Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Bodhisattva Lowers Her Eyes

A profound and mysterious aura surged from the elder Dao Wanchian, the peachwood sword in his hand trembling violently. Sheets of talismans ignited in midair, though no wind blew.

“Demons and monsters, how dare you sow chaos in Great Xia!” he thundered.

A furious wind swept forth! The Elder’s beard and hair flew wildly, making him appear as though a celestial immortal had descended to earth. His Daoist robes billowed as the peachwood sword slipped from his grasp, splitting into eighteen blades midair.

The Daoist Sword Array—Eighteen Peachwood Swords!

This was no ordinary swordsmanship, but the Daoist method of slaying demons and exorcising evil!

The ritual swords rose!

“For generations, my Daoist sect has vowed to slay evil for Great Xia!” the elder declared, raising both hands before bringing them down with force.

At that moment, the tips of the eighteen wooden swords pivoted downward, whirling as they plunged to strike.

With a chilling sound, the swords sank into flesh.

Though made of peachwood, in the elder’s hands they became lethal instruments against evil! Eighteen jets of blood erupted. In a single stroke, three of the powered attackers perished, and fifteen more were wounded!

Already suppressed in place by the illusory Shushan Mountain conjured by Master Mo Buzhi of the Confucian sect, these enemies could not escape the swords’ mystical force. They could only twist desperately aside to avoid mortal wounds.

“You people of Great Xia, how dare you—” one of the eighth-rank powered individuals suddenly began to tremble as a formidable aura gathered about him. His skin paled to an unnatural white, the air he exhaled turned to frosty vapor, frost crusted his golden hair, and his eyes gleamed with a chilling light.

An eighth-rank, ice-type powered being!

The air turned frigid in an instant, the floor beneath him icing over. Ice—one of the most peculiar powers. Extreme cold could alter the properties of any material and slow the very metabolism of the body.

In that moment, Lin Fan felt the Godslayer force surging in his meridians freeze solid. Master Mo Buzhi’s righteous energy slowed, and even the Daoist aura around Elder Dao Wanchian seemed to congeal.

“People of Great Xia,” the white man draped in chill winds sneered at Lin Fan, “now, how much strength do you have left?”

But just then—

A deafening crash shattered the rear door of the two-story building.

A bestial bellow thundered, and through the flying splinters, a massive rhinoceros charged inside.

No.

It was not a real rhinoceros.

It was a beast forged from steel—a steel rhinoceros!

Weighing over a dozen tons, the iron behemoth roared, steam snorting from its nostrils as it crashed through the cold, shattering the walls with terrifying force.

It rampaged through the hall, its sharp horn impaling the chests of seven or eight powered beings, sending blood and bone flying.

The eighth-rank ice user tried to raise a wall of ice in defense, but before the steel giant bearing down like a mountain, there was no chance for resistance. The ice wall shattered like glass.

In that instant, the ice wielder’s eyes widened in disbelief. Reflected in his pupils, the steel rhinoceros only grew larger.

He was still sneering when numbness bloomed in his chest—he had been swept up and hurled aside by the steel beast.

Amid the broken wall, a young man in a Great Xia carpenter’s uniform strode into the hall. Behind him, iron rhinoceroses pounded the floor, and countless wooden birds fluttered and chirped overhead.

“Gongshu Ming of Great Xia’s Mohist School presents his respects to the Phoenix Society.”

The youth’s lips curved in a faint smile, his gaze cold as he surveyed the surviving powered beings.

Now, only ten of them remained capable of fighting.

Lin Fan with his short blade, Master Mo Buzhi of the Confucianists, Dao Wanchian of the Daoists, and Gongshu Ming of the Mohists—the four had slain more than half their adversaries in a single assault.

Corpses littered the ground.

The ten remaining looked on with complex expressions at these four, who seemed like gods of slaughter, a trace of viciousness flickering in their eyes.

They had no choice but to fight—to gamble everything for a chance at life!

Their feet shifted, inching closer together, ready to strike as one at any moment.

“Now!” one muttered.

Yet as the ten lunged together, a meteor streaked through the darkness behind them!

A Tang saber slashed through the gloom, vanishing as swiftly as it appeared—silent, deadly.

Four heads soared into the air.

The Starry Night of the Mohist Hidden Star Sect—masters of the silent kill lurking in shadow!

The slender, dark figure flickered out of sight, merging once more with the darkness, leaving not a trace of sound or aura behind.

The remaining six lost all will to fight.

Great Xia had sent only five.

And just these five had slaughtered their way through the Phoenix Society?

The Phoenix Society had only sent three people to Great Xia to capture powered individuals, and now this…

At that moment, Great Xia filled them with dread.

The five from Great Xia stood amid the carnage and blood in the ruined hall, transforming the place into a vision of hell.

None of the survivors dared make another move.

Suddenly—

With a swish, one of the powered beings flung his hand up, releasing a cloud of mist that flooded the hall.

“Be careful!” Mo Buzhi cried instinctively, covering his nose and retreating.

Dao Wanchian frowned, his robe sleeves billowing as a gust of Daoist wind scattered the fog in an instant.

But the only thing they saw were the retreating backs of the six as they fled through the broken wall.

“Trying to escape?” Dao Wanchian’s face darkened, ready to pursue.

Lin Fan caught his arm, a faint smile on his lips. “Don’t worry. They won’t get far.”

In the distant night, under cover of the mist, the six terrified men ran madly through the Free State’s streets.

Terror shone in their eyes.

They dared not stop for even a second. After fleeing two blocks, and seeing no pursuit, their reason slowly returned.

“They’re not chasing us. Slow down.”

“Those people from Great Xia have gone too far. We only sent three to capture a few of their powered, and now they come here to kill us all!”

“Hmph, just wait. I’ll personally go to Great Xia and seize their powered! They won’t defeat us so easily.”

“Don’t forget, the Phoenix still hasn’t appeared. Those people are doomed.”

Hatred and rage burned in their eyes, but their steps never slowed.

Just then, all six suddenly froze.

From the alley ahead, a bald man in monastic robes blocked their path.

His eyes were half-closed, one hand raised in a gesture of peace, the other leaning on a finely carved iron staff. He stood there immovable, exuding an unending compassion and pity.

His expression serene and sorrowful, like a Bodhisattva gazing down.

Without breaking stride, as they charged forward, a white man—his anger boiling—kicked out at the monk and spat, “Where did this tramp come from, are you blind, how dare you block—”