The Cyan Sky Saint Dragon withdrew his dragon breath, freeing the dozens of Rakshasa Saint Kings.
“Eat Great Prince Moro. It’s your only path to survival,” Moyin said coldly.
The Saint Kings’ gazes locked onto Moro, most of their eyes glinting with ferocity.
“Great Prince, you’re doomed in Zhang Ruochen’s hands. Better to fulfill us, granting us a chance to live,” one Saint King said gravely.
Another added, “We have no choice now. Sorry, Great Prince!”
In eerie unison, the dozens of Saint Kings advanced toward Moro.
As the saying goes, self-preservation trumps all.
These were ruthless warriors. To survive, they’d devour not just Moro’s flesh but even a Rakshasa god’s if needed.
Terror filled Moro’s eyes as he roared, “Stop! Don’t come closer! I’m the son of Moyi Evil God, a prince anointed by gods—argh!”
Before he could finish, the Saint Kings pounced, their mouths tearing into him, ripping off chunks of flesh in a bloody frenzy.
Moro’s anguished screams echoed through the hall, like a damned soul’s wail, chilling the air.
Luo Ji’s pupils constricted, her eyes betraying unease. Though a Rakshasa, this was her first time witnessing her kind cannibalize one another.
Moyin sliced a palm-sized piece of flesh from Moro, sauntering toward Luo Ji. “Noble Princess, I’ve chosen the tenderest cut for you. Savor it.”
Luo Ji’s heart jolted. She recoiled at eating human flesh, let alone her kin’s. Forcing her to consume Moro’s would be worse than death.
“Swish.”
As Moyin neared her mouth, a blinding sword light erupted from Luo Ji.
“Crack.”
The light severed Zhang Ruochen’s spatial chains and shattered his intricate seals.
An ancient sword hilt flew into her hand.
Infused with her evil qi, divine light poured from the hilt, weaving countless sword rules into a slender blade, radiating potent divinity.
Without effort, universal rules orbited the divine sword.
“Rumble.”
The sword’s power stirred Luoshui into turbulent waves, each sharpening as if forming thousands of blades.
“This is…” Moyin’s expression shifted.
She’d seen this hilt in the Northern Region, linked to the Sword Tomb, nearly seizing Zhang Ruochen’s Torrential Sword.
Despite searching Luo Ji, Moyin hadn’t found it, baffled by its hiding place.
Sword in hand, Luo Ji poured all her evil qi into it.
Thousands of sharp sword qi formed a torrential stream, encasing her in a separate space-time, untouchable.
Moyin’s vines shattered upon touching the stream, and Enoch’s spirit dragon fire was repelled.
“Boom.”
The unstoppable sword stream demolished the hall, piercing Luoshui’s folded spaces, carving a path outward.
“Save… save me…” Moro pleaded.
Luo Ji’s eyes showed pity, but she didn’t hesitate, stepping into the channel.
She couldn’t save Moro. Lingering risked losing her own escape.
The Sword Tomb hilt was extraordinary, but her strength couldn’t fully wield it.
As she moved, Moro’s last hope crumbled, plunging him into despair.
The moment she entered the channel, Nine-Tune Celestial Star quaked, a profound sword intent enveloping it.
Its source: Zhang Ruochen’s secluded chamber.
“Swish.”
Thousands of Zhang Ruochen’s figures appeared across the star, each vivid, indistinguishable, wielding swords in intricate forms.
“What’s happening?” Tianchu Civilization cultivators on the star were alarmed.
The surging forces suggested an enemy attack.
“Oh no,” Luo Ji muttered, retreating from the channel.
Zhang Ruochen’s sword intent had formed an independent world, encompassing the star, severing her sword’s path.
“Master’s emerged. You can’t escape, Luo Ji,” Moyin said, delighted.
Ignoring her, Luo Ji stared skyward at a colossal saint sword, ten thousand zhang tall, like a celestial mountain.
Radiating nine-colored brilliance, its surface bore mystical patterns, embodying the essence of swordsmanship.
Countless universal rules and spiritual qi formed saint sword shadows, all pointing to the great sword, like a pilgrimage of blades.
“Buzz.”
The hilt in Luo Ji’s hand trembled, threatening to fly free.
“Swordsmanship Great Completion,” she said, each word deliberate.
Reaching a million rules in a saint path at Saint King realm is Great Completion.
Theoretically, a Saint King can cultivate up to a million rules per path, but few achieve it.
Even minor paths rarely hit a million, let alone Great Completion in major, supreme, or eternal paths.
Luo Ji never imagined Zhang Ruochen would achieve a million sword rules—one of the 72 supreme saint paths—triggering cosmic phenomena.
A million rules versus 999,999 is a chasm.
Great Completion transforms a path profoundly, in ways unimaginable.
Among Zhang Ruochen’s paths, swordsmanship led, nearing a million before this retreat.
Meditating on Sword Ten catalyzed its transformation, achieving the coveted Great Completion.
“Swish.”
His figures merged, revealing his true self.
With a gesture, the ten-thousand-zhang nine-colored sword merged into him.
Though vivid, it was his sword saint phenomenon, not a physical blade.
The star’s phenomena faded.
“Congratulations, Master, on your breakthrough to Swordsmanship Great Completion,” Moyin and Enoch said, bowing.
Despite their top-tier strength, Zhang Ruochen’s presence felt like facing a Great Saint.
Great Completion transformed him fundamentally, most perceptible to sword cultivators.
Landing in the ruined hall, Zhang Ruochen eyed Luo Ji’s hilt.
Despite her resistance, his sword intent wrested it from her grasp.
“Give it back! It’s mine,” Luo Ji huffed, glaring.
Zhang Ruochen examined it. “This comes from the Nether King Sword Tomb. It’s not yours.”
“You bully! Why steal my treasures? The Sundial’s mine, so’s the hilt,” Luo Ji said, seething.
Unfazed, Zhang Ruochen said, “You’re wrong. Nothing is yours. Even your life is in my hands.”
Luo Ji sensed lethal intent, chilling her.
Zhang Ruochen’s ruthlessness toward Infernal cultivators, especially after Moro’s provocation, might implicate her.
“Killing me gains you nothing but trouble. You’ll say you don’t care, but your enemies would rejoice. You’ve got the Sword Tomb’s treasure—why not let me go?” she urged.
Zhang Ruochen said, “I’ll give you a chance to live. Tell the Rakshasa to return the Saint Path Ancient Tea Tree Moro stole.”
Glancing at Moro, he saw only bones, his flesh devoured by the Saint Kings.
Yet Moro lived, his saint source and soul intact.
Zhang Ruochen seized the source, its soul sealed within.
Having endured being eaten alive, Moro’s will was shattered, rendering him useless even if reborn.
With a thought, Zhang Ruochen sent the source to Qiankun Realm for Evil Spirit to refine.
He collected Moro’s immortalized bones, valuable as a Great Saint’s.
Moyin’s vines shot out, piercing the Rakshasa Saint Kings.
“You… broke your word,” they gasped, resentful.
Having devoured Moro, they expected freedom, not death.
“Keeping faith with Infernal scum is folly. Should I let you slaughter Kunlun’s beings?” Moyin retorted.
Their fate was sealed when she and Enoch captured them.
As executioners of the Painting Sect, neither Moro nor these Saint Kings could be spared.
Soon, their essence was drained, leaving husks that crumbled.
“Senior Chu, rest in peace,” Zhang Ruochen thought.
Hardened by loss and vengeance, his heart grew colder, a price of the path to power.
Avenging Chu Siyuan eased his spirit.
Next, he aimed to reclaim the Painting Sect’s tea tree, aiding Saint Book Talent to revive the sect and Confucianism.
Luo Ji, as a Rakshasa princess, held higher status than Moro, potentially swaying her clan.
Moro could’ve been traded, but as Chu Siyuan’s killer, and with Luo Ji captured, he was expendable.
“You’re desperate for the tea tree for Saint Book Talent, aren’t you? Acting cold, but you’re quite the romantic,” Luo Ji teased.
She knew Zhang Ruochen well.
“Do as I say if you want to live,” he said, his killing intent intensifying, an irresistible will enveloping her.
“Fine, I’ll send the message. No need to be so fierce,” Luo Ji muttered, shaken.
Sensing his seriousness, she began inscribing the message.
After Zhang Ruochen’s approval, she sent it.
Asking her clan to trade the tea tree for her was humiliating, but with Zhang Ruochen’s growing strength, her schemes faltered.
Even Yan Wushen fell to him—her loss wasn’t shameful.
To Luo Ji, Zhang Ruochen’s transformation wasn’t just in power but in his unassailable resolve.
To achieve his goals, he’d stop at nothing.
That Zhang Ruochen was truly terrifying.
