Chương 60: Demonic Metamorphosis

"Where do you think you're going, you little mongrel? Today, I will ensure you suffer ten thousand agonies before I extract your soul and refine your essence. You shall never know the peace of reincarnation!" Xuan Liao's flight speed surged violently, his hand clawing through the air toward Reyn like a raptor's talon. In his mind, he was already envisioning a thousand sadistic methods to make the boy beg for a death that would not come. But in that heartbeat, a primal sense of dread seized the cultivator's soul.

His heart skipped a beat. Looking up, he saw that the panic on Reyn's face had vanished, replaced by a cold, mocking sneer. In the boy's hand was a thick stack of dozens of yellow talismans, already shimmering with a violent, flickering spiritual light as they were hurled toward him. Though Xuan Liao could not immediately discern the grade of the charms, the sheer intensity of the life-threatening crisis forced him to react.

Without a second thought, he struck his forehead, summoning a small, earthy-yellow shield only a few inches wide. He funneled his spiritual energy into it with desperate ferocity, causing the artifact to swell instantly into a massive, meter-wide barrier of solid stone-like light. Boom! Boom! Boom! First came a smaller talisman, its cinnabar patterns so dense and interwoven they resembled a constricting net.

As it detonated, an invisible ring of force manifested, lashing around Xuan Liao and pinning his limbs to his sides. This was the Binding Technique. Next followed a charm pulsing with a fiery crimson hue, the ink dancing upon the yellow paper like a living flame. A wave of oppressive, sweltering heat rolled forth as the talisman ignited. A massive fireball, the size of a human head and glowing with a malevolent scarlet radiance, materialized out of thin air and slammed into the shield.

This was the Great Explosion Art. Then came talismans etched with gentle, flowing lines that seemed to carry the essence of a tranquil stream. Water vapor condensed spontaneously around them until the spiritual energy ignited the patterns into a brilliant azure light. Despite its serene appearance, the needles of water it unleashed possessed a piercing intent that chilled the marrow. This was the High-grade Water Needle Technique. To ensure Xuan Liao's absolute destruction, Reyn had spared no expense.

He had emptied his entire reserve of high-grade talismans, a chaotic barrage of overlapping elemental forces whose combined power was enough to obliterate any cultivator beneath the Golden Core realm. Reyn watched with grim confidence. As Xuan Liao was swallowed by the center of the inferno, Reyn retreated dozens of yards to avoid the shockwaves, though he did not flee. He had sacrificed a fortune in talismans for this kill; he needed to ensure he claimed the spoils.

As a Late Foundation Establishment cultivator from a fallen sect, Xuan Liao likely carried a significant hoard of treasures. The thunderous cacophony of explosions lasted for a full fifteen minutes before the smoke began to thin. Within a radius of several miles, the world's spiritual essence had been whipped into a chaotic frenzy, and the roar of the blast had surely echoed for a hundred miles in every direction.

"Impossible... he's still alive!" Reyn's Divine Sense swept through the clearing, and his face paled with horror. Even from the periphery, the residual pressure of the blast was terrifying; he couldn't fathom how anyone could survive at the epicenter. As the steam and flames dissipated, Xuan Liao's silhouette emerged. His spirit-grade defensive robes were reduced to charred rags, barely clinging to his frame.

His meticulously groomed hair was a wild, tangled mess, and his face was blackened by the soot of the Great Explosion Art. He looked wretched, a ghost of his former self. Most importantly, the massive shield in his hand now bore a jagged crack that spanned its entire surface. Had the barrage been even slightly more powerful, he would have been torn asunder.

"You little bastard... I will kill you!" Xuan Liao was truly terrified now. In all his years of cultivation, he had never stood so close to the precipice of death. The roar of the explosions still rang in his ears, and the violent spiritual energy had nearly shredded his meridians. Looking at his ruined shield, Xuan Liao felt like weeping. This was the Vajra Shield, a supreme treasure of his former sect that had saved his life countless times over the last decade.

To see it broken by a mere brat ignited a furnace of rage within him that threatened to consume the world. His eyes turned a vivid, bloody crimson, and a murderous, predatory instinct took hold of his mind. His long hair billowed despite the lack of wind, and his tattered robes snapped like whips. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"ROAR!" A sound that was no longer human escaped his throat. Black miasma erupted from his pores, twisting across his skin like hideous, writhing earthworms. His hair shifted to a ghastly blood-red, and the veins in his neck bulged into thick, purplish cords. Demonic Metamorphosis! Having survived a brush with death, and fueled by an abyss of resentment and fury, Xuan Liao had succumbed to the inner demons of his path.

In this state, a cultivator is flooded with demonic qi, burning their very soul and spiritual energy to achieve temporary, terrifying power. They become a mindless engine of slaughter, a walking corpse that will burn until nothing remains. Reyn's pupils contracted. He immediately ignited his flight light and fled with everything he had. He had no desire to trade blows with a mindless, berserk monstrosity.

"ROAR!" Xuan Liao's face was now a distorted mask of madness. Saliva dripped from his bared teeth, and he moved with the twitchy, explosive grace of a beast. However, his spiritual pressure had surged to a terrifying new height—the Great Circle of Foundation Establishment, also known as the False Core Realm. At this stage, a cultivator's power can grow no further through normal means. To progress, they must face the first great tribulation of the heavens: Core Formation.

Success brings the Golden Core Dao, five hundred years of longevity, and the status of a high-level cultivator. Failure means turning to ash under the lightning tribulation. Though Xuan Liao had reached this power, it was a hollow victory; the demonic transformation would ensure he left no soul for reincarnation. Reyn wanted no part of this, but Xuan Liao would not let him go. The root of the man's madness was Reyn himself.

Had Reyn not interfered, Xuan Liao would have captured the girl, claimed her Primordial Yin, and extended his life by thirty years with a clear path to the Golden Core. Now, even in his mindless state, a singular, obsessive killing intent was locked onto Reyn's soul. With a thunderous howl, Xuan Liao transformed into a streak of black light, trailing thick demonic miasma as he closed the distance. Feeling the savage killing intent closing in, Reyn's expression darkened.

He was already slower than Xuan Liao; now that the man had ascended to the False Core Realm, the gap was insurmountable. He would be caught in moments.

"Damn it. Even though he's lost his mind, his obsession with killing me is hard-coded into his demonic instinct. He won't stop until I'm dead."

"Earth-Shaking Finger!" Reyn barked, pointing backward. A translucent finger composed of pure spiritual energy manifested, swelling as it absorbed the surrounding essence, hurtling toward the pursuing demon.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" Xuan Liao roared, not even bothering to dodge. He threw a punch, his demonic qi forming a massive, pitch-black arm that swatted the Earth-Shaking Finger out of the sky. Boom! The collision was violent, but Reyn was only at the 15th level of Qi Condensation. Even with his combat strength rivaling an Early Foundation Establishment cultivator, he was no match for a False Core demon. The Earth-Shaking Finger shattered like glass under the weight of that black fist.

The distance between them shrank to less than ten yards.

"KILL!" Xuan Liao spat out a cloud of ink-black demonic qi. The mist seemed sentient, twisting into a multitude of agonized faces—men, women, and children, all wailing in eternal torment. Whish! Whish! Whish! The miasma coalesced into a giant demonic face that lunged to swallow Reyn whole. Upon closer inspection, the face was a roiling mass of smaller, cannibalistic spirits, their shrieks enough to freeze a man's blood. Reyn's face was grim as he turned around.

He struck his forehead, summoning the pitch-black small sword he had taken from the Black Mountain Old Ghost—the Soul-Slaying Spike, an artifact whose power rivaled a top-grade spirit tool.

"Strike!" Reyn bit his tongue and sprayed a mouthful of essence blood onto the blade. The spike hummed, absorbing the crimson offering and erupting with a bloody light. Simultaneously, Reyn drained half of his remaining spiritual reservoir into the weapon. The Soul-Slaying Spike expanded instantly, transforming into a thirty-foot-long pillar of lethal black steel. In the span of a breath, Reyn swung the massive blade, unleashing a sword-qi arc that slammed into the approaching demonic face.

"Pfft!" The moment the sword-qi touched the miasma, Reyn was thrown back, coughing up blood as his face turned deathly pale. The demonic face simply dissolved into thousands of tiny maws, swarming over the sword-qi and devouring it in seconds until nothing remained. Horror flickered in Reyn's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a desperate resolve. He swallowed several recovery pills and, instead of retreating, he lunged forward, charging directly at Xuan Liao.

He funneled every remaining drop of his spiritual energy into the ring on his finger. As the energy poured in, the ring did not glow; instead, its color grew even duller and more inconspicuous, looking like a piece of worthless lead. They were less than ten yards apart. Reyn closed the distance in a flash, his fist cocked back, aiming a desperate strike at the heart of the demonic storm. To find life, one must first embrace death.