Chapter Fifty-Nine: Some Seek Death, Some Seek Battle, Some Seek Life

“Who do you think will win, sister?” Fan Xiaohua asked. Though she hadn’t specified, Zhouzhou could easily guess whom she meant.

There were five people fighting in the arena. Even though Wu Yue was distracted by Li Suizhu, he still held the upper hand against two opponents. With Zong Shen joining in for a decisive strike, their assault became overwhelming.

Elsewhere, Zong Shen and Jiuyou were locked in a deadly struggle, fighting with the utmost ferocity. Zong Shen wielded thunder, each blow reckless and uncompromising. Jiuyou’s movements were ghostly and unpredictable, making him difficult to counter.

“That outsider is about to lose,” Zhouzhou said coolly, a smile lighting up Fan Xiaohua’s face. To her, Wu Yue was a good man, so those aligned with Xiao Wuxing must be villains.

“One fights desperately to live, the other fights desperately not to live. How can the former not lose?” Zhouzhou murmured to herself.

On the summoned sandman’s great disc, a crack had appeared—Zong Shen’s doing. Beams of sunlight shot rapidly out, rarely finding their mark but mostly serving as cover.

Another beam of sunlight flashed past as Wu Yue dodged, while Xiao Wuxing prepared to strike.

“Five minutes at most! My true body will be here by then. He’s doomed!” the sandman roared. The great disc spun lightly, erupting with several rays of light and adding even more cracks.

Wu Yue, his attention momentarily drawn, realized he could not evade. Life and death often hinge on a single instant. The beams of sunlight were impossibly fast; left with no alternative, Wu Yue brought his hands together, and behind him a world unfolded.

The world of high summer! A blazing sun at its zenith, dazzling the land. The restless drone of cicadas, the boundless vitality of green trees.

“What! So this is his true path!” Zhouzhou cried out, shock flickering across her exquisitely beautiful face.

“What’s the matter, sister?” Fan Xiaohua asked.

“I fear this is his real trump card,” Zhouzhou replied with a rueful smile. “We still underestimated him.”

“Where are you people from, really?” Ashu asked. “You’re no less remarkable than anyone from the Lord God’s domain.”

“Remarkable?” Zhouzhou scoffed. “It’s nothing but a slaughterhouse for trials.”

Ashu bowed his head in acknowledgment; thinking it over, it was true.

A slender beam of sunlight pierced through the disc’s brilliance, landing on the great disc itself. In an instant, it shattered into pieces. The unrelenting sunlight then fell upon the sandman, whose scarlet gaze extinguished in silence.

As for Xiao Wuxing, he was trapped within the world of high summer. Several rays of sunlight passed through his body, wringing screams of agony from him—pain that seared both flesh and soul.

“This kid’s about to cut through the chaos,” Blood murmured.

“You know for certain?” Dusk asked.

Strangely, this time Blood did not argue with Dusk, but explained, “Look—his body is growing more translucent, his aura weaker. He doesn’t have much time left to avenge that little girl.”

Sensing the sandman’s demise, Jiuyou’s resolve faltered; he spat out a cloud of vile, stinking black mist.

But Zong Shen plunged headlong into the miasma. When he emerged, his face was unrecognizable, yet he seemed unfazed. One hand formed a blade and slashed down; the other, a sword thrust forward.

“That’s the ultimate poison fog! You’re dead, boy!” Jiuyou shouted, though he still dodged Zong Shen’s strike with speed.

“I have one final move, entrusted to me by my master, to be used only after transcending mortality,” Zong Shen said, his tone surprisingly calm.

A sense of danger flashed through Jiuyou’s mind, and he hurriedly retreated.

“Too late.”

Light—blinding, dazzling. Was it fast, or slow?

A blossom of lightning burst into bloom, radiant and beautiful. Every pore in Zong Shen’s body emitted electricity. As he faced death, he realized the happiest times were those spent at his master’s side. Death was a solace—no more choices, no more guilt, nothing left to face, and never again betrayal.

It felt like both an instant and a century.

A flower blooms, a flower falls—two lives were claimed: the favored son of Qin, and a top master from the Lord God’s domain. How fragile they were now.

Xiao Wuxing was barely clinging to life. The last thing Wu Yue saw was that blossom of lightning.

“I too have the heart to kill a princess,” Song Leizhou suddenly declared, drawing many surprised glances. “But the urge to kill you is greater still,” his words even more startling.

“Is there enmity between us?” Wu Yue asked, crushing Xiao Wuxing’s soul with a motion.

“You slaughtered over a thousand of my subordinates, including two younger brothers,” Song Leizhou replied coolly.

“The Senluo Army?”

“Indeed.”

This was a blood feud—only mortal combat could resolve it. Wu Yue offered no explanation. He drifted to the ground, gazing at the young girl lying there, her eyes closed but her brow finally relaxed.

“At least you’re not having a nightmare. Otherwise, I’d have to chase after you in your dreams as well,” Wu Yue whispered gently. With a thought, the Thunder Scepter appeared beside him.

Lightning coiled around its tip, intimidating in its aura. Wu Yue reached out and grasped the scepter, his mind surging forth to sweep away the lingering will within. Having shattered that mysterious old man’s thousand-year solitude, Wu Yue now found destroying these remnants mere child’s play.

“A pity—there are still two seals remaining.”

“Hm?” Wu Yue’s face took on a curious look. “My soul can unlock one of the seals?”

“Interesting. Then my body should be able to break the other. If this scepter fell into anyone else’s hands, they’d never unlock its seals without killing us all. But in the hands of us—those from Lishan and Earth—it becomes quite intriguing.”

“You protect her for me,” Wu Yue said at last, tossing the scepter aside. It seemed to come alive, circling and hovering protectively over Li Suizhu.

“I’m not taking advantage of you—I just fear you won’t survive the day,” Song Leizhou said softly.

“You’re right,” Wu Yue replied.

Song Leizhou struck, his aura forming a rhythm—every move as natural as breathing.

“With time, you’ll surely shatter the martial boundary,” Wu Yue observed calmly.

“Sister, he’s also on the verge of breaking the martial boundary,” Fan Xiaohua said. Zhouzhou glanced at Wu Yue, then at Song Leizhou. “What a waste of talent,” she sighed.

Song Leizhou launched a punch—a single blow, yet it felt like a stampede of ten thousand horses. Though a hundred meters apart, it seemed to land right at the tip of one’s nose.

Wu Yue waved his hand, summoning the endless world of high summer—sunlight flooding in, cicadas buzzing incessantly. Their battle was like waves surging through the sea, a tiny boat tossed and teetering.

Wu Yue was the sea; Song Leizhou, the skiff.

Each move was unhurried and precise. Song Leizhou shattered the blazing sunlight, broke apart the relentless cicada-song.

But even if a small skiff crests a few waves, it cannot escape the vast sea.

Here, Wu Yue—fighting with nothing left to lose—was invincible.

Miles away, a figure in royal robes suddenly opened his eyes, twin crimson lights flickering within them.

“He’s terrifying,” the Sand Emperor thought, shaken. That single ray of sunlight had nearly chilled him to the bone. “A gentleman waits ten years for revenge.” The Sand Emperor rose to leave.

A dragon of fire, several yards long, came hurtling through the air. Within a hundred miles, Wu Yue sensed it in his heart.