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Chapter 279: The Might of the Yanluo Patriarch!
Chapter 279: The Might of the Yanluo Patriarch!
“Hiss!”
The moment the Yanluo Patriarch turned his gaze, Ye Tao of the Sword Pavilion felt a piercing chill race up his spine. His eyes widened with dread.
Yanluo Patriarch!
This was why Lv Yang had chosen to channel the essence of the slain Foundation Beast into the Ten-Thousand Spirit Banner as a Pennant Spirit, rather than using it to sharpen his blade.
To be fair, the Yanluo Patriarch was no longer the peerless force he’d once been. After escaping the clutches of a True Monarch, he’d clung to life through five lifetimes, his former glory long since drained. Now, he lacked the strength to duel even a mid-stage Foundation cultivator—save for when facing someone as weak as Lv Yang had once been, in his early Qi Refinement days.
Yet this weakness was not beyond remedy.
Yanmo Hall!
This secret technique, once Lv Yang’s ace in the hole, was the very reason he’d dared to sit in meditation before his enemies and focus entirely on refining the Celestial Vanguard Terrestrial Sha.
“Lv Yang… that brat still lacks finesse,” the Yanluo Patriarch sighed. “The Yanmo Hall demands balance in cultivation power. Why on earth did he gather eight Early Foundation cultivators and just one mid-stage?”
Seven Early Foundation beasts, plus Chen Xin’an.
Mid-stage Foundation cultivator Sui Ling.
Now, these nine Pennant Spirits stood behind the Yanluo Patriarch, their forms blurring into a towering temple—a vision of Yanluo realms, where ghostly enforcers patrolled, karma weighed souls, and wandering deities swept the heavens.
Wuchang the Soul Reaper, Ghost Enforcer the Soul Binder.
Karmic Judge, dispenser of rewards and punishments.
Roaming Deity, guardian of the celestial mandate.
“The land’s lifeblood is missing… Oh well.”
The Yanluo Patriarch flicked his fingers, muttering calculations, then shook his head. “I’ll tweak the technique. It’ll work, barely.”
As he willed it, the unbalanced energy of the nine Pennant Spirits shifted. Sui Ling’s aura plummeted, while the other eight surged. Yin and yang realigned, completing the Yanmo Hall’s harmony.
Boom!
The moment the technique solidified, the Yanmo Hall’s gates swung open and shut. The surrounding cultivators felt the world tilt, and in an instant, they stood within its realm!
“Amitabha!”
Amid the surging yin malice, Hui Ku (Enlightened Suffering) smiled instead of recoiling. His Pure Land sect thrived on such darkness.
He roared a Buddhist chant, “Demon!” and spat a jet of crimson flame—a Karmic Worldfire—that scorched half the Yanmo Hall. This inferno devoured yin essence; any shadow touched by its blaze became fuel, trapped in its blaze.
But the Yanluo Patriarch merely smirked.
In an instant, the hall’s yin malice transmuted into radiant yang essence, blinding as daylight. The Karmic Worldfire suffocated, snuffed out like a candle under a mountain’s press.
Hui Ku gaped.
“What sorcery is this?!”
How could yin reverse to yang? Even if possible, how had he never heard of such a feat?
Truth be told, this was the Yanluo Patriarch’s insight after witnessing Chongguang’s Golden Land cultivation—turning the world’s very soil.
“Pity it’s not the real thing,” the Yanluo Patriarch mused. “Reversing yin is my limit. To alter the Celestial Vanguard Terrestrial Sha’s nature? Only a Fruit Position cultivator could manage that.”
“But for you lot of bald fools? This’ll suffice.”
The Yanmo Hall erupted with ghostly legions clad in yang essence, now resembling celestial warriors.
“Kill!”
They swarmed Hui Ku, who barely fended them off as he barked at Cheng Tinggui (Lord of the Bureau of Propagation):
“Isn’t this false-possession technique your Dao Court’s specialty?!”
“Break it!”
Cheng Tinggui flushed crimson. He’d scoured the Yanmo Hall for flaws, but the Yanluo Patriarch’s version—though derived from Dao Court’s official techniques—bore no weakness he could exploit.
Worse, when the Yanluo Patriarch glanced his way, gaps in his analysis sealed themselves effortlessly.
How can this be?!
Cheng Tinggui’s heart sank. How do we fight this?!
Then—a sword cry rang out.
Ye Tao, blade in hand, charged. “Didn’t expect you to survive, devil. Tonight ends you!”
The Yanluo Patriarch arched a brow. “Still calling me a devil?”
He vanished, reappearing before Ye Tao, a colossal hand smashing down.
“Slash!”
Ye Tao’s sword core blazed, cleaving toward the Patriarch’s hand. But the Yanluo Patriarch caught it barehanded.
The sword’s radiant light erupted, yet failed to pierce his palm—devoured, condensed, until the core itself, a gemstone of peerless sharpness, crackled like a firecracker between his fingers.
“Demon! What heresy is this?!”
Ye Tao’s eyes bled. The sword core was his life’s work; its destruction would cripple him.
Then—realization struck.
“Wait… I never used the sword formula! No Divine Ability?!”
He’d handed the Patriarch the blade.
But how?
The Yanluo Patriarch sighed. “Alas, even within Yanmo Hall, I can only mimic weakly. The secrets of True Cognition elude me. Is it truly tied to Fruit Position?”
He’d replicated Veil of Cognition.
As a Pennant Spirit within the Ten-Thousand Spirit Banner, he’d witnessed Lv Yang’s every battle, studied the technique at leisure.
And he’d mastered it—partially.
After all, the Wugui Sect had once been a sect of mediocrity, its disciples relying on one Supreme Divine Ability to break into Foundation. The Yanluo Patriarch had survived by stealing others’ Life-Bound Divine Abilities, mimicking them with his own arts—turning weakness into strength.
Crunch!
The Yanluo Patriarch crushed the sword core. Ye Tao spat blood, his power fading.
Nearby, Hui Ku and Cheng Tinggui likewise faltered.
With a mere mimic of mid-stage Foundation power, the Yanluo Patriarch outclassed three such experts.
His strength rivaled Lv Yang’s—save that Lv Yang leaned on his Tribulation Tempest Blade, Second-Tier True Cultivation Techniques, and countless artifacts.
The Yanluo Patriarch needed none.
His power was innate.
But then—
“Amitabha!”
A thunderous chant erupted from beyond the Yanmo Hall. Clouds split as a gargantuan hand descended.
Boom!
The Yanmo Hall, which had entrapped three mid-stage Foundations, tore open like paper. The Yanluo Patriarch narrowed his eyes.
“Great True Sovereign…”
The Pure Land sect had finally intervened.
(End of Chapter)
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