The following day, at eleven thirty in the morning.
Across the boundless northwestern Gobi, bare rock in shades of yellowish-red rose and fell, rolling on toward the distant horizon.
Behind a secluded dune, several stunted saxaul shrubs wilted listlessly beneath the scorching sun.
Wearing a sports headband across his brow, Heavenly King Demonic Eye strode across the soft, barren earth and rounded the dune, spotting the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter and Fu Qingyang tucked into its shadow.
Demonic Eye glanced over Money Prince's spotless white leather boots, then shifted his gaze to the clean hem of the Palace Master's skirt. A dangerous grin curved onto his lips.
"Didn't I tell you two? The airspace above the Gobi is patrolled by falcons trained by the Soldier Master sect. Motor vehicles and aircraft won't escape their sight. Did my words go in one ear and out the other?
"If you delay Yuanshi Tianzun's resurrection, I'll make the two of you join him in the grave!"
"We teleported," Fu Qingyang replied coldly.
"Country bumpkin!" the Palace Master scoffed.
Demonic Eye put up a stubborn front. "Heh, the officials certainly have money to burn."
"The teleportation item belongs to me. It has nothing to do with the Five Elements Alliance." The Palace Master opened her inventory and withdrew an exquisite bronze kettle forged from orichalcum.
Uncorking the spout, she gave it a gentle shake.
With a wet smack, a stark-naked body dropped onto the dune, covered entirely in thick, pale-golden liquid. As the fluid seeped into the ground, clumps of saxaul shrubs immediately sprouted from the hard, barren rock. An aura of life enveloped the surroundings, and several nearby camelthorns rustled and shook, shooting up a few centimeters at a pace visible to the naked eye.
Life Source Fluid of such concentration was truly a masterwork, yet neither Demonic Eye nor Fu Qingyang paid it any mind. Their eyes gleamed as they stared at Yuanshi Tianzun's clone.
Crafted from the original body's essence blood combined with clay infused with Life Source Fluid, it was an exact duplicate of him.
Demonic Eye nodded slightly. "It's indeed his aura. If Yuanshi Tianzun hadn't been completely obliterated in body and soul, this physical form could have served as a vessel for his resurrection."
For a Night Walker or an Illusionist, possessing a body of the same origin and bloodline was enough to revive on the spot.
Next, the two sides carried out the necessary exchange of items.
Demonic Eye received Yuanshi Tianzun's clone and a parchment scroll—a teleportation item—while Fu Qingyang obtained the phone numbers of Heavenly King Ghost Blade and Divine General Silver Moon.
***
After lunch, Divine General Silver Moon headed to Heavenly King Ghost Blade's seclusion grounds to issue his customary challenge.
Bewitching Demons were a combat-oriented class, much like the Scouts among the Orderly faction. Their combat prowess had to be honed through relentless practice to grow stronger.
Ghost Blade's residence consisted of a two-room single-story house and a small courtyard. The northwestern winds blew fiercely with stinging sand, leaving the windowpanes, walls, and courtyard gate coated in a dreary layer of gray.
"Ghost Blade, get out here and fight!" Silver Moon pounded on the gate.
Ghost Blade's exasperated voice drifted out from the courtyard: "Piss off!"
Ghost Blade was hardly keen on sparring with Silver Moon. As a seasoned Level 8 Ancient God of War, he needed only seventy percent of his power to suppress Silver Moon, and eighty percent to kill him.
In his eyes, fighting Silver Moon was nothing more than serving as a sparring dummy. Moreover, since they were both Dominators of the Soldier Master sect, he could not go on a true killing spree.
For a Bewitching Demon, being denied the urge to slaughter was a form of disguised torture.
Every time his battle lust peaked, he had to forcibly rein in his murderous intent. Such fights were utterly pointless—downright tormenting, in fact.
Hearing the refusal, Silver Moon pondered for a moment. Demonic Eye had been reborn and could cripple him with a single glare now. Miejue's bloodlust ran terribly deep; if things got heated, she would dare hack at Asura himself, let alone him, so dying at her hands would be an utter waste. As for Fear Heavenly King, fighting someone who could contend with demigods was completely out of the question.
After weighing his options, Ghost Blade remained the most suitable sparring partner. Thus, he raised his massive, fan-like hand and slammed it twice against the gate with deafening thuds, roaring:
"Ghost Blade, I came to issue a challenge! If you don't have the guts to accept, you're a coward—the sick man of the Northwest!"
The moment his words fell, murderous intent boiled inside the yard. The two wooden doors shattered with a loud blast, and Heavenly King Ghost Blade strode out.
He was an ordinary-looking, middle-aged man of average height with glossy dark skin, dressed in dark brown coarse clothes with bindings around his shins—the spitting image of an old northwestern peasant.
Yet across his back hung a black-iron scimitar with a blood-red edge, and his eyes burned with an eternal, raging battle lust.
Ghost Blade cast a sidelong glance at him. "I'm going to beat you until you call me daddy today."
Giving tit for tat, Silver Moon barked, "That trick works on you every damn time."
Ghost Blade had already unhooked his scimitar and gripped it firmly in hand. "Cut the crap. My blade is starving."
Just as Silver Moon was about to say "the usual spot," the phone in Ghost Blade's pocket rang.
It was a call from an unfamiliar number, with Songhai displayed as the registered location.
Ghost Blade answered, demanding coldly, "Who is it?"
They all used the most basic SIM cards—no data plans, no monthly subscriptions—the kind telemarketers wouldn't even spare a glance.
An equally frigid voice came from the other end:
"I am Fu Qingyang! Ghost Blade, I challenge you. I'll use your head as a blood offering for our flag! Come if you have the guts! My position is sixty li southeast of the Soldier Master sect's Sacred Mountain."
Ghost Blade's eyes ignited with bright light. His burly frame shook, his surging battle intent manifesting into an actual gale that whipped up the gravel from the ground.
Silver Moon clamped a hand onto Ghost Blade's shoulder and sneered:
"Fu Qingyang, what petty tricks are you playing this time? You deceitful Scout, we're not falling for it."
He planned to summon a trained falcon to scout the area and verify if Fu Qingyang was truly out here in the Northwest.
Silver Moon's role within the Soldier Master sect leaned toward steward, administrator, and housekeeper.
The Four Heavenly Kings were all formidable talents, ferocious in battle, but none excelled at running an organization. Silver Moon had no choice but to shoulder the sect's internal affairs.
His past as a slave had taught him endurance, interpersonal tact, and administrative skill. Both his IQ and EQ were solid—except when he lost his temper and cursed at people.
Having mocked Fu Qingyang, Silver Moon turned toward Ghost Blade and scoffed:
"You fall for provocation every single time. Use your brain once in a while and weigh the pros and cons. Don't go running off just because someone waves a challenge at you. You'll get yourself schemed to death sooner or later."
Just then, Fu Qingyang's aloof voice drifted from the speaker once more:
"Silver Moon, you filthy mongrel born of a wretched slave. Why don't you come to Songhai and submit to me? I've prepared a golden hoe for you, and I'll be your master from now on."
Fuck! Silver Moon's scalp prickled, and his face instantly flushed crimson. The scar buried deep in his heart had been ripped wide open, an endless fury flooding his chest.
Fu Qingyang's words were no different from dumping a bucket of filth straight over his head, defiling Silver Moon's body, soul, and dignity.
"You little Fu bastard! I'm coming over to chop you to pieces right now!"
The two Ancient Gods of War let out a roaring battle cry. Their knees bent slightly, and with a booming crash that caved the ground beneath them, the two figures shot into the clouds like sky-bound rockets.
***
Sixty li southeast of the Sacred Mountain, Fu Qingyang hung up the phone and dialed the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter. "Done!"
Behind a sand dune not far from the Sacred Mountain, the Palace Master pulled out the Perfect Human Skin, slipped it over herself, and visualized the appearance of Divine General Silver Moon.
The Perfect Human Skin swiftly "melted" and adhered to her flesh. In the blink of an eye, she transformed into a burly man nearly two meters tall, completely bald, with a prominent nose, a nose ring, and a lip ring.
Boldly, she darted toward the nearby Sacred Mountain. At its foot lay a sprawling cluster of dusty, northwestern-style single-story buildings made from a mix of stone and yellow mud bricks, clinging along the mountainside.
The Palace Master soon reached the settlement and marched straight toward Heavenly King Miejue's residence with clear purpose.
Along the way, Bewitching Demons and Mist Lords bowed in greeting. The Palace Master either gave an aloof nod or unleashed a barrage of curses, scolding the disciples for their laziness and drinking. Those on the receiving end trembled with fear, yet seemed thoroughly accustomed to it.
Not a soul realized this Silver Moon was an imposter.
Finally, the Palace Master halted before a courtyard gate halfway up the mountain. Naturally raising a hand, she pounded roughly on the door.
A moment later, the gate opened. A gaunt woman stood inside, scrutinizing the Palace Master with cold, venomous eyes.
"Silver Moon, did you come here to die?" the woman snapped in a shrill voice.
She was thin and petite, her face sallow, with dry, straw-like hair hanging loose. Dark circles hung heavily beneath her bloodshot eyes, and her gaze was steeped in unbridled malice whenever she looked at someone.
She resembled a deranged woman suffering from chronic sleep deprivation.
"I came to give you work." The Palace Master matched her intensity without giving an inch, speaking in a muffled, gruff voice: "The falcons sent back word. Fifty li to the southwest, a small squad of troops was spotted sneaking around. They're likely official reconnaissance scouts. Go deal with them."
The Soldier Master sect had just attacked the Capital City, so it was entirely normal for the authorities to dispatch scouts for intelligence.
Hearing that she could engage in wanton slaughter, Heavenly King Miejue licked her lips excitedly. Then her brows furrowed, and she peered suspiciously at the Palace Master. "Aren't you usually the one handling this kind of errand?"
The Palace Master immediately cursed back, "I have to fight Ghost Blade. I don't have time for small fry. Go or don't, suit yourself!"
With that, she turned around, putting on the posture of someone who would deal with it themselves.
"Get lost! Don't you dare steal my fun!" Miejue bolted from the courtyard. In a flicker of movement, she whipped up a violent gust of wind and vanished.
The Palace Master turned in the opposite direction. Once clear of the Soldier Master sect's encampment, she peeled off the skin, took out her phone, and dialed Demonic Eye:
"Done! You can resurrect Yuanshi Tianzun now. But remember: draw the blood first. Do not throw him directly into the Mother Goddess's Womb. Under no circumstances should you forget that."
***
Bang!
Heavenly King Demonic Eye kicked open the door, hurried into the room with a burlap sack slung over his shoulder, and swiftly shut the crude wooden door behind him.
Inside, a dark red flesh-and-blood substance carpeted the floor like sludge.
In the center, the fleshy mass was piled high into a mound, half-embedding a three-meter-long flesh pod within it.
Purplish-blue blood vessels ran between the pod and the surrounding flesh.
The entire mound rose and fell slowly, beating like a living heart.
Demonic Eye drew a dagger, slit open the membrane covering the pod's surface, and peeled it back completely. Then, setting down the sack, he dragged Yuanshi Tianzun out.
"The Mother Goddess's Womb can only resurrect someone once. If you return to the Spirit Realm again in the future, even the gods won't be able to save you."
With that, he hoisted Yuanshi Tianzun, preparing to toss him into the pod, when the Palace Master's warning suddenly surfaced in his mind.
*Draw the blood first...*
Demonic Eye frowned. To his mind, the clone possessed both flesh and the bloodline, perfectly satisfying the two criteria required to activate the Mother Goddess's Womb; there was no need for the superfluous step of bleeding it first.
He could simply throw it into the womb and sacrifice it directly.
The step the Palace Master repeatedly emphasized struck him as baffling. Suddenly, a sharp gleam flashed across Demonic Eye's eyes.
A possibility occurred to him.
Throwing Yuanshi Tianzun directly into the Mother Goddess's Womb might resurrect someone else!
Skipping the bloodletting step was equivalent to sacrificing Yuanshi Tianzun as a blood relative. Would the one returning from the dead be Yuanshi Tianzun's relative?!
*This guy's blood relative...* Demonic Eye pondered for several seconds before tossing the thought aside. He had very little time left, and resurrecting Yuanshi Tianzun was the paramount priority right now.
As for relatives or whatever, he neither cared nor needed to figure it out at this moment.
The sharp dagger sliced open the femoral artery in the thigh. Crimson, warm blood rich in spiritual power gushed out, trickling in steady streams into the flesh pod.
The flesh walls rippled and squirmed, hungrily absorbing the warm blood.
Once the pod had absorbed sufficient blood, Demonic Eye grabbed Yuanshi Tianzun's thick leg, heaved him into the vessel, and drove his dagger through the clone's heart, killing it.
Having done all this, Demonic Eye sheathed his blade and stepped back, murmuring under his breath:
"Revive, Yuanshi Tianzun! Without you, this world is far too dull. I need you to join hands with me and cleanse this filthy world."
His gaze burned bright and fervent, brimful of anticipation.
The torn membrane regenerated rapidly, sealing the surface of the flesh pod once more.
Through the translucent membrane, Demonic Eye watched as the clone within was gradually digested and absorbed.
The process lasted three minutes.
*It worked!* Demonic Eye rejoiced. He waited eagerly, the vibrant excitement in his brow resembling that of a young father anticipating the birth of his child.
Yet right at that moment, a prompt suddenly flashed from the flesh pod representing the Mother Goddess's Womb:
[Resurrection Failed!]
Staring at the prompt, Demonic Eye froze in place, utterly stunned.
Chapter 644