“Senior Li, hold off the old one! I will handle the other two!” Wang Hao roared, his voice cutting through the chaotic spiritual pressure. He wasted no time, slashing his sword toward Zeng Qiang. “Your life ends here!”

In the same breath, he summoned Yaya and Xiaobai. “Keep the corpses occupied!” Yaya, now a mid-grade Tier 2 spirit beast, crackled with lightning, while Xiaobai’s agile form blurred into motion. Against the clumsy, volatile Evil Corpses, these two were more than sufficient; Wang Hao banished the thought of their safety from his mind.

Zeng Qiang, seeing his opponents stand their ground, flew into a rage. “You dare preserve your strength against me? Arrogance!” He summoned a twisted demonic artifact, his killing intent surging as he engaged Wang Hao.

Beside him, the beautiful woman in black robes charged forward. As she drew near, Wang Hao noticed the jarring dissonance in her features: skin as pale and tender as a maiden’s, yet marked by a prominent Adam’s apple and a flat, hard chest. It was a practitioner of some twisted Yin-Yang reversal art—an androgynous abomination common among the depraved sects.

A wave of physiological revulsion hit Wang Hao, nearly breaking his concentration. The cultivator seemed to sense his disgust; her eyes flashed with venomous hatred. She waved a hand, unleashing a ribbon of corrosive blood-light.

Wang Hao snapped back to focus, unwilling to capsize in a sewer. The Child-Mother Green Light Sword hummed, slashing out two beams of azure radiance to barely deflect the blood-light. He’s strong, Wang Hao noted, suppressing a grimace. Do these deviants get a strength bonus for abandoning their humanity?

Internal complaints aside, his resolve hardened. The Chaos Earth Seal materialized above, smashing down toward Zeng Qiang with the weight of a mountain. Zeng Qiang, already drained of Qi, gritted his teeth and unfurled a three-inch black banner.

The banner expanded instantly into a three-zhang wall of darkness, roiling with black mist. Three ghastly skulls drifted out from the fog, their jaws unhinging to unleash a piercing, soul-rending shriek.

The sonic attack slammed into Wang Hao. Despite his robust Divine Consciousness, the sheer malice of the sound felt like needles driven into his brain. His control over the Chaos Earth Seal faltered, allowing Zeng Qiang to deflect the heavy blow.

Careless, Wang Hao chided himself. He had grown arrogant in his peerless domination of the same cultivation stage, neglecting to wear his Soul-Calming Jade. He immediately triggered the artifact in his storage, and a cool sensation washed over his mind, dulling the demonic shriek.

“Play with fire, then,” Wang Hao muttered. He flicked his wrist, sending three Red Lotus True Fire lotuses spinning toward the skulls.

The Red Lotus True Fire, the ultimate Yang flame, was the bane of all dark arts. Though the skulls possessed Foundation Establishment power, they ignited like dry parchment upon contact. They wailed as they were reduced to ash, and the backlash scorched the demonic banner itself.

Zeng Qiang convulsed. The skulls were artifact spirits connected to his mind; their destruction felt like a hammer blow to his soul. His reactions dulled instantly—a fatal error in a battle of cultivators.

Wang Hao did not hesitate.

He activated the Phantom Wood Clone Art and the Flowing Cloud Sword Art simultaneously. The air shimmered, and three identical Wang Haos burst forward, each commanding a storm of sword shadows. They descended upon the androgynous cultivator and Zeng Qiang from different angles.

The robed cultivator, realizing aid was impossible, wrapped herself in a cocoon of dense demonic Qi. But as the sword shadows struck, they passed harmlessly through her defense. “An illusion?” she gasped, eyes widening.

“Argh!”

A curdling scream erupted from Zeng Qiang. The cultivator looked over to see a “phantom” of Wang Hao phasing effortlessly through Zeng Qiang’s body. A mist of blood exploded into the air where the man had stood.

That figure, too, had been an illusion—Wang Hao had no desire to let corrupt demonic blood stain his robes. However, the heavy Mother Sword hidden within the illusion was terrifyingly real. It had bisected Zeng Qiang before he could even scream.

The Child-Mother Green Light Sword hooked Zeng Qiang’s falling storage bag and looped back. The androgynous cultivator moved to intercept it, but stopped mid-step. A chill crawled up her spine, a primal warning screaming of death.

She whipped her head around to find the real Wang Hao standing directly behind her, a faint, cold smile playing on his lips.

Terror seized her soul. She scrambled backward, but Wang Hao’s silhouette blurred. A small, inconspicuous blade appeared in his hand—the Child Sword. With a movement too fast to track, he drew a thin red line across her throat.

She clutched her neck, gargling blood, before plummeting into the ocean below.

Wang Hao wasted no time. Fearing the bizarre resurrection techniques of the demonic path, he telekinetically fished the corpse from the water and stripped the storage bag. A blossom of Red Lotus fire followed, reducing the body to drifting ash. Zeng Qiang, having been reduced to minced meat, was unfortunately impossible to cremate cleanly.

Dusting off his hands, Wang Hao glanced at the island.

Yaya and Xiaobai were performing a masterful duet of destruction. Xiaobai unleashed a cone of glacial cold, freezing a bloated corpse solid. An instant later, Yaya summoned a bolt of lightning, shattering the frozen statue into harmless dust before it could self-destruct.

Wang Hao nodded in approval. Individually, they might have struggled to prevent the toxic explosions, but together, they were a perfect counter.

Satisfied, he turned his gaze to Li Yaozu.

The older man was locked in a fierce exchange with the elderly Demon Cultivator. Li Yaozu had witnessed Wang Hao slaughter two Foundation Establishment experts as easily as harvesting wheat; the sight had shocked him to his core. He realized that even at full power, he could not match the younger man’s lethality.

“Senior Li, do you require assistance?” Wang Hao called out politely.

Li Yaozu’s pride bristled. He needed to cement the alliance between their families, and he couldn’t afford to look weak in front of a junior who might one day form a Golden Core.

“Watch from the side, Young Friend,” Li Yaozu replied, his voice steady. “This old man can handle him.”

Li Yaozu produced a small azure flag embroidered with a golden lion. As he infused it with Qi, the flag swelled in the wind, and a phantom lion roared into existence. It pounced, pinning the elderly demon in place with restrictive bands of yellow light.

Simultaneously, Li Yaozu crushed a golden talisman. It dissolved into a radiant sword of pure Yang energy, streaking toward the trapped enemy.

The elderly demon shrieked, erecting a blood-red barrier. The golden sword slammed into it with a thunderous boom, tearing a gaping hole in the defense. Before the blood shield could regenerate, a second golden talisman flew through the breach.

The demon vomited essence blood to reinforce the shield, panic etched on his face. But when Li Yaozu prepared a third talisman, the old man’s defense shattered completely. He was blasted backward, barely managing to condense the remnants of his shield to save his life.

Li Yaozu, a veteran of the mid-Foundation Establishment stage, possessed far deeper Qi reserves. The elderly demon, merely at the fourth layer and clearly inexperienced, had already exhausted his trump cards. Li Yaozu, by contrast, had only just begun to spend his wealth.