Chương 1288: Chapter 79: The Exit, the Plunder, and the Annihilation

Within the Trial Realm, cultivators from every sect were finally galvanized into action, hurtling toward the exit indicated by their Trial Stones like streaks of falling stars! Following the bloody precedents of previous cycles, everyone knew that today would witness the most brutal and unbridled displays of magic within the realm. To seize the Mu Jade Swords, no disciple would harbor even a shred of mercy; the impending carnage was destined to be a spectacle of staggering proportions.

One after another, streaks of escape-light rent the firmament, the whistling of displaced air echoing across the heavens as they converged upon a single point: One-Line Gorge. This narrow chasm spanned less than fifty zhang in width, flanked by thousand-zhang peaks that appeared as if they had been cleaved clean through by a titan's blade. The cliff faces were sheer and slick, carpeted in a peculiar moss that exhaled a faint, cloying sweetness into the mountain breeze.

Atop the twin summits of the gorge, two figures stood in arrogant solitude. On the left was Wei Qubing of the Three Thousand Dao Sect, clad in Daoist robes embroidered with the myriad forms of nature—beasts, birds, and flora. On the right stood Yin Wuyu of the Supreme Demon Sect, his expression frigid and his gaze possessing a domineering, sweeping quality that seemed to challenge the eight desolations.

From both men, a formidable aura surged upward like pillars of straight wolf-smoke, piercing the very clouds and claiming the sky as their own. Behind the gorge, a slowly rotating vortex shimmered with ethereal light—the singular gateway out of the Trial Realm. Before the entrance to the chasm, more than twenty cultivators stood in scattered groups, their eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and dread as they looked up at the two powerhouses on the peaks.

"I was the closest to One-Line Gorge," one cultivator whispered, his voice trembling.

"I arrived within fifteen minutes of the Trial Stone pointing the way, yet they were already seated there, waiting as if they had known the location for an eternity!"

"This implies the Supreme Demon Sect and the Three Thousand Dao Sect have mastered a secret method to locate the exit in advance!"

"No wonder we didn't see their elites inside the realm. They were all gathered here, waiting like spiders in a web to intercept the Mu Jade Swords at the final hour!"

"Heh, luckily I don't carry a sword, or I'd be a target. This exit is about to become a true bloodbath." These twenty-odd cultivators exchanged looks of morbid excitement. The more chaotic the situation became, the more spectacular the magic would be. Moreover, if luck favored them, they might even find an opportunity to fish in troubled waters and emerge as the ultimate victors. Just then, a streak of light flashed from the horizon, landing several hundred zhang from the gorge.

The newcomer surveyed the gathered crowd with deep, unconcealed wariness. This was the cultivator previously known as Xiao Hu.

"I recognize him," someone muttered.

"That's Hu jianwei from the Baiyou Sect in Tongzhou. His cultivation is at the peak of the Mid-Foundation Establishment stage, and his techniques are said to be inherited from an ancient, obscure sect."

"Indeed, he is known for being cold-blooded and treacherous, often feigning weakness to lure others into a trap before slaughtering them."

"I wonder if he carries a Mu Jade Sword. If he does, the real show is about to begin." The observers watched with bated breath, their eyes fixed on the newcomer. Hu jianwei's expression soured instantly, his eyes darkening with a sinister gloom. If the crowd turned on him collectively, he would be forced to retreat despite his prowess. But when his gaze shifted to the two figures atop the gorge, his face drained of color, replaced by sheer terror.

"Damn it! Wei Qubing and Yin Wuyu... why are they here?" Panic flooded his mind. He knew he couldn't keep the sword if those two moved against him. Yet, he forced himself to stay calm. If I flee now, it's a confession. None of these people have swords; they shouldn't be able to sense mine. I must stay calm, act natural, and find a gap to charge through the exit! He walked forward, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, his peripheral vision locked onto the two masters above.

One wrong move, and he would bolt.

"Heh, it seems my luck is better today," Yin Wuyu chuckled lowly, his eyes gleaming with predatory excitement.

"He's coming from the left. That Mu Jade Sword is mine." Wei Qubing remained indifferent, cupping his hands in a casual gesture.

"By all means, Fellow Daoist. I shall not interfere with your prize."

"Excellent!" Yin Wuyu's gaze locked onto Hu jianwei. As he spoke, a flash of black light enveloped his frame, and his silhouette vanished instantly into the shadows.

"No! They can sense the sword's aura!" Hu jianwei's heart hammered against his ribs. The moment Yin Wuyu's eyes fell upon him, an overwhelming sense of mortality gripped his soul.

"Run!" Facing a monster like Yin Wuyu, he didn't even consider resistance. He pivoted instantly, his light-escape technique erupting as he shot backward like a black arrow released from a heavy bow.

"Hmph! Hand over the Mu Jade Sword this instant, and I might just grant you the mercy of a swift death! Persist in this futile resistance, and I shall leave nothing of you but ash!" The chilling roar echoed from behind like a winter gale, laden with a murderous intent that curdled the blood. Hu jianwei's expression shifted violently, a turbulent storm of fear and lingering defiance.

His eyes flickered with a desperate, unwilling light, but he remained silent, burying his head as he pushed his flight speed to its absolute, suicidal limit. He became a streak of panicked light, cutting a jagged path through the sky in a bid for survival. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Courting death! Since you choose the path of the damned, I shall personally escort you to the yellow springs today!" Yin Wuyu's voice was devoid of all warmth, a frozen blade of sound that promised only oblivion. Invoking a high-level secret movement technique, he transformed into a globule of obsidian light that tore through the firmament with terrifying velocity.

Within the span of a few shallow breaths, he had closed the distance, looming like a specter of doom less than twenty zhang behind Hu jianwei's fluttering, sweat-soaked robes.

"Bone-Dissolving Palm!" With a low, guttural shout that vibrated with malice, Yin Wuyu thrust his palm forward. Mana coalesced instantly into a massive, pitch-black hand, a full zhang in width, radiating a miasma of frigid, necrotic energy. It descended like a falling mountain of shadow, its fingers curved like the talons of a reaper, aimed directly at the fleeing Hu jianwei.

This Bone-Dissolving Palm was a signature technique of the Supreme Demon Sect, infamous throughout the cultivation world for its sheer, unadulterated cruelty. Once struck by this sinister art, a cultivator's skeleton would slowly liquefy and rot within their own skin over three agonizing days. It was a death of a thousand torments, a slow dissolution where the victim remained conscious as their body collapsed into a heap of putrid, boneless flesh.

Hu jianwei's face drained of all color, turning a ghastly shade of parchment. With a frantic, trembling slap to his storage bag, he produced a pale, pearl-sized orb that pulsed with a faint, inner warmth. He poured his mana into the artifact with a suicidal intensity, his meridians groaning under the strain. Hum! Under the frantic stimulation of his essence, the object ignited with a sudden, brilliant burst of golden Buddhist light.

The air was instantly filled with the ethereal, resonant chanting of ancient sutras, accompanied by the melodious, soul-cleansing ring of heavenly bells that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of space.

"Go!" Hu jianwei hurled the orb backward with a desperate roar. The artifact transformed into a golden streak of sanctity, a meteor of light colliding head-on with the descending, necrotic black palm.

"Buddhist treasures do indeed possess a natural suppression against my demonic arts," Yin Wuyu sneered, his eyes dancing with a mockery that bordered on pity.

"But to think a mere Buddhist Bone Sarira could halt the full might of my Bone-Dissolving Palm? You are as delusional as you are pathetic!" As the golden orb struck the palm, the divine radiance flickered violently, like a candle in a hurricane. Within mere seconds, the holy light was smothered by the encroaching, corrosive darkness of the demon palm. The Sarira was utterly corrupted, its golden luster replaced by a dull, obsidian sheen before it fell lifelessly from the sky, its spiritual essence extinguished.

"I have no more patience for your games. If you will not yield the sword, then perish in the depths of your own mind!"

"Mad Dance of Demonic Thoughts!" Yin Wuyu bellowed, his pupils suddenly bleeding into a sinister, crimson hue that glowed with an unholy light. A titanic wave of Divine Sense energy erupted from his forehead, sweeping across the battlefield like a tidal wave of madness, crashing directly into Hu jianwei's mental defenses. Mid-flight, Hu jianwei's vision fractured into a thousand jagged pieces. The world of reality dissolved, replaced instantly by the horrific, visceral vista of the Shura Hell.

He found himself standing amidst a landscape of pure suffering, where countless wailing spirits were cast into massive cauldrons of boiling oil or impaled upon mountains of jagged, rusted blades. Their screams were a cacophony of the damned, a symphony of agony that tore at his sanity. Everywhere his gaze fell, there was only the macabre and the wretched.

"Hu jianwei, you heartless, treacherous cur! You used the two of us as bait to lure away that Tier 3 Gale-Rending Beast, while you snatched the spirit herbs and fled like a rat! I will drag you to the bottom of this hell with me!" From a nearby cauldron of bubbling fat, a blistered, agonizing figure turned its head. It was the short, stout cultivator who had once been Hu jianwei's partner in the Trial Realm, his eyes now pits of vengeful, weeping insanity.

"You murdered us for a handful of grass. Did you think you could live in peace? Come, join us in the eternal dark! Let us walk this path together!" Beside the fat man, another familiar figure emerged from the gore, his face twisted in a cold, mocking grin that froze Hu jianwei's heart.

"Join us in hell!"

"I will feast upon your living flesh and drink your warm blood until we both sink into the Eighteenth Level of Hell, never to be reborn through all the cycles of reincarnation!"

"Kill him! Tear the traitor apart!" Suddenly, dozens of figures within the boiling oil turned in unison, their movements jerky and unnatural. Though their features were bloated, rotting, and unrecognizable to a stranger, Hu jianwei recognized every single one of them—every life he had snuffed out to fuel his own path to immortality.

"Fellow Daoists, listen to me! Even if I had stayed, I couldn't have saved you from that Gale-Rending Beast! I took the herbs to ensure your sacrifice wasn't in vain! Let me explain!" Hu jianwei cried out, his voice cracking with a terror that transcended the physical....

"Eldest Senior Brother! Stay back! I didn't want to kill you, but you were going to betray me first! I was forced to strike in the dark! It was self-preservation!"...

"Fifth Junior Sister, there was never a future for us! I only stayed with you because your family's resources were useful to my cultivation! But the Second Senior Sister... she is the granddaughter of the Third Elder! With her by my side, my path to the Great Dao is guaranteed! I had to kill you and throw your body into the cold lake! Don't blame me! Blame the heavens for making the path so narrow!"

Every cultivator who had ever fallen by Hu jianwei's hand now rose from the oil, their rotting, skeletal arms reaching out, grasping for him with a supernatural, relentless hunger. Hu jianwei knew with a bone-deep certainty that if he fell into that cauldron, he would be shredded into nothingness by these vengeful shades.

"Agh! Die! All of you, die again! You won't take me!" Terror saturated Hu jianwei's soul, and his mental defenses shattered like glass. In his delirium, he pulled a ring-shaped magic treasure from his bag and hurled it at the encroaching phantoms. To his horror, the ring passed through their translucent bodies as if they were made of smoke. They were intangible, indestructible echoes of his own sins, immune to the weapons of the living.

The first ghost lunged out of the oil, a manic, rotting grin splitting its face. It sank its teeth into Hu jianwei's shoulder with a sickening crunch. Splat! A massive chunk of flesh was torn away. A geyser of sanguine blood erupted, staining the illusory ground. The ghost let out a hideous, guttural laugh, its mouth dripping with his essence.

"AAAAHHH!" Hu jianwei screamed, a sound of pure primal agony. No matter how he thrashed or struggled, he could not break free from the phantom's icy, iron grip. The moment he touched the ghost, his powerful mana was shackled by an invisible force, rendered utterly inert and useless. More ghosts swarmed from the oil, pinning him to the ground with the weight of a thousand sins. They tore at his face, his chest, and his limbs, their low, bestial growls echoing in the void.

As the legion of the dead converged to feast upon his spirit and flesh, Hu jianwei lost all strength to resist. He watched in frozen, wide-eyed horror as his own white bones were exposed to the hellish air. His throat, torn open by the teeth of his former lover, could no longer produce a sound. He felt his life essence draining away into the dark, cold abyss, until finally, his consciousness succumbed to the eternal, silent dark.