Chapter 170: Go Kill Someone
“Old dog! If you want to kill me, you have to catch me first!”
Zhao Lun was a streak of cyan light, tearing across the landscape. The Third-Rank Swift Wind Talisman pasted to his chest burned with power, accelerating him beyond the limits of Foundation Establishment. Combined with his Wind Thunder Step, he was actually faster than the Golden Core cultivator chasing him.
But he dared not widen the gap too much. If he lost the old man, the bastard might double back and slaughter the rest of his team.
“You just wait!” the Golden Core cultivator roared from behind, his face twisted with rage. “Run all you want! When your talisman burns out, I will skin you alive!”
A Swift Wind Talisman was precious, worth thousands of Spirit Stones, but it only lasted an hour. The old man was patient. He could fly for days.
One hour later, the cyan light around Zhao Lun flickered and died.
“Got you!” The Golden Core cultivator grinned savagely, surging forward.
Snap.
Zhao Lun slapped a fresh talisman onto his chest. Another burst of cyan light enveloped him, and he shot forward again, leaving the old man choking on his dust.
“BASTARD!”
“Are you stupid, old man?” Zhao Lun shouted back, laughing maniacally. “A Golden Core chasing a Foundation Establishment junior for two hours? Isn’t it embarrassing?”
“You killed my kin! You will die screaming!”
“Hah! Your kin fed children to monsters! They deserved worse!”
“Insolent ant!”
The chase continued. The Golden Core cultivator didn’t believe a mere junior could have an endless supply of high-grade talismans. He kept waiting for Zhao Lun to run out.
He was destined to be disappointed.
When Sun Yi established the War Hall, his first lesson was simple: Combat power is secondary. Survival is primary. You cannot serve the sect if you are dead.
He had equipped every War Hall elite with ten Swift Wind Talismans. It was a fortune in resources, but to Sun Yi, a loyal disciple was worth more than any pile of paper.
Hour after hour passed.
Three hours. Five hours. Ten hours.
Zhao Lun burned through ten talismans.
“Where is he getting them?!” the Golden Core cultivator screamed, his eyes bloodshot with fury and exhaustion. “Is he printing them?!”
Zhao Lun was sweating bullets. He was down to his last three. If help didn’t arrive soon…
He had sent a distress signal hours ago, but he had no idea if anyone was close enough to intercept. He was flying blind toward the Qingyun Sect, praying for a miracle.
Yellow Earth City.
Sun Yi stood in the Dao Palace, watching Zeng Niu cultivate. The boy was a monster. In just a few days, he had reached the Fifth Layer of Qi Refining. The Five Elements Art flowed through him like water through a canyon.
It was terrifying and enviable. Even Sun Yi, with all his cheats, couldn’t match raw talent like this without massive resource expenditure.
Suddenly, Sun Yi frowned. He looked up at the sky.
A streak of light shot toward the palace. Sun Yi raised his hand, catching the message talisman out of the air.
It was Zhao Lun’s distress signal.
“Hmph. Chasing my disciple? Courting death.”
Sun Yi’s aura flared, cold and deadly. Zeng Niu looked up, startled by the sudden pressure.
“Master?”
“Come,” Sun Yi said, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. “We are going on a trip.”
He flew out of the palace, summoning a Third-Rank Flying Boat from his storage ring. It was a gift from Patriarch Qingxuan—fast, sleek, and perfect for interception.
They boarded, and the boat shot into the sky like a silver arrow.
“Where are we going?” Zeng Niu asked, clinging to the railing as the ground blurred beneath them.
Sun Yi stared at the horizon, his eyes hard.
“To kill someone. A fool is hunting our people.”
Two hours later.
A black dot appeared on the horizon. Sun Yi extended his Divine Sense. It was Zhao Lun, haggard and running on fumes. Behind him, a Golden Core aura raged like a storm.
“Finally,” Sun Yi muttered.
Zhao Lun was at his limit. His last talisman was fading. His True Qi was empty. He could feel the old man’s killing intent prickling his back.
Then, he saw it. The silver flying boat bearing the Qingyun crest.
“Saved!” Zhao Lun nearly wept. He pushed his last ounce of energy to close the distance.
As he neared, he saw the figure on the prow. Not an Elder.
“Headmaster?!” Zhao Lun gasped, landing heavily on the deck. “Why are you here? It’s dangerous!”
“Rest,” Sun Yi said calmly, pointing to the cabin. “This is my new disciple, Zeng Niu. Call him Junior Brother.”
Zhao Lun blinked at the boy, then bowed instinctively. “Junior Brother Zeng.”
“Senior Brother Zhao,” Zeng Niu returned the bow, wide-eyed.
“HEADMASTER?!”
The roar came from behind. The Golden Core cultivator pulled up short, hovering two hundred meters away. He glared at the boat, panting heavily.
“So, the little rat has backup,” the old man sneered. “Good. I’ll bury you all together!”
“Headmaster,” Zhao Lun whispered, “he’s Golden Core.”
“I know,” Sun Yi said, stepping off the boat and walking on the air. “I’ve killed Golden Core cultivators before. One more won’t hurt.”
He stopped a hundred meters from the enemy, hands clasped behind his back, looking completely relaxed.
“Wait here,” he told his disciples. “Watch and learn.”
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