Chapter 425: Ten Thousand Soul Banner! |
Su Ming extracted the purest, most stable Foundation Establishment true essence from the liquid spiritual energy lake in his Dantian, pulling it all out and compressing it at his fingertips at an unprecedented speed, compressing it again and again!
A single droplet, no larger than a grain of rice yet as heavy as if it contained an entire lake, formed silently at his fingertip, a deep blue bead of water.
"Dripping Water Force: Return to Origin!"
There was no earth-shattering display, no dazzling light show.
That tiny droplet left Su Ming’s fingertip, moving at a speed that surpassed sound, surpassed sight, piercing through layers of space. It struck with uncanny precision, hitting the black-robed man’s exposed lower abdomen—the location of his Dantian, left vulnerable by his exhausted state.
Puchi!
A faint, wet sound, like a blade sinking into rotten flesh.
The protective blood aura that could withstand ordinary magical artifact attacks proved as fragile as paper before that tiny droplet, which contained ultimate piercing power.
The droplet passed through the blood aura without resistance, through the black robe, through the tough flesh, striking the wildly spinning, corrupted Dantian Sea of Qi dead on!
The black-robed man’s blood blade, raised high, hung motionless in the air.
He lowered his head, staring in disbelief at his lower abdomen. There was only an inconspicuous, tiny blood hole. No blood flowed out, because all his life force and spiritual energy were being madly dismantled and annihilated from within by the devastating water-element power that had invaded his body.
“Uh… huh…”
A hissing, leaking sound came from the black-robed man’s throat. The madness and brutality in his bloodshot eyes receded like a tide, replaced by endless fear and unwillingness.
The spiritual energy within his body collapsed and scattered instantly, like a punctured balloon. That terrifying momentum he had forcibly raised to touch the threshold of Golden Core shattered completely.
The blood blade in his hand dissolved into a pool of black, bloody water, dripping to the ground.
His body, like soft mud with all its bones pulled out, fell straight backward.
With a heavy “boom,” it crashed onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Life was severed.
Huff… huff…
Su Ming gasped for breath, his face pale as paper. That strike of “Dripping Water Force: Return to Origin” had nearly drained seventy percent of his Foundation Establishment true essence.
He deactivated the formation and looked at the gradually cooling corpse on the ground. There was no joy of victory in his eyes, only the relief of having survived a catastrophe.
He didn’t approach immediately. Instead, he took a Qi Recovery Pill first, sat cross-legged to regulate his breathing for a moment, and confirmed that the black-robed man was truly dead beyond any doubt, with no self-destruction trap or other backup left behind. Only then did he carefully walk over.
The principle of the “Way of Survival”: cleaning up the battlefield is the most important step after battle.
Su Ming crouched down, enduring the thick stench of blood, and searched the black-robed man’s body. Soon, he found an unremarkable black storage pouch.
He probed it with his divine sense. There wasn’t much inside, but each item made his heart skip a beat.
A pile of mid-grade spirit stones, probably several hundred in total.
A few black jade slips recording unknown, heretical cultivation methods.
And… a token. Pitch black, cold to the touch, with a twisted character “Ming” engraved on its front in ancient seal script.
Aside from these, at the very bottom of the storage pouch, there was a confidential letter made from special beast hide, sealed with a restriction.
Su Ming carefully broke the restriction with his spiritual energy and unfolded the paper.
The letter’s content was very short, written in an extremely obscure code. But with Su Ming’s current knowledge, he quickly deciphered its meaning.
—“Reporting to superiors. The refining of the Ten Thousand Soul Banner is progressing smoothly. The soul resources from Great Xing and Northern Barbarian are abundant, with no shortage of blood sacrifices. Estimated… completion within half a year.”
Ten Thousand Soul Banner!
Su Ming’s pupils sharply contracted.
He had seen records of this ancient heretical artifact in the sect’s most secretive forbidden texts. This banner required one hundred thousand living souls as its main material, supplemented by the blood and resentment of one million living beings. Once refined, a single wave could slaughter cities and destroy nations, turning everything it touched into a dead zone, a ghost realm!
And this letter explicitly mentioned that both Great Xing and Northern Barbarian were nothing more than its “soul resources”!
A chill ran from the soles of Su Ming’s feet straight to the crown of his head.
This was no longer a simple case of cultivators meddling in mortal warfare. This was a massive, long-plotted conspiracy involving two nations, targeting tens of millions of ordinary people!
Just as Su Ming’s mind was reeling from the shock.
A lazy, slightly teasing voice came from behind him, completely without warning.
“Not bad. You didn’t embarrass me.”
Su Ming’s body went stiff. He whirled around.
There, Elder Qingquan stood like a ghost not far behind him, under a withered tree, casually tossing his red clay gourd of wine in his hand.
The corner of Su Ming’s mouth twitched involuntarily as he forced a bitter smile. “Master… you’ve been watching the whole time?”
“Of course,” Elder Qingquan said matter-of-factly, nodding as he walked over. “If you were about to die, I would’ve fished you out. But you were steadier than I expected.”
His gaze landed on the black token in Su Ming’s hand, and his eyes instantly sharpened.
He stepped forward, took the token from Su Ming, and turned it over in his hands. For the first time, that usually drunken face showed a trace of genuine gravity.
“A thousand years… I didn’t expect any remnants of the Ming Abyss Sect to still be alive.”
Elder Qingquan looked up at Su Ming, his expression deadly serious.
“This thing, along with that letter, must be reported to the sect immediately!” He glanced at Su Ming and gave an order that brooked no argument. “You leave right now for the ‘Four Seas Trading Company’ in the capital’s East Market. That’s the sect’s foreign affairs station. Hand both items personally to an old man named Zhou. Tell him to inform the sect through the highest-level channel!”
“And you, Master?”
“I’ll take a spin around Northern Barbarian’s side,” Elder Qingquan said, a cold murderous intent flashing in his eyes. “There’s likely another nest of these vermin over there. After you’re done, find a place in the capital and wait for me to return.”
With that, before Su Ming could respond, Elder Qingquan’s figure dissolved into a wisp of green smoke, vanishing into the vast darkness of the night.
Only a single sentence echoed through the empty mountain forest.
“Remember, Four Seas Trading Company. Find Old Zhou.”
Su Ming stood there, looking at the cold token and the thin paper in his hand. He took another pill, sat cross-legged to regulate his breathing for a moment, and when his spiritual energy had recovered to about thirty or forty percent, he immediately got up. Without any delay, he raced down the mountain.
The capital was a storm brewing.
