Chương 57: A Calculated Slaughter

"Even if this brat is masking his true cultivation, his strength cannot possibly exceed the Foundation Establishment realm. If he were truly a powerhouse, he would have crushed us like insects by now. Since he hasn't..." A vicious glint flickered in Xuan Liao's eyes. He was a man who had burned his bridges; today's gambit was one of life or death. If he failed to execute the Little Witch, the pact he had made would crumble.

Without that mysterious benefactor's protection, the Myriad Extinction Demon Sect would hunt him to the ends of the earth. For him, failure meant a fate worse than death.

"As a cultivator of the Righteous Path, you choose to entangle yourself with this demonic jade? Since you wish to wallow in the mire of depravity, I shall send you both to the yellow springs together!" Xuan Liao's face contorted into a mask of ferocity. A suffocating, potent pressure erupted from his body, rippling through the air like a physical tide.

"Nephew Ziyang, join me! We must strike with everything we have and end him now!" With a thunderous roar, Xuan Liao struck his storage pouch. The circular ring artifact manifested once more, humming with a malevolent, vibrating frequency. He harbored a deep-seated wariness toward Reyn, and thus, he held nothing back. He flooded the artifact with his spiritual essence, causing the ring's light to explode in brilliance as it expanded until it was several meters wide, a halo of crushing force.

"Slay!" With a sharp gesture of his finger, the ring whistled through the air, carrying the weight of a mountain as it swept toward Reyn. Beside him, the middle-aged cultivator at the Early Foundation Establishment stage refused to be outdone. He summoned his own spirit tool, a jagged blade that descended like a falling star toward Reyn's skull. Wang Zihan's eyes danced with a cruel excitement.

Not wanting to be left behind, he chanted a series of rapid incantations, commanding a small golden axe to cleave through the sky, aiming straight for Reyn's neck. Reyn's expression turned grim. The sheer spiritual pressure radiating from Xuan Liao sent a chill through his marrow. The power of a Late Foundation Establishment cultivator was truly terrifying; had his Divine Sense not been tempered to an extraordinary degree, this aura alone would have stripped him of half his combat effectiveness.

Facing the pincer attack of multiple spirit tools, Reyn remained unnervingly calm. He tapped his forehead, and a streak of ink-black light shot forth—a small, obsidian sword. This artifact had been looted from the Black Mountain Old Ghost. Although it was only a high-grade spirit tool, its lethality was honed to a razor's edge, rivaling even top-grade treasures in raw piercing power.

"Strike!" Reyn funneled nearly thirty percent of his spiritual energy into the blade. The obsidian sword erupted with a dark, oily sheen, swelling in size until it was two meters long and several inches wide. It tore through the atmosphere with a piercing, ear-splitting shriek. BOOM! The circular ring and the great black sword collided in a violent explosion of sparks and shockwaves. Reyn's vision blurred for a heartbeat, his ears ringing with a deafening hum.

Even though his internal Qi reserves could match an Early Foundation Establishment cultivator and his Divine Sense reached the Late stage, there was still a significant chasm between him and the raw magical power of a veteran like Xuan Liao. However, he had no time to recover. The jagged blade of the other Foundation Establishment cultivator was already inches from his chest.

"Earth-Shaking Finger!" Reyn let out a muffled grunt. The sword had already drained a third of his energy; now, he poured another forty percent into this singular technique. A translucent, crystalline finger, forged entirely from condensed spiritual energy, manifested in the air. It acted like a vacuum, violently sucking in the ambient Qi of the world. As it gorged itself on energy, the finger grew in size, and the pressure it exerted became increasingly suffocating.

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"What kind of bizarre technique is this? I cannot let it finish its absorption, or I'll be the one in the grave!" Wang Zihan's heart hammered against his ribs in terror. In a matter of seconds, the pressure from that crystalline digit had more than doubled.

"Go!" With a desperate flick of his mind, Wang Zihan's golden axe flared with blinding light, its speed surging as it slammed into the Earth-Shaking Finger. CRASH! Reyn groaned, a trickle of crimson escaping the corner of his mouth. The initial clash with Xuan Liao had already rattled his internal organs; this second collision with Wang Zihan, forced through sheer willpower, left his face as pale as parchment.

"Die, you little bastard!" Wang Zihan shrieked, seeing Reyn's weakness. He lunged forward, his weapon poised for the killing blow.

"Now!" A flash of blood-red light ignited in Reyn's eyes as he unleashed the Soul-Piercing Awl. Wang Zihan's face drained of color. An instinctive sense of doom washed over him, but before he could even twitch a muscle, the invisible mental spike slammed into his consciousness.

"AGHHH!" His sea of consciousness was ravaged. Blood sprayed from Wang Zihan's nose and mouth as he let out a soul-tearing scream. His body buckled, and he began to plummet toward the earth like a bird with clipped wings.

"Nephew Ziyang!" Xuan Liao cried out in horror. He blurred into motion, desperate to catch the falling man; a fall from several dozen meters in this state would be certain death. Sacrificing the sword, manifesting the finger, and launching the mental awl—Reyn had exhausted his most potent cards in a rapid-fire sequence. His goal was simple: an unexpected, decisive kill. If he allowed two Foundation Establishment cultivators to coordinate their assault, he stood no chance. Therefore, Wang Zihan had to die.

"Hmph!" With his spiritual energy nearly depleted and his Divine Sense flickering like a dying candle, Reyn's complexion was deathly white. Yet, ignoring his injuries, he reached into his sleeve and produced a High-grade Fire-Explosion Talisman. He ignited it with a final burst of Qi and hurled it at the falling Wang Zihan.

"NO!" In the distance, Xuan Liao let out a piteous wail. Wang Zihan was one of the few remaining True Inheritance Disciples of the Breeze Sect, a Foundation Establishment talent whose loss was an unbearable blow to the sect's future. The Fire-Explosion Talisman erupted with the force of a full-strength strike from a Foundation Establishment master. Though Wang Zihan was conscious, his mind was a shattered mess, unable to stabilize his Qi.

The flimsy spiritual shield he managed to conjure was shredded like wet paper. He could only watch with wide, terrified eyes as the conflagration engulfed him. In a silent burst of heat, Wang Zihan was consumed by the flames. His storage bag and spirit tool tumbled toward the forest floor below. Reyn didn't spare a glance for the loot. He blurred toward the carriage, scooped the unconscious Li Xiumei into his arms, and ignited his escape light, fleeing toward the horizon with every ounce of strength he had left.

"Little mongrel! I will pull your soul from your body and refine it in the pits of hell for eternity!" Xuan Liao's face was no longer that of a refined elder; it was a distorted mask of murderous rage.

"Collect the Junior Brother's remains and return to the base! Wait for me there. Once I have slaughtered these two, I will find you!" Xuan Liao barked at his subordinates. His escape light flared with a blinding intensity, and within a breath, he had vanished dozens of meters into the distance. Within the streak of light, Reyn swallowed several pills. As the medicinal heat spread through his meridians, some color returned to his face. However, the exhaustion of the soul was not so easily mended.

His head throbbed with a rhythmic, agonizing pulse, and gold spots danced before his eyes. He bit his tongue hard, the sharp tang of blood clearing his mind. Feeling the powerful aura closing in from behind, he cursed inwardly.

"At this rate, I'll be caught before the hour is out. I have to ground myself and use the terrain of these desolate mountains to hide." Reyn's eyes scanned the rugged earth below. He doused his light and dove toward a hidden crevice. He landed in a low-lying mountain ravine, barely eight meters deep, draped in thick, lush vines heavy with green fruits the size of a child's fist. A small spring bubbled nearby, feeding into a crystal-clear pond where several nameless fish swam in peaceful ignorance.

It was a serene scene, but Reyn had no time for beauty. He moved with frantic precision, disappearing into the shadows of the gorge.