Trash

"Courting death!" Violent blood-fire surged, shifting and coalescing like an eerie, colossal eye snapping wide open, dead-locking onto Ji Jue. Driven by rabid fury, the corrupted one of Frenzied Slaughter ripped through the air. Sweeping Clouds, Raging Fire and Sweeping Gale, Anticipate the Enemy—honed to absolute perfection through countless bloody slaughters, the power of three blessings completely integrated into this one explosive strike. The instant the blade cleared its sheath, it crossed the vast distance in the blink of an eye, burning a gaping hole straight through the curtain of mist and cleaving toward Ji Jue's head. Then it ground to an abrupt halt. It froze just before two raised fingers. As if Ji Jue had been standing there waiting for him to deliver himself into his grasp, he casually pinched and held fast that savage slash capable of splitting mountains and severing rivers. The blade could not advance a single inch. "Who?" Ji Jue glanced at the livid, grim face. "You?" Boom. Beneath the two fingers, the vicious blade—passed down for centuries, reinforced countless times by Battle-Tempered Edge—suddenly shrieked. Cracks webbed across the metal, and countless iron shards exploded outward like a storm. Like a shotgun discharged at point-blank range, the deafening blast sent the corrupted one of Frenzied Slaughter flying backward. Blood gushed like a fountain. "—Hūm!" Even before that, at the very moment the blood eye lunged, a grand, bell-like roar had already erupted within Ji Jue's consciousness, reverberating through his mind! Amid the fallen bodies, the desiccated man, withered as a corpse, suddenly snapped his eyes wide and unleashed a soundless bellow. Because the roar echoed solely within Ji Jue's consciousness, expanding like a bomb, intensifying by the second to disrupt his thoughts and shake his soul... or so he wished. Chunjun merely let out a faint hum, effortlessly suppressing all the discordant noise. Yet that had only been the opening move. Even as he roared, the monk of Wulou Temple raised a hand and slapped his own crown. Blessings circulated through his soul, and a jewel painstakingly refined over years rose, radiating brilliant light. Greed, wrath, ignorance, pride, suspicion... In the cyclical churning of the Five Poisons, a heart manifested from the void around the jewel, beating as it shone down upon the seemingly lost Ji Jue! Ji Jue didn't even have time to react. The world spun! Everything dissolved and shifted, revealing countless grotesque forms. Dark silhouettes rose from the void, stirring earth-shattering waves with every move, descending upon Ji Jue like heavenly wrath in a coordinated siege. An illusion! Yet beneath the illusion's erosion, it could turn real at any second. The only difference lay in whether the puppet master pulling the strings willed it so. Real turned to false, false to real, impossible to discern—and already impossible to tell apart. The moment the illusion took shape, despair and panic erupted from Ji Jue's heart, shaking his consciousness and scorching his soul. Desire was like fire; now engulfed in flames, his soul was on the brink of turning to ash! Yet at the very same time, enmeshed within the Five Poison Hearts, he seemed to suddenly attain great enlightenment, feeling as though none of this mattered in the least. An unbidden joy and peace surfaced in his heart, guiding him toward a realm of bliss and serenity, drawing him in. The corrupted one of Frenzied Slaughter who had been blasted backward instantly revived in full. Paying no heed to the blades piercing his flesh, he lunged at Ji Jue once more alongside his companions. From the crowd, several White Stag members feigning death suddenly whipped their wrists, hurling blades that had been primed for ages, arriving a hairsbreadth away. Ji Jue was still seemingly submerged in the illusion, oblivious to what was happening. Nor did he need to know. He only needed to know that someone was making a fool of themselves. Unfortunately, it wasn't even funny—not even worth a cheap pun. In that split second, the craftsman's critique rang in everyone's ears. He said, "Mediocre." And then... BOOM!!! Amid the sudden deafening roar, no one except those with accelerated perception from Ascension could even see what transpired. Though his consciousness and body were completely disconnected, his soul deeply entangled between the Abyssal Depths and Weiyang, Ji Jue's body had already reacted naturally! Deus Ex Machina! The blades hurtling through the air stopped dead in their tracks, casually caught before being hurled straight back with far superior Projection technique—returned to their owners! In that near-frozen sliver of time, the six lunging Frenzied Slaughter attackers saw only a blood-red blade drawn from nowhere. Ji Jue lifted it without the slightest flourish, slashed down, lifted it again, and slashed again... One strike! One strike! One strike! One strike! One strike! One strike! True, absolute Crushing Ruin! No matter how vast the power, how peerless the edge, how pure the technique, or how savage the burnt-offering blessings, every single one collapsed on contact beneath that blade! Severed limbs, shattered bones, and entrails flew into the sky like rain, barely having time to rise. The monk of Wulou Temple's vision went black. As if an invisible sledgehammer had slammed straight into his forehead, amidst the agonizing groans of his cracking soul, the jewel above his crown fractured. Yet before that, what rang out first was Weiyang's terrified shriek. Chunjun hummed, launching a counterstrike. A sword of spiritus materialized from thin air, tracing backward through the infinite joy, sorrow, and terror, piercing into his soul with ruthless cruelty! Beyond the tide of illusions, on the other side of the high wall, the hidden corrupted one belonging to the Iris of the Great Sin was suddenly seized by bone-chilling terror, as if plunged into an icy abyss. Ji Jue—who should have been utterly disoriented, blind to everything before him—lifted his eyes and looked straight at him, without deviating a hairsbreadth! Immediately after, a cold voice echoed in every soul. "You get mad when I call you a pack of useless curs." Ji Jue shook his head. "The essence of the Mirror lies in turning real to false and conjuring substance from nothing. Blindly chasing illusion and emptiness might look imposing, but where is the 'real'? Where is the 'substance'? "Trash!" Ji Jue flicked his finger. Purple lightning tore through the wall, completely swallowing the scrambling figure and burning him to a crisp. At the same time, Ji Jue stepped over the severed limbs on the ground and appeared before the Wulou monk as if out of thin air, looking down at the twisted face bleeding from all seven orifices. "Wild fox zen dares call itself the true Dharma?" Ji Jue looked down with undisguised contempt. "Can't even get basic tummo right. Trash!" Smack! A backhand slap struck out, bursting the monk's head into a bloody paste. If you practiced entry-level foundations so poorly, you deserved to die! Before the corpse could fall backward, Ji Jue had already turned, looking at the old woman sprawled on the ground. Under Chunjun's backlash, her face was contorting, barely able to stand. At some point, a bizarre glass dagger had appeared in her hand. Its edge reflected Ji Jue's silhouette, stabbing down toward the shadow that had formed on the ground! Crack! The curse that had never failed in the past shattered on contact. Even the strange glass dagger cracked to pieces before the iron-hard shadow. "Even when cursing someone, you need to understand the gap between us and know your own damn place!" Ji Jue looked down coldly at that dazed, wrinkled face. "The Heart Pivot lineage reduced to fighting someone head-on? Even more trash!" Smack! Another merciless slap. Before she could even scream, the old woman's head went flying, crumbling into ashes midair. Then, Ji Jue turned back, looking toward the Frenzied Slaughter corrupted one rapidly regenerating among the pile of severed limbs, trying desperately to crawl away. "Indecisive, unable to choose between fight or flight, possessing only blind bravado—and in the end, you can't even beat a craftsman." He said, "Trash among trash!" A spiritus hand manifested from thin air, casually tapping forward. The corrupted one of Frenzied Slaughter detonated like a bomb, sending countless blood-blades and bone-shards hurtling in all directions. Then Ji Jue looked into the crowd, fixing on a dumbfounded Celestial Chosen. As if struck by lightning, the Celestial Chosen stumbled backward and hastily threw his hands in the air. The lapis lazuli ring on the back of his hand gleamed with light. He hadn't been insane enough to attack, nor arrogant enough to think he could withstand him. At this moment, the Embers Celestial Chosen who hadn't taken part at all made the wisest choice: he presented his badge of identity. An Association craftsman! "Friendly!" the terrified craftsman yelled. "I'm on your side! Friendlies don't hit frien—" Smack! Ji Jue didn't bother listening. He swung his hand, delivering a heavy backhand slap that sent the man flying through the air to crash onto the ground, his vision swimming with darkness. Friendly? He'd hit friendlies too! "A craftsman who doesn't know how to assess the situation when a fight breaks out, who doesn't even know to run, and just stands there gawking at the spectacle? Trash!" After that, no one spoke. No one dared to remain standing either. They were either knocked unconscious or lying flat on the ground drenched in cold sweat, eyes wide with terror, suppressing the urge to pant for fear that breathing too loudly would offend Ji Jue's eyes and earn them a slap of their own. They could only press themselves against the floor, watching those blood-stained boots walk past, not daring to make a peep. Ji Jue returned to his chair and sat down again. As if nothing had happened. He looked at the scenery before him. So harmonious, so quiet. No more jumping clowns, no more endless squawking. "Wouldn't it have been so much better if you'd acted like this from the start?" Ji Jue said, "This is how it should be." "M-Mr. Ji, please." Ling Shuo, who had dropped to his knees the instant the fight began, immediately scrambled up. Obediently pouring water and steeping tea, he presented the cup with both hands. He struggled desperately to hold back his sweat and trembling, his smile stiff, terrified that a slap would come flying at his face along with the word 'trash.' Only when the cup was taken and his hands were empty did he let out an involuntary breath of relief, drenched in cold sweat. It felt like surviving a disaster. The nightmare of blood drenching Xinquan seemed to rush at him once again. Amid the dead silence, Ji Jue savored the tea in his hand. Now, not a single person dared to utter a word. Not until hurried, chaotic footsteps approached from the distance. Those inside the conference room, startled by the massive noise and upheaval, came rushing out in a frenzy. Pushing the door open, what met their eyes was... Complete devastation. Boggio stared dumbly at the unrecognizable courtyard—the severed limbs and broken bones, the puddles of blood and ashes, the figures lying flat on the ground not daring to breathe, and the corpses who had no need to breathe at all... His expression twitched uncontrollably, his face turning an iron-gray hue as words were squeezed through his teeth: "What on earth happened here?! This is completely..." "Normal. Once you sweep up the trash, the place naturally feels much fresher." The only craftsman seated in a chair turned his head and smiled: "Just say thank you."