Chapter 26: Sacrificing One's Life

The thick fog could not obscure such brilliant crimson light. At that moment, Zhao Rucheng was just about to scramble up from the ground, nearly swallowed by the swarming wandering souls.

But Du Yohu had arrived!

He didn't even need to move; the sheer surge of his intense blood qi was enough to cause the approaching wandering souls to scatter in disarray.

Du Yohu was a man of direct action. He grabbed Zhao Rucheng by the collar and hauled him toward Ling He.

Having suffered a vicious claw from the vengeful ghost, the older brothers were consumed with anxiety, yet Zhao Rucheng himself showed no sign of being injured. He grumbled irritably, "Hey, hey, hey! I can walk on my own!"

Ignoring him, Du Yohu ran halfway before tossing the incessantly noisy Zhao Rucheng toward Ling He. Simultaneously, he spun around, his fist shrouded in dense blood qi, and slammed it violently toward the vengeful ghost.

Setting aside the fact that Ling He leaped into the air to catch Zhao Rucheng, let us look solely at Du Yohu's punch.

Compared to the "Purple Qi from the East" sword technique, the fist technique he practiced was not particularly sophisticated and had been largely neglected even in the outer sect of the Dao Academy. However, when wielded by him, it was exceptionally violent.

This punch did not seek an opening; instead, it met the vengeful ghost's massive claw head-on, meeting strength with strength and offense with offense. It was truly peerless in its ferocity!

The iron fist, wrapped in blood qi as tangible as substance, collided thunderously with the dark cyan claw, resulting in a momentary stalemate.

Just then, Jiang Wang lunged forward again. A flash of sword light erupted, slicing through the vengeful ghost's other eye.

"Retreat!"

Having struck his blow, Jiang Wang pulled back immediately, and Du Yohu also retreated in a sudden leap.

The blinded vengeful ghost grew even more frenzied. Its massive claws lashed out wildly, stirring up violent gusts of wind in its surroundings.

As soon as its offensive faltered, Jiang Wang turned and charged once more. His long sword traced a beautiful arc through the air, drifting toward the ghost's right claw as lightly as a falling leaf, almost silently. Yet, the moment it made contact with the dark cyan claw, it erupted with an unparalleled, sharp whistle!

The third form of the "Purple Qi from the East" sword manual—its essence lay in its sharpness!

With a single strike, the vengeful ghost's right claw was severed.

Jiang Wang did not linger to fight; he had already begun his retreat even as he delivered the blow.

Deprived of sight, the vengeful ghost could only vent its rage against the empty air before it. Meanwhile, Du Yohu, burning with raging blood qi, had circled to its back and leaped high. Clasping his left hand with his right, he swung both hands like heavy hammers, smashing them violently into the vengeful ghost's hideous head.

*Boom!*

Blood qi smoke was naturally a counter to ghosts, let alone the sheer ferocity of Du Yohu's strike. The fist, encased in layers of blood qi, instantly exploded the vengeful ghost's entire head!

Unable to dodge in time, Du Yohu was splattered with dark cyan filth, but it was quickly incinerated by his blood qi.

It was only when the headless corpse of the vengeful ghost collapsed that the red light on Du Yohu's body subsided, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

Jiang Wang leaped to Du Yohu's side and supported him. "Brother Hu, this..."

Blood qi is the foundation of a human being. For Jiang Wang, who was currently condensing his Dao Origin, it all began with the supply of blood qi. The strength Du Yohu had displayed moments ago was achieved by burning his very self at every instant. He was not a martial artist specializing in pure physical cultivation, so he could not lock down such a massive amount of blood qi. For this battle, he would need at least five years of recuperation to recover.

The five years at the beginning of one's cultivation journey were incredibly long! Not to mention the issue of blood qi beginning to decline after reaching a certain age. One slow step could lead to many more, potentially meaning he would be severed from the extraordinary forever.

Yet, Du Yohu had acted without hesitation or doubt earlier. In the face of life and death, one cannot afford such contemplations, and it is precisely these instinctive choices that validate one's true heart.

"It's a small matter." Du Yohu secretly adjusted his breathing to regain a bit of strength, then pushed Jiang Wang away. "I'm not at the point where I can't walk yet. Let's go. The situation at the Central Palace must be even more dangerous."

Though Ling He was filled with worry, it was not the time for much talk. He hoisted Zhao Rucheng onto his back, stepped forward to retrieve his sword from the remains of the ghost, and silently stood guard by Du Yohu's side.

He had also burned some blood qi earlier, but only a small amount, which did not affect his foundation. Thus, he still possessed the strength to fight.

As the only remaining high-level combatant in peak condition among the four, Jiang Wang naturally had to remain agile to strike at any moment. Therefore, he merely walked ahead with his sword, making no move to assist with the heavy lifting.

Only Zhao Rucheng continued to mutter and complain incessantly: "The Boss is still the most considerate. Tiger is so clumsy; honestly, carrying me like a little chick—how does that look? If Lady Miaoyu finds out, won't my heroic image be ruined?"

Miaoyu was currently the top courtesan of the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion and the most popular woman in the entire pleasure district of Fenglin City. To pursue her, Zhao Rucheng had already thrown thousands of taels of silver into the pavilion, yet he had failed to succeed thus far.

Du Yohu remained silent, not because he didn't want to beat him up or at least scold him, but because he truly lacked the strength.

"Enough, enough," Jiang Wang said impatiently. "Aside from mindless wandering souls and confused vengeful ghosts, who are you trying to maintain an image for?"

"Who knows?" Zhao Rucheng grew even more spirited. Leaning on Ling He's back, he gestured wildly. "What if there's a beautiful female ghost hiding somewhere peeping at me? A perfectly good romantic encounter ruined like this—can Tiger afford that loss?"

Du Yohu felt as if he were about to rise from his deathbed just to use his last bit of strength to blast this loudmouthed fellow.

Before he could explode, Ling He reached back and poked him upward with the hilt of his sword.

"Hiss..." Zhao Rucheng inhaled sharply, his bravado instantly vanishing.

...

...

Meanwhile, behind that heavy wall of fog, in the center of Xiaolin Town—the Central Palace of the Nine Palaces Formation.

A massive vortex was slowly rotating. The original landscape of this place had been obliterated; everything had been dissolved into this silent vortex. Aside from the vortex, nothing remained. At the center of the vortex was a pure blackness that seemed to pull one's vision into it, an inescapable void.

Standing beside the vortex were four cultivators with long, steady breaths, each possessing abundant Dao Origin. All were clad in black robes, staring straight ahead.

Not far in front of the vortex sat a house that had been smashed to pieces; nothing remained but a single brick wall.

A woman in red leaned casually against this wall, her expression languid.

Though she was wrapped tightly, she nonetheless exuded an endless sense of temptation. In her hand, she held a small oval mirror, but it did not reflect her own beautiful face; instead, it showed the figures fighting the vengeful ghosts within the Nine Palaces Formation.

"The disciples of this generation from the Fenglin City Dao Academy aren't that great after all. Those few sword moves were decent, though," the woman in red muttered, flipping her hand to put the mirror away.

"Alright, the time has come. If I had known it would be this smooth, I would have taken a longer nap." Yawning, the woman in red walked gracefully toward the vortex. "So sleepy..."

Only when she reached the front of the mysterious vortex did her expression turn slightly serious. She turned her body and performed a formal, respectful bow. "I respectfully welcome the Elder."

The four black-robed cultivators also bowed in unison with her.

Then, from within the thick fog, an old man with white hair emerged. His face was as wrinkled as old tree bark, his eyes were cloudy, his back was hunched, and his gait was even stumbling.

But as he walked step by step, his back straightened inch by inch, and his aura surged continuously.

He ignored the woman in red and the others, staring only at the vortex as if staring at his eternal beloved, his gaze profoundly devout.

By the time he reached the vortex, his aura was as vast as an abyss or an ocean, pressing down on others until they could barely breathe.

The woman in red bowed even lower.

The white-haired old man curled his ring and pinky fingers, forming a triangle with his thumb, index, and middle fingers over his heart, and softly chanted: "Bottom of the River of Forgetfulness, abyss of the Yellow Springs. The Venerable God returns to the world, illuminating the mortal realm."

Then, he pulled out a white bone dagger and decisively plunged it into the crown of his own head, falling straight down into the vortex!

(End of Chapter)