Sacrifice

The thick fog couldn't conceal such brilliant red light. Zhao Rucheng had only just climbed to his feet when the Wandering Souls swarming toward him nearly engulfed him.

And then Du Yehu arrived!

He didn't even need to move. The surging force of his blood and qi swept through, and the nearby Wandering Souls scattered in every direction.

Without a moment's hesitation, Du Yehu grabbed Zhao Rucheng by the collar and hauled him toward Ling He.

After taking a vicious swipe from the Resentful Ghost, the older brothers were all frantic with worry. Zhao Rucheng alone didn't look hurt in the slightest. Annoyed, he shouted, "Hey, hey, hey! I can walk by myself!"

Du Yehu ignored him. He charged halfway over before tossing the still-yapping Zhao Rucheng toward Ling He. Then he spun around and slammed a fist, wrapped in thick blood-and-qi energy, into the Resentful Ghost.

Leaving aside how Ling He leapt up and caught Zhao Rucheng, let's focus on Du Yehu's punch.

Compared to the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword, the fist technique he practiced was far less sophisticated. It was so neglected that even the Dao Academy's outer sect paid it little attention. But in Du Yehu's hands, it became exceptionally violent.

He didn't seek an opening. He met the Resentful Ghost's enormous claw head-on, meeting force with force and attack with attack. His punch was fierce beyond compare!

A fist of iron, wrapped in tangible blood-and-qi energy, crashed against the blue-black claw. For a moment, they were evenly matched.

Just then, Jiang Wang leapt past again. His sword flashed, and he sliced through the Resentful Ghost's other eye.

"Fall back!"

Jiang Wang struck and immediately retreated. Du Yehu also leapt away.

The blinded Resentful Ghost went berserk. Its two enormous claws lashed about wildly, whipping up turbulent gales all around.

Once its assault began to flag, Jiang Wang darted in again. His long sword traced a graceful arc through the air, drifting lightly toward the Resentful Ghost's right claw like a falling leaf, almost soundlessly. Yet the instant it touched the blue-black talon, it unleashed a piercing shriek beyond compare!

The third killing move of the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword Technique—its essence lay in sharpness!

With a single sword stroke, the Resentful Ghost's right claw was severed.

Jiang Wang had no intention of prolonging the fight. He was already retreating even as he swung.

With its vision gone, the Resentful Ghost could only vent its fury on the empty air in front of it. Meanwhile, Du Yehu, his blood and qi blazing like a bonfire, had circled behind it and leapt high. He clasped his right hand with his left and swung both arms like a hammer, smashing them into the Resentful Ghost's hideous head.

Boom!

The smoke of blood and qi naturally countered ghosts, and Du Yehu's strike was ferocious beyond measure. His fist, wrapped layer upon layer in blood-and-qi energy, blew the Resentful Ghost's entire head apart in an instant!

Du Yehu couldn't dodge in time and was splashed from head to toe with foul blue-black blood, but the blood was quickly burned away by his blood-and-qi energy.

Only when the headless corpse collapsed did the red light around Du Yehu finally fade. His face went deathly pale in an instant.

Jiang Wang leapt to his side and helped hold him up. "Brother Tiger, this..."

Blood and qi were the very foundation of a person's life. Now that Jiang Wang had condensed Dao Essence, even his cultivation had to begin by drawing on his blood and qi. Du Yehu's strength just moments ago had come at the cost of burning himself with every passing instant. He wasn't a Martial Man who devoted himself to the Martial Dao, and he couldn't possibly rein in such vast reserves of blood and qi. It would take at least five years of recovery before he could return to normal.

Five years at the beginning of one's cultivation—how long that was! And that didn't even account for the decline of one's blood and qi with age. Fall behind by one step, and you'd fall behind at every step. This could mean he was cut off from the extraordinary for good.

Yet Du Yehu hadn't hesitated for a moment. In the face of life and death, there was no time to think it through. And choices made on instinct were all the more revealing of one's true heart.

"It's nothing." Du Yehu quietly regulated his breathing. After recovering a little strength, he shoved Jiang Wang away. "I'm not so far gone I can't walk. Come on. Things at the Central Palace are bound to be even more dangerous."

Ling He was full of worry, but this wasn't the time to say much. He shifted Zhao Rucheng onto his back, then stepped forward and picked up his sword from beside the Resentful Ghost's remains. Without a word, he stayed close at Du Yehu's side to protect him.

He had burned some of his own blood and qi earlier, but only a little, so his foundation remained unharmed. He still had enough strength to fight with his life on the line.

As the only one among the four still uninjured, Jiang Wang was their strongest fighter. He needed to stay mobile so he could act at any moment. So he simply walked ahead with his sword in hand, making no move to lend a hand.

Only Zhao Rucheng kept grumbling without pause. "The boss really knows how to look after me. Tiger's so clumsy. Honestly, hauling me around like a little chicken—what kind of look is that? If Miss Miao Yu found out, wouldn't my dashing image be ruined?"

Miao Yu was the star courtesan of the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion, and the most popular woman in Maple Forest City's pleasure quarters. Zhao Rucheng had already spent over a thousand taels at the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion hoping to win her favor, and still hadn't succeeded.

Du Yehu said nothing. It wasn't that he didn't want to beat Zhao Rucheng senseless, or at least curse him out; he simply didn't have the strength.

"Enough already." Jiang Wang said impatiently, "Apart from mindless Wandering Souls and deranged Resentful Ghosts, who's here for you to impress?"

"Who can say?" Zhao Rucheng perked right up. Lying on Ling He's back, he gestured wildly. "What if some pretty female ghost is hiding somewhere, sneaking a peek at me? I'd have had a perfectly lovely encounter, and now it's all gone to waste. Can Tiger afford to make up for that loss?"

Du Yehu nearly sat bolt upright on his deathbed, summoning one last scrap of strength to smash the smart-mouthed brat.

Before he could explode, Ling He jabbed upward with the pommel of his sword.

"Urgh..." Zhao Rucheng sucked in a sharp breath, and his bluster vanished at once.

Beyond the dense wall of fog, at the center of Small Forest Town—that is, inside the Central Palace of the Nine Palaces Formation—

A huge vortex turned slowly. It was impossible to tell what this place had once been. Everything had dissolved into that silent vortex. There was nothing else. At its center was a pure, utter blackness that seemed to draw in anyone's gaze, impossible to look away from.

Four cultivators stood beside the vortex, their auras long and steady, their Dao Essence abundant. They all wore black robes and stared straight ahead.

Not far in front of the vortex stood a house smashed to pieces. Nothing remained but a single brick wall.

The Red-Robed Woman leaned carelessly against it, her expression languid.

She was wrapped up from head to toe, yet somehow exuded endless allure. In her hand she held a small oval mirror. But reflected in it wasn't her own beautiful face—it was the figures fighting Resentful Ghosts inside the Nine Palaces Formation.

"The disciples from this year's Maple Forest City Daoist Academy aren't much to write home about. Those few sword moves are decent, at least." The Red-Robed Woman muttered, then turned her hand and put the mirror away.

"All right, the time has come. If I'd known it would go so smoothly, I'd have taken a longer nap." The Red-Robed Woman yawned as she walked gracefully toward the vortex. "I'm so sleepy..."

Only when she reached the mysterious vortex did her expression grow slightly more serious. She turned to the side and bowed properly. "I respectfully invite the elder."

The four black-robed cultivators bowed with her.

Then an old man with white hair emerged from the thick fog. His face was wrinkled like the bark of an ancient tree, his eyes clouded, his back hunched, and even his steps were unsteady.

But as he walked forward, his back straightened inch by inch, and his imposing aura swelled without pause.

He paid no attention to the Red-Robed Woman and the others. He only stared at the vortex, as if gazing upon his one true love, his eyes filled with utmost devotion.

By the time he reached the vortex, his aura was as deep and vast as the abyss, pressing the breath from everyone's lungs.

The Red-Robed Woman lowered her head even further.

The white-haired elder tucked in his ring and little fingers, then held his thumb, index finger, and middle finger in a triangle over his chest. He murmured, "At the bottom of the River of Forgetfulness, in the Abyss of Yellow Springs. May the Venerable God return to the world and illuminate the mortal realm with Candlelight Illumination."

Then he drew a White Bone dagger and plunged it briskly into the crown of his head. His body dropped rigidly into the vortex!