Though the female cultivators tried to gain sympathy with their bodies, kneeling and crying for mercy, Chen Ping’s sword light flashed, blood splattered, and not one survived.
Hu Mazi, clutching his wound, struggled to his feet. Seeing the fallen female cultivators, each beautiful yet now lifeless, he gasped in dismay, “Chen Ping! Why’d you kill them all? Could’ve spared a few…”
“What a sin, what a sin, I didn’t even get to enjoy one…”
Hu Mazi stomped his foot in frustration, ignoring his injury.
“Leave them to keep harming people with their seductive charms?”
Chen Ping sheathed his sword, his golden eyes sweeping over Hu Mazi, “You think they’d really submit? If I hadn’t acted, you’d be a puddle of blood by now.”
“Ugh…” Hu Mazi sighed helplessly, “Even if you had to kill them, at least leave the bodies intact, they could still be useful!”
Chen Ping, hearing this, rolled his eyes at Hu Mazi in exasperation.
Yun Wuya and the others were equally speechless, Hu Mazi’s obsession with lust had truly reached an extreme, not even sparing corpses!
“Let’s start collecting resources!” Chen Ping said.
At that, Hu Mazi eagerly headed towards the female cultivators’ bodies.
The blood on Chen Ping’s sword hadn’t yet dripped when suddenly the sky churned with rolling clouds.
The clouds, previously torn apart by the Dragon-Slaying Sword’s qi, rapidly coalesced, and five dark purple wind pillars, like ghostly claws, emerged from the void, each carrying a terrifying pressure capable of crushing mountains.
Hu Mazi, squatting beside a female cultivator’s body, rummaging through her scented pouch, froze. The warm jade he’d just grabbed cracked under his grip, “Bloody hell! What the fuck is that noise?”
Yun Wuya, directing disciples to pry open the Blood Shadow Palace’s secret vault’s black iron door, looked up at the sky, his pupils contracting, “Ninth-grade Loose Immortals! It’s those people from that mysterious organisation!”
Before he finished, five figures pierced through the clouds, hovering above the ruins of the Blood Shadow Palace.
The leader wore a black cloak and a bronze ghost mask, a wisp of twisting black flame coiling around his right fingertip, it was “Ghost Face,” whom Chen Ping had injured and driven off before.
“Kid, we meet again so soon,” Ghost Face’s voice rasped like rusty chains, “Last time I was careless, letting you gain the upper hand. This time, I’ll make you pay in blood!”
The four behind him each unleashed their aura: the grey-robed elder on the left had twelve ghostly lamps floating around him, their wicks flickering with pale green soul fire; the red-robed woman on the right swayed her hips, nine blood-red silk ribbons writhing like spiritual snakes; further back was a bare-chested brute covered in dark golden scales, wielding two massive flower axes the size of millstones; the last was the strangest, shrouded entirely in white mist, with only a pair of eyes faintly visible, radiating bone-chilling cold.
“Mr. Chen, what do we do?” Yun Wuya shoved a disciple aside, flinging thirty-six small azure flags from his sleeve to the ground, instantly forming a grand formation.
Five ninth-grade Loose Immortal cultivators, even in the Third Heaven, were top-tier powerhouses.
Hu Mazi hid behind Chen Ping, whispering, “Chen Ping, can you handle them? Don’t count on me, I’ve already burned through my energy fighting the Blood Shadow Palace, and I’m injured, I can’t fight anymore!”
Hu Mazi had exhausted much of his energy battling the Blood Shadow Palace and was now too wounded to continue.
Chen Ping faced the five unmasked killing intents, his Dragon-Slaying Sword humming in his palm.
He could sense that each of these five matched the peak strength of the Blood Shadow Palace’s Saintess, and worse, their auras were linked, faintly forming some kind of joint attack formation.
The vault door had just been blasted open a crack, revealing piles of immortal ore stones glimmering enticingly inside, resources enough for Chen Ping to cultivate for some time, he absolutely couldn’t abandon them!
