"A Sacred Artifact. Even this legendary weapon has fallen into my hands now. Patriarch Tuoba, Patriarch Xie... are you ready to accept your fate?"
Jiang Dao's voice boomed across the battlefield, a guttural laugh erupting from his throat. His palm was a mess of mangled flesh and dripping blood, but his aura was nothing short of distinct, scorching heat.
Inside him, the Regimen Art—nearly a millennium's worth of cultivation—churned like a relentless engine. It was a vast, internal ocean, its tides surging through his meridians, knitting bone and flesh back together with impossible speed. The Mountain Splitter Axe had unleashed a beam of dark, corrosive light earlier. Jiang Dao had blocked it, but the killing intent had seeped through his skin, trying to ravage his insides.
It didn't matter. His internal fire, the Fire Poison Gas Web, clamped down on the intrusion, cauterizing the damage before it could become fatal.
"Damn you..."
Patriarch Tuoba looked less like a man and more like a roadkill carcass. His voice was thick with venom and blood. His head was a ruin of tatters—Jiang Dao had merely grazed him, yet it looked as though a grizzly bear had swiped half his skull away.
Beside him stood the Patriarch of the Xie family. His eyes were shards of ice. The horrific injuries he had sustained moments ago were already gone, his flesh reknitted by dark arts.
"Tuoba, stop hesitating," Xie roared, losing his composure. "Bring out the Blood Robe! This monster is at least in the late Nightmare Stage. If we don't kill him right now, neither of us leaves this mountain alive!"
"Jiang Dao," Tuoba rasped, his voice dropping to a ghostly whisper that seemed to scratch against the eardrums. "You forced my hand..."
Whoosh.
The air pressure plummeted. A thick, crimson light began to bleed out from Tuoba's body, carrying a heavy, suffocating chill. It was the scent of old death. The temperature in the clearing dropped so rapidly that frost began to creep over the blood-soaked ground.
A profound sense of wrongness enveloped the area.
Tuoba disappeared into a dense fog of blood mist. Inside that obscuring cloud, wet, tearing sounds echoed—the sound of anatomy being rearranged. He was stretching, twisting, growing.
In the blink of an eye, the mist dispersed.
Tuoba was gone. In his place stood a three-meter-tall abomination. He looked inflated, his muscles bulging with grotesque power, his skin sheathed in a layer of crimson, scale-like armor. His face was no longer human; it was a rigid, unmoving ghost mask.
Jiang Dao's eyes narrowed.
"Another Sacred Artifact?"
He recognized the aura immediately. That blood-colored armor was a cursed object, radiating a Yin energy so thick it felt sticky. It was arguably more terrifying than the axe Jiang Dao now held.
Roar!
Tuoba vanished, leaving only a streak of red light. He reappeared instantly in front of Jiang Dao, a massive, armored claw swiping down like a falling guillotine.
Jiang Dao didn't flinch. He hefted the Mountain Splitter Axe—unable to unlock its magical properties without Yin energy, he simply used it as a blunt instrument of mass destruction—and swung it to meet the claw.
BOOM!
The impact was tectonic. A shockwave flattened the surrounding grass and sent debris flying like shrapnel.
Tuoba didn't stop. His hands became a blur of red phantom strikes, clawing at Jiang Dao from every angle. Jiang Dao's expression remained icy. He gripped the axe and unleashed the Mad Demon Slash.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The air screamed as the axe cleaved through the sound barrier repeatedly. The sky seemed to fill with the bloody afterimages of the weapon, a wall of violence meeting Tuoba's assault head-on.
Then, the dynamic shifted.
Patriarch Xie, watching from the periphery, began his own metamorphosis. His eyes went pitch black, turning into bottomless vortexes of void energy. His body elongated, joints popping and snapping as he stretched like rubber. Serrated bone scales erupted through his skin. Within seconds, he had transformed into a two-meter-tall lizard-like nightmare, his muscular density quadrupling.
Swish!
Xie vanished, reappearing in Jiang Dao's blind spot.
The Anyang Xie family built their power on enslaving spirits. Their Patriarch was a walking vessel for two Nightmare-level entities. When he fought, he wielded the strength of three monsters combined.
Rip-rip-rip!
Xie's claws were faster than the eye could follow, joining Tuoba in a pincer attack.
Jiang Dao went berserk. He was a whirlwind of motion, the giant axe clashing against claws and scales, sparking explosions of energy that tore the earth apart.
"All of you! Get in there!" a Xie family elder screamed from the sidelines.
Realizing the desperation of the moment, the remaining elders roared and charged. They knew they were cannon fodder, but if they could slow Jiang Dao down by even a second, it might be enough.
Surrounded, Jiang Dao felt the pressure mounting. But instead of fear, a wave of irritability washed over him.
"Flies," he growled. "I'm done wasting time with you vermin. Die."
He spun, the axe sweeping out in a horizontal arc. The air detonated. The incoming elders didn't stand a chance; the sheer kinetic force and energy projection reduced them to mist before they could even scream.
Snap!
Suddenly, the axe stopped. Patriarch Tuoba had caught the blade with his bare hands.
Jiang Dao's eyes flashed cold. He released his grip with one hand and drove a fist wreath in red light straight through the chest of a flanking Tuoba elder. The man exploded in a shower of gore.
But the opening cost him. Tuoba's free claw raked across Jiang Dao's chest. Sparks flew as if striking iron, tearing through his defenses.
Simultaneously, Patriarch Xie materialized behind him like a specter. His palms, heavy with the stench of decay, slammed into Jiang Dao's back.
"Soul-Shifting Mountain Strike!"
Bang!
Jiang Dao was launched. He flew dozens of meters, smashing through a massive boulder, reducing it to gravel.
He hit the ground but bounced back to his feet instantly. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. His body temperature was rising, steam rolling off his shoulders.
"Little beast," Xie hissed, his voice vibrating with dual tones. "Today, I destroy your body and burn your soul. You will never reincarnate."
Jiang Dao cracked his neck, the sound like a pistol shot. He looked at the Mountain Splitter Axe in his hand, then tossed the Sacred Artifact aside with a heavy thud.
"If this is the extent of your power," Jiang Dao said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "then we can end this now."
"Arrogance!" Xie shrieked. "Let's see what you have left!" He blurred, tearing through the air to deliver the killing blow.
Jiang Dao clasped his hands together.
"Extreme. Yang. Hegemon. Body."
OPEN!
His eyes ignited, turning a brilliant, molten gold.
BOOM!
A shockwave of pure heat blasted outward. Jiang Dao's three-meter frame began to expand. His skin turned the color of burnished gold. Muscles thickened, bones lengthened, and his aura erupted like a volcano. He grew to a towering five meters, his silhouette blocking out the sun.
He had detonated a drop of Extreme Yang Liquid within his core.
He was no longer a martial artist. He was a golden god of war.
Crack!
Jiang Dao reached out. His hand, now the size of a shovel, snatched Patriarch Xie out of the air.
The Nightmare-level speed meant nothing. The defenses meant nothing. Xie, a two-meter monster, looked like a doll in Jiang Dao's grip. The Yin energy protecting Xie sizzled and popped upon contact with Jiang Dao's burning skin.
"You..." Xie's black eyes shrank in terror.
"See?" Jiang Dao grinned, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. "I told you it was over."
Squelch.
Jiang Dao squeezed.
Patriarch Xie didn't just die; he burst. His body popped like an overripe fruit. The two evil spirits inhabiting him shrieked as they were exposed to the air, but Jiang Dao didn't let go. He crushed the incorporeal spirits in his burning palm until they disintegrated into ash.
"Run!"
Patriarch Tuoba screamed. His courage evaporated instantly. He turned into a streak of blood light, fleeing toward the horizon without a backward glance.
The remaining family members scattered like cockroaches, screaming in terror.
"Hahahaha!"
Jiang Dao's laughter shook the mountain range. It was the sound of a primal disaster unleashed.
"None of you is leaving."
He moved. At five meters tall, he should have been lumbering, but he was faster than sound. The heat radiating from him created a Fire Poison Field that incinerated everything in his path.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
It wasn't a fight anymore. It was a purge. Giant, golden hands swatted flies out of the air, turning monsters and men into bonfires.
The sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the forest into darkness.
Patriarch Tuoba ran. He was pale, shaking, and bathed in a frantic red light. He didn't dare look back. For a hundred years, he had been the predator. Today, he was prey.
The blood armor clinging to his skin began to pulse. It was damaged, and the seal was weakening. The evil spirit inside the artifact was waking up, whispering madness into his ear, stabbing his brain with spikes of pain. It wanted his soul.
"Don't... don't influence me," Tuoba gibbered as he sprinted, tripping over roots. "I won't sacrifice myself... I won't..."
He ran until his lungs burned. Finally, the stone gates of the Tuoba family stronghold appeared ahead. Safety.
"Patriarch Tuoba," a voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere. "You have excellent stamina. Thank you for guiding me to your main nest. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down one by one."
Tuoba froze. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Impossible.
Whoosh!
A wave of suffocating heat rolled over him from behind. Tuoba spun around, screaming, channeling every ounce of his remaining blood energy into a desperate palm strike.
Jiang Dao, shrouded in a demonic aura of heat and violence, simply slapped him.
Smack!
It was the sound of a heavy book hitting a table, magnified a thousand times.
Tuoba's arm vaporized. His body spun like a top before hurtling backward, smashing through the heavy stone gates of his own home.
Crash!
Dust billowed. The disciples inside rushed out, weapons drawn, only to freeze.
"Patriarch?"
Jiang Dao stepped through the ruins of the gate. He had to duck to fit. He smiled, a horrific expression on his five-meter-tall golden face.
"Hello, children," he said pleasantly. "Have you decided how you'd like to die?"
"Monster..." one disciple whispered.
Tuoba lay in the rubble, coughing up pieces of his own lungs. "Jiang Dao... you... You aren't human..."
"If I were human, you things would have eaten me years ago," Jiang Dao said. He reached down and picked Tuoba up by the torso.
Crackle.
He squeezed. Ribs snapped. Organs ruptured.
"Ahhh! Jiang Dao!" Tuoba shrieked. "I'll drag you to hell with me! Secret Art: Burning Blood Sacrifice!"
Whoosh!
Tuoba's body ignited. He wasn't burning with fire, but with life force. He was feeding himself into the armor. The crimson scales on his skin writhed, drinking his blood, glowing with a terrifying new power.
"The Patriarch is sacrificing himself!" the disciples screamed, scattering in all directions.
Jiang Dao frowned. He felt the energy spike. "Die."
He clenched his fist.
Splat.
Tuoba exploded.
But the armor didn't fall. It hovered in the air, suspended by gore and magic. A wave of terrifying pressure washed over the courtyard. Blood oozed from the metal, knitting together, forming a shape.
A humanoid figure grew out of the empty armor. It had no face, just a blur of crimson features. It stood two meters tall and radiated an aura of pure, distilled death.
It turned its head. Two glowing red eyes fixed on Jiang Dao.
"Tuoba Xiongtian gave his life for this," the entity spoke, its voice sounding like grinding stones. "I will consume you to honor his pact."
Zip.
The entity vanished. It reappeared instantaneously at Jiang Dao's back, its claws aiming for the heart.
But when the claw struck, it hit nothing but air.
Jiang Dao had already turned. He was looking down at the blood spirit, his golden eyes filled with boredom.
"What is this thing?"
Whack!
Jiang Dao backhanded the spirit.
The entity's face caved in. It flew sideways, its body rippling like disturbed water. The heat from Jiang Dao's hand transferred into the spirit, boiling away its blood essence.
Before the spirit could hit the ground, Jiang Dao snatched it by the ankle.
"Up you go."
He began to spin. Round and round, faster and faster, until the spirit became a red blur, screaming as the G-force tore at its metaphysical form.
Slam!
Jiang Dao smashed the spirit into the flagstones. It bounced, shrieking, trying to reform.
Jiang Dao didn't give it a chance. He drove his hand—burning with the fury of the sun and coated in venom—straight into the spirit's open mouth.
Thunk.
His hand punched out the back of the spirit's head. Flames erupted, consuming the blood construct from the inside out.
"Ying ying ying..."
A bizarre, high-pitched whimpering sound leaked from the dying spirit. It sounded like a crying puppy.
Jiang Dao looked at the burning mess on his arm with disgust.
"What the hell? 'Ying ying' my ass."
He shook the ashes from his hand and looked toward the trembling compound.
"Next."