To Wuma Jiuxing, whether this Zhang Ruochen was real or fake was no longer important.
What mattered was that this person’s unexpected appearance had completely exposed him and Qiankun Yiqi Hall, making it impossible for them to remain in the Hell Realm.
The urgent task now was to seize the divine artifact.
Just as Wuma Jiuxing prepared to cross the blood lake to Sword Island, the lake’s surface stirred with the sound of water, waves rising, and a dense blood mist ascending.
The starry sky above the blood lake turned an eerie blood-red.
The cultivators atop the altar were all struck with fear, sensing the terrifying phenomenon before them. The air seemed to carry a bloody scent.
It was as if an ancient demon was about to emerge, ready to devour all living beings.
Even Wuma Jiuxing, having reached the realm of a true god, was startled by the anomaly, sensing an intangible aura of danger. He stared at Sword Island, not daring to act rashly.
Chi Yao, disguised as Zhang Ruochen, wanted to cross the blood lake and ascend Sword Island, but Blood Spirit Immortal was at a critical moment of breaking through to divinity, so she had to stay and protect him for now.
“Wuma Jiuxing, if you don’t dare to ascend Sword Island, leave quickly. Otherwise, once Blood Spirit Immortal breaks through to divinity, he and I will join forces, and you won’t even be able to escape,” Chi Yao taunted.
A contemplative look flashed through Wuma Jiuxing’s eyes. He summoned his bronze war blade, “Yingtian,” and said, “Whether you are Zhang Ruochen or not, today I’ll test your true worth.”
If this Zhang Ruochen was merely bluffing, Wuma Jiuxing still had a chance to kill everyone present.
With Yingtian in hand, Wuma Jiuxing’s aura surged, countless blade rule divine patterns pouring from his body, transforming into visible divine blades.
The cultivators of the Death God Temple, Granny Haitang, and others had already seized the opportunity to flee toward the base of the stone altar from another direction.
When two true gods clashed, the surrounding space would become a deadly forbidden zone.
Even Great Saints had no hope of surviving.
“Rumble.”
In an instant, the entire stone altar was enveloped by two vast, surging divine clouds.
Within the clouds, countless divine blades and swords collided, unleashing piercing sounds of breaking wind.
“Boom!”
“Ah…”
Two Great Saints of the Supreme Realm from the Death God Temple and Yuan Jiji, in the Ten Thousand Deaths and One Life Realm, fled too slowly. They were struck by the blade and sword shadows, instantly torn apart and reduced to two clouds of blood mist.
In such a critical moment, no cultivator paid attention to Huanzhen, a mere Semi-Saint. Only Master Yeyou extended a ghostly hand, grabbing him and escaping down the stone altar.
The group of cultivators stopped only when they reached a place untouched by the fluctuations of the divine battle.
“Qiankun Yiqi Hall is backed by the Blade God Realm. This must be reported to the Fate Temple. We must eradicate Qiankun Yiqi Hall’s cultivators and drag Wuma Jiuxing to the God-Slaying Platform,” a Great Saint from the Death God Temple said, seething with anger.
“Zhang Ruochen has already reached divinity and sent a clone into the Hell Realm. He must have a scheme. This must also be reported.”
…
The Death God Temple had suffered heavy losses, and the surviving Supreme Realm Great Saints were overwhelmed with grief, directing all their hatred toward Wuma Jiuxing and Zhang Ruochen.
True Emperor Yuanshu gazed at the distant stone altar, sighing with a somber expression.
Huanzhen, held like a ragdoll in Master Yeyou’s hand, showed no trace of sorrow over Yuan Jiji’s death, his eyes deeply reserved.
He knew he could not reveal that he was Yuan Qianmo.
Yuan Qianmo possessed countless treasures and wealth, hidden in secret locations known only to him, which were his capital for returning to the peak of the Hell Realm.
Huanzhen had exceptional talent, personally trained by him, and was a master of origin.
Given a thousand years, Yuan Qianmo was confident he could cultivate to a level even stronger than before.
But if the Death God Temple cultivators learned he was Yuan Qianmo, with his mere Semi-Saint cultivation, how could he protect the treasures and wealth he once possessed?
Having lost his powerful cultivation, Yuan Qianmo now dared not trust any cultivator.
Not even True Emperor Yuanshu.
True Emperor Yuanshu’s gaze fell on Master Yeyou, then shifted to Huanzhen in his hand. “Senior Yeyou, Huanzhen is a cultivator of the Death God Temple. Why have you captured him?”
Master Yeyou replied, “Girl, are you blind? I’m clearly saving him. Your Death God Temple cultivators abandon your own, and you won’t let me save him?”
True Emperor Yuanshu said, “If Senior truly saved him out of kindness, I, on behalf of the Death God Temple, express our gratitude. Now, please release him.”
“No way.”
Master Yeyou stiffened his neck. “I saved him with my own skill. Why should I release him just because you say so? From now on, he’s my disciple.”
A Supreme Realm Great Saint from the Death God Temple roared, “Yeyou, you old fool, a mere rogue cultivator, dare to oppose the Death God Temple?”
“Who says I’m a rogue cultivator? I’m now a guest of the Blood Absolute Clan. If you’ve got the guts, let the Death God Temple’s gods come to the Blood Absolute Clan to demand him.”
This time, Master Yeyou was unexpectedly resolute, leaving the Death God Temple cultivators helpless.
After all, the Death God Temple had suffered heavy losses, and the survivors were injured. Knowing Granny Haitang’s strength could break a true god’s rule suppression, they dared not confront them directly.
In the end, the Death God Temple cultivators spat out a few harsh words, vowing to make Master Yeyou and the Blood Absolute Clan pay, then ignored Huanzhen and left in a huff.
Yuan Qianmo saw even more clearly the coldness of human nature and the fleeting nature of loyalty. If his true self were still alive, would the Death God Temple cultivators have so easily abandoned Huanzhen?
Now, in the hands of Master Yeyou, this old ghost, Yuan Qianmo, who had been full of hope for the future, felt a trace of unease.
Seven Hands Elder asked curiously, “Old Stick, why offend the Death God Temple over a mere Semi-Saint?”
“You know nothing. This kid isn’t an ordinary Semi-Saint but a master of origin. His saint soul, tempered by the power of origin for years, holds boundless mysteries. Swallowing his soul can make up for many deficiencies in my ghost body. With the gains from this Origin Temple trip, my path to divinity is within reach,” Master Yeyou said with a sinister grin.
To step into divinity, he would offend not just the Death God Temple but even the Fate Temple if necessary.
After all, if he didn’t become a god, he had only a few years left to live!
Hearing Master Yeyou’s words, Huanzhen’s body trembled, his face filled with terror.
But he couldn’t speak.
The dense, chilling ghost energy from Master Yeyou froze his body like ice, rendering him unable to open his mouth.
Master Yeyou laughed again. “Truth be told, if I hadn’t joined the Blood Absolute Clan, I wouldn’t dare offend the Death God Temple like this. But now, with the Blood Absolute Clan backing me and Blood Absolute War God as my support, why fear the Death God Temple? As long as I hide in the Blood Absolute Clan and cultivate my spiritual power to the seventieth tier of divinity, Blood Absolute War God will surely protect me fully. Would the Death God Temple start a war with Blood Absolute War God over a Semi-Saint disciple? Haha!”
Huanzhen’s body trembled even more violently.
Master Yeyou frowned, two ghostly flames surging in his eyes as he glared at him. “Scared? What’s the use of being scared? Your master Yuan Qianmo was crushed to death by Wuma Jiuxing with one step. You might as well join him!”
With that, Master Yeyou’s mouth opened as wide as a basin, inhaling sharply.
“Swish!”
A saint soul imbued with origin light flew out from Huanzhen’s body and was swallowed in one gulp.
For the ghost clan, strengthening themselves by devouring souls was their nature. Refining a Semi-Saint’s saint soul was effortless for Master Yeyou.
After a while, Master Yeyou finished refining, a faint layer of origin light appearing on his ghost body.
The surrounding cultivators looked on indifferently, finding nothing unusual.
Ghost cultivators devouring souls was normal.
The ghost clan and the lower three clans often clashed over such matters.
Seven Hands Elder asked, “Did you gain his memories? As Yuan Qianmo’s disciple, he might know about Yuan Qianmo’s secret stashes.”
The wealth and treasures of the *God Storage Scroll* Class A first-ranked figure were surely comparable to those of a god.
Master Yeyou shook his head. “This kid’s memories were sealed by a Death God Temple god. How could they be so easily accessed?”
Seven Hands Elder looked disappointed.
Master Yeyou sneered inwardly. Why would I tell you the truth?
In fact, after devouring Huanzhen’s saint soul, Master Yeyou had obtained some fragmented memories not sealed by a god. Though brief, they were mere flashes of images.
Following Huanzhen’s remaining memories, he might actually find some valuable treasures.
“Give me his corpse. The flesh of an origin master should benefit me greatly.”
Seven Hands Elder transformed into his true form, opened his massive jaws, and swallowed Huanzhen’s cold corpse whole, chewing it into blood and flesh before swallowing.
Master Yeyou stared at Seven Hands Elder, giving a sinister smile. “If the Death God Temple comes to the Blood Absolute Clan demanding someone, just say Huanzhen was killed by Kairo Earth Master of the Heaven Realm! We must stick to the same story and deny everything.”
Kairo Earth Master, standing beside A Le, gritted his teeth in fury.
…
Meanwhile, after Bai Qing’er dragged Zhang Ruochen into the stone building, her soft, delicate body slithered around to his back like a snake.
Her cold jade fingers pressed against Zhang Ruochen’s forehead, like a sword tip poised there.
Bai Qing’er’s body was soft, exuding a fragrance, her warm, elastic curves pressed against his back, her fair face close to his ear. Yet Zhang Ruochen felt no improper thoughts, his focus entirely on the point at his forehead.
Bai Qing’er’s weak voice sounded in his ear. “I know the Buried Gold White Tiger could strike at any moment, but tell it I can kill you before it kills me.”
Zhang Ruochen quickly calmed himself and asked, “Why did you capture me?”
“Have you forgotten our bet? This is the third time I’ve caught you, isn’t it?” Bai Qing’er laughed.
Her laughter triggered a violent cough, and the blood she coughed up trickled down Zhang Ruochen’s neck.
Bai Qing’er’s face grew paler, her voice weak but serious. “I must heal my injuries as quickly as possible, so I need to drink your blood, specifically, the Bai Cang blood soil within it.”
