Chapter Fifty-Nine: Lost in Madness, Final Part (II)

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Ye Wuya leapt high, descending with a surge of furious spiritual power and smashed his fist at the old man’s occiput.

A muffled thud resounded—yet it was as if an invisible barrier surrounded the old man. The force of a thousand pounds struck, but it was like mud sinking into the sea, not causing the slightest ripple.

It was akin to wielding a massive iron hammer only to hit a bundle of cotton—ineffective and yielding. The old man didn’t even glance back. He casually waved his hand, not touching Ye Wuya at all, yet Ye Wuya’s entire body was bounced away like a cannonball.

Crash after crash, he broke dozens of great trees before finally smashing into the mountainside a hundred meters away with a thunderous roar.

Coughing, Ye Wuya spat blood from the corner of his mouth. He glared at the old man's back, his hatred and murderous intent laid bare.

“Insignificant ant,” the old man said indifferently, not sparing Ye Wuya a glance as he continued toward Ye Ruyue. He had only taken one step when a raging fist wind and furious roar erupted behind him:

“I said, you are not to touch them!”

Once again, Ye Wuya’s fist struck that unseen barrier—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break through. In his desperation, he pounded the barrier over and over with frenzied fists.

The barrier seemed to shift, growing harder—soft yielding to hard, like a cycle of yin and yang.

Bang! Bang! Bang! His fists struck as if pounding steel; flesh and blood blurred, blood dripped from his knuckles to the ground, but Ye Wuya remained oblivious, intent only on stopping the old man.

With a snap, Ye Wuya was once more hurled through the air, crashing into the mountain, this time embedding several meters deeper.

“Oh dear, oh dear, Longevity Sovereign, Mercy Buddha! I just returned to see this lad in such a pitiful state—wouldn’t it be better to stay quietly in the pit?”

From the void, the Daoist in tattered robes—Daoist Wude—appeared at some unknown point, his veiled maiden companion nowhere to be seen.

“I said, you are not to touch them!” Ye Wuya shouted coldly, charging again like an undying cockroach.

“Annoying fly,” the old man snorted, losing interest in this game. He was now certain Ye Ruyue and Ye Xue were the legendary Frost Divine Physique!

He must take these two potential immortals away immediately—delay could bring disaster.

What is a Divine Physique? Among myriad paths, none can rival it—such is a Divine Physique!

If these two women achieved mastery, they would become peerless powers of their era—two Divine Kings. With two Divine Kings in the Ice Sect in the future, what fear would they have of the Celestial Moon Pavilion?

What the Ice Sect lacked was a Divine King. With one on guard, for ten thousand years none— not even Celestial Moon Pavilion—would dare covet the Ice Sect.

Watching Ye Wuya’s desperate charge, the old man’s eyes grew cold. It was this boy who had broken these two girls’ yin essence—if it had remained, their cultivation would have progressed even faster.

Because of this, the old man wished dearly to slaughter Ye Wuya—this was the squandering of a supreme treasure, an insult to a Divine Physique!

Murderous intent surged in the old man’s eyes as he slowly raised his palm, grasped at the air toward the charging Ye Wuya, and clenched his fingers.

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In an instant, an invisible hand ruthlessly seized Ye Wuya’s throat and lifted him into the air.

No matter how he struggled, Ye Wuya could not break free. He couldn’t even perceive how the old man had struck—the difference in strength was overwhelming.

Hovering in the void, Daoist Wude sighed, “Mercy Buddha, Longevity Sovereign! Normally, when countrymen meet, tears should flow freely. But before that can happen, this lad’s already been smacked unconscious with a Luoyang shovel and buried!”

Glancing below, he muttered to himself, “Young man, you and I are fated. You even shouldered such a heavy burden for me and my companions. Enough—let me lend you a hand.”

He was about to raise his palm and intervene, simply to startle the old man, when suddenly he paused, choosing instead to observe.

The old man pondered, his murderous intent gradually subsiding. He couldn’t kill—not if he wanted to avoid giving Celestial Moon Pavilion an excuse to act.

He had checked the two girls; there wasn’t a trace of a spiritual mark or identifying aura on them.

This meant the two girls weren’t members of Celestial Moon Pavilion. In the world of cultivators, every sect or blessed land assigns identity tokens to their disciples, and direct disciples or elders leave their unique marks or soul tablets. If anything happened, those responsible for these tokens would know immediately.

Chao Tianxiang bore a Celestial Moon Pavilion mark, as did the youth called Shadowfiend—not Celestial Moon Pavilion, but still a formidable power.

Ye Wuya bore no such mark, but just now, when the old man harbored murderous intent toward him, three powerful auras emerged from Ye Wuya’s body—each as strong as the old man’s own, lingering and not dispersing.

This proved the boy had recently encountered three powerful beings, who left their marks. Hence, he could not be killed without inviting endless trouble.

“Suppress!”

The old man pressed his palm downward. A massive, visible hand, like a five-peaked mountain, crashed down from midair, pinning Ye Wuya and slamming him to the ground.

The earth trembled; within ten meters, the ground caved in four or five meters deep. Five depressions, like giant fingers, appeared in the earth.

“Aaah!” Ye Wuya screamed in agony. If not for his berserk transformation—which had doubled his cultivation, physique, and defenses—he would have been slain outright. As he struggled madly, his bones cracked and popped, but the hand pressing him remained immovable.

He watched as the old man, with a wave, summoned the unconscious girls to float behind him. Panic gripped Ye Wuya—if Ye Ruyue and Ye Xue were taken, he might never see them again.

What to do? What can I do? They’re being taken—I can’t let this happen! There’s only one option left! Ye Wuya’s heart roared with desperation.

“Aaah!”

“Corpse Dissolution Frenzy!”

“Dissolve—now!”

With a thunderous boom, Ye Wuya activated the path left behind by the Corpse Dissolution Frenzy. Blood and spiritual power surged wildly, gathering in his dantian, then exploding. It was as if his entire body ignited into a frenzy.

Ye Wuya no longer knew how terrifying his strength had become—only that he was filled with inexhaustible power.

With a muffled grunt, his body swelled like a balloon. Blood seeped crazily from every pore as his flesh boiled, his cells madly divided, died, revived, and multiplied.

“Aaah!” Ye Wuya’s face contorted in pain as he roared, blood gushing from his mouth.

With a heavy thud, he fell backwards, collapsing to the ground.

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“So this is the end—my final means are spent!” Ye Wuya muttered, closing his eyes in despair.

Then he laughed—wild, unrestrained laughter, so bitter, so bleak, so hopeless.

The dissolution had activated every cell in his body, squeezing out every ounce of latent power. But his body was too weak, too fragile. In less than seven seconds, every cell had been depleted, unable to divide and revive further, and the Corpse Dissolution Frenzy was automatically undone.

“What’s this lad doing, crippling himself for no reason? Is that fun? He’s shattered all his meridians, injured his organs!” Daoist Wude in the void watched Ye Wuya lying on the ground, utterly at a loss.

“Is he trying to follow the path of the useless turning peerless?”

“Or has he simply given up resisting, surrendered to fate, and decided to live quietly as an ordinary man?”

“Hmm? Something’s not right—his ‘Momentum’! When did it all awaken?” Daoist Wude stared at Ye Wuya in shock.

“Impossible! How can someone at the Spirit Gathering Stage awaken Momentum? Absolutely impossible—he’s only been here a few days, but this…” Daoist Wude looked as if he’d eaten durian. But facts were facts, regardless of how impossible.

Not only Daoist Wude, but the old man was also dumbfounded, muttering about impossibilities.

“No, no, this can’t be Momentum. Spirit Gathering cultivators can’t awaken Momentum!” the old man denied.

Daoist Wude’s expression grew stranger—it looked like Momentum, but wasn’t quite that. What was this? It felt as if something had developed an intent of its own.

“Intent! Yes, it’s Intent!” Daoist Wude slapped his forehead. “The tribulation must have addled me—how did I forget that there’s another force, Intent, similar to Momentum!”

During the Golden Core’s Dragon Gate leap, there’s a moment when one might comprehend their own path. What one gains is unpredictable.

Some open up ‘Momentum’, some condense ‘Intent’, and some glimpse their ‘Dao’. Others feel nothing, passing the bridge untransformed.

Suddenly, heaven and earth shifted.

A crimson light shot from Ye Wuya’s body, piercing the heavens.

Ye Wuya laughed—wild, maniacal laughter—as the sky itself darkened.

He finally understood why the sword technique had no second half—because it was incomplete. The other half was meant to be comprehended.

The first half cultivated Mind, the second half, self-realized, was Intent. Together, they formed Sword Intent.

If Mind was the shell, Intent was the soul. With both, the sword had Intent—Sword Intent!

In the sky, a vast, boundless black vortex slowly revolved. If one looked closely, they would see the vortex was formed by countless illusory swords.

A tremendous Sword Intent erupted from Ye Wuya, the red light surging into the vortex.

Within a hundred miles, swords trembled, emitting a ringing hum, as if responding to a distant call.

“What’s going on? My sword is flying by itself!”

“Mine too! I just spent thousands of gold coins on it!”

To others, the sky remained clear, but for Ye Wuya, the old man, Daoist Wude, and the others, more and more swords were flying into that vortex.

“I said, you are not to touch them!”