Chapter Fifty-Seven: Madness in Loss, Part Two

Inside the barrier of spiritual energy, Lu Li looked at Ye Wuyá with a taunting glint in his eyes, raising his index finger and beckoning provocatively. Ye Wuyá responded by hammering his fists a few more times.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The spiritual shield shattered layer after layer, splintering like glass, riddled with cracks that spread in all directions before the shards fell away and vanished. Each blow only stoked Ye Wuyá’s rage further. This fellow, hiding within the shield like a turtle in its shell, left Ye Wuyá at a complete loss as to how to attack.

But Ye Wuyá also noticed something useful: as he couldn’t break in, neither could Lu Li break out to attack him. The shield was clearly double-sided, purely defensive in function. If Lu Li wished to attack from within, he would have to break through those dozens of defensive layers himself—or choose to dispel them voluntarily. Ye Wuyá also observed that the talisman papers powering the shield seemed expendable; every time he broke a layer, a talisman on Lu Li’s body would burn to ash.

Realizing this, Ye Wuyá leapt back, unconvinced that Lu Li could remain hidden away forever. Standing five meters away, he watched the man inside the shield with cold indifference.

“Tired already? Hahaha!” Lu Li laughed heartily, evidently pleased with himself as he watched Ye Wuyá retreat. “Since you’re worn out, it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

“Oh?” Ye Wuyá heard Lu Li’s words and felt a flicker of suspicion. He was not afraid of Lu Li’s spiritual chains, nor could the talismans harm him. Most importantly, did Lu Li truly dare to drop his shield?

Lu Li burst into crazed laughter again. “You claim not to fear my talismans or my spiritual chains? You love brute force, don’t you? I’ll give you what you want!”

With that, Lu Li charged at Ye Wuyá, barreling forward with his thick “turtle shell” of a shield. Five meters was nothing for someone at the Shaping Realm; in the blink of an eye, he was upon his foe.

Boom!

Ye Wuyá wound up and met the oncoming Lu Li with a straight punch, veins bulging across his arm like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Half the remaining shield shattered, but his strength was spent. Lu Li came crashing onward, slamming into Ye Wuyá and knocking him straight into the air!

A tremendous force sent Ye Wuyá flying, smashing him into a giant tree behind. The massive trunk, thick enough that three men could not encircle it, was broken clean in two, crashing heavily to the ground and sending a shower of broken branches and earth three meters high.

“Ye Wuyá!” Ye Yunque shouted.

“Cough, cough!” As the dust settled, a figure rose amid the haze. Ye Wuyá waved a hand, dispersing the dust with a gust of wind, coughing a few times—he seemed to have been choked by the debris, but had suffered no serious wounds.

Seeing this, Ye Yunque finally relaxed and cursed, “Ye Wuyá, you idiot! Aren’t you at the Spirit Gathering Realm? Use your protective spiritual energy to keep dust out of your nose and mouth!”

Although Ye Wuyá was not gravely injured, the force had left him shaken. His punch had been absorbed by five talisman shields; then Lu Li had simply barreled into him, protected by layers of defense. It was hard not to feel frustrated!

Still, he found fresh satisfaction with his own body—neither strength nor defense yielded to the spiritual chains of the Shaping Realm. With a thought, he stirred the three swirling vortexes of spiritual energy in his dantian. The once-calm vortices now whirled wildly, sending streams of energy coursing through every part of his body, forming a thin veil of protective power across his skin.

Buoyed by this energy, Ye Wuyá felt strength surging through his body. He also resolved to further strengthen his physical form as soon as possible. All these abilities, the powers brought by corpse worms, had come to him only after contact with the Blood Demon’s remains. He could not be sure these powers would always serve him—after all, the Blood Demon had once been a world-ending force six thousand years ago; who could say he did not have some means of resurrection?

Ye Wuyá was a man who always left himself an escape. He would never grow complacent just because of these borrowed gifts. If these abilities were truly his own, he could rely on them with confidence. But since they came from another, and such a notorious demon at that, he must keep his wits about him.

Better safe than sorry!

As a modern man, he had read every kind of novel, seen every trope. Name any plot twist, and Ye Wuyá could recite it with flair. In countless stories, the protagonist inherits relics or golden fingers from great predecessors, only to discover in the end that these treasures are mere bait, traps for possession or resurrection. Perhaps all these powers were just such snares, and the key to resurrection was yet to be triggered.

Why did he suspect this? It all began after his first transformation.

After his first corpse transformation, he had fallen into darkness and remembered nothing. Yet Ye Ruyue and Ye Ruxue told him that he had driven away the City Lord of Lingfeng in a fit of maniacal laughter, frightening even a ninth-level Spirit Gathering expert. The two women said he had become unrecognizable, as if possessed by another soul. That was the first clue.

The second clue: if the Blood Demon’s wife had returned, why had she not sought him out—or rather, “him”? This could not be a coincidence. The most important clue, however, lay in his subconscious. Since awakening the Ice Spirit, he had acquired new, alien urges—bloodlust, excitement in slaughter, emotions he never had before. When Chao Tianxiang and Shadowshade called him “Ancestor,” he felt it was only natural, as if he truly were the Blood Demon. His subconscious was changing, all since his mad transformation and the awakening of the Ice Spirit.

In this world, nothing truly belonged to him except his own flesh and blood. With this understanding, he resolved to use the Blood Demon’s abilities as little as possible. He had a strong intuition that the Blood Demon was not truly dead.

He still remembered the final words carved in the ancient tomb:

“When the Nine Spirits awaken, the Demon Heart emerges! To battle the heavens and earth, to dance upon the cosmos! To stir the winds and break the firmament! To crush the immortal path and suppress all laws!”

This was not just a promise that Ye Wuyá could become as powerful as the Blood Demon by mastering these arts. He believed there was another meaning: when the Nine Spirits awakened, the Blood Demon would return to the world—perhaps by possessing him!

When that time came, would he still be himself, or become “him”? He dreaded to imagine it. Thus, he must use the Blood Demon’s powers as little as possible, leaving cultivation of the flesh as his sole reliable path. After all, the body was certainly his own; he could be sure of that—certain “parts” and “special places” left no doubt. Though his appearance had changed to resemble the Blood Demon, that must have come from inheriting the latter’s abilities.

Stirring his spiritual energy, Ye Wuyá felt as if he had taken a stimulant. As Lu Li charged, Ye Wuyá gathered the boiling energy in his body and unleashed a fierce hook punch, overwhelming and unstoppable.

The force of the punch surged through his arm and exploded from his fist.

Boom!

A peerless, tyrannical punch smashed into Lu Li’s shield. The outermost layer shattered instantly, crumbling to pieces. The force pressed on, breaking through six more layers. In a single punch, twenty layers of talisman shield were destroyed.

With his cultivation active, Ye Wuyá’s physical strength was now more than three times what it had been. In a flash, he followed up with another punch. In Lu Li’s astonished gaze, the last layer of shield broke like fragile paper. The punch landed square on Lu Li’s face—he felt as if a mountain had struck him. He was sent flying, vomiting a long spray of blood as he crashed through a dozen trees and slammed into a massive boulder ten meters away.

The stone boomed, spiderweb cracks spreading across its five-meter width.

Coughing and spitting two mouthfuls of blood, Lu Li stared in disbelief. “How is this possible? You—you were hiding your strength! You can’t be just Spirit Gathering Realm!”

He vomited another mouthful of blood and staggered to his feet, pulling a red pill from a pouch at his waist. With a sinister smile, he declared, “Let’s die together!” and prepared to swallow it.

But with a soft sound, a sword pierced his chest. Lu Li stared in shock at the blade protruding from his bloody chest, never even knowing when it had appeared behind him.

Ye Wuyá flicked his hand; the iron sword slid out of Lu Li’s body and returned to him. Lu Li was dead.

To ensure there would be no return, Ye Wuyá approached, swung the sword like chopping a corpse, and severed Lu Li’s head. Blood gushed forth.

He deftly removed Lu Li’s pouch, recognizing it as a valuable item. After failing to open it, he hung it at his waist and strode toward the three women.

“Are you alright?” Ye Yunque had donned Ye Wuyá’s black robe at some point, and it hung loosely on her.

“I’m fine. How about you?” Ye Wuyá asked.

“I’m much better now!” Ye Yunque’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, remembering that he had seen her naked just moments before.

“Let’s go see how Shadowshade is doing—it should be nearly over by now.” Ye Wuyá hoisted Ye Ruxue onto his back and picked up Ye Ruyue in his arms.

The two walked toward Shadowshade’s side of the battlefield.

“Ye Wuyá.”

“Hm?”

“Who are you, really? Why do you have so many powerful subordinates, and why do they call you ‘Ancestor’? Are you an old monster starting over?” Ye Yunque asked from behind.

“Women shouldn’t ask so many questions.”

“Oh,” Ye Yunque replied, uncharacteristically quiet. “I think…I might be starting to like you…”

Ye Wuyá nearly stumbled, but thinking of Ye Yunque’s brash and forthright personality, he was not surprised. Girls like her always spoke their minds.

He did not respond. After walking a dozen minutes, they saw Shadowshade, who noticed Ye Wuyá in return. She approached, half-kneeling, and reported, “By Ancestor’s command, there are no survivors among the Lu and Mu clans!”

From the sky, a streak of rainbow light descended. Chao Tianxiang landed, her robes tattered and blood at the corner of her mouth, holding a severed arm in one hand. “Forgive me, Ancestor. I failed the mission you assigned—I let him escape, leaving only this arm. Please punish me!”

“Rise,” Ye Wuyá began, but before he could finish, a pressure descended from the heavens. An old man, immortal in bearing, gazed excitedly at the two women by Ye Wuyá’s side, as if he had spotted a priceless treasure.

“Young friend, those two girls with you—I’ll be taking them!”