Chapter 690: Slaying All Dragon and Tiger

Chapter 690: The Final Slaughter of Dragon and Tiger

Who says we are merely watching a play? This is no mere awakening; we have not yet returned to our senses.

Never imagined that one day we could still assault Dragon‑Tiger Mountain; true martial spirit lives, and this life is not in vain!

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth; it is time to settle the old accounts with them!

Where is the Tian Shi Fu, and who is the man with the surname Zhang?

Amid the rousing cries, azure silhouettes emerged from Chen Qisheng's body one after another.

The scorching, bone‑shattering dragon‑tiger fanaticism did not spare them either; it leapt from Chen Qisheng's seven pores, howling as it chased and coiled around them, vowing to burn these unknown beings—human or ghost—into ash.

Yet the cruel, poisonous fanaticism that tormented Chen Qisheng appeared feeble in their hands, powerless to resist. Strands were grasped, writhing like serpents, then, with disdainful glances, they laughed and swallowed them into their bellies.

These are the treasures the Zhang family has scoured for decades? Nothing extraordinary.

Even incense has gone foul; it seems our sect's reputation has been utterly ruined by them.

Never mind; today we shall slaughter Dragon‑Tiger Mountain, leaving the Daoist sect a clean slate!

The azure silhouettes lined up before Chen Qisheng, shoulder to elbow, forming an indomitable wall of flesh.

As the black flames of fanaticism burned on his body slowly extinguished, the hallucinations before Chen Qisheng collapsed entirely.

With the crisis averted, the Daoist elixir spiraled anew within his body; the fresh true qi was far denser, viscous as liquid, nourishing Chen Qisheng's scarred flesh.

How could this happen.

Chen Qisheng's eyes were filled with bewilderment and confusion.

In that Wudang dream, he clearly recalled that all the Wudang spirits entrusted to Zhao Yanlong had fully merged into his own divine thought, exhausting himself, and forming the foundation of his old sect's third order.

Yet now, they reappeared as he was about to be devoured by the dragon‑tiger fanaticism.

What on earth is happening?

Wudang Mountain may be gone, but how could the senior masters of our sect simply watch you being bullied and do nothing? We may not be cunning, but we are not devoid of strategy.

Feeling the stunned, puzzled gaze from behind, Zhao Yanlong turned back; his translucent visage brightened with a carefree smile.

This is the last gift left by our Wudang ancestors. It is also the final thing our senior brothers can do for you.

Zhao Zhongxin laughed heartily, 'I don't want, I also don't want...'

Blood vengeance must be washed in blood. All fellow disciples, I shall exterminate dragons and tigers together with you!” Chen Qiusheng murmured softly, his figure vanishing in an instant. Along the path torn open by the spirits, he surged forward with reckless abandon! Facing death, Zhang Qingli’s pupils shrank into a tight knot, his mouth unleashing a piercing, anguished cry. He thrust his palms upward, and the frenzied cultists behind him coalesced into a pair of colossal hands, slamming down upon the incoming sword lights. BOOM! A thunderous roar split the sky, fierce winds hurling scattered figures into chaos. Zhao Yanyuan forcibly halted his retreating form, his gaze fixed on the merging hands. CRACK! Like tearing silk, the sword light erupted skyward—a beam as radiant as the first dawn’s glow, shattering the cultists’ hands. SWISH! A blade pierced his body. The suffocating dread of death nearly shattered Zhang Qingli’s mind. The two golden pills he’d painstakingly refined dissolved into a pulpy mass under the surge of qi, splattering onto the fractured steel bones below. “If you kill me, you’ll die too!” Zhang Qingli’s face twisted into a feral grin, his hands clamping onto Chen Qiusheng’s wrists as he roared, his voice tearing through the air. The swirling dragon and tiger cultists inverted, forming a vortex of chaos around them. “Chen Qiusheng, I won’t lose to you—never!” His eyes darkened as the frenzied cultists consumed him, driving him to madness. Black flames, like a million black blades, erupted across Chen Qiusheng’s body, scattering blood like blossoms. “You dare oppose me? Your death is meaningless.” The calm voice nearby froze Zhang Qingli’s twitching features. “What did you say?” His eyes flickered with pale light, the last traces of humanity surfacing. “You, Zhang Qingli, are insignificant. Today, I shall slaughter your dragons and tigers across the mountains!” CRACK! A torrent of qi erupted, shattering the vortex. The sword in his hand sparked, searing his palms and abdomen. A chilling sound split his chest and throat, the sword exiting his skull. The frenzied cultists dissolved, their forms vanishing. On Dragon Tiger Mountain, some disciples crumbled to dust, their faces frozen in ecstasy; others awoke, eyes wide with relief. But when they saw the shadow above, their joy turned to terror. Sobs and pleas echoed through the peaks. Chen Qiusheng turned, meeting the smiling eyes of the crowd. The night wind stripped their colors, their forms fading into translucent spirits. “Justice is done! Well done!” “Our luck! Meeting Chen Shixiong on Dragon Tiger Mountain—when we meet other brothers on the path to enlightenment, they’ll envy us!” “A shame we couldn’t see Wudang… what a pity.” “What else could it be? Ruins, ashes. But the earth that buries us will sprout green pines and life.” “If you say that, when you’re reborn, you must come up the mountain.” The chatter faded. All eyes turned to Chen Qiusheng, silent. “This is enough,” Zhao Yanyuan said, his tone shifting. “Shixiong, your path is long. Stay lighthearted.” He glanced back. “Anyone gossiping below will have their souls shattered!” “Hmph, a gatekeeper dares speak so?” “Zhao Yanyuan, you’re arrogant! Don’t think finding Chen Shixiong makes you special!” “Exactly! We’re not like those on Dragon Tiger Mountain!” “Enough. They’re the center of attention now—don’t offend them.” “Clench your fists. We’ll settle this later.” Laughter and banter filled the air, like brothers bickering under one roof. “Enough. Follow me.” Zhao Yanyuan’s face blurred, his smile fading. Though his form was ethereal, he meticulously adjusted his posture, bowing deeply. “Greetings, Wudang’s Master!” All bowed in unison. “Wudang disciples, greet the Master!” The voice was calm, soothing. “Chen Qiusheng, greet your brothers.” He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Haha… you see how he’s suffering?” “It’s a dream, a fleeting encounter—already a great fortune. What more could you want?” “Let’s go. How much longer will he suffer?” “Don’t tell me you’ll cry too?” “To hell with you! Is that the kind of man you are?!” Figures dissolved into dust, blue light swirling toward Chen Qiusheng. It brushed his hair, his temples, his shoulders—like parting ways in a dream. When he looked up, they were gone. “Impossible! I just wanted to talk, to let you leave slowly.” He gazed at the empty night, his eyes hardening. “Look up!” A thunderous voice roared, startling the mountain’s heads.

“Today, I challenge the dragon and tiger killer of Wudang, Chen Qisheng! Should anyone seek vengeance, Master awaits them with open arms!”

A grand mystical form materialized behind Chen Qisheng, his two hands gripping an enormous blade, pointing toward a mountain crowned with pavilions, and with a roar, he pierced through the heavens!

Ho!

A colossal whale descended from the skies, its armor plating sliding aside, raining down a deadly bombardment.

Desperate shrieks and vile curses erupted in fiery torrents.

Chen Qisheng, leaning on his sword, stood unshaken amidst the scorching blaze, laughing heartily.

“To all my senior brothers, may you find peace on your journey!”