In the hazy white mist, a tall, graceful figure stood on the water’s surface, clad in the Myriad Elements Sacred Robe, exuding an aura of supreme nobility.
It was none other than Princess Luo Ji of the Rakshasa Clan.
“Zhang Ruochen’s growth is terrifyingly fast. To reach the top tier below Great Saint so quickly… given time, he might truly rival Yan Wushen. As expected of the man destined for me,” Luo Ji murmured, her eyes glinting with intrigue.
But her brow furrowed slightly. “Why would Great Prince Moro team up with the Nether Clan and act as bait to lure Zhang Ruochen? Isn’t he afraid of getting burned?”
Despite her exalted status, Luo Ji’s strength hadn’t yet reached the pinnacle, limiting her influence over Moro’s actions.
Especially now, after Moro seized the Confucian Path’s last Sacred Path Ancient Tea Tree, earning great merit and rewards from multiple Rakshasa gods, his prestige was at its peak, making him nearly untouchable.
However, with Ming Yao and Ming Buddha both here, even Zhang Ruochen’s strength should prevent him from dealing with Moro directly.
On land, Zhang Ruochen and Ming Yao’s battle raged, sinking thousands of li of earth.
Ming Yao’s attacks were ferocious, a storm of terrifying curses and dark techniques.
In contrast, Zhang Ruochen stood rooted, unmoving, effortlessly wielding intricate spatial techniques to neutralize attacks while launching his own.
Anyone could see Zhang Ruochen was at ease, treating this not as a life-or-death struggle but a casual spar.
“Zhang Ruochen’s strength far surpasses a mere edge over the Dark Son. Was the intelligence wrong, or did he make another breakthrough in this short time?” Ming Yao thought, growing increasingly wary.
A petal, no larger than a fingernail, appeared silently beside him.
Before he could react, it transformed, spatial rules surfacing, instantly forming a spatial cage around him.
Eight more petals followed, creating eight additional cages.
Ming Yao’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected Zhang Ruochen to imbue a mere petal with hundreds of thousands of spatial rules, evading his senses.
Trapped in nine spatial cages, his movements and even his sacred qi flow slowed significantly.
“A mere spatial cage? Think it can hold me? Nine or ninety, I’ll break them all,” Ming Yao scoffed.
Dark and curse energies surged from him, intent on eroding everything.
Unnoticed, Zhang Ruochen condensed a silver edge with potent spatial force.
“Swish.”
The silver edge slashed, locking onto Moro’s aura.
“Crack.”
Space split, revealing a deep void.
Moro’s pupils constricted as he transformed into a scarlet hurricane, retreating swiftly.
“Clever, Zhang Ruochen, fighting Ming Yao yet still targeting me,” Moro thought.
In haste, he clasped his hands, forming a radiant light point between his palms, containing thousands of sacred shadows.
Pushing outward, the point became an army of shadows, clashing with the spatial rift, twisting the space between them.
“Rumble.”
The rift closed, but the silver edge pierced the shadow army, reaching Moro.
“How?”
With no time for techniques or evasion, Moro poured evil energy into his armor, hoping to withstand the blow.
“Crunch.”
The silver edge shattered his top-tier, ten-thousand-pattern armor.
Despite divine Rakshasa inscriptions, a deep, bone-exposing wound opened on Moro’s chest.
Moro flew back, sacred blood gushing, dyeing the water red.
A top-tier powerhouse, wounded in one exchange? Countless Infernal Realm cultivators shuddered.
Ming Buddha roared, “Zhang Ruochen, enough! Let this Buddha send you off!”
He could no longer stand by.
Ming Yao alone couldn’t kill Zhang Ruochen.
Zhang Ruochen’s growth was too rapid. If not stopped now, he’d become uncontrollable.
Ming Buddha flung his prayer beads, powered by potent curse energy.
The fifteen beads enlarged, becoming hundred-zhang skulls surrounding Zhang Ruochen.
Each bore intricate curse runes, exuding eerie auras, imprisoning powerful saint souls.
Zhang Ruochen sensed fourteen skulls with top Saint King auras and one with an Immortal Great Saint’s.
Refining an Immortal Great Saint and fourteen top Saint Kings’ skulls into beads—Ming Buddha’s methods were ruthless.
“I look forward to making your skull the sixteenth bead,” Ming Buddha said, grinning cruelly.
He relished suppressing strong foes, refining them into beads to suffer eternally, their resentment enhancing the beads’ power.
“Roar.”
The skulls screeched, unleashing distinct saint techniques.
Each was formidable, the weakest a mid-tier Exquisite technique, including three high-tier ones, with the Great Saint skull’s high-tier technique the most terrifying.
The heavens’ rules and sacred qi within thousands of li surged, clouds swirling, the sky darkening.
Zhang Ruochen remained calm, his hands forming strange spatial seals at incredible speed.
“Spatial Tide,” he said softly.
Vast spatial energy poured from him, forming surging tides sweeping all directions.
“Boom.”
Every saint technique was engulfed, vanishing like mud in the sea.
The fifteen skulls were flung back by the tide.
“Crack.”
Some skulls cracked, nearly destroyed.
“How is he this strong?” Ming Buddha thought, shocked.
He’d taken Zhang Ruochen seriously, using his painstakingly crafted beads, yet they were so easily countered.
The tide stirred Luoshui, raising thousand-zhang waves, as if a beast were emerging.
Ming Yao broke free from the spatial cages, exchanging a glance with Ming Buddha.
“Swish.”
They attacked Zhang Ruochen together.
Zhang Ruochen flicked his sleeve, releasing the Cyan Sky Saint Dragon, which grew dozens of li long, radiating vast dragon might and divine aura.
“Kill him,” Zhang Ruochen ordered coldly, pointing at Moro.
He’d waited for Ming Buddha and Ming Yao to team up, freeing the dragon to target Moro.
After partially refining the Panlong Vine, the dragon’s strength had soared, nearly matching top-tier below Great Saint in mobilizing heavens’ rules and sacred qi.
Uninjured, Moro would’ve outmatched the dragon, but now, it could at least stall him.
“Yes, Master,” the dragon replied.
Moro, relieved at Ming Yao and Ming Buddha’s teamwork, was stunned as Zhang Ruochen unleashed the powerful dragon.
Its aura alone threatened him.
“Isn’t this the Cyan Sky Saint Dragon Zhou Yu captured in the Barbaric Secret Realm? Zhang Ruochen tamed it and made it this strong?” Moro thought.
Onlookers were astonished.
Zhou Yu’s capture of the dragon and parading it to the Blood God Sect was well-known.
Back then, the dragon was second-tier below Great Saint at best, not this formidable, or Zhou Yu couldn’t have subdued it.
Fairy Tianchu’s eyes flickered. “The dragon’s divine bloodline is fully awakened, nearing true dragon status—likely due to Dragon Transformation Grass.”
“You mean Zhang Ruochen got Dragon Transformation Grass on True Dragon Island?” Fool asked, shocked.
Fairy Tianchu nodded. “Likely. Otherwise, a primordial relic like the Cyan Sky Saint Dragon wouldn’t submit to him.”
Dragons, especially primordial ones, were notoriously proud and hard to tame.
“Roar.”
The dragon roared, lunging at Moro.
This was Zhang Ruochen’s first command, and sensing his killing intent, it couldn’t fail.
“Damn it,” Moro cursed, frustrated.
As the dragon attacked, he had no choice but to wield a king-grade demonic saber to defend.
“Clang.”
The dragon’s claw clashed with the saber, the force sinking a vast swath of water.
Thousand-zhang waves radiated outward.
“Retreat!”
Onlookers on the water fled swiftly.
Such a clash could harm even nine-step Saint Kings.
Fairy Tianchu stood firm, her golden mist neutralizing the waves.
In the mist, Luo Ji frowned deeply, unprepared for Zhang Ruochen’s dragon.
Moro was in grave danger, risking death in Luoshui.
“Why provoke Zhang Ruochen of all people?” she muttered, annoyed.
As a top Rakshasa below Great Saint, Moro’s death would be a significant loss, especially after his recent triumph, damaging the clan’s prestige.
Sadly, Luo Ji couldn’t intervene. Despite her cunning, she couldn’t match the dragon.
Elsewhere, Zhang Ruochen battled Ming Yao and Ming Buddha, holding his own effortlessly against both.
He unleashed a variety of exquisite spatial techniques, keeping them at bay.
Suddenly, Ming Yao’s brow glowed, releasing a dark brown furnace, exuding ancient, eerie energy.
Both poured their curse energy into it.
The furnace gleamed with demonic bloodlight, a strange fluctuation suggesting a reviving entity.
Luoshui’s sky darkened, lightning flashing, as if doomsday loomed.
Zhang Ruochen eyed the furnace. “Such evil energy, akin to the Dark Son’s Nether Ancient Curse, but far worse.”
“Zhang Ruochen, witness the true Nether Ancient Curse,” Ming Yao sneered.
“Boom.”
The furnace opened, its depths like a world within.
A vast divine force locked thousands of li of space.
Countless curse runes flew out, merging invisibly into the air, spreading rapidly.
Where the curse passed, everything turned ashen, radiating ominous energy.
“It’s the Nether Ancient Curse Furnace, a relic from the Nether Ancient era. A Nether Great Saint once used it to wipe out a great world’s life. This evil artifact is too terrifying—flee!” a cultivator shouted, recognizing it.
No one hesitated, fleeing into Luoshui’s folded spaces to escape the curse.
Luo Ji’s face paled, cursing, “Those lunatics Ming Yao and Ming Buddha dare use the Nether Ancient Curse Furnace? Aren’t they afraid of disaster?”
Like the others, she used spatial techniques to flee into Luoshui’s depths, unafraid of getting lost as a spatial master.
