Yan Wushen invited Zhang Ruochen, which was no secret. The moment the Nine-Dragon Carriage entered Jiayin City, the news spread among the major forces.
Everyone knew that Yan Wushen and Zhang Ruochen were the pinnacle talents of this era, destined for a climactic showdown.
It might determine victory or defeat, or perhaps life and death.
Their meeting, therefore, was profoundly intriguing.
Meanwhile, at the night banquet hosted by the Huangtian Tribe, a spectacular battle unfolded.
Emperor Yu faced off against the Jingtian Tribe’s Hundred-Shackle Realm Great Perfection expert, Yue Tinghai, defeating him with overwhelming force, severing his right arm, and avenging past shame.
Some speculated that Emperor Yu had not only reached Hundred-Shackle Realm Great Perfection but also cultivated a third-grade holy intent.
Otherwise, Yue Tinghai could not have lost so miserably, with barely any chance to retaliate.
Thus, the position of the Undying Blood Clan’s top powerhouse became a contest among Emperor Blade Hell, Empress Feng, and Emperor Yu.
The news sent shockwaves through the monks of the ten tribes.
The Undying Blood Clan’s strength had officially surged to the forefront among the ten tribes.
However, what baffled countless monks was that, despite Emperor Yu’s formidable cultivation, he was not the leader of the Xuetian Tribe. This drew even greater attention to Zhang Ruochen, who was attending the meeting at the Wushen Hall.
Above the night sky, clouds surged, displaying six distinct colours.
These were the rays emitted by the six-coloured star mist of the Cosmic Forest.
“Boom.”
With a deafening thunderclap, six-coloured rain fell from the sky, pattering onto the roof tiles like a curtain of beads, like tears of the heavens.
Prajna stood in a long pavilion, dressed in white like snow, her dark hair swaying in the wind. She extended a slender, jade-like hand to catch the raindrops, her gaze fixed on Jiayin City.
Beside her stood a slender figure of flame. Upon closer inspection, it was a woman.
Her name was Huomei Yinji, from the Death Clan.
“You think too highly of Zhang Ruochen, don’t you?” Huomei Yinji said with a look of confusion and disdain.
Prajna’s gaze was calm as still water. “It’s not that I think highly of him, but the Yanluo Clan does. Why should we underestimate an opponent they take so seriously? If Empress Feng gains his support, we must be cautious.”
“Tap, tap.”
Wujiang approached, holding a green paper umbrella, casting a long shadow on the ground under the lamplight. “Whether Zhang Ruochen can walk out of Wushen Hall remains uncertain.”
Huomei Yinji glanced at him, her eyes lighting up at his handsome face. “I’ve heard Yan Wushen has taken the path of Buddhist cultivation. With an ancient relic and the divine artifact, the Wanfo Illumination Lamp, he has refined his body to the extreme, almost a half-Buddha. For Zhang Ruochen to leave Wushen Hall alive is harder than ascending to the heavens.”
“The rain is too heavy, the wind too cold. Let’s head back! Before Zhang Ruochen breaks his first shackle, he poses no threat.”
Wujiang stepped past Huomei Yinji to Prajna’s side, holding the umbrella over her to shield her from the slanting wind and rain. Prajna frowned, a flicker of displeasure in her eyes.
At that moment, a shadowy figure appeared in the rain, kneeling on one knee. “Your Highness Prajna, Zhang Ruochen has left Wushen Hall.”
Prajna’s eyes shimmered, and a radiant smile spread across her fair face. “In his own domain, Yan Wushen couldn’t keep Zhang Ruochen. In this clash, Zhang Ruochen has gained the upper hand. With Emperor Yu and now Zhang Ruochen, the Xuetian Tribe is full of surprises this time.”
Wujiang’s eyes flashed with a cold glint. “I’ll go meet him.”
Before his words faded, he vanished from the pavilion.
Huomei Yinji clutched the green umbrella Wujiang had held. “Fighting is forbidden in Hanye City. Isn’t he afraid of breaking the rules?”
“Don’t worry. They know how to fight within the rules.”
Prajna’s hand remained outstretched in the rain, feeling the chill of the drops. Her palm glowed with six colours, like an ink-splash painting.
The raindrops began in the sky and ended in her hand, completing their life’s journey.
That was their fate!
“They?”
Huomei Yinji’s face showed surprise.
“They” could not refer to Wujiang and Zhang Ruochen alone. Could other forces also be planning to move against Zhang Ruochen?
…
Zhang Ruochen and Yan Wushen shared three cups of wine before he rose to leave.
Pulling Saint Xueqi from a spatial trap, Zhang Ruochen stepped out of Wushen Hall first, his body radiating flames, exuding the scent of flowers and wine, his hair glowing reddish-gold, his steps sizzling.
As he left the hall, exotic flowers sprouted from the ground in the courtyard, and petals floated in the sky.
The monks guarding Wushen Hall retreated, stunned.
Saint Xueqi felt both frustrated and curious. Had Zhang Ruochen and Yan Wushen fought? Who won?
He wanted to ask, but seeing Zhang Ruochen’s unusual state, he held back.
“To Hanhai Manor.”
Entering the Nine-Dragon Carriage, Zhang Ruochen gave the order.
With the dragons’ roars, the carriage sped out of Hanye City, racing down the streets.
Inside, Lanxi had risen from the bed, dressed in purple, her waist slender as a willow, her hair flowing like clouds. She sniffed lightly, noticing Zhang Ruochen’s pained expression. “You drank extremely potent wine?”
“Twelve Blossoms.”
Zhang Ruochen clasped his hands, fully circulating the Nine Heavens Bright Emperor Scripture to refine the potent energy of Twelve Blossoms.
Though Yan Wushen had used the wine to test his depth, Twelve Blossoms was a rare treasure, greatly effective for tempering the body and breaking shackles.
For Yan Wushen to share such wine showed he was not petty or narrow-minded.
Having Chi Kunlun by his side might not be a bad thing.
Lanxi frowned. “You know your body has significant weaknesses. The million-fold masculine energy, the Flame God’s Leg, the three dragons, and three elephants could all backfire. How could you drink such fiery wine?”
“Are you concerned for me?” Zhang Ruochen asked.
Lanxi replied, “I’m just afraid you’ll torment me again. Or that you’ll die from the backlash, and I’ll lose my best refuge in the Infernal Realm.”
Zhang Ruochen gave her a peculiar look. “It seems you’ve thought this through and understand your situation. That’s good.”
“I only hope you’ll promise that if you go to the Merit Battlefield, you’ll let me leave,” Lanxi said.
Zhang Ruochen asked, “You want to return to the Celestial Court? Can you?”
“That’s not your concern! Just promise me, and I’ll obey you in the Infernal Realm, becoming your most dutiful maid,” Lanxi said.
Zhang Ruochen closed his eyes. “Fine! A woman whose heart isn’t with me is useless to keep. Whenever you wish to leave, I’ll let you go.”
With this promise, Lanxi felt relieved. Seeing his blood seemingly boiling, she asked, “How can I help you?”
“With your cultivation, how could you help me?” Zhang Ruochen countered.
Lanxi hesitated, her expression softening as she approached, but Zhang Ruochen pushed her away. “I must refine the power of Twelve Blossoms with my own body, using it to meld the shackles within. I appreciate your concern.”
“Swish.”
Saint Xueqi sat outside, gazing at the empty streets, a deep unease rising within him.
In the Infernal Realm, day and night were no different, always bustling. Even in the rain, it shouldn’t be this quiet.
Suddenly, the Nine-Dragon Carriage stopped.
Lanxi lifted the curtain. “What’s happening…”
She was shocked to find that Saint Xueqi, who had broken seventy-two shackles, was gone, vanished silently. A pink mist appeared on the street ahead.
With her strong mental power, she sensed the space within the pink mist stretching.
The mist grew thicker, surging toward the carriage, engulfing the surrounding buildings and streets.
Soon, Lanxi’s vision was entirely pink.
A sense of unease welled up in her.
From the mist came a mocking laugh. “The Shadowless Fairy from the Celestial Court’s Nine Immortals Beauty Chart is in the Infernal Realm, serving as Zhang Ruochen’s maid? Is there anything more absurd?”
In the pink mist, a carriage appeared out of thin air, just over ten zhang from the Nine-Dragon Carriage. The driver was a humanoid skeleton, with flesh only on its face.
The laugh had come from within that carriage.
Lanxi’s gaze fixed on the skeleton driver, and she gasped.
The driver’s intact face was identical to Saint Xueqi’s.
Had Saint Xueqi been silently killed and refined into a skeleton in that brief moment?
Zhang Ruochen opened his eyes, releasing his mental power.
But as it touched the pink mist, it was corroded, unable to probe the enemy’s reality.
At that moment, a ghostly mist appeared behind the Nine-Dragon Carriage, and a black carriage stopped there. A hearty laugh rang out. “Serving as Zhang Ruochen’s maid doesn’t feel humiliating? Shadowless Fairy, this has nothing to do with you. Leave now.”
Three carriages stood in a line, with the Nine-Dragon Carriage trapped in the middle.
Lanxi knew that leaving Zhang Ruochen would only make her a prisoner to another Infernal Realm monk, likely in a worse situation.
“Who are you? Don’t you know fighting and killing are forbidden in Hanye City?” Lanxi demanded.
Zhang Ruochen, still inside, spoke. “These two are no small figures. One is Saint Yanhong, one of the three candidate goddesses of the Temple of Fate. The other is Xu, the seventh son of the Ghost Lord, both among the top ten in the Hundred-Shackle Realm Great Perfection.”
Lanxi’s face paled.
She knew Zhang Ruochen had enemies throughout the Infernal Realm, but two such formidable foes at once were unexpected.
How could they break this situation?
Since they had killed Saint Xueqi, their intent was clearly more than just testing or intimidation.
From the front carriage, Saint Yanhong’s voice rang out. “Covered by my Charming Mist, losing mental perception, yet you identified me immediately. Zhang Ruochen, it seems your time at Hanhai Manor wasn’t just spent frolicking with the Shadowless Fairy.”
From the rear carriage, Xu said, “You’ve never met me, yet you know me. How?”
“Because you’ve always been enemies I take seriously. I’ve memorised everything about you,” Zhang Ruochen replied.
As he spoke, he uttered one word: “Break.”
Pure Extinguishing Divine Fire surged from the Nine-Dragon Carriage, spreading like a white cloud, burning away the pink mist and shattering the illusion.
The skeleton driver’s face was no longer Saint Xueqi’s but wore a bamboo hat, its features obscured.
“It was all an illusion. Saint Yanhong did this to instil fear,” Lanxi thought, relieved.
At that moment, the real Saint Xueqi was bound by pink mist threads like silken cocoons, unable to break free.
If Saint Yanhong dared to kill him openly in Hanye City, she would provoke the Blood Absolute War God, and even the Temple of Fate couldn’t protect her.
As the divine fire burned, the pink threads dispersed, and Saint Xueqi escaped, retreating to the Nine-Dragon Carriage.
He felt utterly humiliated.
Having broken seventy-two shackles, he thought he’d reached the top tier of the Hundred-Shackle Realm. Yet, on this one outing with Zhang Ruochen, he’d suffered two blows.
The gap with Great Perfection experts was vast.
“Clang!”
“Clang!”
The wheels of the two carriages rolled slowly toward the Nine-Dragon Carriage.
With each zhang they advanced, the space compressed further.
The space in both directions formed invisible walls, closing in. The Nine-Dragon Carriage was pinned, unable to move, and the stone slabs on the street cracked.
“Bang, bang.”
Nine explosions rang out as the nine dragon souls pulling the carriage couldn’t withstand the spatial pressure, bursting and retreating into the carriage.
But Saint Xueqi and Lanxi couldn’t retreat, forced to endure the crushing spatial force with their cultivation.
The Nine-Dragon Carriage, reforged to near King’s Sacred Artifact level, groaned under the pressure as the two carriages closed within ten zhang, cracks appearing in parts of it.
