Chapter Seventy-Four: Overpowered

The sky was like fire and the crimson eyes like blood. The world resembled a Shura killing ground, with scorching, fiery clouds drifting across the dome. In the distant fields of vision, countless phantom silhouettes flickered and wavered, resembling both men and ghosts, hazy and indistinct.

The foreign monk stood motionless, his expression serene and frozen, devoid of the slightest trace of fear. Instead, the corners of his mouth upturned slightly in a meaningful arc...

"Soul-snatching!"

The foreign monk instantly realized he had encountered an extremely rare demon. Compared to ordinary sorcery and martial arts, demons possessing the ability to snatch souls were undoubtedly much scarcer. A fierce determination suddenly surged in his heart—he must capture this demon alive! If his attitude toward Qingmei had previously been casual and indifferent, now, capturing this demon was an absolute must!

The foreign monk sighed slightly, then held his breath and calmed his mind, quietly circulating his spiritual essence. Suddenly, the spiritual essence within him surged forth from the thirty-six thousand pores of his entire body, accompanied by a thunderous roar like a tiger's cry:

"Break!"

Like blazing flames melting snow, wherever the spiritual essence reached, the world before his eyes melted away in mottled patches, like a layer of ice and snow peeling from his sight, gradually revealing the reality behind it. The deep blue of the sky and the lingering chaos reappeared, with tree shades swaying in the night breeze. The world before him returned once more to Meishan.

However, the figures of the little demon and the puppet monster that had been right before him a moment ago had vanished. It seemed she also knew that her current level of soul-snatching art was not yet sufficient to trap a Qi practitioner who had reached the immortal stage. Therefore, having succeeded, she did not seize the opportunity to attack, but instead chose to flee further.

Glancing around, there were clear footprints on the ground, carrying very little weight. As lifeless objects, the puppet beasts should have been stowed away in a Cosmos Pouch. This little demon perhaps possessed some kind of background... Pondering this, the foreign monk reached up and gently stroked the top of his head, wiping away a thin layer of cold sweat. He chanted the Buddha's name twice under his breath, then resolutely took flight, ascending higher and higher...

With his Buddhist resolve set and fearless of life or death, the foreign monk chose to continue the hunt without the slightest hesitation. The talent the little demon had just displayed was too rare; he simply could not bear to let her go. Even though he had just been frightened into a cold sweat, his determination to capture her alive only grew stronger.

Although he had broken the illusion with a single shout, only the foreign monk knew that the actual situation was not as effortless as it appeared. Had the little demon not been a full two realms lower than him, he probably would have been completely unable to break the spell. Once trapped in the illusion, one would forever be caught between the cracks of life and death, unable to find release...

Yet, only a little demon of this caliber was truly worthy of the plans of the Western Spirit Platform!

She must not be allowed to escape!

Soaring into mid-air, the foreign monk was in no rush to pursue. Instead, he took off the kasaya robe he wore, chanting incantations under his breath before tossing it into the air. The kasaya flickered with a kaleidoscopic, lingering charm, rapidly expanding in an instant until it grew into a canopy of the sky. Billowing like a giant tent, it fluttered and roared downward against the wind, actually enveloping the entire mountain peak completely!

A seamless heavenly garment!

Under the immortal art, the kasaya transformed into a heavenly prison, sealing and imprisoning the entire mountain.

At this moment, Liuchou had just leaped out from the cliff, treading upon a reed. The cataclysmic change in the firmament had not escaped his eyes. This unexpected turn of events made Liuchou's heart tighten, prompting him to urge his reed forward with greater speed, rushing recklessly toward the rolling expanse of crimson.

Even so, his arrival would only come half a quarter-an-hour later.

Scarcely had he arrived, before even touching the ground, Liuchou leaped down from mid-air and reached out to grab the kasaya curtain upon landing. The texture beneath his fingers was soft and yielding. Liuchou pulled and tore with all his might, only to find the material astonishingly resilient, feeling as though he were tugging at an immensely tough demonic tendon. No matter how much strength he exerted, it was dissolved and absorbed by the curtain, leaving him with no purchase.

Liuchou tried several more methods—burning it with fire, cutting it with blades, and smashing it with clubs—yet none could inflict the slightest damage on the curtain. In the end, he simply tried digging three feet into the earth, but still could not bypass it; the curtain had already penetrated deep into the ground, impossible to cross.

"What is to be done?"

Anxiety spiked sharply in Liuchou's heart, yet at this moment, he truly could find no solution. The foreign monk's cultivation far exceeded the scope of Liuchou's demonic power. Peering into the curtain, he saw only a pale red expanse where nothing could be clearly discerned.

Liuchou knew in his heart: this was truly bad!

The plan had been jointly discussed and decided upon by the two of them, yet Liuchou had never expected that among the foreign monks there would exist such a formidable figure, and one who had locked onto Qingmei at that. Judging solely by this magic, the other's Qi cultivation was far superior to that of the King of Huntian.

This time... she... was afraid... to die!

Liuchou felt his entire body burning fiercely, an indescribable emotion roiling through his limbs. That sensation was a mixture of anger, sorrow, and deep frustration, yet not entirely anger, nor entirely sorrow, nor entirely frustration... Intertwined, these various emotions churned ceaselessly within him, filling him with vexation and fury. Yet facing this curtain that could not be torn, burned, or smashed, he was utterly powerless!

Even Liuchou himself did not know where this feeling stemmed from—whether it was fear of Qingmei being killed, or the stifling frustration of being unable to break the magic. The only thing he knew was that his entire body had begun to heat up, as if his blood were burning at this very moment, coursing through a hundred meridians, urgently demanding an outlet!

Suddenly, a sound echoed from afar, leaping into Liuchou's ears.

Without a moment of hesitation, pause, or thought, Liuchou charged toward the source of the sound. The iron rod appeared in his hand, and his entire body shot forward like a lightning bolt through the night, hurtling straight toward the noise. The hand bones gripping the iron rod turned white, nearly crushing the divine weapon.

Raging flames of fury surged—this enemy had arrived right on time!

The pursuer was none other than the Yellow Turban Warrior. Although he had not leaped off the cliff and had instead chosen to detour, he had arrived not much later than Liuchou. But just as he burst through the dense forest, he saw his previous target charging straight at him like a madman, practically deranged!

The Yellow Turban Warrior roared like a tiger, meeting the charge head-on as he raised the long saber in his hand.

With hot blood rushing to his head, did Liuchou care who was coming?

"Die!"

A pitch-black arc of light suddenly erupted in the night, accompanied by a crisp snapping sound. Splattering hot blood and shattered flesh and limbs were flung into the air.

The Yellow Turban Warrior and Liuchou flew backward simultaneously, both crashing to the ground. But immediately afterward, Liuchou flipped himself up and continued his charge. A bone-deep wound marred his face, and fresh blood sprayed wildly as he ran. However, the Yellow Turban Warrior was injured far more severely: half of his shoulder was missing, and his upper limb and arm had been reduced to a mass of shattered flesh and bone, swept into the air and pulverized by that tremendous, mountain-moving strike.

Trading injury for life—it had been a long time since Liuchou had resorted to such a desperate tactic.

Driven by anger, frustration, and agony, Liuchou subconsciously craved a bloody battle. Facing his rod strike imbued with boundless fury, the Yellow Turban Warrior tried to parry, but was simply too late.

This fiend is terrifyingly powerful!

As the Yellow Turban Warrior propped himself up, the thought flashing through his mind, he saw the rod already right before his eyes. He could only manage to raise his arm feebly as the iron rod crashed squarely down onto his head. With a sickening crunch, the warrior's entire head was driven deep into his chest cavity!

The Yellow Turban Warrior's corpse collapsed limply to the ground, suddenly erupting into a puff of smoke before dissipating. When the smoke cleared, the warrior's body had vanished entirely.

Liuchou's heart suddenly stirred. Turning his head to glance once more at the sky-covering kasaya curtain, he abruptly spun around and charged back toward the foreign monks' camp.

If Qingmei dies, these foreign monks will pay with their lives! If she lives, they can serve as hostages for an exchange!

The death of the Yellow Turban Warrior had jolted Liuchou into sudden realization, inspiring a siege-Wei-to-rescue-Zhao strategy. Though he had no idea how many more Qi practitioners of such caliber remained among the foreign monks, under the current circumstances, did he have any other choice?

Reason told Liuchou that acting thus carried immense risks. Since the foreign monks could eradicate the demon forces that had raised the banner of rebellion in Meishan, their overall strength was formidable, and there surely must be other monks of the ascension realm. Moreover, even if he managed to take hostages, whether Qingmei would be taken alive remained unknown!

Yet this was, after all, a glimmer of hope. Liuchou knew not why, but his usually calm mind—though capable of analyzing the gains and losses at this moment—was being continually urged to action by his own heart!

Amidst the boundless night, Liuchou's figure was like a phantom. He quickly appeared around the periphery of the foreign monks' camp and charged fiercely inside.

Having just pacified the Meishan demon forces, none of the monks could have anticipated that any fiend would be so arrogant and audacious as to provoke them. Immediately, several monks swarmed together, pouncing on Liuchou from all directions.

Yet what met them was a sweeping slash of pitch-black light. Following the flash, four foreign monks were smashed into patties of flesh by Liuchou's iron rod. Shreds of meat and blood filled the air before raining down, splashing a gory crimson across dozens of yards.

Another foreign monk was severed in half by the sweeping iron rod. His lower torso thrashed and rolled on the ground, his shrill screams tearing at the eardrums.

Only the final foreign monk was spared by Liuchou simply because his monastic robe happened to be new; only his arm was severed. Walking over as if no one else was present, Liuchou dragged the foreign monk aside and threw him onto the ground, not even glancing at the surrounding monks, treating them merely as lambs awaiting slaughter.

Ordinary monks could be killed freely, but those who appeared important should be kept alive for the moment as hostages...

If I cannot kill you, I will kill your comrades, kin, neighbors, and allies! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!

Qingmei, trapped within the heavenly prison, also knew things had gone awry.

Without needing to test it, she knew escape was impossible the moment this heavenly prison descended. Qingmei had guessed that the foreign monk had reached the ascension realm, but she never imagined he could wield such profound magic, and use it against a mere little demon like herself.

Though she did not know why the foreign monk was determined to capture her, one thing was certain:

Neither she nor Liuchou had any countermeasure against this magic.

Standing before the kasaya curtain, Qingmei panted heavily. The heavy layers of the curtain acted like a thick wall; although light filtered through faintly, the scene outside remained entirely obscured. Qingmei drew her long sword, stood her ground, and shouted at the top of her lungs:

"Liuchou, run away by yourself! Don't mind me!"

"Liuchou, we cannot both be captured! Leave!"

"Did you hear me? Run!"

"Don't come to save me, you cannot save me!"

Even as she shouted continuously, Qingmei kept her eyes locked on the foreign monk slowly descending toward her in the mid-air distance. At this moment, her sole hope was that Liuchou could escape.

Whether he could hear her or not, she had done her utmost.

And as for herself...

She could only fight the foreign monk to the death.