Chương 157: Change 157: First Blood at Purple Mansion

"Ah!" The Blood Infant Elder's scream tore through the air, raw and agonized. Blood burst from his flesh in crimson geysers. Bolts of lightning coiled around his body, searing his skin, sending black smoke spiraling upward in thick, acrid plumes.

"A lightning dao cultivator?... Bing Yang Thunder, impossible!" Shock and disbelief warred across the Blood Infant Elder's gaunt features. Black smoke continued to curl from his parched, cracking lips. Huaijin was not merely a lightning dao cultivator, he had mastered one of the highest divine thunders in existence. Bing Yang Thunder. The thunder that scorched evil from the very marrow of the world. And his swordsmanship... it was beyond anything the elder had ever witnessed.

The Blood Infant Elder stood at the third level of Tier 3, a full realm and several levels above his opponent. Yet he was being slaughtered. Yes, Bing Yang Thunder was uniquely devastating against demonic cultivators, the fusion of lightning and fire could purify the foulest of evils. But to bridge such a vast gap in cultivation with sheer talent alone... The elder's two remaining disciples, both at the mid stage, were faring no better.

Ning Nanzhi had them cornered, her attacks driving them back step by desperate step, their defenses fracturing with every exchange. When they saw their master's state, bleeding, burning, broken, they didn't hesitate. They fled. A cold, ruthless light flickered in Ning Nanzhi's usually gentle eyes. Demonic cultivators. Every single one of them deserves to burn. Swish!

Water and fire churned in her palms, two primordial forces that should have annihilated each other, yet here they danced in perfect, devastating harmony.

"Water-Fire Silk Ribbon!" Her voice was soft, almost tender, a stark contrast to the cataclysm she unleashed. A ribbon of light, easily fifteen meters long, wove itself into existence above her. It shimmered with twin hues, the deep blue of fathomless oceans and the furious crimson of infernos, and shot forward like a living serpent. Space rippled in its wake. The ribbon coiled around the two demonic cultivators before they could even scream.

Water and fire erupted in unison, their conflicting energies grinding together into a storm of pure destruction. The forces intertwined, searing through flesh, boiling blood, reducing bone to cinder. Their shrieks painted the heavens with anguish. Crack! Meanwhile, Huaijin fed a torrent of energy from his dantian directly into the lightning seed at his core, the nascent heart of his Bing Yang Thunder. Crimson lightning exploded outward in a corona of devastation. His hands moved through ancient seals.

The thunder answered his call, writhing and twisting, coalescing into a single, terrible form, a three meter long spear of condensed thunder and ravenous fire.

"Thunderfire Spear!" In that moment, Huaijin was no mere cultivator. He was a god of retribution, crimson lightning wreathing his frame like a mantle of judgment. His Supreme Grade Dao foundation. His body cultivation. His lightning techniques. All three erupted together in a single, catastrophic symphony. BOOM! This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The Thunderfire Spear launched forward with the speed of a falling star, locking onto the Blood Infant Elder with unerring precision. The elder's face went ashen. He bit down on his tongue and spat out a mouthful of precious blood essence. The Wraith Blood Infant, his most forbidden technique, drank it greedily. Its power swelled explosively. Its grotesque form ballooned to over a dozen meters across, a nightmarish monolith of weeping flesh and gnashing teeth. Crack! A flood of blood qi poured into the abomination.

The Blood Infant Elder's body shriveled in response, collapsing inward until he was smaller than a dwarf, his skin slick with rivulets of his own lifeblood. BOOM!! He had burned most of his life essence, sacrificing years of cultivation for a fleeting surge of power. But Huaijin's attack was already upon him. The Wraith Blood Infant opened its cavernous maw, a void of screaming shadows, and swallowed the Thunderfire Spear whole. For one breath, two breaths, the world held still. Then…

Crimson lightning detonated from within. Thunder and fire erupted, tearing through the Wraith Blood Infant from the inside out. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, racing outward like shattered glass. Three breaths. It lasted three breaths before collapsing into a shower of screaming fragments, the agonized wails of a thousand tortured souls echoing across the sky. Pfft! The Blood Infant Elder vomited another torrent of blood. His aura plummeted, withering like a guttering flame. Terror filled his eyes.

He turned to flee. His body didn't make it two steps. The spear of thunder and fire punched through his chest like divine judgment made manifest. It erupted from his back in a shower of blood and ash, the power of Bing Yang Thunder flooding every vein, every vessel, every last remnant of his vile existence. Fifteen seconds later, the wind carried away the last of his ashes. Nothing remained. Huaijin's mind stirred, and the elder's storage pouches rose from the scorched earth, floating into his palm. Then he turned.

The Tier 3 spirit beast had been watching from the shadows, a Wind-Fire Stone Rat, third level beast, hoping to scavenge the aftermath. When Huaijin's gaze locked onto it, the beast froze. Then it ran. A Tier 2, human slaying a Tier 3 cultivator. And he wasn't even injured. The spirit beast had dreamed of playing the vulture. Now it only dreamed of survival. Huaijin watched it disappear into the distance, a blur speed. He didn't give chase. It was too far, too fast.

The two Tier 2 demonic cultivators Ning Nanzhi had been fighting were already ash. Nothing left but memory and cinder. Under the power of thunder, nothing could hide. Nothing could survive. Huaijin was certain the Blood Infant Elder was truly dead. Every drop of blood in his body had been burned to nothing, not a single cell left to regenerate. That was the nightmare of demonic cultivators. Beyond the corruption of heart demons, their greatest weapon was survival.

If you didn't annihilate them completely, reduce them to absolute nothingness, they could claw their way back from the smallest scrap of flesh, the faintest whisper of blood. Blood-path cultivators were the worst of all. And the Blood Infant Elder had been precisely that, a terror of Guiyun Prefecture, elusive as smoke, responsible for countless tragedies across the cultivation world. Today, he had chosen the wrong opponent. The Wind-Fire Stone Rat had escaped.

But the other Tier 2 spirit beasts lurking nearby weren't so fortunate. Eight of them. A small fortune in cultivation resources. Huaijin wasn't about to let them slip through his fingers. He strode forward blood qi surging through his meridians, a hundred beast phantoms swirling in his wake. He held nothing back. Hundreds of crimson motes of light condensed around him, rising into the sky like a constellation of blood-red stars. Then they fell.

In an instant, they transformed into hundreds of brutal, blood-soaked spears, each one dripping with killing intent, tearing through the air with shrieking force. Blood Nether Thousand Bone Spikes! A torrent of blood rained down upon the beasts. The spears punched through their hides, their scales, their desperate defenses. Eight Tier 2 upper grade spirit beasts fell in that single attack. Agonized roars filled the air, a chorus of pain and despair. They looked up at Huaijin with eyes full of terror.

Who was this monster?

"Next time," Huaijin murmured, his voice soft and almost pitying, "don't watch the show. It'll get you killed." Blood swirled in his palm. The Blood Dragon Sword materialized, a blade of condensed crimson, humming with predatory hunger. Swish. Swish. Swish. Sword light flashed. Flesh parted. Blood painted the earth in broad, wet strokes. Minutes later, all the spirit beasts lay dead. The remaining scattered in every direction, fleeing the carnage with desperate, mindless speed.

Huaijin stood amid the carnage, his white robes still immaculate, not a single speck of blood marring their pristine surface. He walked calmly through the void, gathering the bodies of the fallen spirit beasts. Silence settled over the Moyun Ridge like a shroud. Ning Nanzhi collected the storage pouches from the two demonic cultivators, then turned to look at Huaijin. She was speechless. She had heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. The prodigy. The monster.

The cultivator who broke every rule of cultivation logic. But the rumors had understated him. A Tier 3 cultivator at the third level, slaughtered like a common beast. Two Tier 2 cultivators at the eighth level, annihilated in seconds. And he was only at the seventh level. Huaijin walked over to her, collected the remaining storage pouches, and swallowed a pill to restore his energy. The chaotic currents within his body gradually quieted, settling back into harmonious flow.

He looked at Ning Nanzhi, a faint, almost boyish smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"That's the first time I've ever killed a Tier 3 cultivator, you know." He said it like he was confessing something trivial. Something mundane. Like he hadn't just accomplished the impossible.