Chapter 420: Four-Beast Dao Armor

Chapter 420: Four Beasts Dao Armor

“Can you really do it?”

Yuan Mingfei clutched Xie Biaan’s head tight to her chest, lifting her eyes to the solemn Chen Qisheng before her, worry knitting her brow.

“By moving the body with talismans and binding thought through the cave heaven, the craft of refining Yellow Turban Warriors follows this most basic tenet; though each sect differs in detail, the principle never changes—master one law and you master all; if you can refine it, you can save him!”

Chen Qisheng pinched the talisman covering Xie Biaan’s face, keeping it from sinking back into flesh.

In the gap torn open lay sticky threads of blood, each nerve bundle stretched taut, revealing the tightly shut eyes.

The eyeballs quivered violently, blood tears slipping down the corners.

Though his dislocated jaw could no longer sound, both felt the torment he endured.

“Can your Buddhist suppression be stronger? At least it would spare him some agony.”

Yuan Mingfei rolled her eyes: “You think I don’t want to? I don’t have that much karmic computing power; getting this far is already good, otherwise he wouldn’t even qualify to feel pain!”

“Consciousness restraint, sensory deprivation—using accelerated genetic decay to gain a fleeting boost of flesh and spirit.” Yuan Mingfei snapped: “Not that I’m saying it, but you cultivators, always looking so ethereal and proper, how do you devise such cruel techniques?”

“Your Buddhist sect talks of benevolence and salvation, yet you didn’t develop guardian deities?”

“Guardian deities aren’t the same as your Yellow Turban Warriors!”

“What essential difference? All crows are black; everyone trades in faith, none cleaner than another.”

“Hey.”

Yuan Mingfei’s thin brows rose, about to speak, when a drop of blood splashed onto the back of her hand.

The woman narrowed her eyes, stared at the crimson, sighed: “Forget it, now isn’t the time to argue. I can suppress Xie Biaan for at most a quarter hour with you; if Li Jun still can’t kill Luo Cheng by then, what will he do?”

“Kill!”

Chen Qisheng showed no hesitation: “Do you want him to live like a dog, a puppet forever?”

Yuan Mingfei fell silent, then whispered: “Daoist, don’t blame me for meddling, but remember—this is Quan Shan City.”

“Rest easy, I’ll do the killing. This matter stems from me, so I’ll bear the Brocade Guard’s wrath.”

Chen Qisheng lifted his gaze to the night sky, just as a thunder talisman exploded, its booming light flashing over a pair of scorching eyes.

“And I don’t think Li Jun can’t kill him; our old school cultivators have fought the martial sect for years, yet we dare not say such things—he’s just a talisman player, what gives him the right to be so arrogant?”

Zi la!!

Azure lightning coiled over the dark plates, darting like tiny venomous snakes seeking the seams.

Li Jun’s expressionless shoulders jerked, dispelling the surrounding thunderfire.

“I heard you ate a Dao foundation in Chengdu to fulfill the ritual?”

Five zhang away, the disheveled Luo Cheng hovered, talisman beneath his feet, his gold‑purple mixed flying sword “Piercing Star” whirling behind his head.

The surging divine sense in his mind drove his pupils outward, a sickly black swallowing most of his eyeballs, green light flowing, blazing like flame.

Eternal Dao Artifact—Abyssal Yin Eye.

In Luo Cheng’s sight, there was no lurid black armor, no patterned skin; Li Jun’s body lay dissected before him—muscles, bones, veins—

thread by thread, leaf by leaf, nothing omitted.

“Your martial sect suffered a near‑annihilating defeat, yet you still encode such brutal conditions into your genes—clearly you’ve abandoned the slow‑growing school, opting for the cruel survival‑of‑the‑fittest to forge strong individuals and overturn the tide.”

Thump… thump…

Heartbeat like drums, blood surging like waves.

A mere flesh‑and‑blood body could be this formidable; if I hadn’t seen it myself, Luo Cheng would never believe it.

Yet his eyes held no fear, only the gleeful hunger of a predator spotting prey.

“If I severed your head and limbs, used the agrarian method to turn your body into a field, what sort of Dao foundation would sprout? Or shall I employ Dragon‑Tiger Mountain’s arts, make you a furnace and seize you outright, indulging an old‑school sword immortal’s craving?”

Luo Cheng mused aloud, his grin growing more grotesque.

“Besides the earth‑immortal quota, you’re the greatest chance in the Wa region!”

“The Dao sect actually has such a mad dog—rare indeed.”

A mocking voice echoed from the red eyes: “No surprise, your cultivation style will inevitably breed a nest of hysterical lunatics. Do you really think endless dream‑loop rebirths make you an immortal? Keep dreaming your spring‑autumn fantasy!”

“A non‑human monster daring to discuss immortality? Ridiculous!”

Luo Cheng flung his hand; the “Piercing Star” sword’s tail blazed, screaming forth.

Before the sonic boom could split the air, a black blade wreathed in crimson flame had already sliced toward him!

Black‑armored straight blade, Binding Flame!

From Luo Cheng’s rear, the surging sea of talismans spat out several golden glyphs, overlapping to form a fearsomely thick swallow‑tail shield mountain.

Clang!

The blade tip pierced the shield, screeching friction accompanied by a shower of sparks shooting upward.

Li Jun’s nostrils twitched, exhaling a white stream; his already‑maximized Tiger‑Dragon Consumption, spurred by the Hibernation Official Method, frenziedly burned his liver and lung essence.

Immense power surged into his arms; Li Jun pressed his left hand against the hilt’s end, cleaving the shield mountain in one stroke!

He twisted his wrist, the shield warped and shattered.

Li Jun’s vision cleared just as lightning‑driven flame waves surged toward him.

Fire Talisman—Relocate Fuel!

Thunder Talisman—Divine Might!

At the same instant, a piercing sword whistle rang from behind; the wayward flying sword looped back, its edge aimed at Li Jun’s back.

Wolf ahead, tiger behind.

In the perilous moment, the black armor rang loudly, dark gauntlets coiled around his fingers, a ferocious faceplate covered his visage.

The rear plates flared, airflow roiling, his form lunged straight into the onrushing light‑shadow.

Lightning as commander, fire as soldier, momentum fierce, formation solemn.

Clang!

The soaring guzheng sang of ambush on all sides, the ensuing suona blared, igniting unstoppable valor.

Li Jun, single sword, carved a black narrow corridor through thunder and flame; the vengeful fire behind him snapped shut, only to be pierced anew by the returning flying sword.

Clang!

Li Jun twisted his waist, turned, and struck the Piercing Star squarely on the blade.

The sword trembled, wailing like a man’s anguished scream.

The hand encased in the gauntlet plunged into the sword’s tail flame, gripped the hilt, swung his arm, and drove it straight forward.

“You can withstand so many of my talismans—this new martial sect of yours is actually intriguing, no wonder the New Donglin Party secretly shelters you. But they think they can use you to leash the Buddhist and Daoist camps; they’re overthinking it.”

The spinning wheel‑like flying sword halted before Luo Cheng’s brow, blade inverted, edge pointing upward.

The clamoring tail flame waned; Luo Cheng’s right hand curled around the scorching hilt, the singed synthetic flesh beneath revealing a cold metallic gleam.

Luo Cheng pointed with his left hand, and a murky, earth‑yellow surge burst from several talismanic glyphs, sweeping from all sides toward Li Jun.

The earth‑glyph seal that Luo Tian regarded as a trump card hidden in the chest was, in Luo Cheng’s hand, merely a temporary obstacle to Li Jun’s petty trick.

‘In the past you martial‑order cultivators boasted of being invincible among your peers, for you could command the armor of the Ink Order, using them as your dogs. What armored warrior? Nothing but a joke of the many bullying the few.’

In Luo Cheng’s indifferent tone, a fire glyph within the sea of symbols suddenly split open.

The erupting flames were not aimed at Li Jun, but incinerated Luo Cheng’s azure robe and all the synthetic flesh below his neck to ash.

A naked machined body lay exposed beneath the bleak moonlight; each mechanical bone bore inscrutable Dao patterns, a faint cyan light flickering uncertainly, exuding a strange beauty.

That astonishing sea of talismans collapsed with a roar, like countless armor plates plating over Luo Cheng’s form.

Gold glyphs served as leaf‑like plates, thunder glyphs interlaced and linked, fire glyphs forged and melted, spirit glyphs stirred the cerebral engine!

‘I slew seven fellow disciples of my order, took all their talismans, merely to assemble this Dao armor.’

The armor resembled a robe, the chest emblazoned with the Eight Trigrams, the Azure Dragon guarding the shoulders, the White Tiger biting the wrists, a vermilion‑flamed faceplate rising from the neck, gathering Luo Cheng’s disheveled hair at the nape and forming a metallic Dao crown upon his head.

‘I have said it before: the age has changed; it is no longer only you, the Martial‑Order, Talent, and Strength, who can strike!’

Clang!

Blade met blade, the explosive crash drowning out the clamor of sound waves.

Luo Cheng’s sole exposed eye brimmed with an eerie fervor as his gaze locked with Li Jun’s.

Both eyes were suffused with distinct red veins, like two ravenous beasts greedily staring at each other!

Chonglou, collapse!

Gesao Fu Lu, the Four‑Beast Dao Armor!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The dense metallic clangs rang like rain on tiles, scarlet and gold light striking each other, shattering then instantly swelling again.

Li Jun and Luo Cheng, each clad in their armor, found themselves evenly matched at this very moment.

‘Has Gesao Mountain truly developed such a method?!’

On the ground, Chen Qisheng wore a strange expression, his eyes flickering with shock and joy, which were ultimately swallowed by a deep weariness.

Now the Dao Order ranks among the three teachings, its incense thriving, its lineages myriad.

Yet in the realm of close‑quarters combat, it has long been acknowledged that the old‑school cultivators who fuse spirit and flesh are the strongest.

The reason lies in the popularization of the Millet Dream: after it spread, many Dao adepts seeking swift advancement discarded the burden of flesh, purged desires they deemed useless, escaped the fatigue of mortal bodies, and devoted themselves wholly to the cycle of dream‑reincarnation.

But worldly affairs are never solely beneficial without drawback.

Replacing flesh with machinery indeed concentrates the thoughts of the new‑school cultivators and purifies their spiritual sense.

Yet a hidden peril follows: compared to the Soldier, Farmer, and Warrior orders, their melee capability is markedly feeble!

This is also why, after the world divided the martial arts, the Dao Order’s foes shifted from the Martial Order to Buddhism and Confucianism, forming an inevitable great trend.

The vast majority of adepts from those two traditions are unskilled in close combat!

Especially after the Yellow Turban Strongman method was devised, the new‑school cultivators utterly abandoned any notion of engaging the enemy at close quarters.

Since everyone is playing at a distance, why should I sacrifice my strengths for weakness, wasting energy to study melee?

Moreover, although both the new‑school cultivators and the Soldier Order take machinery as their bodies, they differ by a crucial key point: the machina‑core.

Without a machina‑core to mediate and without ‘overclocking’, the machined body is merely a heap of cold, lifeless steel.

Even if the Dao Order has schools devoted to strengthening the machined body’s durability, a razor‑sharp sword that merely flails wildly cannot generate appreciable combat power; it can only become a punching bag.

Thus, for the new‑school cultivator, the machined body is nothing more than a barrier protecting the Dao foundation and the head, which can be abandoned at any critical moment.

Even maintaining a humanoid form is merely because the genes retain a trace of this inclination.

Neglected in thought and unsupported in ability, the new adepts are destined to be inept in melee—indeed, one could say they have forgotten how to fight hand‑to‑hand.

Therefore, in the present Dao Order, whether one focuses on talisman attacks or masters Dao‑machinery, combat doctrine stresses keeping a distance from the opponent, safeguarding one’s Dao foundation, and inundating the foe with talismans, flying swords, magical implements, and Yellow Turban Strongmen.

But now Luo Cheng displays a method that, while essentially still manipulating talismans, has already compensated for the new‑school cultivators’ shortcoming in melee.

Indeed, it even allows him to arm‑wrestle a lone warrior of the same order and decide superiority.

If this technique were to reach full maturity, for an old‑school cultivator like Chen Qisheng it would be a catastrophe of epic proportions!

They would utterly lose their reason for existence within the Dao Order.

‘The age is like a flood; those who go with it prosper, those who resist perish. Could it now be our turn to be cast aside?’

Chen Qisheng’s visage fell into dejection as he muttered to himself.

‘Ha!’

Li Jun exhaled a fierce shout, his flame‑wreathed straight blade flashing like lightning as it sliced horizontally, its edge fierce and unmatched, aimed straight at Luo Cheng’s throat.

Pop!

In a sudden crack, a plate of armor on Luo Cheng’s shoulder shattered, the familiar yellow‑tinged turbid surge welling up again, gathering at his flank and perfectly blocking the blade’s edge.

‘If that’s all you’ve got, you’re no better than that crippled, defunct Martial Order sect, the Martial Order’s hope of rising through you is pure delusion!’

Luo Cheng’s eyes flickered with scorn; the White Tiger’s maw on his wrist ignited with the distinctive gleam of wind glyphs, the surging airflow driving his sword‑hand forward in a lightning thrust toward Li Jun’s heart.

Li Jun gave a cold snort, stepped back dragging his blade, twisted his wrist and swept; the two weapons crossed in a diagonal X.

Clang!

Luo Cheng seemed unable to withstand the force of Li Jun’s blade, the Piercing Star slipping from his grasp in an instant.

Li Jun’s eyes lit up; the armor plates at his ankles flared, his body erupted upward, a scarlet silk‑like lance shooting straight for Luo Cheng’s wide‑open center.

Luo Cheng, however, showed no alarm, a faint cold smile curling his lips as he raised both hands before him, fingers splayed, his palms conjuring two ash‑white thunder glyphs.

Gesao Fu Lu, Thunder Glyph – Divine Might!

Two stout thunder dragons roared forth from Luo Cheng’s palms, colliding head‑on with the descending black straight blade.

The dragons’ jaws devoured the blade; both were annihilated.

The scattered flames waned before Li Jun’s nostrils, the blinding thunder‑light flooding his vision with a blank white, while searing pain and intense numbness spread through his body.

‘Lone Warrior Order, that’s all!’

Luo Cheng burst into a grim, raucous laugh, his aura arrogant.

‘You brat!’

Li Jun’s sword‑brows knit, the harsh angles of his features roiling with killing intent; a thrill of excitement surged through him, instantly dispelling all pain.

Hibernating Official Method, thirty percent!

Sizzle!

Li Jun crossed his arms before him; the rear armor plates flung open in an instant, the jetting airflow together with the piercing wail of a suona reaching its peak!

The thunder‑light shattered, a charred flesh‑and‑blood fist surged forward!

A flicker of shock crossed Luo Cheng’s eyes, then vanished; a cyan light flared, broad gold glyphs across his chest splitting open simultaneously, radiance flowing like an armored deity upon a Daoist temple altar.

His right hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles etched with the same mysterious pattern as the thunder glyphs!

Thirteen Seal Record, Thunder Scripture·Divine Might!

Five-Level Skill Strike, Seeing Dragon Remove Armor!

Boom!

The tidal wave erupted midair, and the two figures were hurled backward as though struck head-on by a burst of dragon fire, crashing into the tower above.