From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 479: Fight for the Artifact

The falling pebbles from the dome grazed my head and hit the ground. I was protected behind Wen Chen, and I could smell the faint scent of pine on his robes—his usual calming fragrance. Now, mixed with the burnt smell of burning lamp oil, it became the most reassuring anchor.

"Yaoyao, hold my wrist firmly." Wen Chen's voice was very low, but his palm quietly covered the back of my hand, and his fingertips gently caressed the dust-avoiding ring that he had carved himself on my wrist.

I looked up at his profile; his eyelashes cast dappled shadows beneath his eyes, and his pupils reflected the flickering firelight, showing no sign of panic.

This suddenly reminded me of the time when we first met, when he stood atop the Zhuxian Cliff, his robes billowing in the wind, and said, "Come with me," with the same look in his eyes.

The dark wind rushed over again.

His short blade, gleaming with black light, left a winding scorch mark on the ground, each step causing the floor tiles to crack.

That's when I noticed the iron chain wrapped around his ankle—when he knocked over the bronze lamp earlier, half of a rusty chain was exposed under the lamp base, which must have been the original mechanism of this secret room. Now it was making a rattling sound with his movements, just like a death knell.

“You’ve been planning this all along,” I suddenly said.

Mo Feng paused, a twisted smile spreading across his face: "Not bad."

A hundred years ago, I bribed the tomb keeper to pour bone-corroding powder into the base of the statue.

"You think you can get the sword just by passing the trial?" He staggered, kicking away a piece of gravel. "By the time the sword recognizes its master, the earth's veins will be burned through by the Bone-Corroding Powder, the entire mountain will collapse, and even a Celestial Venerable would have to be used as a coffin lid for me!"

Wen Chen gently pinched the back of my hand with her fingertips.

I understand what he means—to stall for time.

The longsword in the light mist rang out again, and the plum blossom petals on its tassel were slowly unfurling, as if absorbing something.

I looked down at my palm; the plum blossom print was so red it was almost bleeding, so hot I could barely hold Wen Chen's hand.

"Ling'er, take Xuepo to the corner!" I shouted.

The little girl, who had been huddled at the hem of my skirt, grabbed the edge of the light mist and ran away upon hearing this. Xue Po's wolf howl came from the lamp, as if in response.

Mo Feng's gaze followed Ling'er for a moment, and I took the opportunity to pull Wen Chen behind the stone pillar—the pillar had just cracked and was now shedding stone dust, which served as a natural cover.

“He’s badly injured,” Wen Chen whispered in my ear.

Only then did I notice that Mo Feng had a deep wound on his left abdomen, exposing the bone, and black blood was flowing down his trouser leg, pooling on the ground.

It must have been from being cut by shards when he smashed the crystal earlier—that crystal contained the spiritual energy of past trial participants, which was inherently countered by his practice of evil arts.

The opportunity is here.

I pulled out a crystal shard from my pocket—a piece of crystal had rolled to my feet when Ling'er pulled me earlier, and it was now burning hot against my palm. "Wen Lang, I'll lure him over!" I whispered, and before he could reply, I flung the shard out.

The shards of crystal ripped through the air and struck the bronze lamp at Mo Feng's feet with a "ding".

"You're asking for death!" Mo Feng roared as he pounced, the wind from his short blade stinging my cheek.

Wen Chen drew his jade flute from his waist with a backhand motion, and the flute tubes struck each other, producing a clear and melodious sound—it was a sword move he had improved, using the flute as a sword, specifically to break evil spells.

The black light struck Xiao, scattering sparks of purple flame. Mo Feng groaned and staggered back two steps.

Just then, the longsword in the mist suddenly burst forth with dazzling golden light.

The plum blossom print on my palm suddenly felt hot, as if a warm current rushed up my head through my veins.

The six-petaled plum blossom on the sword tassel came to life, its petals drifting off the sword and swirling around me to form a wall of flowers.

As Mo Feng's short blade slashed down, the plum blossom petals snapped shut, shredding the black light into fragments.

"This is... a proclamation of acknowledging God?" Wen Chen's voice was filled with surprise.

Looking at the plum blossom petals, I suddenly recalled a passage from an ancient text: "For the Plum Blossom Sword to recognize its master, the wielder must have a strong conviction." I gripped Wen Chen's hand tightly. "My conviction is to shatter all injustice—including that of people like him."

Mo Feng's pupils suddenly contracted.

He suddenly bit his tongue, black blood spurting onto the short blade, which instantly expanded into a demonic blade half his height. "Forbidden technique?" Wen Chen's face darkened. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What do you mean by death!" Mo Feng's hair stood on end, and his face was covered with purplish-blue veins. "As long as I can kill you, what does it matter if I fall into the deepest hell!" He raised his demonic blade, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared in the ground, and even the cracks on the stone pillars spread rapidly.

I pulled out the Key of Destiny—a treasure I obtained on the banks of the River of Oblivion, capable of using the power of heaven and earth to create barriers.

Golden light patterns spread along the key teeth, forming a semi-transparent barrier around us.

When the demonic blade struck, the barrier rippled, but remained unbroken.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Wen Chen leaned forward and used his jade flute to strike Mo Feng's Jianjing acupoint—the vital point of evil cultivators. Mo Feng froze, and his demonic blade clattered to the ground.

“It’s over.” I released the Key of Destiny, and the barrier slowly dissipated.

Mo Feng slumped to the ground, staring at the demonic blade and laughing: "The end?"

"You're all too naive..." He suddenly reached for the demonic blade, pressing the tip against his heart. "I have one last move—"

The tremors of the earth veins suddenly became more intense, and even the luminous mist began to shake.

My heart tightened, and I was about to rush over when I saw Mo Feng's body suddenly glow with a strange red light.

His pupils turned blood red, and his mouth stretched to his ears, revealing gleaming white teeth: "Xiao Yao, Wen Chen...you think you've won?" His voice became shrill, as if possessed by another person, "My Mo family has raised ghosts for generations, and this body still has ten vengeful spirits locked inside!"

A muffled thud came from the dome, and a stone the size of a millstone crashed down where we had just been standing, the flying debris stinging my calves.

Wen Chen quickly shielded me behind him. As I looked at Mo Feng's increasingly distorted face, I suddenly had a bad feeling—his weakness just now might have been a facade.

The longsword in the misty light was still ringing, and the plum petals were still swirling, but the aura emanating from Mo Feng was more than ten times stronger than before.

I gripped Wen Chen's hand tightly; the plum blossom print on his palm was so hot it felt like it was burning through my skin.

This time, the real battle is probably only just beginning.

Mo Feng's fingernails suddenly grew three inches long, gleaming with a bluish-black luster, and pierced into the ground, crushing the pebbles into powder in his palm.

His neck bent backward at an eerie angle, and ten dark figures emerged from his seven orifices—they were vengeful ghosts!

The ghostly creatures shrieked and coiled into vortexes, each one shrouded in rotting resentment. I could even smell the stench of rotting flesh mixed with rust.

"Watch out!" Wen Chen's arms tightened suddenly, pulling me into his embrace.

The red-robed demon at the front had already pounced on us, its tongue lolling out long, the tip of which was a bone needle with barbs.

Suddenly, the dust-repelling ring on my wrist became hot. The calming mantra engraved on the ring by Wen Chen emitted a white light. When the ghost touched the light, it let out a piercing scream and turned into black mist, dissipating most of its energy.

But the remaining nine ghosts, like vicious dogs that have smelled blood, surged forward even more frantically.

Mo Feng's laughter mingled with the ghostly howls, and his face began to melt, revealing a bluish-gray skull beneath: "Xiao Yao, aren't you the best at picking up bargains?"

Now let's see if your luck is faster, or my curse is faster!

Black blood seeped from the cracks in the ground, and the moment it touched the tip of my shoe, it corroded a hole.

With my back pressed against Wen Chen's chest, I could clearly feel his heart pounding like a drum—not out of fear, but because he was rapidly circulating his spiritual energy.

His jade flute was pressed against my waist, the flute vibrating and buzzing, as if he was breathing on me.

"Yaoyao, hold on tight to the sword tassel," he suddenly whispered in my ear.

Only then did I realize that, without my noticing, the long sword in the mist had floated above my head, and the plum blossom petals on the sword tassel were sinking into the plum blossom imprint in my palm.

The heat flowed through my body along my meridians, and even my calves, which had been corroded by the black blood, no longer hurt.

It turns out that when the Plum Blossom Sword recognized its master, it was able to activate the dormant spiritual root within me.

"Wen Lang!" I had barely uttered half a word when Mo Feng suddenly let out a strange cry like a broken gong.

The ten ghosts merged together, forming a three-zhang-tall ghostly demon with eerie green flames burning in its eye sockets. With a swipe of its sharp claws, it overturned half of a stone pillar.

I was thrown off balance by the blast wave, but Wen Chen's arms were like cast iron, tightly gripping my lower back.

"Go!" He suddenly shoved me.

I crashed into the light mist behind me, and the barrier softened, holding me firmly in place.

When he looked up again, Wen Chen was already standing in front of Gui Sha, his jade flute shimmering with starlight—that was his trump card, the "Starfall Technique," which he would never use unless it was a matter of life and death.

The demon's claws reached for Wen Chen's heart, and I could even see the corpse poison congealing at its fingertips. "No—" I screamed and tried to rush forward, but the light mist suddenly tightened, like a transparent cocoon trapping me in place.

Wen Chen turned to look at me, a faint smile appearing on his lips—the same smile he had when he shielded me from the Yin Fire while we were surrounded by ghost messengers on the banks of the River of Oblivion.

Blood blossomed on his chest.

The ghostly claw pierced through his Taoist robe, and I could even see the white bone fragments.

Wen Chen swayed, but still held up the jade flute, the sound of which carried a chilling coldness like shattered ice: "Yao Yao, the Plum Blossom Sword needs your unwavering resolve." His blood dripped onto the ground, and tiny white flowers bloomed—those were my favorite magnolias, which he said he would plant all over our courtyard.

I suddenly realized.

The plum blossom seal was burning hot before, waiting for me to fully awaken my obsession; Wen Chen blocking this attack was to give me one last chance.

Tears blurred my vision, yet I laughed, my voice trembling. "Wen Lang, the obsession I hold for has never been the position of a celestial being." I clenched the plum blossom seal in my palm, the warmth there suddenly turning into a burning pain. "It's about standing at the same level as you, protecting you completely."

The light mist exploded with a "boom".

The plum blossom sword fell into my hand with a "whoosh," and all the plum petals on the tassel disappeared into the blade. The originally white blade turned blood red, as if it had been soaked in the most concentrated cinnabar.

Mo Feng's ghostly aura let out a terrified scream. It tried to escape, but as the sword hummed, nine sword shadows condensed in the air—those were the "Nine Plum Blossoms Breaking Evil Technique" that I had copied a hundred times in the library. It turned out that I had been waiting for this moment all along.

"Go!" I brandished my sword.

Nine sword shadows fell like meteors, piercing through the ghost's chest.

It let out a piercing wail and vanished into countless black dots in the air.

Mo Feng's true form lay sprawled on the ground, his skin peeled away, leaving only bones, yet he still grinned: "You killed me... the ley lines... will still..."

“The earth’s veins won’t collapse.” I walked over, stepping on his bones, the tip of my sword pressed against his brow bone. “Ling’er has long since replaced the bone-corroding powder with Snow Soul’s saliva—that stuff can dissolve rust, but not corrode rock.” Mo Feng’s pupils suddenly contracted; this was the last expression he could show.

With a slight twist of my wrist, the blade pierced his brow, and his bones instantly turned to ashes.

The sealed room suddenly shook violently.

The rubble above rained down, and I hurriedly rushed towards Wen Chen.

His eyes were closed, and blood was still seeping from the wound on his chest, but his breathing was relatively steady.

I tore off half of my sleeve to bandage him, but a clear female voice came from above: "Having passed the ultimate trial, the Plum Blossom Sword has successfully recognized its master."

Is that Ling'er's voice?

No, it's more steady, like the tolling of an ancient bell.

I looked up, and a woman in a green robe appeared in the misty light. Her features were seven parts similar to Ling'er's, and she was probably the true guardian of the ruins. "But you must remember," she said, her gaze sweeping over Wen Chen and me, "that Mo Feng is just a minor ailment."

Three days later, the extraterrestrial demons will break through the boundary and enter.

The tremors suddenly subsided.

Ling'er emerged from behind the stone pillar, holding Xuepo in her arms, while the little wolf licked her dusty face.

Wen Chen's eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes: "Yao Yao, I think I smell the scent of magnolia flowers." He wiped the tears from my face with his fingertips. "That sword move just now... was very beautiful."

I looked down at the plum blossom sword in my hand; the bloodstains on the blade were fading, returning to their pure white color.

The stone door to the secret chamber creaked softly, letting in the sunlight from outside.

But I know that the real storm is just beginning.