Chapter 90: Murdering Sheng Yi

Chapter 90: Murdering Sheng Yi

From within the billowing smoke, a human figure soared outward. Liu Sheng and Liu Wu swivelled their gazes, only to find that it was none other than Sheng Yi!

Their eyes were locked onto the unfolding situation—Sheng Yi hurtling through the air, an expression of anguish etched across his features, and a blade ruthlessly embedded in his chest.

No anticipation had prepared him for the vile twist of fate: during the earlier collision of their palms, Murong Lin had covertly spat a dagger towards his chest. This underhanded manoeuvre was unleashed during their clash, exploiting Sheng Yi’s defencelessness during that moment.

With astonishing velocity, the blade propelled itself towards its target, finding its mark in Sheng Yi’s chest.

A heart-wrenching cry tore from Sheng Yi’s lips as he writhed on the ground.

Witnessing the dire spectacle, the Willow Sword Saint’s expression contorted. Barely a minute had elapsed since Sheng Yi had entered the horse carriage, yet he was now violently ejected, his condition harrowing.

Determination fueled the Sword Saint’s intent to hasten to Sheng Yi’s aid.

But would the ‘Flowering Steel Trees’ allow him to do as he wished?

They wouldn’t.

With resolute devotion, the ‘Flowering Steel Trees’ brazenly risked their own lives to restrain Liu Sheng, prohibiting him from venturing even an inch closer to Murong Lin’s domain.

Meanwhile, Liu Wu was powerless to help as well. After all, he wouldn’t even be able to withstand even a single attack from Murong Lin.

Sheng Yi’s piteous cries reverberated in the air, the torment he endured akin to a ruthless dismemberment of his very being. It felt as though something was being ripped out from within him, as if someone was tearing out his sinews and flesh piece by piece, a torment too excruciating for him to withstand.

“Ahh! What is this!?” Sheng Yi’s anguished cry pierced the air as his trembling hand instinctively sought the dagger embedded in his chest. Despite his fervent efforts, the weakness that had taken root in his body had rendered him too weak.

His prior conflict with Murong Lin had drained his spiritual powers—both his ultimate technique and Manifestation transformation had exacted a heavy toll. The earlier assault, propelling him through the air, had further exacerbated his injuries.

Desperation etched across his expression, Sheng Yi’s his hands flailed weakly as he sought to summon his spiritual powers, grappling with the searing agony that besieged him.

It was an unsettling revelation, the blade was undoubtedly laced with poison, a truth affirmed by the debilitating weakness he experienced.

His intent to invoke his Manifestation transformation and pull out the weapon caused his face to become even paler.

A disconcerting truth dawned upon him: he was utterly incapable of invoking his Manifestation transformation.

This aberration defied all logic.

With mounting desperation, he made a renewed attempt, straining to connect with his Manifestation transformation—the ‘Yin Yang Aura’. Yet, his efforts were met with a disconcerting silence, akin to calling out to a presence before him that remained stubbornly unresponsive.

Panic surged within Sheng Yi, a sense of disarray seizing him. The ‘Yin Yang Aura’ was his last vestige of hope, his sole opportunity to reverse the tides. Yet, the ability to harness it had inexplicably been wrested from his grasp.

Was it stolen?

It was stolen!

Sheng Yi’s complexion, once again a portrait of deathly pallor, now bore the unmistakable shroud of despair.

A whisper from his recollections resonated—a faint echo of someone’s words. Ancient lore spoke of a spiritual weapon, a blade forged by a bygone race, tailored with intent to combat entities like the ‘Qi’. This small dagger bore the extraordinary capacity to absorb the mortal essence of a ‘Qi’. Whether untamed or refined, no mortal form was exempt from its grasp.

Yet, that race had long vanished into the annals of history, and their spiritual weapons had become the stuff of legend. Perhaps, a scant few remained, preserved as relics by collectors.

Meanwhile, Murong Lin administered the final blow to Sheng Yi with a stomp, the act punctuated by the system’s voice echoing in his mind.

“Ding! Master has successfully killed a protagonist, the reward is a gift bag.”

“Open the gift bag!” Murong Lin commanded, harbouring anticipation for a capable entity within, one that could be summoned to confront the encroaching Sky Reaching realm cultivators, thereby nullifying the need for a hasty escape.

“Ding! Congratulations to master for acquiring a seclusion cultivation card, a mystery raffle ticket, and a fragment of the ‘Great villain halo’.”

En? Two new interesting things popped up.

Regret washed over him, for the absence of a strength-enhancing card dashed his hopes of an instantaneous breakthrough to the Sky Reaching realm, which would enable him to effortlessly quash his adversaries.

Neither did the coveted syndicate inheritance card manifest, ruling out the summoning of a few Sky Reaching realm experts to swiftly dispatch his opponents.

Nonetheless, an alternative solution surfaced—the option to procure a spiritual power puppet from the system shop.

But he didn’t need to anymore.

He commanded spiritually, “Self-destruct.”

Injecting his spiritual power into a spiritual talisman, a blinding brilliance erupted, swiftly enshrouding him.

The ‘Flowering Steel Trees’ who had defied the odds to detain the four Sky Reaching realm experts were nearing their limits. Depleted of their strength and exhausting their life essences, they were on the brink of death.

As Murong Lin’s command coursed through them, their expressions contorted with madness and unwavering loyalty.

The Willow Sword Saint and the trio of Sky Reaching realm experts, sensing a sinister shift, launched an attack to end their lives.

Unbeknownst to them, Murong Lin had vanished from their midst.

Ping! Ping!

The ‘Flowering Steel Trees’ detonated in an instant.

A cataclysmic surge of power reverberated through the landscape, reducing roads and houses to ruins as the four Sky Reaching realm experts bore the brunt of its devastating impact.

Shielding his sibling, the Willow Sword Saint emerged battered and broken, mirroring the grievous condition of the elderly Wang clan ancestor.

Amidst the carnage and the veiled skies of blood, the four exchanged a shared gaze, their faces painted in the grim aftermath of destruction.

Murong Jiao’s divine senses, honed by his Sky Reaching realm cultivation, swept through the surroundings with rapid precision.

There was no one left.

Murong Lin was no longer here.

Translator’s note

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