Zhang Yuanqing slipped on the black-framed glasses and scrutinized the black jade Pixiu atop the Imperial Preceptor's head. These glasses were a working tool Xiahou Aotian had crafted for himself after advancing to Dominator, capable of swiftly analyzing the attributes and class affinities of props and materials without needing to touch each one to read its information.
Because Xiahou Aotian possessed far too many props and materials to fit within his inventory, he had dumped several of his less vital "tools" into the faction storehouse.
He had essentially treated the faction storehouse as his private locker.
Several seconds later, Zhang Yuanqing viewed the black jade Pixiu's attributes through the lenses:
[Name: Heaven-Swallowing Beast]
[Type: Weapon]
[Function: ???]
[Description: ???]
[Note 1: ???]
[Note 2: Before it is full, it will never stop.]
[Note 3: ???]
Xiahou Aotian's glasses were of Level 7 quality, yet they could reveal only a single note while the rest remained question marks. This indicated that the black jade Pixiu stood at Level 8.
It could not possibly be Level 9. If the Imperial Preceptor had possessed a Level 9 prop, he would have ground them into the dirt already.
*Before it is full, it will never stop?* Zhang Yuanqing turned over the solitary clue in his field of vision. A sudden thought struck him, illuminating the solution to neutralizing the creature.
Feed it until it was stuffed!
He promptly removed the glasses and shared both the intel and his plan with his companions.
Xiao Yuan frowned repeatedly. "Earth Monsters rank first among all classes in stamina. Feeding that Heaven-Swallowing Beast to capacity is easier said than done. Even if we could fill it, how much spiritual power would we have left?"
If they exhausted themselves just to neutralize a single prop, the four of them would end up like fish on a chopping board, helpless against their enemy.
"Don't panic. With the Palace Mistress and me here, it won't be a problem." Zhang Yuanqing gave a sweeping wave of his hand. "Consort Yuan, Gang Master Duan, both of you fall back and watch for an opening."
He halted, no longer fleeing, and swiftly retrieved the repaired Yata no Kagami, angling it toward himself.
A flare of yellow light flashed from the mirror's surface, manifesting into an identical Zhao Shun.
Next, Zhang Yuanqing hastily pulled out the Yin-Yang Robe, Houtu Boots, and Azure Emperor Jade Belt, equipping them onto his clone.
The clone snapped his fingers, activating the set effects.
In an instant, the Yin-Yang Robe parted into a somber dark robe and a blazing flame cloak. The Azure Emperor Jade Belt shone brilliantly, while the cloud patterns on the Houtu Boots deepened, shedding a thick, heavy yellow glow.
Zhang Yuanqing's clone looked as though he had been adorned with dazzling, multicolored visual effects, resplendent and magnificent.
The surrounding spiritual power of wood, water, fire, and earth boiled into motion. Earth spiritual power spread outward, overlain by azure light; flames fed on the azure glow and roared to life, while black water surged freely through the air.
The four elements strained to merge, as if striving to give birth to chaos, yet lacking metal spiritual power, every attempt at fusion ended in failure.
Having deployed his domain, the clone did not choose close-quarters combat. Although he possessed the foundational skills of four major classes combined with his combat strength as a Day Wanderer, allowing him to push his luck briefly against a pseudo-Level 9 yin creature, his present objective was simply to feed the Pixiu.
He directed the earth spiritual power to surge toward the yin corpse, wrapping around it layer by layer like mud to exert crushing gravity that sought to flatten the foe. Wood spiritual power blossomed and bore fruit across the creature's surface, sinking roots into its pitch-black flesh to siphon its spiritual energy.
Flames seized upon the wood spiritual power as fuel, burning with ravenous fury.
Water spiritual power nurtured the wood affinity.
In the blink of an eye, the yin creature was likewise festooned with vibrant, multicolored effects.
The black jade Pixiu perched atop the Preceptor's head swelled at the belly. It opened its jaws, revealing a fist-sized black vortex. The black, azure, yellow, and red spiritual energies were extracted like ribbons of smoke, funneling directly into its maw.
The black jade Pixiu was instantly tinted with iridescent hues.
The Imperial Preceptor's form blurred into nothingness, entering a state of concealment.
Without hesitation, Zhang Yuanqing triggered Blazing Sun Wargod and Sunrise. Pure golden radiance flooded a forty-meter radius, forcing the Preceptor out of stealth.
His withered white hair disheveled, the Imperial Preceptor abandoned subtleties and lunged into close combat, darting toward the slowest target among them: the Palace Mistress.
Zhang Yuanqing summoned the Form and Spirit Annihilation Blade and activated its soul-seizing ability. Grasping the blade in one hand, he reached his other toward the distant Preceptor.
Unlike an ordinary yin corpse, the Imperial Preceptor—much like Yinyao—still retained an intact soul after transforming into a yin creature.
Yet Zhang Yuanqing's left palm grasped only empty air. He tried again, but still failed to draw out the soul projection.
Ever since acquiring this blade, he had never encountered such a situation. Back in the Dionysus Club dungeon, he had effortlessly seized even the soul projection of a Level 8 Behemoth.
Seeing that the Preceptor was about to overtake the Palace Mistress, Zhang Yuanqing stowed the Form and Spirit Annihilation Blade and summoned the Purple Gold Set. He activated the set effect, encasing his entire body in purple-gold armor from head to toe.
Then he rocketed toward the Imperial Preceptor, utilizing the Illusion God's Heart to nullify the spatial rules.
*Boom!*
He collided squarely with the Preceptor. A sound like the toll of a colossal bronze bell resonated between heaven and earth as the two figures, one black and one gold, rebounded in opposite directions.
Encased in the armor, Zhang Yuanqing coughed up a mouthful of blood, his internal organs tossed into turmoil. Having refined himself into a yin corpse, the Preceptor possessed an unfathomable physical toughness.
Nullifying the physical rule of recoil, Zhang Yuanqing arrested his momentum in an instant. He surged once more toward the Preceptor as the latter was still dispersing the impact, seized the man by the throat, and brought his right fist—fused with the Purple Lightning Hammer—down upon his head in rapid, tight succession.
It was like Iron Man pummeling the Hulk.
*Thud, thud, thud, thud...* Donning the Artisan's Ring, he delivered nine consecutive strikes, shattering the Preceptor's head into powder.
A second later, a fresh head sprouted from the neck stump. Its self-healing capacity was even more exaggerated than that of an Arbiter of Fate. With a guttural roar, the Preceptor thrust a claw through Zhang Yuanqing's chest, tearing out his heart.
At the same moment, Zhang Yuanqing released his grip on the neck and slammed his left hand against the Preceptor's chest. A round aperture opened in his palm, crackling with violet electrical arcs.
*Boom!*
A ball of lightning detonated at point-blank range, severing Zhang Yuanqing's left arm and blasting a clean, gaping hole straight through the Preceptor's torso.
He had chosen to detonate it at point-blank range specifically to prevent the Heaven-Swallowing Beast from intercepting and swallowing the attack.
Just then, the four elemental energies—azure, black, yellow, and red—surged forward once more to enmesh the Preceptor, buying Zhang Yuanqing precious breathing room.
Retreating swiftly without taking the time to ingest the source fluid of life, Zhang Yuanqing flung open his inventory and hurled three crackling, lightning-infused items forward.
"Palace Mistress, catch!"
Silken ribbons slipped from beneath the hem of her skirt, winding around the three incandescent spheres of lightning. The red threads incinerated rapidly, only to regenerate in an endless cycle.
Without stopping to read their item descriptions, she drew them directly into her inventory. When she retrieved them again, she already grasped the set's capabilities as well as her nephew's intent.
The Palace Mistress pressed one lightning orb to her chest, where it transformed into a vest of flashing lightning. She pressed another to her arm, shaping it into a gauntlet, and finally drew forth a dazzling spear.
She had activated the three-piece Thunder God Set.
Her hair bun came undone, and her dark locks whipped wildly in the wind, each strand coiled in electricity. A brilliant blue thunderbolt insignia flared between her brows, and her eye sockets filled with radiant blue light, glowing like the eyes of an armored hero.
Arcing lightning crackled as she exhaled a breath of raw thunder.
Holding the lightning spear aloft, she cried out,
"Thunderstorm!"
*Rumble! Crash! Boom!*
Thick pillars of thunder cascaded one after another from the night sky, interspersed with jagged, clawing bolts of branching lightning. Spreading outward without restraint, they transformed the entire sky into an ocean of electric fury.
An aura of ruin filled every inch of the atmosphere like a tidal wave.
Caught amidst such a vast bombardment while encumbered by the multicolored effects, the Preceptor found evasion impossible. In an instant, he was swallowed by the pillars of thunder and battered by the branching bolts.
The black jade Pixiu's belly swelled as it instinctively devoured both the lightning assaulting its master and the four elemental energies. Its abdomen ballooned like an overfilled bladder.
Stationed at the edge of the thunderous sea, Zhang Yuanqing watched the Preceptor closely, prepared to rush in and tie him down the moment he broke free of the elemental restraints.
Nearby, Xiao Yuan summoned an illusory ritual altar. She seized a yellow talisman, slapped it onto a straw doll, and the doll shifted into the likeness of the Palace Mistress.
Xiao Yuan formed hand seals with both hands, chanting incantations under her breath.
The ocean of lightning summoned by the Palace Mistress brightened by several degrees, growing increasingly terrifying and berserk.
Fortune Blessing!
Gang Master Duan raised both hands overhead in the stance of gathering a Spirit Bomb. A wisp of flame ignited above his head, expanding with blistering speed into a colossal fireball ten meters wide.
The sphere collapsed inward, compressing its power until the crimson flames turned pure white.
He hurled the fireball toward the sea of thunder with all his might.
The Palace Mistress's flesh rapidly charred to carbon, blackening her pale visage, only to restore itself an instant later before carbonizing once more in an endless cycle.
Arbiters of Fate commanded life itself, and their blood was equivalent to the source fluid of life. With an exceptionally deep health pool, she could endure the backlash of using the Thunder God Set. That was precisely why Zhang Yuanqing had entrusted the set to her.
Had it been Xiao Yuan or Gang Master Duan, they would have been critically wounded by now.
Zhang Yuanqing did not idle either. Raising his left arm, he discharged the final two Thunderstorm Cannons.
Pure energy bombardment—feed it to its absolute limit.
The vast majority of this apocalyptic firepower was swallowed by the black jade Pixiu, with only a fraction splashing onto the Preceptor. Though it inflicted substantial damage, his formidable regeneration mended the wounds in the blink of an eye.
The yin qi within him flowed ceaselessly, appearing inexhaustible.
Finally, after expanding to twice its original size, the black jade Pixiu shut its mouth, ceasing its consumption.
It worked! The clone Zhang Yuanqing was overjoyed and shouted,
"All together now! Slaughter this old bastard!"
Fire God Duan pumped his fist, exhilarated. "Good!"
Zhang Yuanqing called out loudly, "Don't celebrate too early. We've only neutralized one artifact!"
Even as he spoke, two bolts of purple lightning descended upon him. They struck his armor until the purple-gold metal partially melted, leaving him paralyzed as broad swathes of his cells were seared to death.
Such was the toll of firing the Thunderstorm Cannons.
The Palace Mistress grimaced as she dismissed the Thunder God pieces. The set skill, Thunderstorm, could only be used once a day; the gear was temporarily spent.
She brought out the Demon Refining Pot and tilted it to pour out two streams of shimmering golden fluid. One formed a slender ribbon that flowed into Zhang Yuanqing, while the other sank into her own body.
Zhang Yuanqing opened his mouth and drew in the source fluid of life, an expression of sheer bliss spreading across his face. Then he opened his inventory and extracted Little Red Riding Hood.
"Come forth, my rebellious remnant Senior Sister!"
With a sharp flick, an ethereal, dangerously beautiful yin creature tumbled out.
Yin qi spiked violently across the clearing, and faint spectral wails echoed from the void.
Amidst this ominous spectacle, Commandery Princess Yinyao spread her arms slightly and raised her elegantly contoured chin, striking the pose of an arriving boss.
A second later, she sensed the oppressive weight of a higher tier. Her soul and body began to tremble uncontrollably.
Fixing her gaze ahead, Yinyao spotted the Imperial Preceptor. She quietly shrunk behind Zhang Yuanqing, lifted her small megaphone, and barked indignantly:
"You only remember me when you're fighting a boss like this? When you're safe, you're off gallivanting with women, but the moment danger strikes, you send Yinyao to die! I don't have the guts for this—let me back in!"
"Insolent cur!"
Having endured the onslaught without suffering lasting harm, the Imperial Preceptor turned into a streak of black lightning and shot straight toward Zhang Yuanqing's true body.
***
Linxia City.
The battered ramparts loomed against the chill of the night, their scorched, cracked stones still radiating faint residual heat.
Having left behind thousands of corpses, the Northern army had retreated in disarray.
The defending soldiers slumped along the walls, sitting in exhaustion while more than a dozen physicians and their apprentices bustled about, tending to the wounded.
Elderly laborers hauled bodies away, clearing the ramparts of spent arrows, broken sabers, and armor fragments. The bodies of fallen defenders were carried down into the city, whereas the enemy dead were hurled directly off the walls.
The weather had turned progressively colder, coating the mornings in frost. With no need to worry about rotting corpses breeding pestilence, no one bothered clearing the dead outside the walls. Over several days, the bodies had piled into mountains.
The Southern dynasty still held thirty thousand defenders, yet only ten thousand of them were true elites.
The remaining twenty thousand consisted of city youths and conscripted refugees. The laborers and auxiliary troops had likewise shifted from able-bodied young men to the middle-aged and elderly.
Once this contingent was depleted, there would be nowhere left to look for reinforcements.
Fortunately, out of the North's four hundred thousand troops, nearly a hundred thousand had been ground down over the past several days in this meat grinder of a siege. Though the North was also conscripting displaced refugees to bolster its numbers, there was a stark difference between seasoned troops and rabble.
Elites possessed iron discipline, whereas refugees would break at the first charge, posing little real threat.
Fu Qingyang stood atop the city wall, taking inventory of the ordnance in the storehouses and the balance of forces on both sides. Judging by their current state, holding out for another three to five days would be no problem.
Grain supplies remained abundant, but siege-defense equipment was running low. The city's artisans had been working around the clock to construct more, exhausting themselves to the point of coughing blood.
Furthermore, the walls had been patched repeatedly. The rate at which laborers quarried and stonemasons dressed stone could no longer keep pace with the rate of destruction.
In an age dominated by transcendent combat strength, city walls were far from impregnable. They sustained damage with ease, even with Xiahou Aotian inscribing arrays to reinforce the masonry.
At that thought, Fu Qingyang's brow furrowed.
Tuoba Guanghe had not shown himself during tonight's assault, nor had his Juque Army appeared.
Tonight's siege had felt more like going through the motions; having sustained several thousand casualties, the North had retreated in haste.
Fu Qingyang's expression shifted abruptly. He mounted his flying sword, soared into the sky, and shot toward the distant Northern encampment.
Crossing three or four li in an instant, he broke into the Northern camp and swept his sword fingers.
A razor-sharp sword beam carved a furrow over a hundred feet long across the earth, cleaving the tents along its path in two, including the grandest and most spacious command tent.
Drums and horns sounded across the Northern camp as Wanyan Batian led a host of high-ranking generals charging out.
Fu Qingyang did not spare them a glance. His gaze remained locked onto the empty command tent, his handsome face grim.
Wanyan Batian looked up at him and sneered,
"Yang Ce, care to guess where the Grand Marshal went?"
Chapter 879