Iron Chain Claims Lives, Immortal Arts Become Wastepaper

The tall disciple on the right flank was still staring fixedly at the bushes ahead when his ankle suddenly tightened.

That thick black iron chain wrapped around him without warning.

He did not even have time to lower his head. A terrifying, utterly irresistible force suddenly exploded from the end of the chain.

The tall man instantly lost his balance and slammed face-first into the mud carpeted with rotting leaves. Two front teeth were knocked out on the spot, and blood mixed with muddy water pasted his mouth shut.

"Pull me! Save me!"

His hands flailed wildly as he clawed desperately at the mud.

But this force simply did not play by any rules.

Pressed flat against the ground, the tall man was forcibly dragged backward into the dark forest behind him. The speed was astonishing. Rough bark tore open his robes, while sharp stones ripped apart the protective true essence he had been so proud of.

All ten of his fingers clawed frantically at the ground.

His fingernails were all torn off. His mangled, bloody fingers gouged ten glaring trails of blood through the mud.

His screams reached the height of misery, cracking apart in the night wind as he was dragged farther and farther away.

"Attack! Hit that direction!"

The captain reacted first. His scalp practically exploded as he wildly swung the flying sword in his hand. Streak after streak of green sword qi slashed forward as though they cost nothing.

The short, fat man beside him and the remaining young disciple were completely panicked as well.

How could they care about formation anymore? Even the fingers forming seals with both hands were trembling.

"Fireball Art!"

"Wind Blade!"

A chaotic barrage of spells shrieked through the air, raining down toward the direction in which the tall man had vanished.

Several fireballs exploded in the forest, illuminating an area dozens of yards across. Thick tree trunks were severed at the waist by wind blades, crashing down and splashing black mud everywhere.

The firelight flickered only a few times.

Their divine senses were restricted in this place, so they were practically attacking blind. Aside from blowing up a few trees and kicking up mud, those powerful long-range spell techniques did not touch Lu Chen in the slightest.

In the gap between that dense bombardment—

A muffled bang came from the deepest darkness. It was the sound of a skull being crushed by immense force.

The tall man's piercing cries for help stopped abruptly in that instant.

They cut off completely, leaving behind not even the faintest sound of breathing.

"Clatter... clatter..."

Amid the sound of leaves being crushed, the black iron chain, stained with mud and blood, was decisively reeled back in and vanished into the darkness once more.

The captain's eyes instantly turned bloodshot.

Everything he took pride in as a cultivator was smashed to pieces at that moment.

This was not some demonic cultivator casting spells from afar, nor was it a blood demon setting formations with blood essence. Their opponent was simply an unreasonable close-combat monster. No spell duels. No hand seals. He just dragged you over and killed you.

"Don't scatter! Get the fuck over here, all of you!"

The captain's voice had gone completely hoarse as he screamed madly at the remaining two.

The three of them scrambled backward in a panic.

Their retreat had long since been cut off. They had been forced before that enormous black Dao stele.

"Stay against the rock! Don't expose your backs to it!"

The three stood shoulder to shoulder, their backs pressed tightly against the stele's rough stone surface as they prepared for one final defense.

"Defensive talismans! Take them all out!" the captain roared.

The short, fat man shakily pulled several golden talismans covered in intricate cinnabar patterns from his storage pouch.

He even stuttered while reciting the incantation, then directly slapped the talismans onto his chest.

"Haste!"

All three desperately activated their spiritual qi at once.

The high-grade defensive talismans that should have formed golden barriers only flickered with a few weak sparks after being attached to their bodies.

Then—

An immensely heavy suppressive force radiated from the surface of the Dao stele. This ancient force field mercilessly crushed down, instantly draining away the spiritual qi the talismans had painstakingly gathered.

With a soft pfft.

The three golden talismans they had bought at great expense turned into a handful of black ash on the spot.

Nothing but scraps of paper.

"How... how is this possible..." The short, fat man stared at the black ash in his hand and collapsed limply.

Their life-saving measures were gone. In this place, the world's spiritual qi was completely locked down by this thirty-thousand-pound stone, and the environment itself had stripped them of their defensive artifacts.

Just as the three were plunged into utter despair—

A muffled sound of something cutting through the air suddenly came from the dense canopy above them.

Crack!

A branch as thick as a bowl was snapped underfoot.

Lu Chen leaped directly onto the top of the Dao stele.

Above the thirty-thousand-pound boulder—

A figure descended from the sky with the savage force of Mount Tai crushing down overhead.

Lu Chen kept his knees together, his entire body falling straight down toward the three below with terrifying momentum.

The violent blood and qi of the eleventh level Iron Cloth Shirt roared within him. Beneath his iron-gray skin, every muscle was tensed to its limit. This body reforged by the Ultimate Dao Furnace, combined with the force of gravity from his plunge, possessed boundless destructive power.

The captain abruptly looked up, and the corners of his eyes split wide.

"Block him!"

He had no time to dodge.

Three longswords were raised at once. In their haste, they poured every last shred of true essence from their dantians into their flying swords, trying to block this falling mortal.

Clang!

A piercing metallic blast exploded before the cave.

Lu Chen's knees crashed viciously into the middle sword. There was no suspense whatsoever.

That green-steel flying sword did not even last half a breath before snapping in two. Shards of broken iron flew everywhere. Under the crushing force of gravity, the captain felt the webbing between his thumbs and forefingers burst apart as blood sprayed wildly. The bones in both arms twisted with a teeth-grinding crunch. His magical artifact had become nothing but scrap iron.

Lu Chen shattered their defense.

He landed with the momentum, his back touching the mud and springing up again as he rolled fiercely forward with the force of his descent.

His right leg swept close to the ground, carrying the section of black iron chain wrapped around his forearm, and unleashed a plain, brutal sweeping kick.

The gale howled.

The short, fat man had no time to react.

Bang! Crack!

The black iron chain and Lu Chen's shin swept solidly across the short, fat man's lower legs. The sound of breaking bones was incomparably crisp.

Both his legs bent backward from the knees down at unnatural angles. White bone fragments burst through flesh and skin, jutting out into the open.

"Ah—my legs!"

He fell headlong into the rotten mud, clutching his lower legs, broken in two, as he rolled all over the blood-soaked ground and let out shrill, miserable wails.

The remaining young disciple beside him witnessed the scene with his own eyes.

The sword had broken. The legs had snapped. The spirit talismans had become black ash.

The Dao heart that had been indoctrinated day and night by the immortal sect with the belief that "the immortal path is invincible" was utterly crushed into dregs beneath Lu Chen's merciless domination.

"Don't kill me! No!"

The young disciple completely broke down.

He threw away his flying sword, turned around, and fled toward the edge of the forest on all fours. He wailed as he ran, not daring to look back even once, reduced to a terrified, homeless cur.

The captain leaned against the black Dao stele.

His legs had long since gone weak and stiff. He did not even have the strength to lift his feet.

Blood from the webbing of his hands dripped down the sword hilt.

He slowly raised his head.

Lu Chen rose to his feet.

Covered in mud, bare-chested. There was not the slightest fluctuation of spiritual qi around him.

Lu Chen turned around and looked down at the captain leaning against the stone.

Facing this mortal youth directly, the captain's mind went completely blank. Those immortal sect incantations and sword techniques he normally knew by heart—at this moment, he could not remember a single word.