasing Lu Fang—the Fragrant Thread Worm would be crucial now.

“He’s very close.”

The Fragrant Thread Worm on Xiao Yunru’s hand twitched excitedly—proof the target was near.

“Amitabha!”

A loud Buddhist chant echoed.

A dark shadow lightly tapped the crest of a distant dune, then swiftly advanced toward Xiao Yunru and his two companions.

“It’s a monk from the Buddha Kingdom!”

The short, fat man grinned wickedly.

The tall, thin man squinted. When he saw the approaching figure—a young boy in black monastic robes—he frowned:

“A novice of the Black Lotus Buddhist Sect?”

The young novice stood atop a massive stone several zhang high, palms together, head bowed, murmuring a Buddhist chant.

He appeared only fifteen or sixteen, slender-faced, with one large and two small “Black Lotus” marks on his forehead and cheeks, a string of black Buddhist beads around his neck.

What unsettled people was that when he clasped his palms, his mouth would twist into a wild, unnatural grin—half-smiling, half-snarling, radiating madness.

“Why are you blocking our path?”

Xiao Yunru shifted uncomfortably, his yin-yang eyes rapidly fluttering.

Yin-yang eyes could sense fortune and misfortune.

A single eyelid twitch meant good fortune; both twitching together meant disaster.

The severity of fortune or misfortune could be judged by the speed of the eyelid’s twitch.

A fifteen-year-old novice had made Xiao Yunru’s yin-yang eyes twitch this fast—this was the first time he’d ever encountered such a “great” omen of doom!

“I am Lian Yi. The three of you are destined to meet me.”

The young monk slowly raised his head, his madness and malice laid bare without concealment.

“Attack! Kill him together!”

The short, fat man shouted.