Sacrifice Life

The thick fog could not block such a brilliant crimson light. At that moment, Zhao Rucheng had just scrambled up from the ground, and the surging tide of Wandering Souls was nearly about to drown him.

Then Du Yehu arrived!

He didn't even need to move. The moment his intense blood-and-qi force surged forth, the nearby Wandering Souls scattered and collapsed.

Du Yehu acted with utmost decisiveness. He grabbed Zhao Rucheng by the collar and hauled him toward Ling He.

Having taken a vicious claw strike from the Resentful Ghost, the elder brothers were all burning with anxiety. Only Zhao Rucheng himself showed no sign of injury, shouting indignantly, "Hey, hey, hey! I can walk on my own!"

Du Yehu paid him no heed. Midway through his sprint, he tossed the incessantly chattering Zhao Rucheng toward Ling He, then spun around, his fist wrapped in dense blood-and-qi power, and slammed it heavily into the Resentful Ghost.

Setting aside Ling He leaping to catch Zhao Rucheng in midair, let's focus on Du Yehu's fist.

Compared to the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword Technique, the fist art he cultivated was not particularly refined—it had even been rather neglected among the outer disciples of the Daoist Academy. But when he used it, it was exceptionally violent and fierce.

This punch did not seek an opening to exploit; instead, it met the Resentful Ghost's massive claw head-on, pitting strength against strength, offense against offense. Truly unmatched in its ferocity!

The blood-and-qi power, almost tangible, wrapped around his iron fist and collided thunderously with the green-black giant claw. For a moment, they were locked in stalemate.

Just then, Jiang Wang had already lunged past. His sword flashed abruptly, slicing open the Resentful Ghost's other eye.

"Retreat!"

Jiang Wang struck and then fled far. Du Yehu also leaped back in haste.

In their wake, the blinded Resentful Ghost grew even more frenzied, its pair of giant claws thrashing wildly, stirring up fierce gusts of wind all around.

When its assault briefly waned, Jiang Wang turned and charged in again. His long sword traced a graceful arc through the air, drifting down like a falling leaf onto the Resentful Ghost's right claw—almost soundless. Yet the moment it touched the green-black talon, it erupted with an unparalleled sharp shriek!

The third form of the Purple Qi Comes from the East Sword Technique's killing method—its essence lay in sharpness!

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

Jiang Wang showed no desire to prolong the fight. Even as he struck, he was already retreating.

The Resentful Ghost, having lost its sight, could only vent its fury wildly at the empty air before it. Meanwhile, Du Yehu, his body blazing with searing blood-and-qi, had circled behind it and leaped high. He clasped his left hand over his right, swinging both arms like a sledgehammer, and smashed them viciously into the Resentful Ghost's grotesque head.

Boom!

The blood-and-qi smoke was inherently suppressive to ghostly beings, let alone the sheer ferocity of Du Yehu's blow. His fist, layered with dense blood-and-qi power, exploded the Resentful Ghost's entire head in an instant!

Du Yehu couldn't dodge in time and was splattered all over with green-black filthy blood, but it was quickly incinerated by his blood-and-qi.

Only when the Resentful Ghost's headless corpse toppled did the crimson light on Du Yehu's body abruptly fade, his face turning deathly pale.

Jiang Wang leaped to Du Yehu's side and reached out to support him. "Brother Hu, this..."

Blood-and-qi—the very foundation of a person. Even now that Jiang Wang had condensed Dao Essence, it still began with the supply of blood-and-qi. Du Yehu's earlier strength had been fueled by burning himself every moment. He wasn't a martial artist specialized in the martial path; he couldn't lock down such vast blood-and-qi. This battle alone would take him at least five years to recover.

Five years at the very start of cultivation—how long that was! Not to mention the issue of blood-and-qi decline with age. One step slow meant every step slow; this could very well mean he would be cut off from the extraordinary forever.

But Du Yehu had acted without hesitation, without a moment's doubt. In a life-or-death crisis, there was no time to think that much, and the more instinctive the choice, the more it revealed one's true heart.

"Small matter." Du Yehu quietly adjusted his breath, recovered a bit of strength, and shoved Jiang Wang away. "I'm not at the point where I can't walk yet. Let's go. The situation at the Central Palace is bound to be more dangerous."

Ling He was full of worry, but this was not the time to say much. He shifted Zhao Rucheng onto his back, then stepped forward to pick up his own sword from the Resentful Ghost's remains, silently guarding Du Yehu's side.

He had also burned some blood-and-qi earlier, but only a small amount, not enough to harm his foundation. So he still had the strength to fight to the death.

As the only one among the four who was still fully intact and at peak combat power, Jiang Wang had to stay agile, ready to act at any moment. So he simply walked ahead with his sword drawn, without offering to help.

Only Zhao Rucheng kept muttering complaints without end. "Big Brother Ling is the most considerate. That Tiger is so clumsy—really, carrying me around like a chicken, what kind of image is that? If Miss Miao Yu finds out, won't my heroic reputation be ruined in an instant?"

Miao Yu was the current top courtesan of the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion, the most popular girl in all of Maple Forest City's pleasure quarters. Zhao Rucheng had already thrown over a thousand taels of silver at the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion trying to win her favor, but had yet to succeed.

Du Yehu remained silent. It wasn't that he didn't want to beat him up, or at least curse him out, but he simply had no strength left.

"Enough, enough." Jiang Wang said impatiently. "There's nothing here but mindless Wandering Souls and deranged Resentful Ghosts. Who are you trying to impress?"

"You never know," Zhao Rucheng perked up instead. Lying on Ling He's back, he gestured wildly. "What if some pretty female ghost is hiding somewhere, peeping at me? A perfectly good romantic encounter, ruined just like that—can Tiger afford that loss?"

Du Yehu nearly sat up from his near-death state, mustering a last shred of strength to blow this mouthy bastard's head off.

But Ling He, before Du Yehu could erupt, reached back and jabbed upward with the pommel of his sword.

"Sss..." Zhao Rucheng sucked in a cold breath, and his arrogance instantly vanished.

Now, behind that thick wall of fog, at the center of Small Forest Town—the Central Palace of this Nine Palaces Formation.

A massive vortex was slowly turning. Whatever had been here before was no longer recognizable; everything had dissolved into this silent whirlpool. Besides the vortex itself, there was nothing. At the center of the vortex was a pure blackness, as if it could draw in anyone's gaze, impossible to resist.

Beside the vortex stood four cultivators with long, steady breaths, each brimming with Dao Essence. All were clad in black robes, eyes fixed straight ahead.

And not far in front of the vortex was a house that had been smashed to pieces, nothing left but a single brick wall.

The woman in red robes leaned lazily against this wall, her expression languid.

She was wrapped up tightly from head to toe, yet she still exuded an endless allure. In her hand, she held a small oval mirror, but what it reflected was not her own beautiful face—instead, it showed the figures battling Resentful Ghosts within the Nine Palaces Formation.

"The disciples of this year's Maple Forest City Daoist Academy aren't much either. That sword technique of theirs is just barely passable." The red-robed woman muttered, then flipped her hand and put the mirror away.

"Alright, the time has come. If I'd known it would be this smooth, I'd have taken a longer nap." The red-robed woman yawned as she swayed gracefully toward the vortex. "So sleepy..."

Only when she reached the front of this mysterious vortex did her expression turn slightly more serious. She stepped aside and bowed properly. "I respectfully welcome the Elder."

The four black-robed cultivators also bowed alongside her.

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

But as he walked forward step by step, his back straightened inch by inch, and his entire presence swelled with ever-increasing momentum.

He paid no heed to the Red-Robed Woman and the others, fixing his gaze solely on the vortex, as if staring at his eternal beloved, his expression utterly devout.

By the time he reached the vortex, his aura had become as vast as an abyss, pressing down on everyone until they could hardly breathe.

The Red-Robed Woman lowered her head even further.

The white-haired old man tucked his ring and little fingers inward, forming a triangle with his thumb, index, and middle fingers over his heart, and softly intoned: "At the bottom of the River of Forgetfulness, in the abyss of the Yellow Springs. The honored god returns to the world, shining a candle upon the mortal realm."

Then he drew a bone-white dagger and, without hesitation, plunged it straight into the crown of his head. His entire body fell rigidly into the vortex!