Cang Yaochen carried Jiang Li with a gait that was remarkably steady; his footsteps on the withered branches and fallen leaves didn't stir even a whisper of sound.
The night was as thick as unspreadable ink, and the edge of the Forest of Ten Thousand Withered Bones lay just ahead. It was a deathtrap constructed of deathly white trunks; what drifted between the trees was not mist, but the powder of countless finely crushed skeletal remains. Mortal legend claimed that those who entered this forest would see their physical vitality extinguished in an instant, leaving only parched bones behind for eternity.
"Let me down," Jiang Li whispered into Cang Yaochen's ear. Her palm pressed against the side of his neck, feeling the skin there remain searingly hot.
Cang Yaochen did not let go. He merely tilted his head, his double pupils shimmering with a faint, dark-gold luster in the gloom. "We haven't left the Qingfeng Sect's territory yet. There are more sentries outside this forest than you imagine. Your internal breath is a chaotic mess—don't push yourself."
"A few mortal runts actually fancy themselves as the Sacred Ground's hounds," Jiang Li sneered, though her gaze remained lethally somber.
Just as the two were about to step into the withered forest, a series of piercing mechanical clicks erupted from the surrounding wormwood thickets.
Zheng! Zheng! Zheng!
Dozens of chains shimmering with pale blue runes shot out from beneath the earth like a dense nest of vipers, instantly sealing off every possible retreat. The chains interlaced above them, forming a massive cage that radiated waves of "Clear Light" specifically designed to suppress demonic energy.
"The Qingfeng Sect's Mountain-Guarding Array—The Immortal-Trapping Locks!"
Seven or eight elders clad in black stepped out from the darkness. The leader was none other than the Sect Leader of Qingfeng. He clutched a communication jade talisman bestowed by the Sacred Ground, the greed on his face almost palpable. "Seed of Evil! Great Demon! You have nowhere left to run! The Lord Divine Throne has decreed: those who capture you alive for the Sacred Ground shall be granted a thousand years of extended life and a single Divine Godhead!"
Cang Yaochen halted. On his back, Jiang Li could feel the power accumulating within his tensed muscles like a mountain flood on the verge of bursting.
"A thousand years of life?" Cang Yaochen slowly looked up, his lips curling into a cruel arc. "I suspect your thousand-year destiny ends today."
"Arrogance! These Immortal-Trapping Locks are bolstered by the Sacred Ground's secret arts—they are the bane of your demonic kind!" the Sect Leader barked, his hand seal pressing downward with a sudden force.
The chains tightened instantly, the Clear Light transforming into tiny steel needles that bored into Cang Yaochen's pores, attempting to lock down his Asura origin.
On Cang Yaochen's back, Jiang Li suddenly let out a soft chuckle. It was a cold sound, like an icicle snapping in the heart of winter.
"Priest Cang, this old fellow says this thing is your bane. What do you think?"
"My bane?" Cang Yaochen's double pupils contracted sharply. A blast of Nirvana Karma-Fire erupted instantly from his spine.
The layer of Clear Light, supposedly enough to suppress a great demon of the mortal realm, was incinerated into ash the moment it touched the dark-gold flames. Cang Yaochen shielded Jiang Li with one hand and grasped at the void with his right, the pitch-black demonic blade manifesting once more.
He moved—so fast the naked eye couldn't track him.
CLANG!
A deafening, metallic crash echoed as the chains—regarded as divine relics—shattered in rows before the demonic blade.
"No... This is impossible! The Sacred Ground clearly stated your origins were depleted..." The Sect Leader recoiled in terror, the jade talisman in his hand shaking violently.
Cang Yaochen didn't waste words. The blade swept past, trailing a tragic arc of light.
Squelch—
The lead elder didn't even have time to scream before his massive head went flying into the air. Shards of golden divine power sprayed from his severed neck—this was no mortal cultivator, but a "Living Dead" puppet forcibly injected with divine power by the Sacred Ground.
"A pack of house dogs, unworthy of blocking the path."
With a flick of Jiang Li's right hand, the Mirror of Profound Inquiry traced a red streak through the air, directly drawing the souls of the remaining elders into the glass. The mirror's surface grew hot—the Evil God origin's satisfaction at consuming the divine power of these lapdogs.
Cang Yaochen stood with his blade sheathed, but the dark-gold glow in his eyes did not dissipate.
"That old dog Cloud-Ascension didn't just put a bounty on us; he scattered seeds of divine power into these mortal sects. From here to the Sacred Ground, every inch of soil is his eyes and ears." He looked back at Jiang Li, his gaze heavy.
Jiang Li slid off his back, her feet meeting the ground. The cinnabar mark on her brow regained some of its luster, her entire being radiating a resolute murderous intent.
"Since he sent these dogs to us as nourishment, we might as well take the lot."
She looked toward the deathly silent Forest of Ten Thousand Withered Bones. The Mirror of Profound Inquiry floated above her palm, its surface facing the heart of the woods.
"Buried beneath this forest is the skeletal remains of an Asura God of War who fell ten thousand years ago. Priest, that is your fortune—and our capital to slaughter our way back to the Nine Heavens."
Jiang Li took Cang Yaochen's hand—still warm with divine blood—and together they stepped into the white wasteland of the dead.
Behind them, in the direction of the Qingfeng Sect's gates, a beam of golden light pierced the heavens. The will of the Cloud-Ascension Throne was crossing the realms through a forbidden medium.