The second explosion was exponentially more violent than the first.

A blinding sphere of white light devoured the peak, obliterating sound and vision alike. Wang Chuan’s protective spiritual light held for a fraction of a second before shattering like glass.

“Gah—!”

A massive fountain of blood erupted from his mouth. Wang Chuan was blasted backward, slamming into a distant cliff face with enough force to collapse the rock wall, burying him instantly.

Despite his tyrannical Nascent Soul physique, he was riddled with terrifying wounds. Bone was visible in a dozen places, and his blood gushed like a broken spring.

“Cough… cough…”

Wang Chuan struggled to crawl out of the rubble. He was drenched in crimson, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

He had operated from the shadows for years, a puppet master manipulating the Southern Domain. He had never suffered such a catastrophic injury. And he certainly never imagined he would be driven to the brink of death by two Golden Core juniors.

But Zhang Xian and Li Fuxi gave him no time to breathe.

Sword light, sharp and cold, heralded their arrival as they pounced for the kill.

Am I really going to die here?

For the first time, a spike of genuine terror pierced Wang Chuan’s heart. He forcibly rallied his remaining spiritual power, staggering to his feet to defend himself.

He was, after all, a Fifth-Stage Nascent Soul expert. Even heavily injured, a starving camel was still bigger than a horse. His counterattacks were heavy and desperate.

Zhang Xian and Li Fuxi, meanwhile, were running on fumes. The explosive power they had gained from pills and secret arts began to recede. Their auras dipped.

They’ve reached their limit! Confidence surged back into Wang Chuan’s veins. I can win this.

Right at that moment—

“Master.”

A familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Wang Chuan’s soul juddered. A tall, honest-looking figure materialized from the smoke. It was his eldest disciple, the one he had once valued above all others—Wang Pan.

“What?”

In that split second of stunned confusion, the “Wang Pan” spread his arms.

A thick, earthy-yellow dome of light instantly condensed, trapping both of them inside.

[Xuanhuang Zhenyue Pan]!

Simultaneously, the familiar, blinding light of a self-destruct sequence ignited within Wang Pan’s chest.

“You little beast! Using the same trick twice?! Break!”

Wang Chuan roared in fury, slashing his sword viciously at the earthen shield.

CRACK!

The shield shattered on impact.

But the moment the shards fell away, Wang Chuan’s pupils shrank to the size of needles.

Outside the shattered shield… was another shield.

And standing outside that shield was a second Wang Pan.

How many puppets does he have? How many bloody Spirit Treasures?!

He raised his sword to slash at the second [Xuanhuang Zhenyue Pan].

Too late.

Inside the second shield, a second point-blank detonation erupted.

This time, the horror was absolute. The explosion was contained within the narrow, unbreakable confines of the outer shield. The energy had nowhere to go but inward, compressed to the extreme, wasting not a single joule of destructive force.

“PFFT—!!!”

Wang Chuan was like a withered leaf tossed into a blast furnace.

The destructive energy tore through his flesh, incinerating his remaining defenses. He couldn’t even scream; the agony was too total, too consuming.

The dust hadn’t even settled when the next wave arrived.

Zhang Xian and his remaining puppets stood at the edge of the crater. In their hands were thick stacks of Earth-Grade Thunder Talismans.

With the casual motion of feeding fish in a pond, they threw them.

Hundreds of talismans, worth a king’s ransom, rained down into the pit as if they were worthless paper.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The summit of Spirit Sword Peak transformed into a thunder purgatory. Lightning poured down like a torrential storm, turning the crater into a blinding pool of electric death.

At first, a faint glimmer of spiritual light struggled to survive in the pit.

It lasted less than three breaths.

Crack!

The light shattered.

“AAAAHHH—!!!”

A shrill, inhuman wail pierced through the thunder.

For a cultivator like Wang Chuan, whose power relied on [Desire] and corrupted Life Essence, the pure Yang energy of lightning was anathema. It dealt double damage. This wasn’t just physical pain; it was the ultimate torture of having his very soul scorched and purified.

He tried to beg. He tried to struggle. But the relentless bombardment reduced him to a howling beast.

Zhang Xian watched with an impassive face. He didn’t stop.

Dead or alive, the rule was simple: empty the inventory first.

Only when the last puppet threw its final talisman did Zhang Xian wave his sleeve, summoning a breeze to clear the smoke.

At the bottom of the scorched pit, a charred, humanoid shape lay curled in the fetal position.

The skin was carbonized, emitting a pungent stench of burnt meat. Half his face was burned away, leaving bone exposed. One eye stared blankly at the sky; the other was a hollow, black cavern.

His mouth hung open, emitting a leaking, wheezing sound. “Hhh… hhh…”

He had been on the verge of death after the second contained explosion. He had planned to swallow pills or use a blood escape art. But the rain of thunder talismans had extinguished that hope completely.

Li Fuxi dragged her exhausted body to the edge of the pit.

She looked down at the unrecognizable piece of charcoal. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. This thing… this monster… was once her revered master. The man who had led her onto the path of immortality.

“Hhh… save… save…”

The charcoal-like Wang Chuan seemed to sense her presence. His remaining eye swiveled with agonizing slowness to look at her. A charred, trembling hand lifted, reaching out as if to grasp a lifeline.

Li Fuxi trembled. The hand gripping her sword shook violently.

“My master died long ago,” Li Fuxi said, her voice flat and desolate. “From the moment he was parasitized by [Desire], he was dead.”

“I… I was… wrong…” Wang Chuan’s voice was broken, filled with unprecedented fear and pathetic pleading. “Blinded by desire… I’m awake now… save me…”

Then, a shadow fell over him.

It was Zhang Xian.

He crouched down at the edge of the pit, a smile on his face that looked gentle but felt colder than absolute zero.

“Grandmaster wants to turn over a new leaf? As your disciple and grand-disciple, of course we should give you a chance to reform.”

Zhang Xian’s tone was light, as if discussing the weather.

“But words are wind. Grandmaster, you’ll have to endure a little hardship. Let your grand-disciple take a peek at your memories. Just to verify your innocence, of course. How about it?”

“No… Don’t!”

Pure, unadulterated terror erupted in Wang Chuan’s single eye. He knew exactly what a Soul Search entailed—the complete destruction of the self.

“You little beast! I’d rather die than—”

He suddenly convulsed. The last dregs of power in his body surged madly toward his center. He was trying to detonate his Nascent Soul to take them all with him.

Zhang Xian grabbed Li Fuxi and prepared to flash away.

But the earth-shattering explosion never came.

Pfft.

A soft, wet sound echoed, like a rotten fruit bursting underfoot.

At Wang Chuan’s charred dantian, the spiritual core that barely maintained his life didn’t explode. Instead, it cracked open silently.

There was no blinding golden light. No majestic release of spiritual pressure.

Only a viscous, foul-smelling gray slime oozed out of the fissure, flowing like pus from an infected wound.

Wang Chuan’s expression froze, forever locked in that final moment of ferocious, impotent spite.

Li Fuxi stared blankly at the lifeless husk, then at the disgusting pool of gray sludge. Slowly, she closed her eyes.

Zhang Xian gently patted her shoulder and let out a silent sigh.

The mountain wind blew, sweeping up the scorched earth and dust, carrying with it a chill that felt like liberation.