Chapter 61: Muffled Scream of the Phantom God

While Xinzi and co. met the Pulse Condensation level Sacrificial Knives’ assault, the White Immortal sect leaders faced an unprecedented crisis. Sandwiched in his own office by a squad of cloaked experts, Guang Fanghu fought his way out, but still ended up trapped in a battle formation. Surrounded by two-dozen experts of concealed cultivation bases, Guang Fanghu swept his foes with his Spiritual Sense—assessing their might. 

As with Xinzi beforehand, these assassins’ moves built on the Dark Moon cult’s Phantom God Shift, enabling them to shrug off the Yang Patriarch’s Spiritual Sense and evade his probe. But if even the Qi Refinement Xinzi had the means to infer his opponents’ levels, how could the centuries-old talent not come up with countermeasures? Shutting his eyes, the Yang Patriarch connected to the Qi, elements and natural forces clogging the air, and for the imperceptible split of a second, his soul became one with nature. In that instant, Guang Fanghu only stood a step away from the Grand Dao, and when his eyes opened again, they shone with blinding light. 

That light swept across the assassins, nullifying their cloaking skills, if only for a moment. 

‘One Nascent Soul, seven Golden Cores, sixteen Pulse Condensations. That in itself is no big deal, but the old fogey leading them is likely a profound-grade Formation Master or worse…’ The Yang Patriarch realized, and his face twisted into a frown. 

“Kekeke! Impressive, you’ve already gotten a glimpse into the Grand Dao and enlightened your mortal eyes. With this achievement alone, given enough time and resources, you’ll undoubtedly break into Divine Transformation. Dao Revelation…is also not out of reach. As expected of the Yang Patriarch. Guang Fanghu, your cultivation talent exceeds what our sources reported. To think that we’ve been so focused on the White Immortal sect’s past and future that we’ve neglected its present. Good. This will only make your head more valuable. When my cult mistress receives it…kekeke, ah, the rewards!” Underneath a spacious black cloak, the squad leader’s grating voice resounded. His cloak flailed as he spoke, giving him the looks of a reaper risen straight from nightmare tales. 

As the cloaked leader mentioned the “sect’s past and future,” Guang Fanghu flinched, and his teeth sank into his lower lip. The past referred to his father’s generation, the future to his daughter’s. 

The past. Ah, the past. Back then too, a malignant moon hung in the sky, turning an auspicious day into a nightmare that to this day, Guang Fanghu couldn’t let go off. Painful memories resurfaced, and the Yang Patriarch’s eyes turned red. 

“480 years. It has been nearly 480 years since that day. So long that I’d almost forgotten the depth of your Dark Moon cult’s cowardice. Good, and here I was wondering when I’d lead my troops to decimate the dogs of Anyue. Thank you for delivering yourself to our door, but the White Immortal sect is not what it used to be, and I am not my old man,” Guang Fanghu said and raised his hands. 

In the left, a white sword box appeared, opening to release a clutter of flying swords that hissed through the air with startling momentum. In the right, tongues of bright golden flame burst out, morphing into a flaming longsword that rippled with horrifying sword intent and destructive might. The Yang Patriarch’s cultivation base erupted in full-force, startling the invaders who trembled at its depth.   

Even the leading cult elder, a battle-tested old monster with centuries of murderous deeds on his hands, and a profound-grade Formation Master pedigree, floundered under the pressure of Guang Fanghu’s aura. 

‘It was only recently that Guang Fanghu broke through to the late-stage of Nascent Soul, yet the depth of his cultivation base already seems to rival the 1,000 years old Soaring Crane. Didn’t our reports claim that without the Yin-Yang Sword Array, that husband and wife pair were not a match for our cult’s grand priestesses? Ridiculous! If today we can’t behead the White Immortal sect’s elite, within 300 years, our cult’s ancestral position as the number one sect of Yanzhou will become a joke. Summon your Shadow Stones, I will activate the Muffled Scream of the Phantom God!’

In tandem, the Sacrificial Knives summoned black oval stones. Dark mist flowed out, enveloping the Knives’ hands, and melting them at a rapid pace. No scream left the Sacrificial Knives’ lips, and in tandem they sang: 

“Hiding beneath the sun, rising towards the night, the Phantom God chased the Moon Goddess—forever misled…by her reflection amidst the stars.”

As the zealot branch tasked with exterminating all threats to the Dark Moon cult’s dominance, regardless of the cultivation levels they reached, the Sacrificial Knives would not think twice before putting their lives on the line to execute their priestesses’ orders. They lived for this purpose only, and as their songs echoed, with their leader at the center, the 24 Knives broke down into a mass of colossal darkness, spreading like tidal waves as they sailed at Guang Fanghu. 

Though largely incomplete, the inheritance studied by the Sacrificial Knives stemmed from ancient times and concealed a terrifying background. The trademark movement skill, cultivation method and array all carried heavy flaws and required steep sacrifices, but in exchange, they turned the knives into perfect instruments of murder that few, across the Yanzhou Province could contend with. But as he braved the mass of darkness aiming for his life, Guang Fanghu had no doubt that he…was among those few. 

In the meantime, Zi Yao, Lord Hanxing and Lady Ziyun faced formidable lineups. In terms of Golden Core and Pulse Condensation level assassins, all faced roughly the same numbers. But while Lord Hanxing found himself challenged by two Nascent Soul experts, Lady Ziyun alone faced three! 

To anyone familiar with the White Immortal sect, this didn’t make sense. After all, Lord Hanxing was by far the White Immortal sect’s strongest expert and should have commanded the most attention. Alas, Xinzi was correct. The Dark Moon Cult’s primary objective during this assault was to deprive the White Immortal sect of its defensive formation. 

And the fastest way to achieve this result was to divide the leaders, then aim the strongest squad at Ziyun. Once she died, even if he somehow overcame his assassins, Lord Hanxing alone couldn’t activate the defensive formation—leaving the sect defenseless to the coalition making its way towards its doors. 

Just like Guang Fanghu, Zi Yao faced a lineup led by one Nascent Soul expert. However, one glance at those she faced enabled her to see that, while they seemed dressed in the same garb, the leader…didn’t belong to the Sacrificial Knives. Not only did he not practice the Phantom God Shift, but his late-stage Nascent Soul cultivation base built on the type of depraved and unstable method that even an heretic haven such as the Dark Moon cult would think twice before practicing. 

“A’Yao, have you missed me?!” Underneath his cloak, the man’s pale lips curled into a smile, and he stepped forward, setting himself aside from the Knives. His voice, a blistering discrepancy of hatred and yearning, seeped into Zi Yao’s bones, drawing out a notorious name.

“Huo Jin?” Huo Jin, leader of the Flower Plucking gang, and number one crime lord of the Dongli state. His was a name that kept chaste and wanton women alike awake at night, crippled by the fear of one day being abused to death by this deviant freak—men too, didn’t escape his savagery.

But who could expect that upon hearing his name from Zi Yao’s mouth, Huo Jin softened.

“Hahah, with only these few words, you’ve recognized my voice. A’Yao, do you have any idea of how blessed that makes me feel? If only you’d shown the same care 480 years ago. I could have died content,” the gang leader said and clutched at his chest. 

“A’Yao, the first time I saw you, I knew that I had to have you. You were like a celestial swan unfolding her wings across an unworthy sky. For you, I challenged my low background. Stole, killed and endured no end of humiliation to seize the opportunities I needed to rise to the top of our generation. But just when I’d managed to become the outer court Prime Disciple, just when I stood ready to challenge and defeat Dong Wei, you…tricked me! Betrayed me! You said you only wanted the strongest, I became the strongest, so why did you still betray me? Because I am not surnamed Dong? A’Yao, your fate…depends on your answer.” As his words trailed off, Huo Jin’s tone peaked in sinisterdom. 

Zi Yao ignored him. Her eyes glanced towards the White Immortal sect’s Life Plate hall. From there, a loud cracking sound thundered, warning the sect of a great elder’s fall.