Chapter Twenty-Seven: Ambush

Beneath a vast abyss nestled among the mountains and rivers to the north of the Valley of Fallen Demons, the ground was covered with a sea of white bones, stretching as far as the eye could see. In ancient times, a great battle had taken place here, leaving corpses numbering not just in the hundreds of thousands.

Members of the Corpse Sect, clad in green robes, were gathered at this desolate place. At their head stood a man with a cold, severe gaze. His garb set him apart from his companions—a robe of deep blood red, exuding a heavy scent of gore.

“Grand Elder, which way should we go?” someone asked.

The Blood-robed Grand Elder glanced at the speaker, his brow furrowing. He drew forth a compass, his gaze following the needle as it pointed toward a spot not far from the bottom of the abyss.

Without hesitation, the Blood-robed Grand Elder strode toward the indicated direction. Soon, a chasm appeared before them, bottomless and utterly dark. One by one, the Corpse Sect disciples slipped down into its depths.

Once the Corpse Sect had vanished into the crevice, three figures emerged: Li Ruoyu, Wang Bo, and Jing Hong.

Li Ruoyu had sensed the approach of the Corpse Sect as soon as he arrived at the abyss. Keeping his distance, he, Wang Bo, and Jing Hong concealed themselves to observe in secret. Anyone able to reach this northern part of the Valley of Fallen Demons was no ordinary cultivator—let alone so many from the Corpse Sect. Clearly, their purpose was extraordinary. This was Li Ruoyu’s immediate conclusion upon seeing them. Thus, he led his companions in shadowing the group from afar, intent on discovering what the Corpse Sect was planning by mobilizing so many.

Standing before the crevice where the Corpse Sect had disappeared, Li Ruoyu hesitated. “Should we go down, or not?” That was the question weighing upon him.

“Down,” came the answer.

Li Ruoyu was decisive. He plunged into the fissure first, with Wang Bo and Jing Hong close behind. Inside, utter darkness reigned; even the enhanced eyesight of cultivators could barely make out vague shapes. Fortunately, their spiritual senses remained intact, warding off total blindness.

The crevice was three zhang deep and five chi wide, descending straight into the earth with no visible end. After about half an hour of travel, Li Ruoyu and his companions finally touched solid ground.

What greeted them was a subterranean world—vast beyond imagination, supported by thirty-six colossal pillars stretching to the unseen ceiling. Bones littered the barren land, a wasteland in every sense. “We’ve entered a truly formidable place,” thought Li Ruoyu.

The Corpse Sect had vanished, but faint traces remained to suggest their path. Li Ruoyu, Wang Bo, and Jing Hong set off in pursuit, following the subtle signs left behind.

Suddenly, as Li Ruoyu was tracking their quarry, he saw Wang Bo lunge at him from behind.

A sickening sound of blade piercing flesh reached Li Ruoyu’s ears. A man in a red robe stood there, gripping a four-foot-long gray blade, blood dripping steadily from its tip. The three companions found themselves encircled by over thirty Corpse Sect members.

The red-robed man stood before Li Ruoyu, Wang Bo, and Jing Hong. “You’ve been following us all this way—did you think I, Slayer of the Firmament, wouldn’t notice?”

“Slayer of the Firmament... Damn it, Ruoyu, run! He’s the Grand Elder of the Corpse Sect, reborn after retraining his cultivation!” Wang Bo’s words came as a terrible wound, deep enough to reveal bone, ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. His disciple’s sword, broken in two, fell to the ground. Black miasma coiled around the gash, causing the wound to worsen by the moment.

Li Ruoyu handed the gravely wounded Wang Bo to Jing Hong. “Take Wang Bo and go. I’ll hold off the Corpse Sect and buy you time for escape. Once I’ve stalled them, I’ll find a way to slip away. Take good care of Fat Dun. For this great kindness, I will repay you. But if you harbor any ill intent, I swear by my life I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth and the corners of the seas. Believe me—I can do it.”

Jing Hong cradled Wang Bo, gazing into Li Ruoyu’s eyes, which brimmed with dark, murderous resolve. “I’ll keep him safe,” she replied, meeting his gaze directly.

Though it seemed an eternity, the events—from the Slayer of the Firmament’s ambush, to Wang Bo’s sacrifice, to his fall into Li Ruoyu’s arms—had transpired in but a heartbeat.

Li Ruoyu emptied all the little Medicinal Kings from his storage ring into Jing Hong’s hands, then drew forth the Grand Soul Banner. Spitting a mouthful of essence blood upon it and imbuing it with desolate energy, the banner began to radiate a divine glow. Li Ruoyu unleashed this radiance against the Corpse Sect.

“Not good—it’s a weapon of mass destruction! Don’t let them escape!” The Slayer of the Firmament, wielding his gray blade, summoned his Tao Avatar and charged at Li Ruoyu.

“Go!” Li Ruoyu shouted to Jing Hong, then launched a Demonic Fist toward one side. Four of the Corpse Sect were slain in quick succession, allowing Li Ruoyu to break through the encirclement with Wang Bo and Jing Hong. Watching them flee toward the crevice by which they’d entered, Li Ruoyu felt a measure of relief.

“Today, not a single Corpse Sect member will leave alive,” Li Ruoyu declared, staring straight at the Grand Elder, the Slayer of the Firmament.

Slayer of the Firmament—renowned for severing all beneath the heavens, his way shaping the four seas. He had cultivated for over two thousand years, once a mighty powerhouse of the True Dao Realm. When his lifespan neared its end, he seized a new body and was reborn. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, he had slain entire sects at a whim. Few survived as his adversaries; most had perished by his hand or been buried by the passage of ages. None had expected him to succeed in rebuilding his cultivation.

Li Ruoyu had not considered simply delaying and fleeing once Jing Hong and Wang Bo escaped. Instead, he was determined to annihilate the Corpse Sect—if not the Slayer of the Firmament himself, then at least to make them pay a heavy price. Normally prudent and averse to unnecessary risk, Li Ruoyu knew facing these foes would court grave danger, serious injury, even death. But sometimes, the path ahead is never smooth; it is fated to be fraught with peril and hardship. Some things must be done, no matter how thorny the way.

“Though I do not seek out risk, sometimes one must act without regret.” Wang Bo had shielded him at the cost of his life—if he let the Corpse Sect leave unscathed today, Li Ruoyu’s heart would never be at peace.

In life, there are things one must do and things one must not.

As the Slayer of the Firmament’s Tao Avatar attacked, rain of blood poured from the sky like a waterfall, drenching the battlefield in crimson—a vision of heaven weeping for the dead, of all beings buried in bones.

“Heaven’s Lament for All Beings.”

The heavens wept blood, mourning the death of all. The Slayer of the Firmament’s “Heaven’s Lament for All Beings” reeked of slaughter, murderous intent suffusing the air.

Li Ruoyu infused the Grand Soul Banner with desolate energy, striking at the Tao Avatar and the Corpse Sect. His Demonic Fist displayed overwhelming might, slaying three more Dao Body cultivators from the Corpse Sect.

The Grand Soul Banner’s assault not only blocked the Tao Avatar’s attack but also annihilated everyone except for three Dao Body cultivators and the Slayer of the Firmament. Some died under the banner’s power; others, though they resisted, were undone by the desolate energy’s “Way of Time,” their bodies reduced to ashes.

“The Way of Time.”

“You possess the Remnant Desolation Physique—you must not be allowed to live.” The Slayer of the Firmament sheathed his gray blade and summoned a blood-red sword, three feet and five inches long, and slashed at Li Ruoyu. Crimson light, shot through with endless slaughter, swept forth.

“The one and only True Dao Weapon,” Li Ruoyu realized. In the True Dao Realm, cultivators could forge a singular weapon—unlike ancient artifacts or immortal treasures, each cultivator would have only one in a lifetime. Their very lives became intertwined with the weapon, which embodied their path and bore their Dao. It was truly an extension of themselves. The Slayer of the Firmament had clearly resolved to kill, for he had brought out his weapon from his previous life. Were it not for his current cultivation being limited to the Dao Body stage, a mere wisp of its former power would have reduced Li Ruoyu to dust.

As the blood-red energy swept toward him, Li Ruoyu again wielded the Grand Soul Banner. Though it was an immortal treasure, the force of the crimson light still left him wounded.

Li Ruoyu licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, his killing intent growing ever deeper.

“No matter what, even if I can’t kill you today, I will make you pay a price—even if it costs me dearly,” he vowed, draining the blood from his lips as he stared down the Slayer of the Firmament.

A terrifying aura began to emanate from Li Ruoyu, dark as an abyss, demonic and unfathomably deep.

A thunderous detonation shattered the stillness of the underground world. Suddenly, Li Ruoyu’s left little finger exploded, severed at the palm, turning instantly to ash.

“Retreat! It’s the Devouring Desolation Strike!” The memory of ancient texts sent a chill through the Slayer of the Firmament’s heart. The Devouring Desolation Strike was a forbidden art of the Remnant Desolation Physique, unleashing immense power at the cost of permanently losing a part of oneself.

This was the Remnant Desolation Physique: “Those who behold its power can only bow.” Glorious, yet pitiful—a tragic existence.

The Devouring Desolation Strike, as its name implied, was both magnificent and sorrowful.

Li Ruoyu’s only regret was his lack of cultivation. If he had possessed more power—if he were at the Dao Body stage—he could have utterly annihilated the Slayer of the Firmament.

From the place where Li Ruoyu’s little finger had been, a surge of gray radiance suffused with the power of time appeared—about the size of a fist, its energy shook the heavens and the earth.

Li Ruoyu split this power into four parts: one large, three small.

He hurled them at the Corpse Sect. In the blink of an eye, gray light enveloped three of their members, while the Slayer of the Firmament, protected by his True Dao Weapon and Heaven’s Lament, managed to withstand the attack.

Those three, once touched by the gray radiance, found their Dao Body cultivations rapidly withering—their bodies aging, decaying, until they were like dead wood, withering and falling like spent flowers.

Having withstood the Devouring Desolation Strike, the Slayer of the Firmament gripped his sword tightly. His gaze upon Li Ruoyu was calm, like the sky before a storm.

“You have truly surprised me. I had hoped to crush you with numbers, without a fight. I did not expect you to survive this long. Now that we are enemies, even if it costs me my life, I will slay you here today and use your blood to honor my fallen disciples. If the Dao is blocked, so be it—if I must be buried here in this life, I accept it. The Corpse Sect does not know fear, and as Grand Elder, neither do I.”

“Sever the Way.”

Sword in hand, the Slayer of the Firmament advanced on Li Ruoyu. The strike was simple—just a single, plain stroke toward the front. If anything lay in his path, he would cut it down. This was what he had always taught his disciples.