Chapter Fifty-Three: The Act of Killing Unfolds (Part Two)

Although most people did not truly understand what the Gate of Ten Thousand Demons was as a spell, seeing the sky filled with wailing spirits and ghosts, it was obvious even to the most unimaginative that this must be a combined spell. Otherwise, why would the Ten Thousand Demons Sect have gathered all its disciples, preparing for so long? Every major sect had its own version of such combined spells—immensely powerful techniques requiring many disciples to form a formation, pooling their spiritual power together. But a single misstep meant disaster for all within the array: at best, severe backlash and injury; at worst, instant death. Such deaths carried even heavier penalties.

Witnessing this, disciples from the five great orthodox sects all took on a desperate fighting stance, throwing caution to the winds as they tried to break through. “Fellow Daoists, cover our Maoshan disciples! We have a combined spell as well!” At Wang Yanbo’s command, all Maoshan disciples in the Golden Core stage retreated from the front lines, gathering together and forming a strange formation with Wang Yanbo at its head. Raging torrents of spiritual energy surged toward him, even faster than what the Ten Thousand Demons Sect had managed. The other four orthodox sects’ disciples’ morale soared upon seeing this. Though they, too, possessed combined spells, none could match this speed. As both sides’ slaughter grew ever more ferocious, a deafening “boom” resounded. Countless shadowy demons burst forth above the Ten Thousand Demons Sect; a phantom of a gate appeared in the sky, and for a moment, the air was filled with howling ghosts and spirits. An endless flood of shadow-demons formed a black torrent, charging forward.

The demonic disciples cheered loudly, while the orthodox disciples turned ashen with terror—until, in the next instant, everyone was struck dumb, even Zhang Xiao, who watched from the sidelines, was caught off guard. For the countless shadow-demons did not surge toward the orthodox disciples, but exploded amidst the demonic ranks themselves. The eruption of shadow-demons resulted in horrific casualties for the Ten Thousand Demons Sect; of every ten, only one or two survived by sheer luck, while the rest were torn to pieces before they could so much as defend themselves.

“Bastards, Ten Thousand Demons Sect, you—” Lin Zihao, chief disciple of the Palace of Nine Fiends, fought his way out of the swarm of shadow-demons, but before he could finish, a grotesque head with two mouths and four eyes burst from among the demonic disciples. Each of its mouths spat forth either blades of ice or tongues of flame. Lin Zihao swung his sword, slicing through the oncoming blades and fire, but suddenly a beam of black light shot from the creature’s head. The black light moved with such speed that by the time Lin Zihao sensed it, he could no longer defend himself. With a sickening sound, the black light sliced Lin Zihao’s head clean off.

Watching from afar, Zhang Xiao laughed. “Zhu Chao’s Twin Skulls of Heaven and Earth have truly improved.” In the face of such bizarre events, the orthodox disciples were stunned. But Bai Fei, founding disciple of Mount Shu, suddenly shouted, “Now the demonic sect is weakened—kill them!” At his command, the other disciples snapped out of their shock, directing their magical treasures at the surviving demonic disciples.

From his distant vantage point, Zhang Xiao’s eyes gleamed as he turned to watch the Maoshan disciples. As expected, Wang Yanbo pointed a finger, and suddenly a massive hand appeared in the sky, slamming down toward the disciples of the other four great orthodox sects. “What!?” The crowd was stunned. The Ten Thousand Demons Sect’s betrayal was shocking enough, but for Maoshan—one of the orthodox sects—to turn on their own at such a critical moment was beyond belief. As the sky-covering hand descended, only three streaks of light managed to escape; the rest of the disciples had no chance to dodge.

A thunderous crash shook the entire Feixia Island, demonstrating a power even greater than the Gate of Ten Thousand Demons.

At that moment, whether demonic or orthodox, nearly all disciples were slain or gravely injured. Only a handful managed to flee. “Kill!” Wang Yanbo commanded, and the remaining Maoshan disciples unleashed their magical treasures against the last survivors. But Wang Yanbo underestimated his foes. “Amitabha, Maoshan, you have betrayed your own kind! Behold, the Eighteen Hells!” A Shaolin disciple wielded his staff, sweeping it with such force that he knocked aside the incoming magical treasures. The Foundation Establishment disciples were sent flying, scattering in chaos.

“Useless!” Wang Yanbo cursed, but neither he nor the other Maoshan Golden Core elders dared to approach. Having just performed a combined spell, they were left severely weakened. “Hmph! If Maoshan is ruthless, don’t blame us for being unjust. Taste my sword!” Bai Fei of Mount Shu, riding his flying sword, charged in, countless sword-lights dancing, instantly cutting down many Maoshan disciples. Not to be outdone, Zhao Feng, chief disciple of Kunlun, joined the fray despite his serious injuries. Though his spells were mighty, his strength was limited, yet in this brief span, Maoshan’s casualties soared.

Seeing this, Zhang Xiao no longer stayed hidden. In a flash, he appeared at Zhao Feng’s side, unleashing the Heavenly Sound Bell against him. A deep, rolling note surged forth. Zhao Feng’s face turned ashen; had he not been wounded, he might have withstood it, but now he was utterly defenseless. The bell’s sound waves engulfed him completely.

“What’s happening? Run!” Bai Fei saw the sudden turn of events—a new top expert had joined the field—and, without another word, mounted his sword and fled at once. Zhang Xiao did not pursue; even with his divine foot technique, he would only be evenly matched by Mount Shu’s sword escape. Since the enemy had retreated, why waste the effort?

He turned his gaze to the Shaolin disciple. Though not the chief disciple, his strength was no less impressive. Cloaked in golden Buddhist light, neither spells nor magical treasures could harm him; he clearly practiced a body-forged Dharma comparable to Zhang Xiao’s own Vajra Indestructible Body.

With that, Zhang Xiao pointed the Heavenly Sound Bell at him, sending another tide of sonorous energy crashing down. The Heavenly Sound Bell, a ninth-grade treasure, was almost peerless. Visible waves of sound swept through the sky in surging tides. “Good! Eightfold Celestial Dragon!” the monk roared, Buddhist chants erupting from his body as eight dragons formed from golden light charged at Zhang Xiao, tearing the earth and rending the air in their wake. Even the bell’s sound could not stop them. Yet Zhang Xiao remained unflustered, pouring more spiritual energy into the bell.

The monk was shaken, blood spurting from his mouth. But then his eyes flashed with determination, and he vanished from Zhang Xiao’s view. Startled, Zhang Xiao heard a sudden rush of air behind him and spun around. The monk’s flesh was torn and bloodied, yet his staff swung down toward Zhang Xiao’s forehead. “Die!” the monk bellowed, bringing the staff down with a thunderous crash.

The staff shattered, but Zhang Xiao stood unmoved, his expression unchanged. “Impossible!” The monk’s eyes bulged, another mouthful of blood spraying forth as he collapsed, filled with unwillingness and disbelief. This was his do-or-die blow; though his organs were destroyed by the bell’s resonance, he was certain it would take his foe with him to the grave. He could never have known that Zhang Xiao’s Vajra Body, once perfected, was harder than most magical treasures—unless one wielded a ninth-grade artifact, it could not be harmed.

Looking down at the corpse, Zhang Xiao gently closed the monk’s eyes and said, “A formidable strike. Had my Vajra Body not been perfected, you would have won with that blow.”

“Hahaha! Daoist Zhang, it’s been some time—your cultivation has improved again. What a pity today is not the time, or I would certainly spar with you. Until we meet again!” The speaker was Zhu Chao, the one who had unleashed the Twin Skulls of Heaven and Earth. With his words, the remaining demonic disciples hastily withdrew from the battlefield, their treasures flying.

Zhang Xiao turned to face the Maoshan disciples, whose faces shone with excitement. This alliance with the Ten Thousand Demons Sect had wiped out the other four orthodox sects. Even if they failed to seize the Five-Colored Cloud Banner, the spoils from dividing the loot would drive the other sects mad with envy. Yet Zhang Xiao’s expression was icy; swiftly, he moved to Wang Yanbo’s side and struck him square in the back with the Heavenly Sound Bell.

Wang Yanbo, already weakened from leading the combined spell and off guard after victory, had no chance to defend. The full force of the ninth-grade treasure shattered his organs. The survivors stared in disbelief.

“You madman! You’ve slain your own, killed even the chief disciple!” Li Sheng shouted, clutching a jade flute. Zhang Xiao’s face remained impassive as he knelt beside Wang Yanbo, whispering in his ear, “This is the sect leader’s order. With things blown so out of proportion, someone needs to take the fall.”

A bitter smile twisted Wang Yanbo’s lips. Indeed, from the moment Zhang Xiao attacked, he’d guessed as much; Zhang Xiao’s words only confirmed it. Gathering his last breath, Wang Yanbo rasped, “You won’t escape punishment either—killing a fellow disciple—” but before he could finish, blood gushed from his lips and he died.

Zhang Xiao froze, cursing inwardly, “Damn it, I’ve been played by the sect leader again.” Seeing the other disciples’ hostile gazes, he forced himself to remain calm. “Wang Yanbo colluded with the demonic sect and murdered his peers. His crimes are worthy of death. Those who followed his orders will answer to the grandmaster upon our return.” With that, Zhang Xiao mounted the Heavenly Sound Bell and sped toward the Feixia Golden Pagoda without a backward glance.

Meanwhile, on a distant jade platform at the other end of Feixia Mountain, the leaders of the four great orthodox sects watched the unfolding scene in the jade mirror—the chaotic battle of the nine sects, the near-total annihilation of the four great orthodox sects—every detail laid bare. “Kongxuan, you truly are a schemer,” sneered Mingqing, head of Dragon-Tiger Mountain. The leaders of Mount Shu, Shaolin, and Kunlun all looked coldly at Kongxuan as well.