Chapter 058 Braveheart

A wave of searing heat surged toward the Yellow-rank vice captain gripping the Xuan Yang Blade, carrying a force that would slay gods and Buddhas alike, an unstoppable power that seemed to imprison the very air around him.

Yet the middle-aged Yellow-rank cultivator was not without his own means; he would not surrender to death so easily. Gritting his teeth, he summoned a globule of essence blood, which he spat onto the Xuan Yang Blade. In an instant, the blood was absorbed into the blade.

The edge of the Xuan Yang Blade blazed forth like a rising sun, majestic and resplendent, clashing head-on with the explosive sword aura from Lin Zhan’s Ink Sword!

A resounding clang rang out, metal upon metal, as if even souls were shaken by the impact.

Battle intent burned in Lin Zhan’s gaze. As his heavy sword fell, his jet-black hair whipped wildly in the wind. Ink Sword and Xuan Yang Blade, both torn from their wielders in the clash, spun skyward before crashing heavily to the ground.

Lin Zhan staggered back more than ten yards before he quickly sat cross-legged on the spot, regulating his breath. The strike just now had nearly emptied his spiritual power from the Sea of Spirit; he now needed to draw rapidly from the power of the first star of the Nine Star Chart to replenish himself.

After a few breaths, clutching his chest, he spat out a mouthful of black blood, his breath finally flowing smoothly again.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Lin Zhan looked up.

The Ink Sword was embedded in the ground not far from him. Rising slowly, he retrieved it, examining the undamaged blade with joy in his heart.

This little Yun Yun, he thought, is certainly tough. The opponent’s blade, by contrast, already had a huge notch in it from the clash.

He flexed his wrist, inspecting the split skin at his tiger’s mouth, then gripped the Ink Sword once more, shifting his attention to the battlefield.

“I wonder how badly my opponent was injured?”

On the other side, the middle-aged Yellow-rank lay silently on the ice, clearly finished.

As expected, beside the corpse, Lu Feiying and his companion finally turned, their bodies stiff, eyes filled with venom and resentment.

“Lin Zhan, it seems we've really underestimated you. You’ve killed another one!”

Lin Zhan shrugged. “If I hadn’t, I’d be the one lying dead.”

Indeed, if Lin Zhan hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t had the Nine Star Chart's support, he would have died several times by now.

“Hmph, enough talk. Let’s see who’s stronger!” With that, Lu Feiying and his companion moved into a formation, weapons raised, approaching Lin Zhan.

“Then let’s fight! Too bad you didn’t act sooner—now it’s too late!”

It wasn’t that Lu Feiying and the other hadn’t wanted to seize the opportunity; when Lin Zhan was wounded and regulating his breath, it was the perfect moment to finish him. But everything had happened too quickly—the vice captain had been killed in just two moves, shockingly fast, leaving them reeling.

They had assumed Lin Zhan, wounded and drained, would be in no condition to fight again anytime soon—he’d be meat on the chopping block, ready for the taking.

How wrong they were!

As they advanced to attack, they realized Lin Zhan had completely recovered; it was as if he had never run that exhausting distance, never fought, never been wounded—still full of life and vigor.

This defied all reason, and it wasn’t the first time in recent days. Lu Feiying was nearly driven to despair.

“This brat, with a Yellow-rank First Grade cultivation, keeps killing above his station, forcing me to go two-on-one. What a disgrace!”

Lin Zhan had no idea of Lu Feiying’s inner turmoil. In the world of cultivation, those at a higher rank typically held themselves aloof, disdaining to fight in numbers. Cultivation was about advancing one's rank—and one’s heart. A fair duel was a matter of pride and confidence.

But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts. Lin Zhan cleared his mind of all distractions, focusing only on himself, the Ink Sword in his hand, and the two formidable opponents before him.

Together, these two were the greatest challenge Lin Zhan had ever faced.

One was Third Grade, one Fifth Grade—both Yellow-rank. Their combined strength was more than a simple sum. For Lin Zhan, a single misstep could mean utter annihilation, with no second chance.

His only reliance was the spiritual power he could replenish at will, his boundless fighting spirit, and a fearless heart.

A spear came whistling through the air, its shaft coiled with golden serpents, the tip like a black dragon baring its fangs, exuding a strange pressure that enveloped Lin Zhan. Meanwhile, the other man held a bone-white pagoda, which, with a flick, surged forward, clearly intent on suppressing Lin Zhan beneath it.

Lin Zhan’s expression was cold and resolute; mind and body became one—retreat!

This was not the time for bravado. The Ink Sword could not withstand such a treasure head-on. He gathered all his spiritual energy into a single sweeping slash, sending forth a blast of sword light that arched across the sky, forming a radiant barrier that set his face aglow.

Without pausing for an instant, he shifted sharply, darting to the rear at an angle—his speed at its very peak.

The bone pagoda crashed into the blazing barrier with a thunderous roar, unleashing a wave of fiery force that spread in all directions.

The Ink Sword vibrated with a deep, muffled hum; the shock disrupted Lin Zhan’s movement and balance.

The barrier held, but its brightness diminished by half. Within the fading light, a dragon’s furious roar sounded as the spear pierced through!

The energy from the barrier tangled around the black dragon’s head and body, corroding it, but ultimately could not halt its advance.

Lin Zhan spun away, a chill running down his back. He rolled to the ground, shifting repeatedly, yet the dragon’s remnant force still caught up to him.

A heavy blow struck his back, tearing flesh and muscle; a spray of blood arced onto the ice, stark and shocking.

The Nine Star Chart mended his meridians and regrew his flesh. Lin Zhan leapt to his feet, turning midair just in time to see the bone-white pagoda, now several times its original size, descending upon him like a monstrous beast with jaws agape.

He raised the heavy sword and poured his spiritual energy into a single blow, striking the pagoda’s lower rim and knocking it aside.

A muffled groan sounded nearby; Lin Zhan knew that such a forceful rebound would inflict backlash on the pagoda’s owner as well. Swallowing the blood that surged into his throat, he landed, thrust off with one foot, and sprang high into the air.

With his Yellow-rank cultivation, Lin Zhan’s movements were even more agile and free than before.

Soaring above, he caught up to the bone pagoda, stowed the Ink Sword, and balled his fists. Blow after heavy blow, he battered the pagoda, driving it down bit by bit.

Though each strike split his knuckles and shattered bone, after more than a dozen punches, the pagoda crashed to the ground, shaking the entire lakeshore of Fiery Peak. The lake itself surged with waves several yards high.

This bone pagoda was the vice captain’s treasured weapon, marked with his soul and essence blood. Every blow Lin Zhan landed on it reverberated through the owner.

What’s more, Lin Zhan’s blood, mingling with the pagoda, carried a golden light from the Nine Star Chart, seeping silently inside. In that instant, the bone pagoda changed allegiance!

In the blink of an eye, the vice captain’s body, gravely wounded in both body and soul, went limp in midair, lifeless, and crashed down.

A spiritual link immediately sprang into being between Lin Zhan’s mind and the bone pagoda. This transformation filled him with vigor. He manipulated the pagoda to a suitable size, then hefted it by the point, dragging the massive pagoda as he strode step by step toward Lu Feiying.

“Come, let’s continue the fight!”