Unfit to Be Human

The pool waters of Qingming had finally run dry. Suffering catastrophic casualties, the Shamans were forced to retreat for a fourth time and reorganize their ranks. Wei Yuan also gained a rare moment of respite. He immediately dispatched several squads to swiftly scour the battlefield, carrying back their own survivors who still drew breath to lay them behind the formation. As for the gravely wounded Shaman warriors, there was no need to bother with them; they would not survive long within the mortal clear domain. Cui Yu came over to Wei Yuan's side. A long slash marked his face, running from his right forehead all the way down to his left jaw; his nose was sheared in two, the wound held together only by sealed Dao power. Fortunately, Jia Wood Life-Mystic was potent, and even an injury so severe was slowly mending. Cui Yu's voice was hoarse, and with his mangled nose, his speech sounded bizarre. "How many more times can Ephemeral Multitude be used?" he asked. "No more," Wei Yuan said. Cui Yu fell silent for a moment. "What do we do now?" Wei Yuan wiped the shaft of his spear, scrubbing away the bloodstains without looking up. "There's still me." "You?" "Yes. As long as I don't die, we won't lose," Wei Yuan said calmly. By now, the long spear in his hand was gleaming as bright as new. "Do you have a trump card?" Hope stirred in Cui Yu as he pressed. Wei Yuan shook his head. "No trump card. I just don't plan on resting anymore—I'll slaughter them from beginning to end. They only have twenty thousand left. If I kill them one by one, there will come a time when they are all dead." "You..." A strange, indescribable feeling welled in Cui Yu's chest. His shattered nose throbbed in spasms of agony, hurting so much he wanted to curse his lungs out. Wei Yuan summoned the ninety-some riders behind him who could still stand. "From here on out, it is a fight to the death. Everyone, swap out your weapons. I have some immortal swords here; pick whichever suits your hand. The quality isn't great, so make do with what you can." By now, the riders' dharmic artifacts were nearly all destroyed, and their armor was riddled with holes. Hearing that new dharmic artifacts were available, they were naturally glad. With a wave of Wei Yuan's hand, fifty teal immortal swords appeared before him. Their sword qi was soft and continuous; though not particularly strong, it had the virtue of longevity. This was the immortal sword Fine Rain. Twenty-some riders immediately chose this sword. They favored how well it harmonized with the domain, offering a blessing to their own bodies. Even if it was only a slight enhancement, any little bit helped. Wei Yuan waved his hand again, and another fifty False Suns appeared. Unexpectedly, thirty people chose this sword, clearly harboring great admiration for Xiaoyu. Next were fifty Iron Cutters, valued for their sharpness. After that was the immortal sword Melancholy, followed by an exceptionally long immortal sword—there was nothing special about it, only its sheer length. Lastly was an immortal sword of deep, abyssal dark. Wei Yuan had originally intended to name it Extinction, but felt that the sword's own might was truly unworthy of such an overbearing name, so he changed it to Silence. Zhang Sheng's face was livid with rage, deeply regretting that he hadn't cleansed the sect earlier. How could he endure seeing his sect's ultimate art degraded into this by Wei Yuan's hands? Yet none among the crowd recognized its worth, and not a single soul chose it, infuriating Zhang Sheng nearly to death all over again. Zhang Sheng had held back two of his swords from being unleashed because he faintly sensed that the true arch-enemy had likely not yet revealed themselves. In the blink of an eye, with immortal swords in their hands, every rider's spirits were revitalized. Wei Yuan glanced at the Shaman army still reforming their ranks, gripped Cui Yu's shoulder tightly, and said, "To have been your fellow student is truly one of the greatest honors of my life. I will charge two rounds first. Watch me, and when the third round comes, advance!" The others wanted to object, but through the battle up to this point, Wei Yuan had long established supreme authority. His word was absolute, and no one could counter him. They could only watch helplessly as he raised his spear, spurred his horse, and charged alone toward the main Shaman ranks. Watching that unstoppable figure, Cui Yu felt a rush of blood surge straight to the crown of his head; something seemed to explode within him. He snapped his head up, marshaling what little Dao power he had left, and bellowed toward the heavens, "To hell with 'the prominent clans stand as one, advancing and retreating together'! The battle has reached this point, so many have died, and you watch from above without a shred of shame?! On what grounds? Just to save face for Xu Wangu?! Bah! I'll say it today: that old dog lived a thousand years in vain—he is unfit to be human!!" Above in the sky, everyone's expressions changed drastically. Suddenly, a crash of thunder resounded between heaven and earth! Immediately, a streak of rolling lightning plunged downward, shooting straight for Cui Yu! This was immortal thunder. To dare defame an immortal—an immortal would sense it in the unseen depths of fate, and with a mere flick of a finger, unleash a bolt of immortal thunder. The crowd in the sky watched with wide eyes, yet not a single person intervened. The immortal thunder descended in a flash, already above Cui Yu's head. At that moment, a jade-white hand suddenly reached out from the void and grasped the thunderbolt! Recognizing the breathtaking figure that appeared before him, Cui Yu's face turned completely pale, and he cried out, "Bao Yun! Let go, quickly!" Yet Bao Yun did not let go, clutching the immortal thunder with calm resolve. Above her head sprouted the Seven Marvels Treasure Tree, from which a branch suddenly withered and turned to ash. Bao Yun let out a soft groan. The left hand grasping the immortal thunder gradually turned translucent, and then her entire left arm dissolved into a poignant shower of stardust, scattering in the wind. Bao Yun's left sleeve hung empty, fluttering in the wind. Looking toward the origin of the immortal thunder, she said coolly, "Xu Wangu is indeed unfit to be human." In the sky, another bolt of immortal thunder formed, poised to strike yet hesitating. Those gathered in the heavens looked at one another, some lost in thought. Just then, a man with a somewhat cold, brooding countenance suddenly appeared before them. He looked very young, but how could anyone present not know the age of Perfected Person Baoshu of the Bao family? The only reason he appeared just past thirty was that this was the age at which he had attained his dharma idol, and his appearance remained frozen from that time. Standing with his hands behind his back, Baoshu said coolly, "If anyone feels that my Bao family was in the wrong just now, you are welcome to come to our gates and demand answers. My Bao family will humbly accept your criticism, but we will not change." In the midst of the ranks, Wei Yuan suddenly glanced back and saw Bao Yun's empty sleeve! His face instantly darkened. He leaped off his mount and charged back, fighting his way through. Sensing Wei Yuan's intent, the blood-colored demon steed fought back alongside him, trampling and biting, slaughtering dozens in an instant. Looking at Wei Yuan, Bao Yun suddenly smiled radiantly, raised a finger to her lips to tell him not to say a word, and then vanished. Wei Yuan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and plunged headlong into the Shaman ranks once more, the blood-colored warhorse trailing close behind. Higher up in the firmament stood two towering, majestic figures, completely unnoticed by those in the clouds below. Suddenly, a Daoist with kindly features and waist-length white eyebrows appeared behind them. Both figures sensed something simultaneously and turned to look. The old Daoist smiled faintly. "I wondered who had made such grand moves—so it is the venerable Shu Li and Feng Ye. This old Daoist has long heard of your renown, yet never had the chance to experience your heaven-reaching shamanic arts. Since we happen to cross paths today, it is only proper that we have a thorough discussion. Which of you will go first? This old Daoist will only use two fingers..." The old Daoist extended a hand intending to gesture with his index and middle fingers, only to discover that everything from the middle finger down was merely an illusion; in his haste, he had extended the wrong hand. He felt a moment of awkwardness and gave two dry chuckles. Just as he was racking his brains for words to smooth over the embarrassment, he suddenly saw the three fingers turn from illusory to solid—the middle finger, ring finger, and little finger rested intact upon his hand, as though they had never been missing at all. The curse that had plagued the old Daoist for ten years had finally vanished into thin air! Heroic vigor surged through the old Daoist, his dry chuckle instantly turning into hearty laughter. Spreading his giant palm, it expanded in the blink of an eye to the size of a mountain, descending straight upon the two Shamans! He shouted, "Come, come, come—no need to take turns, come at me together! Let's see if you can escape this old Daoist's Five-Finger Mountain today!" In the Shaman battle array, a man and horse bathed in blood were surrounded on all sides, yet the Shaman warriors around them shrank back, none daring to step forward for the moment. Wei Yuan patted the blood-colored demon steed, his hand instantly slick with crimson. There were simply too many wounds across the steed's body to tell where the blood was pouring from. Wei Yuan spoke softly, "In all the time you've followed me, not a day passed without you getting hurt. You would have been better off as an ordinary horse. I've done you wrong. Once we fight our way out, leave on your own and find a secluded place to live free and happy." The demon steed had long possessed spiritual awareness; it nudged Wei Yuan with its head. As if numb to exhaustion and pain, the man and horse broke through the encirclement once more. Wei Yuan slapped the horse's flank; with a long whinny, the demon steed vanished into the distance. Wei Yuan watched the demon horse depart, then plunged into the Shaman ranks for a third time. The Shaman army, whose wills were normally ironclad, finally wavered at this moment, their ranks beginning to fracture. The man before them clearly possessed no lofty cultivation realm, yet no matter what they did, he simply could not be killed. Furthermore, he remained as cold and emotionless as a machine, relentlessly reaping lives without end. Seeing that the opportune moment had arrived, Cui Yu immediately led every warrior capable of movement to charge the Shaman army. The fierce battle had raged for six hours, and this was the domain's first full-scale counteroffensive! Yet that bolt of immortal thunder in the sky suddenly plunged downward, dropping straight toward the crown of Wei Yuan's head! The sudden turn of events caught everyone unawares. As the immortal thunder moved, its overwhelming might bore down upon heaven and earth; those of weaker will were paralyzed with terror, utterly unable to move. Sensing the danger, Wei Yuan jerked his head up, fixing his gaze upon the immortal thunder! Yet before he could react, a streak of blood-red lightning flashed across the sky. The demon steed had returned! Galloping through the void, it slammed headfirst into the immortal thunder! Half of its body disintegrated into nothingness in an instant, but with an agonizing, defiant whinny, the demon horse whipped its head back and sank its teeth into the bolt of immortal thunder! Fierce and unyielding by nature, even knowing it was utterly futile, the demon steed was determined to bite back before death. Watching the demon steed dissolve into stardust, Wei Yuan felt as though a piece of his heart had been abruptly torn away. It was not large, but it left an emptiness so vast that nothing could ever fill it. In an instant, everything that had happened since establishing Qingming flashed through his mind. Throughout these days, every person, every object, every blade of grass, and every tree within Qingming had been struggling bitterly, fighting merely to wrest a sliver of a chance to survive between heaven and earth. Only now did Wei Yuan understand that for so many people, simply staying alive was already an ordeal. Watching the immortal thunder lingering in the sky as though unsatisfied, Wei Yuan felt an epiphany stirring within him. At that moment, Qingming's third divine marvel emerged: Dusk of the Immortal Path (Incomplete). This was a killing art.