The Steel Saber struck the ocher barrier with a dull clang, then bounced helplessly several yards away.
"The strength of an ant, yet you dare dream of shaking the heavens?"
The old Daoist sneered, looking at Chen Ping as if he were an ant trying to bite an elephant to death.
He waved the black banner in his hand and muttered an incantation, forming a strange hand seal with his left hand. A crimson Fireball quickly coalesced in his palm, its scorching heat warping the air around it.
The breath of death washed over Chen Ping.
Yet Chen Ping did not retreat.
The instant the Steel Saber slipped from his grasp, his expression of terror and despair peeled away like a mask, replaced by a chilling madness and cold resolve.
Instead of using the recoil to fall back, he drove off the ground, slamming his shoe against the bluestone paving. Like an arrow loosed from its string, he charged forward instead of retreating, straight at the Fireball that was about to take shape!
The old Daoist froze, never imagining that this mortal would dare rush to his death.
Just as he was about to hurl the Fireball, Chen Ping flicked his wrist and shook his sleeve.
"Take this!"
The paper packet burst as soon as it touched the barrier. It held no poison, but a concoction Chen Ping had prepared himself: lime powder mixed with fine iron filings!
"Pfft—"
A cloud of white dust exploded through the air.
Though the ocher barrier kept every speck of lime three inches away, the thick cloud still blocked the old Daoist's vision.
"Shameless!" The old Daoist instinctively squinted and turned his head, his spellcasting briefly interrupted.
Now!
Chen Ping closed in like a phantom. The blue-black metallic sheen on his hands had given way to bulging veins—the telltale sign that he had driven Shattered Stone Palm to its limit.
He did not throw a punch. Instead, his hands shifted from fists to claws, clamping onto the slick, unyielding barrier like a pair of iron pincers.
"Open!"
A low growl rose from deep in Chen Ping's throat. The long, mellow inner energy of Longevity of Pine and Crane surged wildly through his body and poured down his arms into his palms.
Rather than break the barrier with brute force, he used the "spiral penetrating force" unique to the Transformation Realm. His hands vibrated at high frequency, making the ocher barrier emit a grating hum.
Inside the barrier, the old Daoist felt a stabbing pain in his eardrums. With his vision blocked, panic surged through him. He could no longer control the Fireball Technique, and in his fluster, it exploded right between them.
"Boom!"
Flames roared and rolled.
Chen Ping felt a piercing pain in his left shoulder as his flesh instantly charred, but he did not even furrow his brow or blink.
He clenched his teeth against the agony of the flames. Rather than loosen his grip, he tightened it, sending a force that struck at the internal organs through the barrier and crashing into the old Daoist's viscera.
"Pfft!"
The old Daoist spat out a mouthful of blood through the barrier. Fear finally appeared in his eyes.
He had never imagined that a mere mortal martial artist could hurt him through a Magic Artifact shield!
For a brief moment, the two were locked in a short, brutal stalemate.
Smoke rose from Chen Ping's shoulder. Blood ran from the old Daoist's seven orifices. They were both fighting to see who would collapse first.
At this critical moment, Ye Muqing, who had been struggling to hold on inside the Broken Temple, fixed her gaze, resolve shining in her eyes.
She forced out the last trace of Spiritual Power within her and pinched a translucent jade needle between her fingers.
"Go!"
The jade needle transformed into a streak of light and shot toward the weakest point in the flow of Spiritual Power above the barrier.
"Ding!"
Already on the verge of collapse under the vibrations of Chen Ping's inner energy, the barrier was pierced at its weak point by the jade needle. Like glass riddled with cracks, it shattered with a roar!
The barrier crumbled, and the killing intent in Chen Ping's eyes became tangible.
He did not need to think. His body's instinct was faster than his mind.
His right hand shot out like a venomous snake, cutting through the air with a shrill whistle. It pierced the dissipating Spiritual Light and clamped around the old Daoist's throat.
"Crack!"
Bone snapped. Beneath Chen Ping's iron grip, the old Daoist's throat was as brittle as rotten wood. His larynx shattered at once.
But that was not enough.
To make absolutely sure, Chen Ping followed with a vicious knee strike, driving it hard into the old Daoist's chest.
"Thud!"
His breastbone caved in, and his heart burst.
The old Daoist's eyes bulged. Terror, resentment, and disbelief froze in them forever.
His body slumped limply to the ground, and the black banner fell from his hand with a dull thud.
With the old Daoist's death, the shrieking spirits around them seemed to lose their source of power. They wailed in agony, then dissolved into black smoke and vanished into the air.
The strange mist that shrouded the Broken Temple quickly receded as well, revealing the cold moonlight.
"Haah... haah..."
Chen Ping panted heavily. The burn on his left shoulder sent cold sweat running down his forehead, but he had no time to treat the wound.
He shoved the old Daoist's corpse aside, his gaze holding the greedy calm of a starving wolf.
"So this is what a cultivator is... Dead, he's no different from a mortal."
He crouched and searched the old Daoist's body at lightning speed, his hands moving like phantoms.
Soon, his hand found a heavy Leather Pouch at the old Daoist's waist and a Token in his robes—neither metal nor jade, but smooth and warm to the touch.
Without hesitation, Chen Ping tore both items away and slipped them into the inner pocket of his own clothes without even looking at them.
Only after that did he slowly stand and turn toward the entrance of the Broken Temple.
Ye Muqing had already collapsed unconscious after throwing the needle, falling beside the threshold.
The two surviving Imperial Guards were sprawled limply on the ground. They stared at Chen Ping, covered in blood and as fearsome as a god of death, trembling like leaves in the wind.
Clutching his charred left shoulder, Chen Ping walked toward them one step at a time.
The moonlight stretched out his shadow, swallowing the two Imperial Guards.
"Tonight, the Demon Daoist was responsible for the chaos. The commander died in battle, and we fought with all our might to protect Lady Ye."
Chen Ping's voice was hoarse and cold, devoid of emotion.
"As for how the Demon Daoist died... Lady Ye's protective Magic Artifact killed him. Understood?"
The two Imperial Guards looked into Chen Ping's utterly calm eyes. It seemed that if they dared say a single word of "no," they would soon share the old Daoist's fate.
"Y-yes! Lord Chen was valiant! Lady Ye is blessed by heaven!"
They nodded frantically, like garlic being pounded.
Chen Ping turned away and bent to lift the unconscious Ye Muqing, settling her against a relatively clean corner of the wall.
Just then, he felt the newly seized Leather Pouch in his clothes grow warm. It resonated strangely with the Longevity of Pine and Crane inner energy circulating in his body, as if something inside were calling to him.
Chen Ping instinctively pressed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded violently.
He turned to look at the old Daoist's corpse, at the cultivator who still radiated a chilling aura even in death. Much of his awe faded.
Mortals, too, could slay immortals.
If they could be killed, then they could be replaced.
Before you continue