Chapter Thirty-Six: Ferocious Counterattack

Song Yue stopped running.

Above, the sky arched like a vast dome, misty spiritual energy rising and swirling. Before him, mountains stretched endlessly, their grandeur overwhelming. From high above, the towering ancient trees looked like a rolling sea of green. Amid this emerald ocean, dozens of figures were converging on Song Yue from every direction.

He sensed their approach. In such a situation, escaping their encirclement was nearly impossible. Paradoxically, the pursuers behind offered his only sliver of hope—the only direction not sealed shut by certain death. There, at least, a chance remained.

He needed to reach Teacher Miao and Brother Qian. He wanted to try—could he bring them with him into the Jade Void Celestial Stele? He did not know if the plan would work, or if, once the enemy discovered the ancient stele, they would guess his intentions and simply lay in wait as they had at the altar, ready to trap him like a rabbit.

But this was the sole path to break the deadlock that he could conceive.

Song Yue drew the Dragon-patterned Immortal-slaying Blade, quietly circulating the mental arts he had learned from the White-robed Celestial. He shrank the stele to the size of a cigarette, tossing it into the forest ahead and delicately guiding it through the dense woods with his mind.

Charging back the way he had come, eyes on the blade in his hand, he murmured in a persuading tone, “Sister Blade, let’s talk. After all these years of silence, if your one and only master dies here, wouldn’t that be a shame? When we start fighting, give me all you’ve got! I may not yet have the skill to unleash your full sharpness, but you’re a mature, sentient weapon now—you should know how to strike on your own.”

“When victory comes, whatever you want, I’ll get it for you! Whoever has it, I’ll demand it, and if they refuse, you’ll cut them down!”

So muttering, Song Yue charged back, eyes blazing.

The first to meet him was a Kunlun Sect disciple at the ninth level of Qi Cultivation, adept in wind magic. He had not imagined his quarry would dare a sudden counterattack. For a split second, upon seeing Song Yue, he froze. Then, hastily forming hand seals and chanting, he began to cast a spell.

Song Yue swung the Dragon-patterned Blade in a slanting arc—a flash of white, swift as a startled swan. In an instant, he brushed past the Kunlun disciple, not even glancing back as his blade cleaved toward the next attacker.

Behind him, the ninth-level cultivator’s mouth fell open, a strange feeling coursing through him. The next moment, half his body slid to the ground, severed on the diagonal, blood gushing forth.

Dead on the spot.

The five pursuers behind him stared in disbelief. That this fugitive would dare double back in the face of their pursuit was beyond comprehension.

“Kill him!”

“Leave him breathing—we’ll make him die in agony!”

“Beware his blade—that’s a divine weapon!”

“Du Jian is dead!”

Roaring in rage, one grabbed a voice-transmitting talisman, attempting to send a message.

Song Yue, guiding the Jade Void Celestial Stele with his mind, transformed it into a needle and shot it at blinding speed straight into the eye of the man with the talisman.

The cultivator, also at the Qi Cultivation level, was blinded instantly, howling in agony, clutching his face and discarding the talisman.

In but a blink, one dead, one maimed.

The remaining four were seized by fury and awe—was this man merely a martial brute? Yet he wielded objects with his mind—was he perhaps a grandmaster of martial arts?

The two Foundation Establishment cultivators bellowed and began casting spells, no longer concerned with taking him alive, determined to kill this savage on the spot.

One unleashed a mental assault, a vast tide of psychic force surging toward Song Yue’s consciousness like a rain of arrows. Once, such an attack would have left Song Yue a drooling fool. But now, not only had he cultivated protective qi, the teachings of the White-robed Celestial had opened the domain of spiritual cultivation to him. Though a novice, the celestial’s methods were so advanced that even a beginner gained formidable resilience.

With the protective qi offsetting the blow, the Foundation Establishment cultivator’s mental attack was all but useless. Song Yue seized the moment, closing the distance with a single stride and slashing down. If not for the other Foundation Establishment cultivator breaking off his own spell to pull his companion away, that strike would have cleaved the man in two.

The psychic attacker broke out in a cold sweat; that killing intent had nearly shattered his courage.

Meanwhile, the two remaining high-level Qi cultivators struck at Song Yue. One, a sword cultivator, thrust his blade at Song Yue’s back. The other activated a talisman, which transformed into three flying daggers hurtling toward Song Yue in a triangular formation.

Song Yue sliced the three flying daggers apart with his blade, and with his free hand unleashed the Star-cleaving Palm at the sword cultivator’s thrust.

The swordsman grinned—though his blade was not an antique, the sect’s smiths had spent three years forging it; it could cut gold and jade and slice through iron like mud. That the fool dared block with his bare hand—surely he would lose it.

“Die!” he shouted.

Clang!

A metallic ring echoed—the Star-cleaving Palm knocked the sword aside, Song Yue surging forward to strike with a thunderous fist.

Though he had practiced the move for only a short time, he already grasped its essence. Fist qi roared, thunder clapping.

Song Yue had bested countless high-level Qi Cultivators. Whether seventh, eighth or ninth level, against such men he always held the psychological upper hand—a rare advantage among martial artists.

After all, how many martial artists had the resources to bully cultivators daily?

The swordsman, so sure his blow would sever Song Yue’s hand, took the full force of Song Yue’s punch to the face. This was no sparring bout at the academy—this was a life-or-death struggle, and Song Yue put everything into the blow.

The sword cultivator’s skull was smashed in, killed instantly without time for a scream.

In mere moments, two dead and one wounded—Song Yue’s exploits already shone with brilliance.

But the two Foundation Establishment cultivators had come to their senses. Joined by the remaining high-level cultivator, they each unleashed their deadliest strikes, determined to end him in one blow.

With their spells unleashed, a pale yellow aura flared around Song Yue, blocking the attacks from reaching him.

“He’s got a protective artifact!” shouted the Foundation Establishment cultivator skilled in mental arts.

Song Yue swept the Dragon-patterned Blade at him in a wide arc. Terrified, the man turned and fled—no attempt to dodge, simply routed by fear.

The last Foundation Establishment cultivator, seeing his spells fail, also lost all will to fight and screamed at the high-level cultivator still activating a talisman, “Run!”

Song Yue, swift as a ghost, pressed his advantage in close combat. In a flash, he severed the arm of the talisman-wielder, who shrieked in pain but ran faster than anyone.

The cultivator blinded by the needle-stele had already fled, heedless of pain—life was more important.

Song Yue did not pursue. He used the Phantom Step, pushing his speed to the limit, and in moments returned to the small cave where his companions hid.

He tore aside the transplanted shrubs at the entrance. Qian Qianxue nearly unleashed a spell at him, but seeing who it was, hastily withdrew her power.

Miao Qiang sat inside, face sallow and resolute—clearly, if the enemy had come, he would have fought to the death.

Song Yue grabbed Qian Qianxue’s arm, not waiting for her to protest, and guided her into the Jade Void Celestial Stele’s inner space. Without explanation, he pulled Miao Qiang in as well.

“Wait here!” he ordered.

The next moment, Song Yue dashed from the cave, beginning a new round of desperate flight.

The Kunlun Sect, having received news through the escaped disciples’ talismans, flew into a frenzy—nearly mad with rage and disbelief that a young martial artist had dealt them such repeated blows.

“Catch him! That wretch has something unnatural about him!”

“He’s the one on the list—Song Yue, the last to come out of the underground palace. He gained unimaginable fortune inside!”

“Capture him!”

“Don’t kill him—there are too many secrets on him!” In the end, the Kunlun Sect’s deputy leader, who had watched the altar’s gate close, gave the order coldly: “He cannot escape.”

Within the forest, countless figures closed in, hunting Song Yue.

He raced back to where he had first found the Jade Void Celestial Stele, leaving scarcely a trace. But there was no reason for hope—among the enemy, surely some were skilled at tracking. Sooner or later, they would find this place.

Song Yue smiled bitterly. It seemed he had no choice but to enter the stele and step into the world beyond its nine gates. If the enemy discovered the truth and stationed themselves nearby, the moment he emerged would mean certain doom.

Clenching his teeth, Song Yue restored the stele to its original place and, in a flash, entered its inner space.

In his heart, he swore: So be it! If I must, I’ll take Brother Qian and Teacher Miao and explore a new world. If you want to wait outside, so be it! One day, when my skills are perfected, I’ll come out and overturn your entire sect!