Before his voice even faded, Wang Ping realized something was wrong.
The reason was simple: no soul drifted up from Yan Weichuan's fallen corpse, and the surrounding soldiers and officers of the Tabai Battalion showed no reaction whatsoever to their commander's death.
More importantly, the gale had not dispersed.
Far from scattering, it grew increasingly violent. The sky-blotting black wind swept up sand and stones across the vast heavens, igniting blazing flames and hurling down raindrops that struck like sharp swords.
"Well, now..."
Wang Ping shifted his gaze toward Yan Weichuan's corpse. Above the neck, it was completely empty; below the neck, it had been mangled into a bloody mess by the shockwave.
No matter how one looked at it, this was a corpse.
At the very least, Dashun's martial arts could never bring someone like this back to life. That left only one possibility: "Another uncanny art handed down by the immortal sects, is it?"
Wang Ping let out a soft sigh.
At that very moment, Yan Weichuan stood up. He had no head, his mangled entrails spilled outward, and his spine and skeleton were barely held together. Yet he stood, turned around stiffly, and raised the saber he had half-drawn earlier toward Wang Ping before slashing it down with fierce force.
In an instant, the black wind and blazing fire perched high in the heavens, accompanied by the driving rain of stones and sword-like drops, poured down, instantly engulfing Wang Ping's figure.
Wang Ping did not dodge or weave.
Letting the black wind, raging flames, sand, and sword-rain crash against him, his body remained as steady as a reef beneath the crashing waves, without so much as a tremor.
Then, he looked up toward the sky.
A moving corpse was merely a sleight of hand—some external object was pulling the strings like a puppeteer. His spiritual sense had already pinpointed the manipulator's location.
High in the heavens.
Wang Ping's spiritual sense parted the black wind and pushed through the flames, finally catching sight of the source: a paper pinwheel, spanning the sky like a compass.
The pinwheel possessed four sails, each inscribed with talismanic incantations. Standing right at its center was a small figure cut from talisman paper. It was currently forming hand seals, driving the pinwheel beneath its feet to spin with all its might; the sky full of black wind, blazing fire, sand, and sword-rain was born from this very rotation.
Upon the paper figure's head was a lifelike face.
It was none other than Yan Weichuan.
"...Found you."
Wang Ping curled his lips into a smile. His voice was not particularly loud, yet in an instant it drowned out the howling wind and rain, falling squarely into the ears of the paper Yan Weichuan.
The paper Yan Weichuan started in alarm and looked down, his gaze meeting a pair of calm, golden eyes.
*He found me?!*
The paper Yan Weichuan found it difficult to believe. The life-saving talisman he had received from Perfected Youshen was something that, in theory, not even a martial artist's divine intent could locate.
How had this man discovered him?
Just who was he?
Yet the paper Yan Weichuan soon recovered his composure.
*No matter. I now inhabit a body of paper, light and boneless, capable of soaring through the skies. No matter how formidable he is, there is no way he can strike me.*
Then, Wang Ping vanished from his sight.
*—!*
In the spark of a flint, Yan Weichuan dared not delay. He pointed with a hand seal, setting the pinwheel into motion, and the talismans on all four sails blazed with blinding brilliance.
Beneath the heavens, it seemed as if tens of thousands of blades were hacking and humming. Stark white blade-light flashed like thunderbolts, illuminating the sky and turning the world blindingly pale.
Wang Ping's figure was caught in the glare.
He stood suspended midair, long hair drifting in the wind, entirely unscathed. He simply looked toward the distant paper Yan Weichuan with a faint expression of boredom.
*Rumble!*
As far as the eye could see, the earth shook and mountains trembled. Thousands of horses and riders seemed to gallop atop the black wind, quickly forming layers that shielded Yan Weichuan behind them.
Under the protection of the military formation, Yan Weichuan's figure rapidly blurred before vanishing without a trace. This protection held another mysterious property: it blocked not only the naked eye, but even spiritual sense. Clearly, this was not something a mere martial artist like Yan Weichuan could achieve.
*Perfected Youshen...*
Wang Ping's brow knitted slightly. He knew his opponent was no longer Yan Weichuan, but the Perfected Youshen who was working his magic through Yan Weichuan's form.
Meanwhile, Yan Weichuan looked at Wang Ping with immense wariness.
"Senior thaumaturge, why must you make things difficult for this general here? I am stationed here on the decree of Perfected Youshen."
Yan Weichuan did not know Wang Ping, but knowing the man could fly through the air meant he was obviously no mortal. Thus, he lowered his posture from the very start.
*Whoosh!*
As the pinwheel spun, more and more cavalrymen rode the wind into the sky, wheeling into formation. Earth, water, wind, and fire gathered together, crowding around Yan Weichuan.
This steadied Yan Weichuan's nerves considerably. After all, the Tabai Battalion was no longer what it once was; it was augmented by the uncanny arts cast by Perfected Youshen. Moreover, he held the Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades, a secret treasure bestowed by the Perfected. With both working in concert, who could bring him down besides a martial arts grandmaster?
With that in mind, he gained a bit more confidence.
"Senior thaumaturge, Perfected Youshen is attending to matters of great importance at this very moment. If this is merely a misunderstanding, why not withdraw for now and visit another day?"
"What if I say no?" Wang Ping said indifferently.
"...Do not make a mistake, Senior." Yan Weichuan's tone turned cold. "You are but one man. Do you truly wish to fight against overwhelming numbers?"
Wang Ping smiled.
"The one facing overwhelming numbers is you."
As soon as his voice fell, the Six Desires Heavenly Demon Flag unfurled behind Wang Ping, immediately stirring up a surging tide of dark clouds. Then, thousands of fiends swarmed forth like a plague of locusts.
*Skreee—!*
The fiends shrieked, their cries inherently capable of rattling mortal souls. Yan Weichuan's vision went dark on the spot. By the time he regained his senses, the fiends had already breached the battle formation.
Yan Weichuan dared not hesitate. He immediately rotated the Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades beneath his feet, once more conjuring boundless blades to slash at the fiends.
That single slash cleaved like lightning tearing through dark clouds, parting the heavy gloom. Yet barely a moment passed before the severed clouds knit back together.
Several soldiers at the front of the formation resisted desperately, only to be swarmed by a black mass of fiends. The creatures opened gaping, bloody maws and spared nothing from head to toe: biting whatever was flesh, drinking whatever was blood, gnawing whatever was bone, all while ceaselessly bewitching the minds of their quarry to make them abandon resistance.
It was like a swarm of locusts sweeping across the land.
In just a few breaths, several men and horses of the Tabai Battalion were devoured clean by the fiends, leaving not even bones behind.
"Are you kidding me...?"
Yan Weichuan was chilled to the bone. He could only drive the Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades to unleash continuous waves of blade-light, hacking ceaselessly and making over a hundred fiends wail before dispersing into wisps of faint smoke.
"Thank goodness, thank goodness."
Seeing that the chariot's attacks were effective, Yan Weichuan finally breathed a sigh of relief. "A rabble with nothing but numbers. You cannot overcome my dharma treasure."
Several thousand fiends, with dozens swarming a single Tabai soldier, could only attack a hundred men at once. That gave him ample time to unleash the Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades and slaughter every last fiend. In such an exchange, he would lose a few dozen men at most to wipe out the entire horde.
"Dharma treasure?"
Looking at Yan Weichuan, and at the Tabai Battalion clashing with the fiends, Wang Ping gave a cold sneer. "This is why they say you martial artists have no vision."
His gaze fell upon the Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades beneath Yan Weichuan's feet.
"You call that thing a dharma treasure?"
Its material was the most ordinary talisman paper found in the immortal sects, something even a rogue cultivator could afford. The only thing of any value was the talismans drawn upon it; it did not even qualify as a dharma artifact.
"Look closely."
Wang Ping tapped the ball of his foot lightly.
"The term 'dharma treasure' is meant for something like this."
Behind him, the true form of the Six Desires Heavenly Demon King manifested. Crimson hair streamed in the wind, golden eyes shone brilliantly, and the flag in its grasp spread toward the horizon like a torrential flood.
Wherever the torrent passed, heaven and earth fell silent. The flag blotted out the sky and sun, making no distinction between friend and foe as it swallowed Yan Weichuan and all the Tabai soldiers circling him. Then, with a thunderous sweep, the clouds parted and the sky cleared—and not a single figure remained where they had stood!
Black wind, blazing fire, sand, and sword-rain.
Every celestial anomaly Yan Weichuan had conjured was wiped clean in that instant, leaving behind only the clear breeze and bright moon, as though a fleeting dream had been pricked and popped.
Meanwhile, Yan Weichuan saw a burst of brilliant light flash before his eyes. By the time the radiance dimmed, his surroundings had completely changed: he had plunged into a bottomless abyss.
"What is this...?!"
On the other side, Wang Ping parted the flag's fabric and paced forward, flanked and guarded by circling fiends. He paid no heed to the terrified Yan Weichuan, instead shaking his head inwardly.
*Still too weak.*
*Back then, the Universe in a Pot unleashed by that immortal sect disciple surnamed Lin was enough to create an entire realm from nothing, complete with mountains, rivers, sun, and moon. That was a true divine ability.*
Compared to that, what he had done was merely an awkward imitation, using the interior space of the Six Desires Heavenly Demon Flag to pack Yan Weichuan and the others inside.
Of course, there were advantages.
The Six Desires Heavenly Demon Flag possessed profound augmentations; here, the fiends' combat strength was enhanced by a full thirty percent across the board compared to the outside world.
"Come forth, all of you."
With Wang Ping's command, the gates of the flag swung wide. This time, there were no longer merely several thousand fiends, but over ten thousand, pouring forth like a breached dam!
Beyond that, the fiends formed by Senior Brother Guo and the Master of Soul-Drooping Study also manifested one after another. Compared to the rest, these two were visibly far more ferocious. Though stripped of the arts and methods they possessed in life, their prowess as fiends was several times greater than those formed from ordinary mortals.
"Khehehe!"
The two fiends cackled wildly, their forms darting like black lightning straight through the military formation toward Yan Weichuan, scaring him out of his wits.
"Get back!" Yan Weichuan pointed with a hand seal.
The Spiritual Chariot of Ten Thousand Blades spun, sending blade-light howling forward. Yet the blade-light that had previously sliced through everything with ease struck these two fiends only to burst into showers of sparks.
The two fiends were knocked flying by the slashes, but when they steadied themselves, they were completely unharmed!
Yan Weichuan was horrified. He hurriedly pulled the surrounding Tabai soldiers in front of him as shields, retreating at top speed while frantically unleashing more blade-light.
Under the relentless barrage, the two fiends were naturally forced back again and again.
Yet once the blade-light dissipated, they remained unscathed. Their laughter grew increasingly piercing, and they simply abandoned Yan Weichuan to tear into the army formation instead.
With these two fiends joining the fray, the military formation showed immediate signs of collapse.
Agonized wails rose in waves, ceaseless and deafening.
"It seems... I have no choice but to use that."
Yan Weichuan gritted his teeth and finally made up his mind. His hands shifted somewhat clumsily into a hand seal, and he barked at the fallen soldiers:
"Awaken at once!"
*Boom!*
At his command, though the soldiers just devoured by the fiends had their corpses consumed clean, wisps of departed souls suddenly rose from the ground.
Immediately after, these souls attached themselves to slips of talisman paper. Fluttering in the wind, they transformed back into armored soldiers in the blink of an eye; even the dead horses were revived, replenishing the Tabai Battalion's ranks and restabilizing the situation.
"The Perfected truly did not deceive me!"
Yan Weichuan exhaled a long breath. This technique of paper soldiers and talisman horses was his final trump card, capable of granting the Tabai Battalion a second life.
Having shed their bodies of flesh and blood, and with talisman paper shielding their souls, the resurrected soldiers were, strictly speaking, even more formidable than when they were mortals.
"Senior, do you still wish to fight?"
With that thought, Yan Weichuan looked at Wang Ping, a smile finally returning to his face.
"Ten thousand fiends are impressive indeed, but my soldiers can resurrect and fight anew. In a war of attrition like this, you cannot win. Why not both take a step back..."
"Resurrect? What a misunderstanding."
Watching more and more fiends being slain, Wang Ping let out a cold laugh. "What makes you think that I cannot do something you can?"
As the words fell, he took a step forward.
In an instant, the banner behind Wang Ping billowed, and the fiends slain earlier re-manifested—their numbers not a single one short of before!
What was more, most of those slain fiends had scored kills before their demise. By devouring the enemy's flesh and blood, their strength had grown considerably. Now that they were manifested anew, the gains made before death were not erased; the enhancements remained, making them even stronger than when they first appeared!
"H-How is this possible..."
The fiends' rising chorus of sinister laughter reduced Yan Weichuan's cry to a feeble whimper. His terrified face was mirrored in their predatory eyes.
Around them, the Tabai Battalion's formation visibly wavered.
This wavering only spurred the fiends' ferocity further.
*Roar—!*
"It seems they are starving."
Wang Ping chuckled softly, then slowly raised his palm. "Rest assured, fear is only natural. Bear with it for a moment, and you will not have to fear anything again."
With that, he swung his palm downward with force.
And so, the fiends danced in wild abandon.
Chapter 72