novelraw Chapter 134: Master, Save Me! King Meets King!
Chapter 134: Master, Save Me! King Meets King!
Boom!
As Han Lie poured his spiritual power into the blade, the crimson light of Crimson Oath flared with the intensity of a dying star. The heat was so absolute that the very space around the blade twisted and buckled, creating a mirage of distorted reality.
"Ah... No! Impossible!"
Zhao Batian’s roar tore from his throat, a sound of raw, primal denial. The indestructible cyan scales of his Dragon Transformation peeled away layer by bloody layer, incinerated by the Pure Yang fire. After a moment of futile resistance, he reached his limit.
As the crimson blade light swallowed him whole, the Holy Son’s face twisted into a mask of ferocity and terror. For the first time in his charmed life, the foreign coldness of despair seized his heart.
Rumble!
Under the horrified gaze of dozens of disciples, the [Soul Severing] slash detonated.
An indescribable explosion shattered the silence of the Sacred Sun Mountain Range. The earth groaned and the air screamed as a terrifying energy storm mushroomed a million meters into the sky. Everything within a thousand miles trembled under the shockwave; the landscape was scrubbed clean, annihilated by the raging tempest.
The visual impact was searing. Every disciple of the Sun Moon Sect stood frozen, their minds struggling to process the impossible reality before them.
Their Holy Son—the invincible, unstoppable legend of their generation—had lost? And not to a Nascent Soul monster, but to Han Lie, a man of the same cultivation realm?
"Holy Son!"
On the distant battlefields, Li Qingyu and the other Sun Moon Nascent Soul expert retreated, their faces masks of disbelief. Li Qingyu stared at the figure of Han Lie, the killing intent in her beautiful eyes sharpening into a physical weight.
How long had it been? This man had risen from the late Golden Core stage to Perfection in a heartbeat, and now he possessed the power to crush Zhao Batian head-on?
Zhao Batian wielded a Heaven-grade artifact. He cultivated the sect’s supreme arts. He possessed a Divine Ability. Yet, he had been swatted out of the sky like a fly.
If Han Lie was allowed to mature, he would become the gravedigger of the Sun Moon Sect. But they were helpless. Qin Lan and Zhuo Hongyi stood like iron walls, preventing any interference. In this war, Nascent Soul experts checked each other; if one broke free, it would be a massacre of the juniors.
Whoosh...
The energy storm raged for what felt like an eternity before slowly dissipating.
Where the mountain once stood, a bottomless crater scarred the earth. Lying at its center was Zhao Batian. His robes were tatters, his body a map of blood and burns. The glorious aura of the Holy Son was gone, replaced by the broken gasp of a defeated man.
"Cough... Pfft!"
Zhao Batian forced himself up, his limbs trembling violently. His aura was gossamer-thin, his internal injuries so severe he swayed like a drunkard.
Above the crater, a lean figure descended, blade in hand.
Han Lie looked down with eyes devoid of warmth. His voice was calm, indifferent, and laced with a biting cynicism. "You took a [Soul Severing] slash head-on and didn't die. I'll give you credit—your shell is hard."
"I... I do not accept this!" Zhao Batian’s expression contorted, shadow and blood mixing on his face as he screamed hysterically. "Wait until I heal! We will fight again!"
"Naive."
Hum.
Pure Yang spiritual power ignited along the edge of Crimson Oath once more.
"If you want a rematch," Han Lie said, raising the blade, "you first have to survive today."
He swung. The blade intent screamed, sending a piercing aura of death shooting from the soles of Zhao Batian’s feet straight to his skull.
"Master! Save me!"
In the face of true death, dignity vanished. The Holy Son of the Sun Moon Sect threw his head back and shrieked at the empty void.
"Hm?"
Han Lie’s instincts flared. Every hair on his body stood on end as a suffocating pressure descended from the heavens.
"Hehe. Gently, child. One should know when to show mercy."
The voice was ancient, hoarse, and sounded like sandpaper on bone.
Then, the sky tore open.
Han Lie, Qin Lan, Zhuo Hongyi, and everyone present looked up in horror. An incomprehensible force ripped the firmament apart, and a giant hand composed of pure energy descended. It was vast enough to shroud the sun, blotting out the light as it pressed down toward Han Lie with the weight of a collapsing world.
"Han Lie!"
Qin Lan and Zhuo Hongyi exploded with power, throwing everything they had at the descending hand. But their attacks were like pebbles thrown into the ocean; they vanished without causing even a ripple.
Despair washed over them. This was the power of a Sect Leader.
"Do you have no shame? Attacking a junior at your age... Old Ghost, you've lived so long you've regressed into a dog."
A voice cut through the pressure—cool, melodious, and imperious.
A streak of pitch-black light shot from the void. Compared to the world-ending hand, this ray of light was as small as a firefly beneath a full moon. Yet, when it struck, the impossible happened.
Crack! Crack!
The black light shattered the giant energy hand instantly, breaking it like porcelain.
Han Lie, seizing the moment, looked down. The space around Zhao Batian warped and fractured, forming a spatial cage that locked the Holy Son in place.
A purple silhouette stepped out of the void, descending upon the Sacred Sun Mountain Range like a goddess of war. She hooked a finger, and the spatial cage containing the terrified Zhao Batian flew across the distance to hover before her.
"Greetings, Sect Leader!"
Han Lie, Zhuo Hongyi, Qin Lan, and the Heavenly Void disciples dropped to one knee, their faces flushed with relief and pride.
"Greetings, Sect Master!"
Opposite her, the Sun Moon Sect disciples also knelt as an elderly figure stepped out of the rift.
The moment he appeared, the air turned stale and eerie. He was a hunched old man leaning on a dragon-head cane, his face hidden beneath the deep hood of a black robe. Only two long, white eyebrows trailed down from the darkness of the hood to his chest.
This was the Sect Master of the Sun Moon Sect—Old Ghost Yin Mei.
Han Lie quickly retreated behind Ye Qingxuan. The aura radiating from the old man made his skin crawl. This was a predator from a different era.
"Hehe," Old Ghost Yin Mei stroked his long beard, his voice unreadable. "Two hundred years. Sect Leader Ye looks more radiant than ever."
Ye Qingxuan didn't bother with pleasantries. Her voice was ice. "And you look like a corpse that forgot to lie down. I assume your cultivation has stagnated?"
"You need not worry about this old man," Yin Mei replied smoothly, ignoring the barb. "Let us discuss business."
"Fine," Ye Qingxuan said, her eyes narrowing. "But first, I must thank you. You sent me a quasi-ninth-grade spiritual root disciple in Bai Ling. If I didn't accept such a heavy gift, I would be rude."
Under the hood, Yin Mei’s eye twitched. "Hehe. I am glad you like it. Since I gave you such a gift, it is only fair you return my disciple to me."
Inside the spatial cage, Zhao Batian held his breath, trembling. He looked at his master with pleading eyes.
Ye Qingxuan laughed coldly. "What logic is this? You gave me a gift, but did I not give you one in return?"
Yin Mei paused. "Oh?"
"You are truly senile," Ye Qingxuan mocked. "The 'Ten Thousand Blood Pagoda Art.' It was intended for Bai Ling, yet she copied it and gave it to you. Should you not be thanking me?"
Bai Ling, standing in the distance, lowered her head in shame.
"Ah... my memory fails me. You are correct," Yin Mei chuckled dryly. "A quasi-ninth-grade genius for a supreme cultivation method. From a long-term perspective, I suffered a slight loss, but no matter. You are a junior; letting you take a small advantage is acceptable."
He tapped his cane against the void.
"Let us not waste words. You captured Zhao Batian to exchange for Bai Ling's family. I will release them."
Ripples spread through the air as a massive iron cage materialized. Inside, huddled together, were Bai Ling's parents and hundreds of her clan members.
"Father! Mother!" Bai Ling cried out, tears streaming down her face.
Han Lie placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to stay quiet. This was a conversation between Kings; ants who spoke out of turn would be crushed.
However, faced with the hostage exchange, Ye Qingxuan threw her head back and laughed.
"Hahaha! Old Ghost, you truly are confused. When did I ever say I would trade that little waste for Bai Ling's family?"
Yin Mei’s aura darkened. "What do you mean?"
Ye Qingxuan’s lips curled into a cruel, dominating smile.
"I can save her family, certainly. But the value of those mortals combined isn't worth a single finger of a Holy Son."