Chapter 75: Root and Branch Annihilation

Zhang Jiu seemed to think he had misheard, pausing in surprise before bursting into laughter. “Defeated and still spouting such arrogance? You really don’t know your place. Let me be honest: not just you—even if Bai Ruyu pushes me too far, I’ll send her to the grave as well! Seems you won’t shed tears until you see the coffin. Without a third party present, the sect’s rules are nothing but a joke. Die!”

With that, he flung a golden throwing knife, which transformed into a streak of golden light, shrieking through the air as it slashed down toward Ge Qian’s head.

Ge Qian flicked his wrist, sending out a purple wooden ruler. A beam of violet light clashed with the golden knife in midair.

Ge Qian wielded his three mystical arts—Swimming Against the Current, Going with the Flow, and Waves Crashing on the Shore—with masterful skill, his deep reserves of magical power allowing him to entangle Zhang Jiu like a cat toying with a hapless mouse.

This time, as they fought, Zhang Jiu’s heart sank. This is bad—I’m no match for him. How could he be so strong? Could he have gone easy on me last time? Better to flee than fight.

But Ge Qian was no ordinary opponent. Experienced in magical combat, he watched Zhang Jiu’s eyes shift and saw the golden knife’s power surge, sensing that Zhang intended to risk everything in a desperate struggle.

So, you think you can play tricks in front of me? You’re still far too green. Trying to escape won’t be so easy—after all, I won’t let anyone bear me a grudge.

Ge Qian’s face hardened. He flicked his wrist, and a flash of black light erupted as his seven-foot demon gourd spat out a swirl of shadowy mist, wrapping itself around Zhang Jiu.

Zhang Jiu cursed inwardly. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. His cunning far surpasses mine. As the demon gourd unleashed its power, a wave of mortal dread washed over him. He immediately summoned his highest-grade defensive artifact, the Golden Star Shield, which expanded to a ten-foot barrier, spinning rapidly to block any attack and enveloping him in an impenetrable dome.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Zhang Jiu called out, “Brother Ge, I never thought your strength was so profound. You held back last time on purpose. In this little arena, you can kill and steal treasures without anyone suspecting you—how cunning! Since our strength is comparable, why don’t we call a truce and part ways? I won’t breathe a word about your use of demonic artifacts.”

Ge Qian replied coolly, “You take me for a child? Anyone who knows my secrets is already doomed.”

As he spoke, he tapped the demon gourd. The shadowy mist coalesced into a black ribbon, which whipped around the barrier. The shield shuddered violently, on the verge of shattering completely.

Every hair on Zhang Jiu’s body stood on end. He could see that the shadowy mist was not ordinary—it could even corrode the supreme defensive artifact, the Golden Star Shield. Yet he did not panic.

Steeling himself, he declared, “Ge Qian, if you insist on pushing me to the brink, don’t blame me for fighting back! If you can withstand the power of this treasure, I’ll admit defeat. Die!”

With that, he produced a black orb, arcs of lightning snaking across its surface.

Ge Qian’s pupils contracted, a chill crawling down his neck. Not good—Purple Fiend Thunder. I cannot let him use it, or I might die here and now. He quickly formed seals and cast his spells—A Turn in the Mountain Path, Stealing the Beams and Replacing the Pillars.

Zhang Jiu hadn’t wanted to use the Purple Fiend Thunder, since he had other important matters to attend to and couldn’t afford to lose even one. But Ge Qian’s ferocity left him no choice. He bitterly regretted ever provoking this harbinger of doom. If only he had finished his mission early and hidden away, he wouldn’t be facing life or death with every beat of his opponent’s heart.

Hoping to scare Ge Qian into retreat, he barely managed to say, “Do you recognize this? Purple Fiend Thunder—even Foundation Establishment cultivators perish before it. Die—”

Suddenly, the Purple Fiend Thunder vanished from his hand. In its place, a streak of violet light wrapped around his wrist, severing his hand at the root. Blood spurted like a fountain, draining the color from his face.

Zhang Jiu howled in agony, reaching with his left hand for another Purple Fiend Thunder, but Ge Qian would not allow it. The violet light flashed, plunging into Zhang Jiu’s core and churning it into chaos.

Overwhelmed by pain, Zhang Jiu collapsed to the ground, rolling and screaming, “Spare me, brother! I’m a cripple now—let me live and die as fate wills!”

But Ge Qian was unmoved. With a single gesture, he drew the Purple Fiend Thunder into his hand, sensing the familiar aura within. He swiftly stowed it away and said, “Zhang Jiu, you were blind, bringing murder and theft to my doorstep and forging a deadly grudge. I always eliminate the roots of trouble—leaving no future threats. Though you’re worthless now, who’s to say you won’t stumble upon a fortuitous encounter and rise again? If not in this life, then in the next, you would still be an obstacle in my path. But since you’ve met me, not even reincarnation awaits you. Your life ends here.”

With those words, he tapped the demon gourd, sending the shadowy ribbon spiraling down toward Zhang Jiu. Deprived of magical power, Zhang Jiu’s shield and golden knife had long since crashed to the ground.

In an instant, Zhang Jiu was swept into the demon gourd. His face twisted with regret, fury, and disbelief before devolving into hatred. He spat his final curse: “Ge Qian, you demon! May you die a miserable death! You’ve ruined Elder Cui Yun’s plans—you’ll die worse than I did—” But before he could finish, he was dragged into the gourd’s depths.

The gourd shuddered, spitting out Zhang Jiu’s storage pouch, which fell into Ge Qian’s hand.

A sweep of his divine sense brought a smile to his lips. Inwardly, he mused, “Elder Cui Yun is a sly old fox, keeping Zhang Jiu in reserve as a backup in case something happened to me. But you never imagined the three Purple Fiend Thunders would end up in my hands. I’ll be sure to give you a surprise.”

With a casual gesture, he retrieved the shield and golden knife, then headed straight for the Valley of Absolute Resentment, feeling cheerful. Murder and plunder really were the fastest path to riches. Over the years, Zhang Jiu had killed countless cultivators, amassing a fortune. Not only did this make up for Ge Qian’s losses from forging the Fire Python Talismans, there was still plenty left over. Killing such a man was a merit in itself.

Outside the little arena, Elder Cui Yun, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open, his expression darkening. The soul-controlling bead in his storage pouch had split in two.

How could this be? Zhang Jiu’s strength ranked among the top ten, and I even gave him three Purple Fiend Thunders. Yet after only half a day, he’s dead. Who could have done this? Damn it, what a waste—three Purple Fiend Thunders and a soul bead, gone for nothing. Still, at least Ge Qian is alive—there’s a sliver of hope left.

The soul bead was no less valuable than the Purple Fiend Thunder, as it could control a person’s very soul. By capturing a wisp of someone’s spirit and fusing it into the bead, one could shatter it to kill the owner. Likewise, if the owner died, the bead would break—consumed in a single use.

He had gone to great lengths to acquire this bead at a secret auction, spending a fortune just to use it on Zhang Jiu. Who could have guessed it would be so useless, and that Zhang Jiu would die so soon? He could scarcely contain his heartbreak.

Ge Qian, meanwhile, killed a few reckless beasts and thieving disciples along the way, eventually stopping at a gorge a thousand feet deep.

Within the gorge, resentment billowed skyward, but anyone approaching the entrance would be repelled by an invisible force, tumbling back to the valley floor.

Legend held that the Valley of Absolute Resentment was formed from the accumulated grudges of disciples who had died in the arena over countless years. Ordinary cultivators who entered without a resentment-suppressing artifact would become mindless husks, consumed by slaughter and dying of exhaustion.