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墨書 Inktalez
I was utterly shocked to discover that my birth twenty years ago had such a complicated backstory.
“If it weren’t for you meddling back then, cutting off my rightful head and sealing my consciousness within this body, I could have easily crushed that boy to pieces once I regained some strength. All of this is your fault!” His anger intensified, and the distinct black and white of his eyes was suddenly veiled by a layer of crimson. A strange red light glimmered in his eyes.
He charged directly at my master, moving like a gust of wind. This all happened in an instant; by the time everyone reacted, he had already struck my master in the chest. I saw my master’s chest cave in, and then he was sent flying backward.
Unsatisfied, he pushed off the ground with his toes, intending to pursue and land a few more blows. Feng Daoist and An Old Man quickly intervened to stop him.
Feng Daoist fought fiercely, exchanging blows with him for a few moments before stepping back. “Don’t think just because you share a body with my brother Ling Feng that I won’t dare to beat you until your face is unrecognizable. It’s only because Old Bald Donkey has a kind heart that you’re still alive; if it were me, I would have choked the life out of you long ago.”
He coldly regarded everyone and laughed, “I’m only here for revenge against this bald donkey. If anyone else tries to interfere, don’t blame me for being rude.”
An Old Man chuckled, “Just like when you poisoned us before, right?”
The three of them seemed to have coordinated their efforts perfectly to protect my master behind them. An Old Man turned and said, “Our grudge isn’t settled yet.”
He didn’t waste any more words and quickly charged toward the three of them. His hands transformed into claws, leaving trails of blood-red scratches in the air as he struck at them. Each claw was infused with full power, creating a sound that cut through the air. He managed to hold off the three masters of the current era.
Feng Daoist wielded his long sword, creating a flurry of sword blossoms that deflected most of the claw marks. An Old Man and Wu Lao supported him from the side; Wu Lao formed seals in mid-air, conjuring various formations while An Old Man’s gray moths flapped their wings fearlessly and rushed toward him.
Despite their combined efforts, it was clear to me that he was handling it all with ease. I couldn’t help but marvel at how strong he had become. Had he reached the level of an Earth Immortal? Otherwise, how could my master have been severely injured so easily? Even with Feng Daoist and the others working together, they could only manage to hold him back.
As Feng Daoist continued forming sword seals, he taunted him, “You might as well give up resisting. Do you hear that? The voices of your subordinates outside are nearly gone. Even if you defeat us old fellows, what good will it do? In the end, you’ll be all alone—a solitary figure left in the Evil Spirit Cult. Is there any point in that? Do you really think you have any justification?”
Yet he remained unfazed, laughing heartily. “Those useless fools can die; as long as I’m here, reviving the Evil Spirit Cult is merely a matter of minutes. I used to think highly of your righteous sects; how is it that when you can’t defeat me, you resort to trying to disturb my mind? Did you really think that boy could come out again?”
Feng Daoist retorted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, “I’m just a poor Taoist; I’m not part of any righteous sect. I’ll do as I please; it’s none of your business.”
Feng Daoist finished speaking, pointing his sword straight into the air, his index and middle fingers together while the other three fingers curled into his palm. He traced the blade with his finger, murmuring incantations under his breath.
Suddenly, Feng Daoist's body trembled as if he had transformed into another person, able to match his opponent blow for blow.
He sneered, "Maoshan Spirit Summoning Technique! Today, I want to see how long your divine power can last!"
With that, he clenched his fists and engaged in a fierce exchange with Feng Daoist. The two of them traded punches, each strike landing with a solid thud that made my teeth ache just listening.
Their punches were incredibly fast. Within just a few minutes, Feng Daoist trembled again, then suddenly softened and turned to flee, rubbing his body while cursing, "Are you even human? Ah, it hurts like hell!"
The Maoshan Spirit Summoning Technique was a secret art that instantly boosted one's strength. When the spirit possessed the body, one wouldn't feel pain; however, once the effect wore off, all previous injuries would manifest painfully. It was no wonder Feng Daoist was howling in agony as he ran and dodged.
Fortunately, An Old Man and Wu Lao managed to restrain him, giving Feng Daoist a chance to catch his breath.
Seeing this situation unfold gave me a bad premonition. Regardless of the circumstances outside or the overall situation, as long as he remained alive, there was always a chance for a turnaround.
At present, my master was injured, and Feng Daoist was exhausted; An Old Man and Wu Lao could only focus on entangling him. If he truly went mad, I feared they wouldn’t be able to stop him.
An Old Man's Ben Ming Gu was an extremely rare gray moth that carried potent poison. The dust released when the moth flapped its wings was lethal. Yet somehow, these moths hovering around him seemed to have no effect on him at all.
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because Buddha Sound had lingered in my Dan Tian for so long that I had become immune to poisons.
Wu Lao's formations came one after another—some bursting with flames, others crackling with lightning—his tactics were endless and distracting enough to annoy their opponent. "What an irritating fly!" he exclaimed.
With hands clawed like talons, visible whirlpools formed between his fingers. As these whirlpools drifted away from his palms, they grew larger and created immense suction that pulled An Old Man and Wu Lao directly toward him.
The two who had relied on their agility were suddenly caught by him—one in each hand. He mocked them saying, "Aren't you two fast? Let’s see you run now! I remember you both; you were there when the Special Investigation Bureau besieged me back in the day. Now it seems that old saying is true: revenge is a dish best served cold. It’s your turn to fall into my hands."
The Old Man struggled violently with Wu Lao, his face gradually turning purple, clearly unable to breathe. Seeing this, Feng Daoist quickly raised his sword and slashed forward. He did not dodge, gripping the necks of the Old Man and Wu Lao tightly. "If you take one more step forward, I will crush their necks. Do you want to test whether your sword is faster or my hand?"
Feng Daoist immediately halted in his tracks. "If you dare to harm them, I will pursue you to the ends of the earth without rest."
Ignoring Feng Daoist's threat, the man retorted, "There are plenty of people in this world who hate me. Who do you think you are? Look at me; I'm still living well. And what about you? Each of your wrinkles could squash a fly."
Feng Daoist cursed back, "As if you've never been young! I was a hundred times more handsome than you when I was young."
While Feng Daoist was engaged in this verbal sparring, his master had somehow regained consciousness and circled around to his back. With a sudden and powerful impact, he collided with Feng Daoist's back.
The force was so great that Feng Daoist stumbled forward. Seizing the opportunity, he swung his sword at the man, who had no choice but to retract his hands. The Old Man and Wu Lao took advantage of the moment to kick out with their legs. They fell to the ground but used the momentum from their kicks to create distance between themselves and Feng Daoist.
After a brief stumble, he rolled over and steadied himself, glaring fiercely at his master behind him.
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