Chapter 80: Must Also Die

Body cultivators—those who train their flesh to its limits—are said to possess invincible bodies.

Take him, for example. Having reached the fifth layer of body refinement, his strength rivaled that of a fifth-layer Qi Refining cultivator. His physical defenses were nearly on par with a mid-tier first-grade demon beast. Even the most basic spells, when cast upon him, posed little threat.

He had once withstood a direct blow from a third-layer Qi Refining cultivator’s magic weapon without suffering the slightest injury.

For this reason, when confronted with Zhou Changwang’s three strikes of the Geng Metal Finger, he merely let out a low roar, stepped forward, and threw his fist.

A dull thud sounded.

The defensive talisman on his body instantly turned to ash. A streak of golden light landed on his chest, piercing through with irresistible force—there was not even a pause. It bored straight through, leaving behind a gaping, bloody hole.

Immediately after, the second Geng Metal Finger followed his hardened fist, shattering his entire arm to pieces.

The third strike pierced his heart.

The fourth bored a hole straight through his skull.

He didn’t even have time to scream before his life was snuffed out. He collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out in streams.

Dead.

Wei the Head was dead?

Liu Erhu stared in shock.

He had never imagined that the man he regarded as overwhelmingly powerful would be killed before he’d even had a chance to display his strength.

What was that spell? The Geng Metal Finger?

When did the Geng Metal Finger become so terrifying?

Overwhelming fear gripped his heart.

What kind of monster had they provoked?

Xu Jiang’s face was ashen. He, too, stood frozen, unable to believe his eyes.

Wasn’t Zhou Changwang, like his grandfather, just a Spirit Farmer?

When had Spirit Farmers become so formidable?

And wasn’t he only at the third layer of Qi Refining? How could Wei the Head not even stand a chance and be slain so easily?

The two of them stood stupefied, but Zhou Changwang did not hesitate.

Once he confirmed that his Geng Metal Finger, which had already formed a spell seed, had indeed taken effect and killed the enemy leader, he finally relaxed completely. Without delay, he drove his flying sword to pursue the remaining two.

How fast was a flying sword? Especially with his Sword Control Art at the minor accomplishment stage, it was even faster than most cultivators’ attacks.

In the blink of an eye, the sword was upon Liu Erhu. Terror written across his face, Liu Erhu slapped defensive talismans onto himself frantically, shouting, “Fellow Daoist, spare my life…”

Zhou Changwang was unmoved. With a thrust, the sword shattered the defensive talisman, then spun and severed Liu Erhu’s head with ease.

At the minor accomplishment level, the Sword Control Art allowed him to control the flying sword with perfect freedom, making it spin and dance, even perform simple sword techniques like a martial artist.

Beheading an enemy was an effortless task.

“Brother Zhou, spare my life! For the sake of my grandfather Xu Fugui, please, spare me…I’m Xu Jiang, Xu Fugui’s grandson…”

Watching Wei the Head and Liu Erhu fall one after another, Xu Jiang finally broke down. He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he begged for mercy.

“You’re Xu Fugui’s grandson?”

Zhou Changwang paused.

He finally understood why the boy had seemed familiar before—they had met once.

Back then, the boy had looked down on him, even boasting about joining the Clear Spring Sect.

“Yes, yes, that’s right… Brother Zhou, I am Xu Fugui’s grandson. Please, for my grandfather’s sake…”

Xu Jiang shouted, a glimmer of hope finally appearing on his face. But it froze there as the flying sword pierced his skull, cutting his words short.

“Even Xu Fugui’s grandson must die.”

Zhou Changwang snorted coldly. There was no way he would spare him.

He had been wondering—he was such a low-key person, leaving home only once or twice in several months, always buying what he needed and quickly returning, never lingering—how had he still been targeted?

It turned out this boy was to blame.

As for Xu Jiang’s identity as Xu Fugui’s grandson?

He did have some acquaintance with Old Xu, but nothing deep—merely neighbors who rented adjacent spirit fields, and so had some interactions.

The old man had never done him any favors.

Killing Xu Jiang cost him no hesitation whatsoever.

They had just tried to take his life—he would have to be mad to show mercy.

After dispatching the three, Zhou Changwang did not relax his vigilance.

He was still surrounded by mist, the formation evidently still active. He couldn’t be certain if there were other experts lurking nearby, waiting for him to lower his guard before launching a sneak attack.

So, after recasting a protective spell on himself, he began casting another spell.

This time, he used Divination.

Divination was a spell he had intentionally learned to avert disaster.

During the chaos of the Night of Turmoil, it was thanks to this spell that he managed to evade countless dangers, escaping from deep within the chaos to the wilderness, surviving that catastrophe.

The danger had not yet passed, so he had to rely on this spell for guidance.

One breath. Two breaths.

After two breaths, the spell took effect.

Divination +1.

Silent and subtle, sparks of spiritual light drifted outwards.

“So there’s still danger?”

Zhou Changwang’s eyes narrowed. Through the spell, he sensed a faint red light moving swiftly to his side.

Without hesitation, Zhou Changwang sent his flying sword shooting in that direction, his body following close behind. In the blink of an eye, he saw a blurred figure running desperately a few yards away.

The man sensed Zhou Changwang’s approach and shouted, “Fellow Daoist, it’s a misunderstanding! I had nothing to do with this! Wei Yong only called me here to set up the formation—I know nothing else…”

He was just a few steps from escaping the formation’s range, his heart pounding—but seeing the flying sword streaking toward him, he had no choice but to stop, pulling a handkerchief from his robe and pointing it forward.

The handkerchief expanded, releasing a defensive light.

Clang!

The flying sword struck the handkerchief with a jolt, seeming to be blocked.

But the defensive light quickly faded, shrinking back to its original size and falling into the cultivator’s hand.

Zhou Changwang was unfazed. With a flicker of his mind, a golden light flashed again.

“No—!”

The man’s face contorted in terror. As the formation’s setter, the mist had no effect on him, and with his Spirit Eye technique, he had seen the entire battle clearly.

He knew all too well how terrifying Zhou Changwang’s golden light spell was.

He tried desperately to dodge, but how could his speed compare to that golden flash?

A wet thud.

As he tried to use his handkerchief to defend himself again, the golden light arrived, piercing his skull clean through.

“At last, they’re all dead.”

Zhou Changwang used Divination again. Only after confirming there was no longer any danger did he truly breathe a sigh of relief.

He looked around the battlefield.

Four corpses lay sprawled on the street, blood pooling on the ground.

His expression was complicated. Though the fight had seemed confusing, it was actually very brief.

From the moment the formation rose, through Wei Yong and the others’ assault, Zhou Changwang’s counterattack, and finally the pursuit of the Li-named cultivator—barely ten breaths had passed.

Yet after so short a battle, Zhou Changwang felt more exhausted than after a full day’s work in the fields. During the fight, his blood had boiled, his mind focused; now, with the battle over, exhaustion flooded in, leaving his whole body weak and spent.

Still, he knew he could not rest.

This was South Street.

Many mid- and high-level cultivators lived nearby.

Though the formation had concealed the scene, and it might not be discovered immediately, sooner or later someone would come to investigate.

If he didn’t want to be found out and cause trouble, he needed to clean up.

First, he quickly searched the bodies. He found a black pouch each on Sun Erhu and Xu Jiang, and a beast-hide bag on the Li-named cultivator—judging by its appearance, made from some kind of serpent demon. The handkerchief and a disk in his left hand appeared to be formation tools.

As for the body cultivator Wei Yong, worthy of a fifth-layer body refinement cultivator, he carried a storage pouch, which Zhou Changwang took without hesitation. Then, using Fireball, he burned the bodies to ash.

Zhou Changwang had long since mastered Fireball. Its power was formidable, especially the heat it generated. Under his control, the corpses quickly turned to dust.

Finally, Zhou Changwang used Cleaning Spell to scour the battlefield.

After more than a dozen Cleaning Spells, all traces of blood and evidence vanished.

Even the lingering magical fluctuations from the battle were rapidly neutralized under the spell, leaving not a ripple behind.

Normally, such magical residue would take a day or two to dissipate. During that time, any cultivator sensitive to spiritual energy would have easily detected that a fight had taken place here…

“I never expected the Cleaning Spell to have such an effect,” Zhou Changwang muttered in surprise. On reflection, it made sense.

Any spell, once cultivated to minor or major completion, would undergo changes.

His Geng Metal Finger, originally just a pest control spell for the spirit fields, was never particularly powerful. But now, with his mastery and the formation of a spell seed, it had undergone a complete transformation—capable of killing a fifth-layer body cultivator with a single strike.

The Cleaning Spell, though also basic, had grown stronger with mastery. For cleaning up a battlefield, it had become incredibly effective.

Even so, there was more to do.

The surrounding formation had yet to disperse.

He knew nothing of formations, but basic common sense told him that any formation required formation flags and a core.

Undoubtedly, the core would be in the hands of the formation’s setter. Remembering the circular disk he’d taken from the Li-named cultivator, he quickly grasped it and infused it with spiritual energy.

Buzz—

The formation dissolved.

The mist faded, and the eight formation flags in the corners appeared.

Without hesitation, he collected the flags, checked the surroundings to make sure no one had noticed, then hurriedly opened the gate to his courtyard and slipped inside.

(End of chapter)