Chapter 113: The King's Descent
Qian Daoliu was horrified. Ignoring everyone else, he desperately poured his divine power into the Angel Sword, trying to stop Tang San's advance.
In an instant, he intercepted Tang San and unleashed the full might of the Angel Sword.
"Angel's Descent!"
Qian Daoliu roared, and the Angel Sword exploded with radiant brilliance, releasing a golden halo that spread swiftly in all directions. Wherever the golden light passed, heaven and earth seemed to fall silent. The sky dimmed, the mountains lost their grandeur—this was divine majesty made manifest.
Boom—!
With a deep thud, the divine power of the Angel Sword burst forth. Tang San was pushed back, the demonic aura on his body quivering violently before gathering once more around him like a mantle of death.
"Bibi Dong!"
Qian Daoliu's complexion turned pale. That single move had drained him deeply, yet it still failed to stop Tang San.
Pfft—!
A mouthful of golden blood spewed from his lips. Qian Daoliu trembled, barely able to stay standing. Looking up, his eyes locked with Tang San's blood-red gaze—scarlet, vengeful, like a demon born from hell.
Tang San hovered, bathed in blood, silver hair flying wildly in the wind. The eight wings behind him flapped with overwhelming power, emitting killing intent so dense it crushed the will to fight in lesser men.
Qian Daoliu glanced at Bibi Dong and saw only despair. He knew his path to godhood had ended. Bibi Dong, bearing the Rakshasa God's legacy, was the Spirit Hall's only remaining hope to resist Tang San.
"Take care of Xue'er…"
Gritting his teeth, Qian Daoliu stood tall once more and hurled himself at Tang San. Even if it cost him his life, he would not retreat.
Bibi Dong's expression shifted. She had long accepted her fate—but she was unwilling to lose.
She was the Pope of Spirit Hall! She was the Rakshasa God's successor! How could she fall to a junior?
But just then, the sky ripped open.
From the crack, a colossal, flawless white sword slowly descended, its aura distorting the very space around it. Sacred and boundless, it pierced the battlefield, separating Tang San and Qian Daoliu.
Then—a man stepped out of the heavens.
Each step he took reverberated like thunder in the hearts of all present. An oppressive, kingly aura descended, crushing the will of every soul below.
Time seemed to stop.
Hovering above the hilt of the descending sword, hands clasped behind his back, the man stood with absolute serenity.
"Qin Chuan!!"
Bibi Dong's shriek tore through the silence.
"Go! You're no match for him!"
Qin Chuan didn't spare her a glance. His eyes were locked coldly on Tang San.
"You…!" Tang San's face contorted with hatred. "It's you!"
No matter how much time passed, he would never forget this man—the one who murdered his father, the one who destroyed his life!
But even now, Tang San didn't dare act rashly.
Because Qin Chuan's aura made even his Shura God powers tremble.
"So you're still alive…" Qin Chuan's gaze narrowed. He immediately realized what had happened—Tang San's sudden resurrection, his ascent to power. The Shura God had taken him.
"Then let's settle this—old and new grudges!"
Tang San roared and transformed once again. His body swelled to a towering ten meters. Like a demon god, he gripped the monstrous Shura Demon Sword, which had grown proportionally. Its edge pulsed with destruction.
With a feral howl, Tang San swung the Demon Sword down on Qin Chuan with all his might.
But Qin Chuan didn't flinch. Just as the titanic sword was about to fall, he raised a hand—
BOOM!!
The heavens shattered.
The shockwave obliterated the ground, cracked mountains, and created massive fissures in every direction. The force was beyond mortal comprehension.
When the dust settled, Tang San had been blasted back, blood trailing from the corners of his mouth. Rage and humiliation twisted his features.
Qin Chuan remained floating in mid-air, unscathed. The Holy Spirit Sword now rested in his hand, glowing with divine brilliance.
"Even if the true Shura God descended, I wouldn't fear him. You are far from that."
Qin Chuan's voice echoed like divine thunder, shaking every heart.
Bibi Dong stared at Qin Chuan's back in disbelief. That towering figure now stood like a divine peak between heaven and earth.
Her lips trembled. She whispered a name no one else could hear.
"Chuan…"
A tear silently fell from the corner of her eye. Only now did she realize what she had lost.
Qian Daoliu's pupils dilated. He wanted to speak, to ask—but the words stuck in his throat.
He hadn't even seen Qin Chuan's full strength. The aura alone had already rendered him breathless.
None knew—this was the Human King's bloodline. The absolute suppression of all beneath the heavens.
BOOM!
Though wounded, Tang San was far from defeated.
His ten-meter-tall frame rose once more. Pure killing intent surrounded him like a storm. With horns, green skin, and fangs, he was a true demon in flesh. His eight wings roared behind him.
"You resemble the Shura God… but you are not him!"
Qin Chuan sneered. The Holy Spirit Sword pulsed with light as he soared high and then dove with the force of a falling star.
Tang San roared, and the Shura Demon Sword met him in kind.
Clang! Clang! Clang—!!
Sparks flew wildly as the two clashed in mid-air, their speed blurring to invisibility. In mere seconds, hundreds of strikes echoed across the sky.
With each blow, heaven and earth trembled.
In Wuhun City, buildings shattered, the ground buckled, and dust clouds soared into the heavens.
The city crumbled.
"Damn it! Run!!"
Within the city walls, terrified citizens screamed as they fled toward the gates.
This wasn't a battle. It was a calamity.
The mere aftershocks of this clash were enough to kill them hundreds of times over.