Ancestors

?] If at that moment any Heart Pivot had dared to dredge up the thoughts inside Pacquiao's head, the skies over the entirety of Xinquan would likely have been blanketed by an endless, infinite swarm of question marks. What the hell? What was going on? Where did this mad dog come from? Pacquiao had been looking down over the shifting battlefield from a distance when an abrupt chill struck the back of his head. One second, everyone was locked in a life-or-death struggle, and the next, some abstract monstrosity with a completely mismatched style had leaped out, charging at him while bellowing nonsense like "Don't harm my father!" and "Die, old fossil!" The damage wasn't particularly lethal, but it was goddamn terrifying! Boom! In the blink of an eye, he was right in his face. An axe-halberd, a pike, and two two-handed greatswords came hacking down toward his skull. Not only that, another hand gripped a scythe, aiming for his crotch the moment he was distracted, while a final hand pulled a revolver from between his buttcheeks, instantly tilting it to empty the entire cylinder! All at once, it was as if six people were launching a coordinated assault. The sheer speed and frenzy of the outburst, the vicious cruelty of the strikes—it was truly an eye-opener. Pity that his rank was far too low. "Get lost!" Pacquiao didn't even turn his head. His hand gripping the blood standard remained as steady as a boulder, while his other hand instantly drew the dagger at his waist. Striking out in anger, the crimson blade wrapped in bloodflame slashed downward. In an instant, the bloodflame surged. The strike showed no mercy—the raw output of the Transcendent Rank, the blood-soaked experience of ten thousand battles, plus the triple blessing combo of Crushing Ruin, Fiery Gale, and Clean Sweep. In a single blow, the axe-halberd, the pike, the twin swords, the scythe, and the revolver were all hacked to dust. The sneak-attack bullets aimed at his vitals didn't even have time to reach him before they were vaporized to ash by the burning bloodflame. Like a crimson torrent, it surged majestically into the sky. With that casual strike, a blade-light condensed to the absolute limit cleaved Old Tom cleanly in two down the middle, while a raging shockwave and its aftershocks tore forward, rending the void and howling into the distance. Across the boiling waters of the Longjiang River, the mud-strewn shallows, and even the driving rain, a fissure abruptly tore open. Under that furious blow, wherever the vicious edge passed, everything was severed in two. Yet right then— Snap! The thunderous roar was abruptly cut short by a crisp sound, and the descending dagger came to a sudden halt. Right before Old Tom's four raised hands! Above that dagger bathed in bloodflame, two hands brought together from left and right had appeared at some point, clapping tight! A bare-handed blade catch! In that split second thinner than an instant, the tyrannical malice and sharpness had been casually diffused. Not only did he channel the flow of blood and fire to guide the destructive power—belonging to the same Swarm path—behind him, nullifying more than eighty percent of the damage, but with a bizarre technique never seen before, he had caught that mountain-toppling, sea-splitting dagger by the skin of his teeth. The price was having his entire body nearly shredded by that violent impact, leaving him drenched in blood and covered in wounds. Yet in the blink of an eye, under the Swarm's terrifying regenerative capability, he was restored to his original state. And the moment the blade was caught, Old Tom's other two hands had already clamped onto Pacquiao's left hand. In the surge of spiritus, slender crimson chains formed between his fingers, intertwining and locking tight! "—Far too pathetic." A bored sigh rang out, passing judgment. At Old Tom's neck, from the swelling flesh, an ugly face covered in scars slowly surfaced, one of its eyes already blind. Without the slightest hint of warmth or geniality, the old crone's face was as hideous and vicious as a ghost's. "Have today's descendants degenerated to the point of needing help against trash like this?" On the other side, Fourth Granduncle's head also slowly emerged, chiming in with a lament: "To execute a fine move like Wrathful Coils in such a dogshit way... As I see it, the Swarm really is getting worse with every generation!" You motherf— Old Tom and Pacquiao's expressions changed at the same time. Leaving aside Old Tom being mocked by his own ancestors, the moment those two ghostly faces surfaced, Pacquiao's pupils contracted and his hair stood on end! In his perception, the spiritus fluctuating up and down inside this monstrosity's body suddenly skyrocketed like a rocket, bursting and wildly shifting. And with the ebb and surge of spiritus, the instant it spiked to the peak of Exaltation, a spear wrapped in endless storm and lightning materialized out of nowhere from an arm covered in wrinkles and age spots, thrusting straight toward his face! In Fourth Granduncle's turbid eyes, a fierce light erupted, gazing down with cold disdain. Where did this rabble come from? Die! In that split second, Pacquiao no longer cared about his dignity or anything else. He pulled and struggled violently, but the crimson chains tangled around his left hand held him fast, locked tight! The old crone watched impassively, controlling Old Tom's arm to effortlessly manipulate chains of spiritus that were almost negligible compared to her past self, easily suppressing a surge of spiritus ten times greater than her own, sealing him for an instant. Abruptly, the blood standard dispersed. The spear in Pacquiao's right hand parried upward by a hair's breadth, colliding against the Dragon-Hunting Spear amidst the turmoil of wind and thunder. In the expansion of the crimson shockwave, he finally snapped the chains and stumbled backward! Countless people were already staring dumbfounded, unable to believe their eyes— A gaping hole had been pierced straight through Pacquiao's chest! Flesh and bone writhed, slowly and painfully knitting together— "Hey, can you do it or not, old fossil!" Old Tom sneered sarcastically. "Looks to me like if the upper beam is crooked, the lower ones go astray. The Swarm went downhill thanks to old farts like you! How do you even have the nerve to ask for money?" "Bullshit! What rank was I back in my day, and what kind of trash are you? If you had even an ounce of ambition, would I have to come out at my age to work a side gig for you?" Fourth Granduncle snapped back, but the spear in his hand thrust and swept unceasingly, pressing forward with every step. "Stop arguing, stop arguing! You two are about the same level of trash anyway, why don't you both just kill yourselves already," the old crone said, mocking them indiscriminately. The chains in her hand slithered like vipers, harassing with venomous spite. Pacquiao was completely losing his mind! No matter what, he was still an Exalted Celestial Chosen of the Swarm. How could he fail to grasp what was happening? It wasn't as if he hadn't used Sacrificial Rites before; he was a master at them. But he had never seen anything like this! The two monstrosities possessing Old Tom—the more he looked at them, the more familiar they seemed, and the more wrong it felt... Sacrificial Lords?! Since when could Sacrificial Lords talk? Wait, why did the Sacrificial Lord swap out again? Fuck, why are there so many Sacrificial Lords?! How the hell is someone's entire family made of Sacrificial Lords?! Pacquiao went totally numb. Hacker! He's fucking hacking! With a whole major rank difference, an established Exalted Celestial Chosen who had roamed the four seas was actually getting jumped in the face by a Regenerator! And for the time being, he couldn't even take him down... Setting aside how tough the Swarm was, and the fact that path suppression within the same path had zero effect, the main issue was this wildly erratic performance, with spiritus fluctuating high and low. It made him want to cough up blood. When it was weak, it couldn't breach his defenses at all. But when it was strong, it made his skin crawl and cold sweat pour down his back. The worst part was that the fluctuations followed no pattern whatsoever, and the ancestors seemed to spawn purely based on their own moods. With just a momentary lapse in focus, his head was nearly severed by a middle-aged man with dreadlocks emerging from Old Tom's back. He didn't even have time to control the countless walking corpses on the battlefield. The only way forward was to use the power of his own Sacrificial Lord to roughly purge the ones on Old Tom! Yet the instant he channeled the blessing of the Lord of Scars and struck out in fury, their blades clashed—and both of their spiritus went berserk at the same time! Pacquiao's vision went black. In a daze, he seemed to see a phantom silhouette behind Old Tom: countless bizarre spirit tablets standing like mountains, rising from bottom to top. Amidst the faint smoke of incense and candles, the characters on the tablets were completely blurred, impossible to read. In that fleeting glimpse, he saw only the very top of those countless tablets, where before a rotted, shattered tablet lay a desiccated, broken hand. No one knew how many years had passed, yet fresh blood was still faintly dripping from it. And clenched tightly in its palm was a giant ruby shaped like a heart. The moment that ruby heart pulsed, endless phantoms of slaughter and warfare rushed over him! Boom! In that clash, the blessing upon Old Tom largely collapsed, but to Pacquiao's horror, his connection to the Lord of Scars began to violently shake, becoming difficult to maintain. It even showed faint hints of alienation and disgust. As if demanding: What the fuck are you doing? What Pacquiao had just done was completely taking liberties, directly pitting his Sacrificial Lord's power head-on against other Sacrificial Lords. Any damage caused by this would result in a loss of the Lord of Scars' lingering spirituality. Sensing the cold disdain from the Lord of Scars, Pacquiao could only swallow his blood and teeth, sacrificing several precious scars once again to barely re-establish the connection. Yet right in front of him, Old Tom had merely been chewed out by the Sacrificial Lords on him—other than that, he was completely fine! For a moment, the disparity in treatment made Pacquiao want to weep tears of blood. However, after those few exchanges, he had already noticed Old Tom's crucial flaw. An instant lunge— Immediately following, with a sweep of his spear, Old Tom was sent screaming into the air! A kick delivered with full force sent the unlucky bastard flying like a stray dog on the roadside, tumbling through midair and rocketing into the distance like a shooting star. And at that very same moment— Pacquiao flew into a rage! Because at that exact instant, an even more violent and tyrannical shooting star plummeted from the heavens! Having hovered behind the clouds for who knew how long, the steel star had looked down impassively upon the battlefield, waiting for a critical opening until Pacquiao had no time to attend to anything else—and then it plunged! Making no attempt to conceal its presence or trajectory, the moment it broke through the outermost spiritus blockade placed by Ji Jue, the Dragon Mountain armor revved into overclock under brute-force propulsion! In a heartbeat, from still to moving, from Immovable as a Mountain to Swift as Thunder! Amid Lu Feng's wild laughter, the blessed armor meticulously crafted by Ji Jue bolted downward at a response time and speed several times greater than the previous suit. Ten kilometers: full engine overload propulsion. Five kilometers: half the engines cut, Engines 3 and 5 reversing thrust. One kilometer: wrapped in a storm, the crimson great star broke through the cloud ceiling and hung over everyone's heads, pushing forward and pivoting fiercely amidst thunder and lightning. The signature tactical maneuver of the Honored Iron Cavalry—the Meteor Maneuver! Flames burst, stinging everyone's eyes. Then came a tremor and roar that made the Longjiang River boil. Descending from the sky, the Dragon Mountain armor plummeted straight down. Relying on this terrifying maneuverability that exceeded everyone's expectations and the gravitational potential energy accumulated along the way, it breached Pacquiao's reaction speed in the snap of a finger, stomping down. Amid the groaning crash of the vessel, the deck shattered and the cabins burst apart. The meteor falling from above drew its blade, instantly piercing outer defenses, inner force fields, and everything else that stood as fragile as paper. It landed before an old face filled with absolute bewilderment inside the secret rite. It crushed an unlucky sap beneath its feet on the spot, splattering blood and gore. Under the cover of pirate ship after pirate ship, the Heart Pivot Celestial Chosen of the Regeneration Rank inside the secret rite was still puffing his cheeks, blowing into his broken flute, completely unable to react in time. The moment he lifted his head, he saw the ferocious grin upon the glowing red armor. Stunned. He instinctively opened his mouth to scream. "Well, well, busy, are we?" Lu Feng offered a polite greeting, raising a hand to thrust Pan Ying into that open mouth. A downward slice divided him in two from head to toe, like a hot knife cutting wax. Clean and crisp. The Poison Heart ring flickered, swallowing the psychic shock whole. Then, the grenade held in his other hand was tossed out, instantly detonating into a diffusing cloud of mercury. The mercury vapor instantly swallowed the instinctive psychic backlash before shrinking inward. Solid Alchemy seal. Along with the un-dispersed soul and the corpse that hadn't even had time to spray blood, it was completely preserved and locked away. Freshness preservation complete. Then, before anyone else could comprehend what had happened, he scooped up the mercury-sealed corpse and rocketed back into the sky! By the time Pacquiao realized what had occurred, he was already two li away!