Chapter 993: Annihilation of the Divine Cult

Tang Chuanwu harbored a bitter resentment toward his own youth, which barred him from the path of cultivation; otherwise, he would not find himself so utterly defenseless against cultivators, knowing next to nothing of their mystical arts and left with no choice but to ceaselessly practice martial arts to fortify his own flesh.

Three months ago, he had ventured outside the city walls to gather medicinal herbs, and because the chosen grounds lay so far away that a round trip required an entire day's journey, the apprentices of the apothecary routinely camped at the site for two or three days, a practice from which Tang Chuanwu was no exception.

He had found a verdant oasis wherein to rest, and though the first day passed without incident, in the deep silence of the second night, a figure came stumbling into the sanctuary, grievously wounded and bleeding profusely, clutching a wooden box tightly to his breast until his dying breath while staring at him with stark vigilance.

Unwilling to invite trouble and sensing that some momentous disaster was afoot, he prepared to take his leave, disregarding the inherent perils of traveling under the shroud of night.

Yet before he could depart, black-robed figures bearing the grim insignia of a pink skeleton surrounded the oasis on all sides and, fearing that Tang Chuanwu might whisper of what he had seen, invoked a spell that caused the bones within his body to grow at a terrifying velocity, piercing through his flesh and his heart, delivering him to his death.

In his second reincarnation, Tang Chuanwu waited as before until the man drew his last breath, opened the wooden box, and discovered within it an unknown elixir alongside a small fragment; he intended to flee with the medicine, but he was a moment too late, and the black-robed men surrounded the oasis once more, cutting him down.

In his third reincarnation, upon finding the elixir, Tang Chuanwu swallowed it directly, only to fall into a swoon from the unbearable agony, and while thus senseless, he was slain by the black-robed men.

In his fourth reincarnation, Tang Chuanwu cast aside all thoughts of the wooden box and prepared to flee back to Kaihuang City at the break of dawn, but he had not anticipated that the black-robed men had already established a dense blockade around the perimeter, decreeing that none should leave the territory; his flight failed, and death claimed him anew.

In his fifth reincarnation, he managed to break through the encirclement, only to perish within the sudden fury of a raging sandstorm.

The sixth time, the seventh time...

Through endless cycles of reincarnation, Tang Chuanwu finally unraveled the tangled threads of the conspiracy: these black-robed figures were members of the Skull Cult, every one of them a cultivator, possessing a terrifying influence that spanned the eight surrounding cities.

One among their ranks had coveted the treasures of the cult, stealing away a Bone-Marrow Cleansing Elixir and a mysterious fragment, the origin of which remained unknown, though its edge was exceedingly sharp.

In his final reincarnation, he lay in secret ambush for the thief who had stolen the treasure, for the man was already heavily wounded; combining this advantage with the Long-Arm Boxing style he had clandestinely learned from the Kaihuang Temple and his familiarity with the combat patterns gleaned from previous lives, he slew the man, seized the wooden box, and swallowed the elixir, slipping through the blockade upon awakening just as the pursuing cultists were thrown into disarray by the sandstorm.

With his physique strengthened by the cleansing of his marrow and armed with foreknowledge against the tempest, he at last escaped with his life.

He had hardly expected that, three months later, the hounds of the Skull Cult would track him down nonetheless.

This was a dire predicament, for rumor whispered that the Protectors of the Twenty-Eight Constellations were formidable figures at the pinnacle of the Qi Condensation stage; a frontal assault was out of the question, and he could not fathom how many times he would have to die before he could rid himself of Protector Jiao.

Tang Chuanwu’s mind raced frantically as he calculated a strategy for his next reincarnation; the Buddha Bathing Festival was set to commence in ten days, and already many foreign cultivators had entered Kaihuang City, suggesting he might use these outsiders to clash with Protector Jiao, though any cultivator capable of matching him would need to be at the Foundation Establishment stage, and such masters were not easily found.

Moreover, it was said that the Hierarch of the Skull Cult was an ancient monster of the Nascent Soul stage, whose every movement could summon manifestations of heaven and earth, and who was incredibly powerful, mastering over a hundred mystical arts; even if he survived this current trial, how was he to handle the cult leader later on?

Yet, wait a moment—it seemed that this time, reincarnation would not be necessary.

Tang Chuanwu turned his head to look at Master Lu, who sat with his brow furrowed in contemplation, and Master Meng, whose countenance was filled with perplexity.

Cui Que'er and Tang Qiaoqiao were both gazing at Protector Jiao with peculiar expressions, filled with incomprehension, doubt, and amusement... but entirely devoid of fear.

From the sleeves of the black-robed man, bones continually extended and spread, quickly creeping across the entirety of the chamber, their sharp skeletal thorns leveled at Lu Yang and his companions; at a single command, the thorns would surge forward a second time, skewering them into a honeycomb of flesh!

"What, will you still not surrender the treasure? It seems you truly will not weep until you see your own coffin!" Protector Jiao sneered repeatedly; once he had slaughtered them and departed, even the Kaihuang Temple would find no trace to follow should they wish to investigate.

Protector Jiao gestured with his eyes and commanded those at his flanks: "Strike!"

"Strike what? Can you not see this young master is trying to think?" Meng Jingzhou retorted impatiently, taking a great stride forward and utterly disregarding the thorny thicket of bone; letting the spikes prick against his form, he felt an nagging sense of familiarity regarding the garments of the black-robed men.

Protector Jiao's pupils contracted sharply as the supposedly indestructible bone thorns snapped upon impact like mere foxtail grass, failing to inflict even the slightest scratch.

"This is impossible! Who in the world are you!" Protector Jiao bellowed, suddenly gripped by an ill omen; he had struck an iron wall this time!

Meng Jingzhou did not care to waste breath and released his spiritual pressure, an aura of majesty that commanded respect without wrath; Protector Jiao and his cohorts felt as though an immense mountain of a thousand tons had been dropped upon their backs, crashing to the floor with a loud thud, bleeding from their seven facial orifices!

"You dare not kill me! To provoke our Skull Cult means that even if you flee to the ends of the earth, you will be hunted down and slain!"

"Do not think the others are like me; I am merely the lowest in strength among the twenty-eight Protectors!"

"Above the Twenty-Eight Constellation Protectors, I still have the Seven Luminary Protectors, the Four Image Protectors, the Left and Right Protectors, the Holy Maiden, the Holy Son, and the enigmatic Hier—"

Lu Yang raised his head, a look of sudden realization dawning upon him: "I was wondering why your clothes looked so familiar; I've seen them before."

From his identity jade pendant, he produced a black robe woven with exquisite craftsmanship, its skeleton embroidered in gold and silver threads.

Upon beholding the black robe in Lu Yang's hands, Protector Jiao looked as though he had seen a ghost, a limitless terror spreading through his heart, rendering him unable to control his voice: "This... This is the Hierarch's raiment!"

When he had been invested with the title of Protector, he had been fortunate enough to catch a single glimpse of Madam White Bone, seated amidst a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, attended by countless thralls of flesh and bone.

Lu Yang recalled their journey to Kaihuang City: "On the road here, we happened to run into a bone spirit who called herself Madam White Bone or something, and she wanted to take Old Meng as her manservant; Old Meng disposed of her in passing, so it turns out she was your cult leader."

Had the black-robed men not made such an appearance to assert their presence, Lu Yang and Meng Jingzhou would truly have retained no impression of a minor character like Madam White Bone.

"How can this be... The Hierarch is an established master of the early Nascent Soul stage who shattered her core to attain it fifty years ago!" Protector Jiao remained in utter disbelief, for that was an omnipotent Nascent Soul cultivator!

Lu Yang reflected for a moment, conceding that this Madam White Bone must have been quite formidable, for fifty years ago, he certainly would not have been her match.

"I didn't expect this bone spirit to have subordinates left behind, but since you've come along, we might as well wipe out the whole nest."

Lu Yang turned to inquire of Tang Chuanwu and the others: "Are you all free this afternoon? Do you want to tag along while the two of us deal with this cult? We'll try to make it quick so we can be back in time for dinner."

Tang Chuanwu nodded stiffly, his mind unable to fully comprehend the turn of events.

Tang Qiaoqiao and Cui Que'er, however, appeared quite thrilled, finding this far more entertaining than merely running about Kaihuang City for amusement.

Following the results of the soul-searching performed on Protector Jiao, the pair of Lu Yang went straight to the lair of the Skull Cult, wasting no words and proceeding directly to a wholesale slaughter.

"Who dares trespass into the sacred cult..."

"Constellation Protector, save me..."

"Seven Luminary Protector, save me..."

"Four Image Protector, save me..."

"Left and Right Protector, save me..."

"Tang Qiaoqiao is merely a clone cultivated by this seat..."

"If you dare kill me, I shall detonate the blood within Tang Qiaoqiao's body..."

"Holy Maiden, save me..."

"Holy Son, save me..."

"Phew, that’s finally taken care of." Lu Yang and Meng Jingzhou fought their way through the Skull Cult, uprooting six strongholds with remarkable dispatch.

"Faster than anticipated."

"We killed them a bit too quickly just now; by the way, did Tang Qiaoqiao look a bit like the Left Protector? What was it that the Left Protector muttered right before dying?"

Meng Jingzhou shrugged: "Probably something about a clone raised for soul-possession or whatever; it doesn't matter, since the Left Protector is gone anyway, knowing too much would only cause psychological issues for that girl."

"True enough."

Tang Chuanwu remained in a daze throughout the entire affair, still unable to process what had transpired.

From the very moment Protector Jiao had burst into his home, he had resigned himself to dying dozens of times, cycling through endless reincarnations to survive in the narrow margins, pitting his wits against the Skull Cult, and perhaps even unraveling the mystery of his sister’s lineage.

How had it all been completely resolved in the span of a single afternoon?