Black qi billowed around the Rank 6 ghost soldier as gusts of yin wind howled. Even with qi and blood as robust as Zhou Wuji's, he felt the chill cut to the bone, cold enough to freeze his very blood.
The divine aperture between Zhou Wuji's brows resonated with the Tianshu star deep in the night sky. His seven apertures simultaneously inhaled and exhaled spiritual qi, converting it into potent true qi that coursed through his entire body to stave off the yin wind and ghostly qi assailing him.
For ghostly entities like ferocious ghosts and baleful ghosts, their spiritual core flickered erratically like an unstable flame.
The spiritual core of this Rank 6 ghost soldier, however, was as firm and solid as a lustrous pearl, making it exceptionally difficult to destroy.
Relying on the profundity of his Six Yang Dharma Eyes, Zhou Wuji saw straight through the ghost soldier's spiritual source, which made him all the more reluctant to tangle with it.
Even with the Yin Thunder Bead in his possession, truly obliterating this ghost soldier would be an uphill battle.
The ghost soldier cared nothing for Zhou Wuji's thoughts. Shifting from intangible mist to solid form, it raised its long saber and slashed fiercely toward him.
The ghost soldier stood more than a chi taller than Zhou Wuji, and the saber in its grip was fully six chi long. With its unnaturally long arms, when it raised the blade and chopped downward, the strike was brutally fierce despite its simplicity, blanketing an area of more than a zhang.
Zhou Wuji's swordsmanship was far superior to that of the ghost soldier, but the creature could shift between the ethereal and the corporeal—a trait that made combat exceedingly tricky.
He leveled the Seven Stars Sword toward the ghost soldier, channeling his true qi to ignite the runes on the blade into a glittering, freezing aura.
The Seven Stars Sword was a dharma blade specially crafted to suppress all manners of evil fiends and ghosts. Infused with Zhou Wuji's qi, its sword light carried the power to sunder yin spirits.
Fierce as the ghost soldier was, the sudden glare of sword light caused the emerald ghost fire in its eyes to dim.
With a flick of his left hand, Zhou Wuji cast the Golden Light Incantation, sending a golden runic radiance straight into the ghost soldier's face.
The Golden Light Incantation was another spell designed specifically to dispel evil and purge demons. Its pure, blazing yang light instantly scorched a plume of black smoke from the ghost soldier's face, wringing an agonizing shriek from the depths of its soul.
Zhou Wuji darted past the ghost soldier in a flash, lunging straight for the demonic cultivator concealed in the bamboo grove.
The Golden Light Incantation and the sword light from the Seven Stars Sword could only harass the ghost soldier, inflicting negligible damage. It was far wiser to seize the opening and cut down the demonic cultivator himself.
Without someone controlling it, the ghost soldier possessed no true intellect; he would have plenty of ways to deal with the thing afterward.
Fang Boxiong was slightly taken aback. This brat was charging over to kill him?
A sneer touched Fang Boxiong's lips.
Facing a Rank 6 cultivator, the youth actually had the nerve to charge head-on with a sword? Juniors these days truly had excessive guts and wild imaginations!
Granted, the boy's swordsmanship was exquisite, far beyond anything Fang Boxiong could match with a blade.
The problem was that he had no need to face Zhou Wuji in hand-to-hand combat; his sorcery alone was more than enough to secure a decisive victory.
Forming an incantation gesture, Fang Boxiong tapped the Mystic Yin Mirror, instantly drawing the deployed ghost soldier back into the glass.
Standing nearby, Jin Chuan seized the opportunity, raising his military crossbow and firing a bolt at Zhou Wuji.
Predictably, Zhou Wuji dodged the arrow with ease.
Yet having evaded the bolt, Zhou Wuji promptly activated a Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman.
The spiritual radiance of the seven stars flared, wrapping Zhou Wuji in an azure mantle of light.
Fang Boxiong scoffed disdainfully. The Arctic Sect's Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman was impressive, but against his arts, it would not last more than a few breaths.
He suspected Zhou Wuji still had a Yin Thunder Bead, but he remained thoroughly unfazed.
Catching a blast of Yin Thunder off guard would indeed be troublesome. However, with the Yin-Yang Dharma King's banner erected and the Mystic Yin Mirror in hand, he had no reason to fear a mere Yin Thunder Bead.
Yet after activating the talisman for protection, Zhou Wuji came to an abrupt halt. This left Fang Boxiong slightly bewildered; it felt as though Zhou Wuji had deliberately stopped to wait for him to cast his spell...
In Fang Boxiong's experience, whenever a situation was unclear, stillness trumped action. Taking it slow did no harm, and it was certainly better than moving recklessly.
Jin Chuan was even more perplexed. What did Zhou Wuji mean by suddenly standing there? Was he mocking him?
The heavy crossbow in his hands packed immense power, but spanning the bowstring was cumbersome. Having just released a bolt, he had to reload before he could shoot again. In that amount of time, Zhou Wuji should have crossed the distance and reached them. Jin Chuan had already lowered the crossbow, but seeing Zhou Wuji stand frozen, he could not resist picking it back up to wind the string.
Zhou Wuji paid no mind to the reactions of Jin Chuan or the demonic cultivator. Shielded by the Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman, he opened the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment and converted the bear demon into Primordial Profound Essence.
A dense azure glow descended, rapidly sinking into his four limbs, all hundred bones, and his internal organs.
In a breath, his physical attribute surged from 337 to 382, jumping by 45 points.
The Primordial Profound Essence refined from the bear demon's robust vitality directly bolstered Zhou Wuji's overall physical constitution by thirteen percent.
The body was not merely about strength and speed; it encompassed every aspect of flesh and bone, including skeletal density, muscle integrity, the resilience of internal organs, and foundational life force.
Even in raw strength alone, Zhou Wuji had gone from 1,500 jin to 1,700 jin.
His speed, reflexes, and physical toughness rose accordingly, improving significantly across the board.
In an instant, Zhou Wuji familiarized himself with his reinforced physique, discerning the exact limits of his capabilities. Thanks to the empowerment of the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, he adapted seamlessly to the sudden surge, as though every bit of progress had been forged through countless hours of rigorous training.
Precisely because he held a crystal-clear understanding of his body, Zhou Wuji knew this was still not enough—at least not enough to force a kill against a Rank 6 demonic cultivator, even one who had not erected a formal dharma altar.
Yet it was precisely because he saw the foe lacked an altar that he had decided to strike decisively in the first place!
Zhou Wuji knew time was pressing. He had no leisure to experiment bit by bit; his only option was to use Zhang Xinhu's destiny pattern to convert into primordial profound spirit and achieve his goal in one stride.
Three liang and nine qian of primordial profound spirit transformed into purple light, and a miniature world unfolded before him. Within it, Zhou Wuji practiced the Five Tigers Fist stance by stance.
The Iron Tiger fist jin issued inward; the Black Tiger fist force arose from the heart; the Flying Tiger fist intent preceded the fist; the Heart Tiger fist endured without moving; the White Tiger fist spirit remained steadfast within...
In a flash, Zhou Wuji grasped the core essence of the Five Tigers Fist, mastering the technique to the grand attainment stage.
His bones, sinews, and viscera realigned in harmony with the Five Tigers fist jin, his qi and blood surging like the roaring waves of the Great River.
The entire process took place with staggering speed.
Or rather, within the pocket world opened by the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, his body adjusted simultaneously as he practiced the fist.
To the outside world, Zhou Wuji's transformation appeared to happen in a mere heartbeat.
Maintaining his artifact, Fang Boxiong found Zhou Wuji's behavior utterly bizarre. The youth had triggered a Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman to guard himself, yet he stood stock-still.
Fang Boxiong vaguely sensed an unusual shift in the boy's aura, but when he tried to discern it, all he could see was the spiritual luminescence of the talisman.
Beyond that, nothing seemed amiss.
Even so, an uneasy feeling crept into Fang Boxiong's chest. Deciding against waiting passively, he tapped the Mystic Yin Mirror, summoning the Mystic Yin ghost soldier once more.
Black mist erupted, coalescing into an ink-dark ghost soldier above Zhou Wuji that swung its saber down with vicious force.
Zhou Wuji watched the descending ghost soldier. Though born of yin spirits, its baleful aura had condensed into something nearly tangible, carrying a crushing momentum capable of splitting earth and cleaving rock.
In the past, even with his transcendent swordsmanship, he would have had to dodge rather than face such a blow head-on, given the immense gap in their cultivation realms.
Now, things were different.
Mastering the Five Tigers Fist brought his inner and outer strength into seamless unity, allowing him to command every ounce of force across his skin, flesh, sinews, bones, and organs at will.
The boxing discipline had tempered his body to the absolute limit, elevating his physical attribute by another 48 points to reach 430.
This physical value was on par with the Rank 7 military officer who had barged into Canglong Temple, putting his punching force near two thousand jin.
Moreover, having attained the grand stage of the Five Tigers Fist, his mastery of the art surpassed even Zhang Xinhu's.
Even bare-handed and without relying on true qi, he was confident he could overpower Zhang Xinhu through sheer martial prowess.
Coupled with his Tianshu true qi, the robust physique granted him a massive leap in combat capability, even if the two had not yet melded into absolute harmony.
Looking again at the descending ghost soldier, Zhou Wuji could tell it was merely a mass of gathered yin qi—formidable in appearance, but hollow at its core.
The ghost soldier's true terror lay in its ability to shift between form and void, and in the elusive, bizarre nature of its spiritual core that made it nearly impossible to slay for good.
In terms of raw combat power, a ghost soldier could not hold a candle to a Rank 7 martial artist.
That was precisely where martial artists excelled.
Feeling the tempestuous surge of qi and blood inside him, Zhou Wuji was certain he could shatter the ghost soldier above him with a single punch. Yet doing so would not destroy the entity and would only put the demonic cultivator on guard.
The methods used to deal with a Daoist priest were entirely different from those used against a Rank 7 martial artist.
Once the demonic cultivator realized he wielded the might of a Rank 7 martial artist, the man would undoubtedly alter his battle strategy.
Zhou Wuji visualized the scarlet Heart Tiger, using the divine intent of the Heart Tiger to reign in his qi and blood, burying the full prowess of a Rank 7 martial artist deep within.
Simultaneously, the divine aperture between his brows channeled true qi to resonate with the Seven Stars Sword in his grasp. The snow-white blade hummed with a low vibration, releasing a crisp, frigid beam of sword light that slashed upward to meet the descending black saber.
No matter how strong the ghost soldier was, it remained a construct of condensed ghostly qi. Zhou Wuji unleashed his true qi to execute the Evening Snow Sword.
In an instant, an unbroken expanse of snowy sword radiance enveloped the ghost soldier, delivering Evening Snow Spanning the Heavens—the most magnificent stance in the Evening Snow Sword.
The pitch-black saber fractured and shattered beneath the sword light, followed by the ghost soldier itself, which was sliced into tatters of dispersing black mist under the relentless flurry of rapid cuts...
Zhou Wuji's full release of sword qi was so ferocious that even Fang Boxiong was shaken.
How could a Rank 8 Daoist wield swordsmanship so overpowering? It was not a whit inferior to a Rank 7 martial artist, lacking only the dense, incinerating qi and blood that burned away all yin energy.
Fang Boxiong tapped the Mystic Yin Mirror again, using the essence blood on his fingertip to trace another rune. Chanting a spell beneath his breath, he condensed the ghost soldier anew upon the mirror's surface.
The ghost soldier's spiritual core resided within the Mystic Yin Mirror; losing its physical shell merely cost a wisp of yin qi, which meant nothing.
Fang Boxiong had unblocked the Baihui acupoint, known as the Heavenly Gate in the Yin-Yang True Scripture. Opening the Heavenly Gate allowed a practitioner to commune with the dual qi of yin and yang to produce diverse manifestations.
At this stage, his true qi exceeded that of a Rank 7 practitioner by more than double, granting him preliminary access to the power of the Yin-Yang Dharma King to cast various secret arts.
He considered his cultivation ten times superior to Zhou Wuji's; no matter how brilliant the youth's swordsmanship was, the boy should have been meat on his chopping block.
Only upon clashing did Fang Boxiong realize just how troublesome Zhou Wuji was.
Even so, he could tell Zhou Wuji possessed at most the true qi of a Rank 7 cultivator. The dazzling flurry of rapid strikes that felled the ghost soldier had undoubtedly drained all the boy's energy.
Without true qi, what could he possibly fight with?
Fang Boxiong used his essence blood to drive the Mystic Yin Mirror, summoning the ghost soldier once more.
This time, he invoked the power of the Yin-Yang Dharma King to infuse the ghost soldier with the dual qi of yin and yang.
The ink-black ghost soldier took on a metallic sheen, its physical toughness tripling at the very least.
Such a secret art consumed an enormous amount of magic power, but recognizing Zhou Wuji's danger, Fang Boxiong held nothing back.
The ghost soldier charged forward again, swinging its blade straight for Zhou Wuji. Taking a deep breath, Zhou Wuji cast the Rejuvenation Technique. Amid a flash of emerald light, his depleted true qi was rapidly restored.
Zhou Wuji surged forward, accelerating as the Seven Stars Sword transformed into a streak of lightning aimed at the ghost soldier.
He executed consecutive thrusts of the Descending Goose Sword. The first strike tapped the ghost soldier's saber three inches along the blade where it had the least leverage. Unable to withstand the pinpoint force, the blade—harder than steel—was knocked off course.
Though the ghost soldier could shift between void and substance, the infusion of the dual qi of yin and yang made its form exceptionally rigid and heavy, inevitably dulling its fluidity.
Before the ghost soldier could recover, Zhou Wuji unleashed a barrage of thrusts from the Descending Goose Sword. The continuous bursts of sword light plunged straight into the entity's head and chest.
Amid crackling flashes of lightning, the ghost soldier was shredded once more.
By now, the distance between Zhou Wuji and his foes was under five zhang. Cold, sharp sword light reflected directly in Fang Boxiong's eyes.
Beside him, Jin Chuan's face turned ashen, his gaze filled with uncontrollable panic.
As a martial artist, this was the first time he had ever witnessed swordsmanship so lethal and swift. In that moment, he finally understood how those rebel soldiers had perished.
Zhou Wuji's blade was simply terrifying!
Nerve-racked, Jin Chuan's hands trembled so violently that he failed twice to seat the bowstring into its notch.
Fang Boxiong ignored the useless Jin Chuan. Zhou Wuji's repeated, abnormal outbursts of true qi could not possibly last; of that Fang Boxiong was certain. As long as he stalled for a brief moment, Zhou Wuji would be rendered utterly helpless.
Muttering an incantation, Fang Boxiong spat a mouthful of primordial true qi onto the Mystic Yin Mirror.
The black surface of the mirror expanded a hundredfold, standing like a dark screen dividing him from Zhou Wuji.
With the ghost soldier proving ineffective against Zhou Wuji, Fang Boxiong summoned the Great Dark Heavenly Mother.
The Yin-Yang Dao worshipped the Yin-Yang Dharma King, a composite deity formed by the Great Bright Heavenly King and the Great Dark Heavenly Mother.
Both the Buddhist and Daoist sects, along with the imperial court, universally condemned the Yin-Yang Dharma King as a demonic heresy and outlawed all offerings to it.
Yet the Yin-Yang Dao could never be fully eradicated, sustained by its esoteric lineages and potent sorceries.
Although the Great Dark Heavenly Mother manifested through the Mystic Yin Mirror was merely a phantom of form, it wielded the terrifying power to command darkness and devour magical arts.
Emerging upon the massive black mirror, the figure of the Great Dark Heavenly Mother was shrouded in profound gloom, yet shifting layers of darkness accentuated the alluring curves of her body, her facial features, and her subtle, expressive gaze.
Zhou Wuji could even see the flowing lines of her robes, her bare feet, and the bell-shaped ornament adorning her left ankle.
It was clearly a sheet of darkness, yet he could discern an entire figure in astonishing detail.
This sensation was not merely visual; it was a profound resonance born of spiritual communion.
Zhou Wuji had heard of the Great Dark Heavenly Mother and seen her idols, but this was his first time witnessing her conjured through sorcery.
With just a single glance at the Great Dark Heavenly Mother within the mirror, his six senses were swallowed by endless darkness.
It was natural for his vision to turn black, but his hearing, smell, touch, and all outward sensory perceptions were smothered by the darkness as well—an utterly horrifying sensation.
For the first time, Zhou Wuji realized that one could smell darkness and touch darkness...
Even so, he did not panic. His opponent was merely a Rank 6 demonic cultivator whose magic power and spells had their limits.
His perfected Six Yang Dharma Eyes could still detect the cultivator's presence and track the circulation of energy within the artifact.
If he could not unravel the spell, he would simply tear it apart by force.
Zhou Wuji cast the Rejuvenation Technique once more. Miraculous emerald radiance flowed through his body and divine sense, restoring his spent awareness and true qi to their peak in an instant.
Under the surge of true qi, the Seven Stars Sword emitted a resonant chime—the sound-based method of overcoming enemies from the Evening Bell Sword.
The chime carried not only sword qi, but an intangible, formless sword intent.
The waves of sword qi and sword intent rippled outward, interfering with the demonic cultivator's unseen magic power and artifacts, mapping the surroundings with crystalline clarity within Zhou Wuji's divine sense.
Through this awareness, Zhou Wuji realized that the permutations of the Great Dark Heavenly Mother were overly complex to unravel quickly.
However, he also pinpointed the true source sustaining her: not the artifact in the cultivator's hand, but the Yin-Yang Dharma King banner planted beside him.
The consecrated banner of the Yin-Yang Dharma King was the true nexus of magical power.
With the Great Dark Heavenly Mother controlling the artifact's defenses, reaching the demonic cultivator directly would be exceedingly difficult.
Without hesitation, Zhou Wuji hurled the Seven Stars Sword.
The blade carried ninety percent of his true qi, augmented by the unified internal and external force of his body.
The Xiaoxiang Sword Technique had no stance that involved throwing the weapon; he had adapted the Sunset Sword, drawing upon its intent of sunset brilliance blazing like fire.
The spinning Seven Stars Sword resembled a radiant solar wheel, carrying an incinerating majesty that threatened to cleave through every obstruction.
The Great Dark Heavenly Mother was sliced in two by the wheel of light, and the encroaching darkness was torn apart, laying bare the figures of Fang Boxiong and Jin Chuan.
Fang Boxiong was both startled and infuriated. Had Zhou Wuji lost his mind? He threw his own sword?!
With no time to think and no way to block the strike, Fang Boxiong could only lurch aside to dodge.
Though Jin Chuan was a martial artist, his reactions lagged far behind Fang Boxiong's. By the time he registered the blinding, spinning wheel of light, the Seven Stars Sword had already whistled past his face, slicing the central Yin-Yang Dharma King banner into two pieces...
Fang Boxiong suddenly understood: the boy had thrown the sword to cut down the banner!
He could not help but sneer inwardly. A clever idea, and losing the banner would indeed weaken the Great Dark Heavenly Mother. But now that Zhou Wuji had parted with his blade, what did he have left to fight the ghost soldier?
Fang Boxiong firmly believed that mastering one art was better than meddling with ten thousand. Having forged his natal artifact, the Mystic Yin Mirror, he had nothing to fear with it in hand.
He pointed a finger, and from the depths of the mirror, the ghost soldier emerged once again, lunging straight for Zhou Wuji.
The azure cloak of light around Zhou Wuji had already dimmed. Even before the ghost soldier reached him, a bone-chilling wave of cold seeped into his skeleton and viscera.
Zhou Wuji triggered the Rejuvenation Technique again. Having used it three times in rapid succession, his divine sense and true qi could only recover to eighty percent.
Sensing the subtle shifts within his body, Zhou Wuji drew a deep breath before the charging ghost soldier, his chest swelling dramatically.
Just as the ghost soldier swung its blade downward, Zhou Wuji opened his mouth and unleashed a ferocious roar—the Heart Tiger Thunder Roar of the Five Tigers Fist.
The technique of thunderous roar was the most common method martial artists used to dispel evil, rooted in projecting the power of qi and blood outward.
Different martial disciplines employed different methods, resulting in distinct thunder roars.
The true thunder roar of the Five Tigers Fist was driven by the Heart Tiger—an eruption of qi and blood stoked by mental intent, releasing raw life force in its most tempestuous form.
Zhou Wuji held nothing back. The unified force of his interior and exterior coursed straight to the roots of his hair. The ribbon binding his topknot snapped under the violent pressure, sending his long hair billowing wildly into the air.
His eyes turned blood-red, and thick blue veins bulged across his face.
The roar sounded like a clap of thunder, like a tiger bellowing across mountain ranges.
The ghost soldier charging with raised blade shattered and disintegrated within the sound waves, turning into wisps of black qi that were swept away by the roaring tempest.
The black mist blanketing the surroundings was blown away entirely, exposing Fang Boxiong and Jin Chuan to plain view.
Having just cocked his crossbow, Jin Chuan raised it to shoot, only for the thunderous blast to strike his face like an invisible hammer. His vision went dark, and he crashed backward onto the ground.
Even Fang Boxiong's withered cheeks shuddered under the shockwaves, his black-and-white Daoist robe snapping violently in the wind.
What truly terrified him was that his divine sense had been stunned by the roar, causing the circulation of his true qi to tremble violently.
Only then did Fang Boxiong realize the horrifying truth: Zhou Wuji was also a genuine Rank 7 martial artist whose erupting qi and blood gushed like an exploding volcano!
Cultivators detested such martial artists above all else—men who disregarded reason to smash through magical arts with brute vitality and physical might.
Had Fang Boxiong been prepared, he would not have been so easily stunned by the roar. But now, it was far too late.
Zhou Wuji kicked off the ground and flew forward like a winged tiger. In his grip was a five-chi saber—the Tiger Wing Saber drawn from the Five Yin Pouch.
Knowing it was too late to retreat, Fang Boxiong desperately pushed the Mystic Yin Mirror to form a massive black shield in front of himself.
As Zhou Wuji soared forward with the blade, he caught sight of his own reflection in the black glass.
His long hair and wide green Daoist robe fluttered behind him in the rush of wind. The slender, sharp five-chi goose-quill saber gleamed in his hand, veins stood stark against his skin, and a ring of faint red flame flickered in his eyes.
The reflection in the mirror was drenched in murderous intent, tinged with an eerie, shadowy presence.
"Very sharp!" Zhou Wuji gave himself an honest appraisal in his heart. Then, he slashed his saber down in fury, and his reflection mirrored the motion.
As blade met blade, the mirror and the reflection shattered into pieces. A thin line of blood sprayed across Fang Boxiong behind the glass, his eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at Zhou Wuji.
After a brief pause, Fang Boxiong's upper torso slid slowly along the red line, toppling to the ground.
The Tiger Wing Saber weighed a full seventeen jin. Reinforced by Zhou Wuji's true qi and an explosive force nearing two thousand jin, the blow had cut straight through the barrier of the Mystic Yin Mirror, severing Fang Boxiong diagonally from the shoulder.
As a Rank 6 cultivator, Fang Boxiong's divine sense was resilient enough that even such a fatal wound did not kill him instantly. He glared at Zhou Wuji, his lips trembling as if trying to speak.
Zhou Wuji had no intention of letting him speak. Against a Rank 6 demonic cultivator, who knew what vile trick the man might pull at death's door? He was willing to converse, but taking unnecessary risks was out of the question.
With a flick of the five-chi saber, a deep gash appeared between Fang Boxiong's brows.
The light in Fang Boxiong's eyes extinguished, and his breath ceased entirely.
Aware of how cunning demonic cultivators were and how many sinister arts they possessed, Zhou Wuji glanced at the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment. Only when he saw an additional four liang and one qian of destiny pattern did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.
He had managed to claim victory largely because his opponent was arrogant and had not erected a proper dharma altar. Moreover, Zhou Wuji had broken through to the realm of a Rank 7 martial artist on the spot, using fiery, tempestuous qi and blood to forcibly crush the enemy's artifact.
He looked toward the unconscious Jin Chuan to call out, only to feel a scorching, stabbing pain in his lungs. The moment he opened his mouth, he coughed up a mist of blood.
The thunder roar had been so violent that it injured his lungs, though fortunately, the harm was not severe.
Zhou Wuji cast the Rejuvenation Technique on himself, took a moment to steady his breathing, and then used the saber to flick up the mirror from the dead cultivator's hand.
The ghost soldier remained inside the artifact. Without the cultivator to command it, the creature had no choice but to stay trapped within, posing no immediate threat.
Zhou Wuji searched the demonic cultivator's body. He found several gold drafts from the Hengfeng Money Shop, totaling a little over a hundred liang—scarcely befitting the status of a Rank 6 demonic cultivator. There were also a few medicinal pills, but nothing else of real value.
After pocketing these items, Zhou Wuji patted Jin Chuan's cheek with the flat of the blade. "If you keep playing dead, you're truly going to die..."
With a gasp, Jin Chuan snapped his eyes open. He looked up at Zhou Wuji with raw dread, then quickly averted his gaze, only to see Fang Boxiong lying nearby in two pieces.
His heart leaped into his throat. A venerable Rank 6 cultivator, a Libationer of the Yin-Yang Dao commanding over a hundred thousand followers, had been slaughtered just like that!
*How can this Zhou Wuji be so terrifying?!*
A sudden thought struck Jin Chuan. Zhang Xinhu must have died at Zhou Wuji's hands as well!
Realizing this, Jin Chuan grew even more terrified. Casting about frantically in his mind, he could find no way out. Casting aside all pride, he rolled onto his knees and knocked his head against the ground, begging, "Daoist Master, spare my life..."
Chapter 69