Cultivating To Immortality

The collapse of the protective Formation happened in an instant; the attacks from other Spiritual Artifacts and Spells did not diminish, continuing their assault on the Hu Family.

Bang—

With the Formation broken, the Hu Family no longer had any reliance for defense.

Countless attacks rained down upon the Hu Family Ancestral Shrine.

The leading Cultivator from Hanging Sword Mountain was expressionless, saying only two words: "Proceed."

The Foundation Establishment Cultivators from the Chen, Liu, and He Families exchanged glances, then immediately summoned their Spiritual Artifacts and charged towards the Hu Family.

In the face of impending shared benefits, these three naturally scrambled, fearing that the other two would gain an advantage, affecting the subsequent resource allocation and causing their Families to fall behind.

Also attacking was the Foundation Establishment Cultivator from Profound Origin Sect.

The Cultivators from the other Nine Pulses, including Song Yan, merely watched from the sidelines, seeing no need to intervene.

The disparity in strength between the two sides was too great; the demise of the Hu Family was only a matter of time.

They only needed to hold their positions, ensuring that not a single Hu Family member escaped.

With the tide turned, the Hu Family’s defeat was inevitable. Three Foundation Establishment Cultivators from the Family, including Hu Haotian, met the aerial assault, making their final stand.

For a time, a bloody massacre began around the Hu Family Ancestral Shrine.

Various Spiritual Artifacts, Spells, and Talismans clashed violently.

Under the dark night, fireballs exploded, icy winds howled, and vines snaked... Hu Family Cultivators constantly fell, and after a scream, never rose again.

The Cultivators participating in the purge seized spoils of war after the slaughter, smiling broadly as they sought their next target.

Spiritual Light rose from the battlefield; the defeated bled and died, while the victors raged wantonly.

This was the true face of the Cultivation World.

Song Yan floated quietly in the air, indifferently observing everything on the battlefield, his face devoid of sorrow or joy.

Perhaps his former self would have felt some reluctance, but now, he was no longer so naive.

Sympathy for the Hu Family would be a desecration of all the innocent Cultivators who died due to the Demonic Cultivator’s chaos on Dragon Pool Mountain.

Just as Hu Haotian said, he had done nothing wrong; it was merely a difference in stance, and he had lost his gamble.

But to lose meant to pay a price.

The countless innocent Loose Cultivators in the Grand Enclosure Building, the entire Yang Family—someone had to take responsibility for this.

This time’s purge, the Nine Pulses Cultivators stated they would only purge Cultivators, not involving Mortals.

But once they left, would the Chen, He, and Liu Families truly spare the Hu Family’s Mortals?

Song Yan’s Divine Sense spread out completely, covering the entire Hu Family, observing the whole battlefield.

Initially, the Hu Family, with a surge of passion, could still contend with the Nine Pulses Cultivators for a bit.

But after all, the two sides were completely unequal in numbers and strength, and soon the situation turned into a one-sided slaughter.

"Hmm?"

Song Yan’s eyes suddenly narrowed. His Insightful Void Sword Eye activated, and amidst the chaotic battle, he spotted a sudden patch of white.

It was a small paper figure.

The small paper figure stealthily walked into a pool of blood, then slowly lay down.

Its white paper body quickly became submerged and disappeared as it was stained by the blood.

"..."

Song Yan pondered for a moment, then retracted his gaze.

Above the Hu Family Ancestral Shrine, seven Foundation Establishment Realm Cultivators fought in a chaotic melee.

The Foundation Establishment Realm Cultivator from the Chen Family wielded a gourd-shaped Spiritual Artifact, which floated beside him.

Magical power surged, and pale green Spiritual Power constantly gushed from the gourd, transforming into powerful gales that roared through the field.

The other two Families also displayed their Divine Abilities, launching fierce attacks.

The three Foundation Establishment Cultivators of the Hu Family, however, used all their trump cards, resisting desperately.

Hu Haotian was covered in blood. The three of them faced four Foundation Establishment Cultivators and could only barely resist. Previously, they had also expended a great deal of energy for the Ancestral Shrine’s protective Formation.

Now, they could only struggle to parry.

The Hu Family’s Qi Refining Cultivators were becoming fewer and fewer. One ordinary-looking Qi Refining Perfection Cultivator, while fighting and resisting, suddenly looked up at the sky.

With a casual crimson blood blade, he slew a Nine Pulses Cultivator.

His entire body ignited with a crimson glow, transforming into a streak of blood-light, and he fled eastward, breaking out of the encirclement.

He then changed direction, heading northeast.

His speed was so fast that the Foundation Establishment Cultivator guarding the east didn’t even have time to react.

"Escape Art?!"

This person had not yet reached Foundation Establishment; he was only a Qi Refining Perfection Cultivator and could not fly with objects.

It seemed to be some kind of special Escape Art.

Just as he was about to give chase, he saw Song Yan, who was stationed in the northeast, activating his Sword Qi while gesturing to the Cultivators on either side.

"Fellow Daoists, please keep watch here; this person is unusual, so I will handle him."

As soon as his voice fell, Song Yan’s figure rippled and dissipated like a reflection in water.

Everyone looked up, only to see his figure had already transformed into Sword Light, closely pursuing the streak of blood-light.

The two Foundation Establishment Cultivators on either side were surprised, but then recalled the power of that single sword strike at the Yang Family ruins, and felt at ease.

He was merely a Qi Refining Perfection Cultivator; leaving him to Daoist Song would surely be no problem.

It was just a small interlude, and no one paid much attention.

Xu Ziqing also only glanced, then retracted his gaze, not questioning Song Yan’s strength.

Above the northeast of Dragon Pool Mountain.

Two streaks of light, one red and one white, were in pursuit. Song Yan’s gaze grew increasingly solemn.

Under the full activation of Void Wandering, few Cultivators of the same Realm could keep up with his escape speed.

Yet, the person before him gave him a feeling of always being just out of reach.

That speed did not reach the Golden Core Realm, but it far surpassed that of an ordinary Foundation Establishment Realm Cultivator... Soon, the two streaks of light had already reached the edge of Dragon Pool Mountain.

They entered a desolate mountain valley.

The ordinary-looking Qi Refining Perfection Cultivator suddenly stopped his escape light.

Turbulent, bloody air currents stirred, bending the vegetation in the valley below.

Song Yan’s heart tensed, and his Sword Light also instantly receded. His figure solidified in the air, more than ten zhang away from his opponent.

The Sword Qi within him remained unreleased, his gaze burning, piercing through the gradually dissipating crimson blood mist.

He saw the ordinary-looking Qi Refining Cultivator slowly turn around.

Without any earth-shattering commotion, like brushing away a layer of dust, his disguised appearance disintegrated inch by inch.

A pale, bloodless middle-aged face was revealed.

This person’s brows were lowered, his eyelids half-closed, looking as if he hadn’t fully woken up, listless.

His Daoist robe also rippled like water, finally transforming into a loose, wide white robe that gently billowed in the mountain wind.

"Ah..."

He let out a hoarse sigh, like a murmur in a dream.

His weary gaze fell upon Song Yan, carrying a hint of playfulness.

It was as if he was examining an exquisite object about to shatter.

From the cuffs of his white robe, two small white paper figures stealthily crawled out, one on the left and one on the right, floating beside him.

"Song Yan..." He finally spoke: "I’ve heard much about you."

His aura remained unchanged, still at the Qi Refining Perfection Realm.

Facing a Foundation Establishment Realm Cultivator, these words seemed somewhat arrogant.

A dangerous glint flickered in Song Yan’s eyes.

"Did Elder Yang Wenxuan send you to kill me?"

His lips moved slightly, his voice calm without a ripple: "Hermit Xin Shan."

A hint of surprise flashed in Hermit Xin Shan’s weary eyes.

But then this surprise transformed into a morbid excitement: "Hee..."

A half-smile stretched his lips, his voice hoarse.

"You actually recognize me?"

Hermit Xin Shan’s eyes darted around, wondering what he was thinking, but then he nodded: "Indeed, indeed. It was him!"

"He offered me an irresistible benefit, wanting to use my hand to kill you."

Song Yan’s heart stirred slightly.

Although this was almost certainly true, he somehow felt that coming from Xin Shan’s mouth, it had an unreal, playful quality.

Hermit Xin Shan paused, his lifeless eyes scanning Song Yan up and down, as if penetrating his skin to examine his Soul.

"Strange... truly strange... You are about to die, yet you don’t seem afraid at all."

"Is it because of the integrity of a Sword Cultivator, or...?"

"Do you simply not understand the gap between you and me?"

The moment his words fell, a suffocating, terrifying Spiritual Pressure, like an overwhelming tide, erupted from Hermit Xin Shan’s seemingly frail body!

This was Sheng Nian’s Master, Hermit Xin Shan.

A False Core Demonic Cultivator!

The immense Spiritual Pressure instantly froze the air in the mountain valley, even making the moonlight seem hazy.

In the face of this surging Spiritual Pressure.

Song Yan’s hair floated, but his figure remained straight, his Xuanjin Daoist robe rustling.

Only his cold, dark eyes slowly began to emanate a sharp golden glow.

Within them, a faint, dreamlike radiance subtly flowed.

"Unbending, you do possess the demeanor of an ancient Sword Cultivator."

Hermit Xin Shan maintained his languid tone, casually raising his right hand, fingers splayed.

"Let me see what kind of scene such a Genius Cultivator will make when he dies."

The golden glow in Song Yan’s eyes intensified, his Insightful Void Sword Eye operating at full power!

Almost simultaneously with Xin Shan raising his hand, a dreamlike Qi surged from his sword manor, and Sword Qi slowly circulated around his body.

"Condense."

Hermit Xin Shan clearly uttered a single word.

It was an understatement, like a sigh.

Dong!

Song Yan felt his entire body’s blood suddenly halt, even his heart stopped beating.

His Spiritual Power dissipated, his Sword Qi froze.

"A Foundation Establishment Early Realm Cultivator, still drawing his sword against a False Core Cultivator."

Hermit Xin Shan’s words slowly entered his ears: "Your courage is indeed commendable."

"What a pity."

A crimson light condensed in his hand and shot towards Song Yan.

"..."

But when the crimson Spiritual Light left his hand, Hermit Xin Shan frowned slightly, sensing something amiss.

The crimson Spiritual Light passed through his body, and Song Yan’s figure rippled like water disturbed by a thrown stone, creating layers of waves.

Mirror Flower, Water Moon!

"Oh?" Hermit Xin Shan’s gaze sharpened.

"An illusion technique?"

When did it start...? He even lowered his head to confirm whether the Seed Demon Path Spell had truly been cast.

Buzz—

Song Yan’s figure blurred for an instant, then reappeared in his original spot.

Although he had no injuries, blood still overflowed from the corner of his mouth.

A profound and illusory aura suddenly permeated the air, and in his eyes, there seemed to be endless cloud seas and Immortal palaces, with a glazed, illusory moon constantly revolving.

The sharp aura of Sword Intent surged wildly.

Hermit Xin Shan waved his hand, and a drop of blood gathered in his palm.

"A dying struggle, futile."

He made a grasping motion with his palm.

Song Yan felt his entire body’s blood suddenly turn cold, as if transforming into bone-chilling ice, and like countless invisible blood threads instantly piercing through his meridians.

The magnificent Sword Intent that was gathering was fiercely extinguished by an invisible large hand.

Before he could even draw his sword, it completely shattered and vanished!

"!"

A dull, cracking sound, unsettling to the heart.

Song Yan’s body, along with the protective Sword Qi on him that hadn’t fully formed, instantly shriveled and withered from the inside out.

Flesh, bones, Sword Qi—everything that could give him strength and support dissipated at an inconceivable speed.

His body began to exhibit a strange, dark red crystalline quality.

In just a single breath, this eerie crimson spread throughout his entire body.

Before even a hint of pain could appear, a corpse solidified in the night wind, its life extinguished.

"Heh heh, what kind of heaven-blessed Genius."

Hermit Xin Shan shook his hand.

"Before it even grows, to be noticed, isn’t that just fodder..."

He slowly descended with Song Yan’s corpse, staring at the lifelike yet deathly cold, crystallized corpse in mid-air, a hint of curiosity finally flashing in his eyes.

A gentle force gently lifted it from afar, allowing it to land steadily on the ground.

However, Hermit Xin Shan found that Song Yan’s body had no Storage Bag, nor any Flying Sword Spiritual Artifacts.

He frowned, vaguely sensing something peculiar.

At this very moment, an eerie aura swept over the valley, coming from beyond the Dragon Pool Mountain territory.

The aura was ethereal and mysterious, its source and direction hard to grasp, yet it existed with undeniable clarity.

Hermit Xin Shan’s outstretched hand abruptly stopped, instantly retracting into his wide sleeve.

"Hmm?"

His face still held that weary expression, but a hint of caution was added between his brows.

He looked down at Song Yan’s corpse, its life breath extinguished.

"...It’s not good to linger."

Hermit Xin Shan was extremely cautious by nature; he rarely put himself in danger unless there were huge benefits at stake.

He didn’t hesitate, his wide white robe suddenly swirled.

He, along with the two small paper figures beside him, instantly transformed into several streaks of grayish-white light, merging into the night.

Silently, they continued to flee towards the northeastern horizon.

In the desolate valley, only Song Yan’s dark red crystallized corpse remained, unmoving.

Almost within a few breaths after Hermit Xin Shan left, a dense black mist gradually began to emanate from the corpse.

The mist grew thicker and thicker, gushing from the corpse, slowly condensing about a zhang away from it, forming a stumbling black shadow.

The black figure’s movements were extremely clumsy, almost as if it was crawling out of the corpse.

When its form stabilized and fully condensed into the shape of a person, its appearance was exactly identical to Song Yan’s.

He stumbled out, looking back at Song Yan’s corpse, but his face showed no joy.

His expression was entirely filled with apprehension and disbelief.

"Madman... truly a madman!"

Even his voice was exactly the same as Song Yan’s.

The black mist around him surged.

He merely cursed at Song Yan’s corpse, then, not daring to linger, quickly merged into the mountain’s night, disappearing from sight.

Under the moonlight, Song Yan’s corpse lay quietly on the valley floor.

On an unnoticed tree branch.

A crow perched high above, its golden eyes observing everything that had happened here.