Defeat the Demon Cultivator!

"Heh heh..."

The black-robed man let out a strange laugh from his throat, and without any visible movement, his hands suddenly shot out from his sleeves.

His hands clawed at the air twice, and two clumps of dark red mist instantly coalesced in his palms.

Then they transformed into two ferocious blood pythons, hissing as they lunged at Zhang Song.

"Playing tricks!"

Zhang Song snorted coldly, flicking the longsword in his hand. Purple lightning surged along the blade as he swung, unleashing a Thunder Sword Qi like a ribbon of light, aimed straight at the vital spots of the two blood pythons.

Puff! Puff!

The sword qi struck the blood pythons, but instead of a metallic clash, it sounded like hacking into a mass of rotten flesh.

A dull thud echoed.

The blood pythons were severed but didn't dissipate; instead, they exploded into a cloud of blood mist, clinging like a stubborn bone infection.

Swiftly, the mist enveloped Zhang Song.

"Not good!"

Zhang Song's expression shifted. He could sense the highly corrosive nature of the blood mist—if it touched him, it would likely dissolve flesh and skin clean off.

He acted decisively, instantly activating his "Seven Stars Thunder Fire Armor."

Hum!

A purple spiritual force shield expanded, blocking the blood mist that filled the sky outside.

Yet, a horrifying scene unfolded.

The blood mist touched the shield, producing a sizzling sound.

Like boiling oil splashed onto ice and snow.

The once radiant glow of the top-grade protective armor began to dim at a visible rate.

Black spots, like patches of mold, appeared on the shield's surface.

"This is... demonic arts?!"

A knowledgeable cultivator in the audience exclaimed, "Corrupting the spirit of a magic tool—this is definitely not righteous cultivation!"

Wang Lie, seated on the high platform, heard this and his face flickered, but he quickly resumed his sinister smirk, sneering, "As long as we win, who cares what technique it is? The victor is king, the loser a bandit!"

On the arena, Zhang Song was now locked in a bitter struggle.

The black-robed man's methods were utterly vile. He didn't clash head-on with Zhang Song, but kept releasing this eerie blood mist.

Manipulating the West Zhou blood fiend energy, he constantly compressed Zhang Song's space to move.

Though Zhang Song wielded a top-grade magic tool, under this all-encompassing corrosion, he gradually felt his spiritual power flow sluggishly, and his longsword swings grew slower and slower.

"Heh heh, old fool, your turtle shell is about to crack."

The black-robed man cackled, weaving through the blood mist, occasionally striking out with a claw.

Leaving scratch marks on Zhang Song's shield.

"That old man from the Zhang family is going to lose."

"This guest official of the Wang family is too sinister—that blood mist is impossible to defend against."

The surrounding onlookers shook their heads one after another. In their eyes, Zhang Song's defeat was only a matter of time.

Even the Zhang family's clan members had their hearts in their throats.

Cold sweat drenched every palm.

Only Zhang Chen stood there, his expression calm.

"Almost time."

Zhang Chen looked at the purple figure on the arena, nearly swallowed by the blood mist, and murmured to himself.

On the arena.

Zhang Song watched the withered claw drawing closer and his crumbling shield, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

"Since you want to suck my blood, then suck your fill!"

Zhang Song abruptly stopped retreating, instead withdrawing part of his defensive spiritual power, letting the black-robed man's withered claw aim for his heart.

"Seeking death!"

The black-robed man rejoiced, his eyes blazing with red light, black qi swirling around his palm.

He went straight for Zhang Song's heart.

Just as the withered claw was about to touch his robe.

Zhang Song suddenly swung his "Purple Lightning Frost Sword" across his chest, and with his left hand, fingers pressed together like a blade, he slammed them heavily onto an inconspicuous dark red rune on the sword's spine.

"Explode!"

A roar burst from the usually composed old man's throat.

Weng--!

In that instant, heaven and earth seemed to freeze.

A terrifying, heart-stopping fluctuation.

Suddenly erupted from that longsword.

It was not ordinary spirit fire, nor common thunder and lightning.

It was a sliver of Heavenly Tribulation Remnant Power that Zhang Chen had seized during his Heavenly Dao Foundation Establishment, fused with his own Heaven and Earth Thunder Fire, and sealed within the artifact—a power of pure destruction!

Supreme in hardness and yang, it specialized in breaking evil!

Hong--!!!

A blinding Purple-Gold Light Pillar, centered on Zhang Song, shot straight into the sky in an instant.

The sea of Blood Mist, under the impact of this supreme yang force, didn't even have time to scream before it vanished like snow meeting boiling water, dissolving cleanly without a trace.

"Ah--! What kind of fire is this?!"

The black-robed man took the brunt of it, letting out a scream.

His palm, the moment it touched the purple-gold light, vaporized instantly.

Then the flames spread, swallowing his entire body in an instant.

The demonic power protecting his body, before this thunder fire imbued with the will of the Heavenly Dao, was fragile to the point of absurdity.

"No--!!!"

Under the horrified gazes of thousands on the scene, the black-robed man struggled madly within the flames.

His black robe turned to ash in an instant.

Revealing a body as withered and dry as a skeleton.

And on that body, densely packed strange tattoos—now, under the scorching of the thunder fire, they burst apart one after another.

Spewing out streams of foul black smoke.

Only two breaths passed.