Chapter Thirty-Three: Clash of Firepower!

Two gazes clashed fiercely in the void, as if they might ignite the very air itself.

Clutching his ritual implement, Autumn Sandalwood, Wu Changqing’s slit pupils contracted again and again. Across his body, bulges the size of soybeans rose and fell, restless and uneasy.

These were the spirit insects he reared within his body.

The paths of spell cultivators and martial artists were utterly different. While martial artists honed their flesh and condensed strength and qi, spell cultivators relied on various means: consuming elixirs, transplanting wondrous items, or, like Wu Changqing, nurturing spirit insects within themselves.

Thus did they cultivate their arts—using the false to seek the true.

Just as martial arts had the realms of Strength Tempering, Qi Condensation, and True Intent, the spell path had Law Seeking, Root Settling, and Wisdom of Heart—three stages that mirrored each other.

Wu Changqing had begun his cultivation at the age of three, following his father’s teachings, practicing the Spirit Insect Small Seal Scripture handed down through three generations of the Rainflower Temple. By rearing spirit insects inside himself, he harnessed their power to gather qi, nourish his blood, and wield spells in battle.

The strength of the insect was the strength of the man; if the insect perished, so did its host.

Now, the constant bulging of his skin was a sign that his spirit insects sensed grave danger. Restless, they warned Wu Changqing.

To think—a mere Qi Condensation martial artist could provoke his spirit insects to such frantic alarm. Just who was this Ye Wen?

Though suspicion gripped his heart, Wu Changqing’s hands did not hesitate.

With a swift swipe, the ritual Autumn Sandalwood arced through the air, unleashing a blood-red sword energy that tore through the air and stabbed toward Qi Xiu with lethal precision.

Even before the sword energy reached him, Qi Xiu felt his skin and flesh crawling, as if the sinister, demonic force within it might twist his limbs into something monstrous.

“So, you’re all of the same ilk,” he sneered coldly, recalling the two bloated priests he’d slain earlier. With a surge, he raised his hand and struck out with force.

Boom!

Above, the black mist swirling like thunderclouds shuddered. A palm print of black energy, towering as a man, swept forth with a violent gale to clash against the unnatural sword energy.

A deafening crash resounded, shaking the heavens. A vast shockwave exploded, hurling dust several meters into the air. Both palm print and sword energy vanished in an instant.

Casting spells barehanded?!

Seeing the immense palm print Qi Xiu had conjured with a mere gesture, Wu Changqing’s face twisted in disbelief.

To unleash such powerful magic without a ritual implement—that privilege belonged only to those with a complete Heart Scripture, just as true martial skills did for martial artists.

Only the grandest clans and sects possessed such things. For common itinerants or humble temples like Rainflower, to even dream of it was folly.

Moreover, though the black palm Qi Xiu unleashed was shrouded in gloom, its force was open and grand—utterly unlike their own sharp, sinister arts that relied on rearing parasites in the flesh.

A surge of jealousy and greed flared in Wu Changqing’s vertical pupils.

He must be captured! The Heart Scripture he cultivates must be forced from him!

Blinded by avarice, Wu Changqing brandished his bamboo staff wildly. Blade after blade of demonic sword energy swept forth, hissing like a nest of vipers, lunging toward Qi Xiu.

Qi Xiu’s form spun and darted, his palms lashing out like dragons. He unleashed a storm of black, forbidding palm prints, raining down upon his foe.

The explosions came in a relentless barrage.

The heart of their battle erupted with ceaseless detonations. Sword energy and palm strikes collided, unleashing tangible shockwaves that ravaged everything around them.

Occasionally, a stray slash or imprint would fly wild, striking those nearby.

A disciple of the Taibao Sect struck by the sword energy screamed, convulsing as his flesh squirmed, spirit insects wriggling from his pores before he burst into a spray of blood.

Those bloated priests hit by the black palm fared no better—one even grazed by its edge saw his flesh and bones corroded, melting into a puddle before his own eyes.

“Fall back! Fall back!” Jin Tai roared, ducking beneath a sword energy that barely missed his head. Witnessing the carnage, even without his warning, the crowd was already scrambling to retreat, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.

…

We can’t keep trading blows like this!

Wu Changqing’s arm, gripping the bamboo staff, had shriveled visibly. Gritting his teeth, he realized that such reckless use of the artifact was awakening the ferocity slumbering within it, forcing him to suppress it with his own flesh and blood.

If the artifact’s ferocity were to fully revive, he would be its first victim.

The swirling dust ahead suddenly bulged outward.

In the next instant, a figure blazing with energy burst through the haze, closing on him with terrifying speed.

“You—!”

Wu Changqing hadn’t expected Qi Xiu to dare such a reckless approach, risking the sword energy to close the distance.

Panic-stricken, he hurried to swing his staff—but for a martial artist, his movement was too slow.

Qi Xiu twisted aside, evading the blow. The sword energy hissed past his shoulder, leaving a lingering sibilance in the air.

Not good!

With Qi Xiu now within five paces, terror flooded Wu Changqing. The shadow of death fell thick upon him.

With pain and desperation in his eyes, Wu Changqing raised his left hand and rang the Corpse-Binding Bell, rapidly chanting an incantation.

A resonant hum echoed.

In the rear hall, the jade Bodhisattva glimmered with otherworldly light. Its once compassionate smile twisted into a wicked sneer.

Wu Changqing’s body, now gaunt and bloodless, held on through sheer force of will, persisting in his chant.

At the same time, a blood-hued radiance spread from his bell, forming a glowing circle that shielded him firmly.

Qi Xiu surged forward. His fists and feet rained down upon the barrier in a storm of force, setting off ripples across its surface—but it held firm.

Muttering his incantation, Wu Changqing’s sweat poured, but he managed a hint of satisfaction.

Just a moment longer, and the three Corpse Children would be restored. This Ye Wen, having spent so much energy blending spells and martial skills, must be at his limit.

Then, victory would still be his!

But as this thought flitted through his mind, a thunderous, commanding voice exploded in his ear.

“Wu Changqing!”

The voice was almost hypnotic; Wu Changqing looked up before he knew what he was doing.

“What—”

Qi Xiu’s brows flared, his eyes blazing with wrath. Within those black-and-white eyes, a brilliant sun tore through the void, rising with unstoppable force.

Its majesty suppressed all things beneath heaven and earth.

The Sun-Gazing Divine Spirit Technique!

After breaking through its first realm, this esoteric martial art not only strengthened the spirit and allowed one to see spirits and ghosts, but could also focus sight, intent, and voice into an attack on the enemy’s will.

Such an attack had little effect on those of resolute mind and full spirit. But Wu Changqing, having just expended so much blood and energy on two artifacts and blinded by greed, was already spent in body and will.

“Ah!”

Wu Changqing’s eyes glazed with terror as he screamed. In his mind’s eye, a burning, majestic sun bore down, threatening to annihilate him.

All-consuming fear devoured him. His incantation broke off, and the glow from the Corpse-Binding Bell vanished instantly.

Now!

Qi Xiu’s eyes narrowed, cracks splitting across his hands as his energy surged. With the force of his full strength, he unleashed a thunderous palm strike.

Blood sprayed a dozen meters from Wu Changqing’s mouth as he doubled over like a prawn, launched backward like a loosed arrow, slamming violently into the hall behind him.

…