Wu Siyuan spotted the blazing rescue signal high above the sky. Without hesitation, he tore through the void and sped toward it.
At that same moment, all Heavenly Sword Sect disciples still in the mortal realm saw two crossed longswords blazing in the heavens. It was the sect's rallying call. They immediately changed course, racing toward the signal's origin.
Jian Wu also caught sight of it. That signal was sent by Ink Jade from the Law Enforcement Hall. And not just a single flare — both the bright and covert signals had been fired. That meant the situation was dire.
He rose into the air in a flash, feet on his life-bound sword, surging toward the danger.
Imperial Palace, Tian Qing Kingdom
The National Preceptor gazed at Meng Zhonglun, who had been bound so tightly he could barely move. A greedy smile curled across his pale, sunken face.
"Hahaha! Heaven does not forsake me. At last, my opportunity arrives. I have long wished for a new body, and you came at precisely the right time."
Face to face, Meng Zhonglun remained steady despite his restraints. Amber eyes shimmered with calm as he regarded the gaunt demon cultivator before him.
"You intend to seize my body."
"Smart man. This body of mine is finished. I had planned to choose someone from among the sacrificial offerings, but they were all mortals. Even with spirit roots, they would need to start cultivating from scratch. But if I take your body, I become a Nascent Soul cultivator instantly. Saves me years of effort."
"Hmph. Dream on."
"Hahaha. Whether it is a dream, you will know once I have taken your flesh."
The National Preceptor stepped close. His Primordial Soul turned into a mass of black light and plunged into Meng Zhonglun's sea of consciousness. His original body withered in an instant, collapsing into a shriveled husk before toppling lifeless to the floor.
The instant the intruder entered his sea of consciousness, Meng Zhonglun's own Primordial Soul emerged as a white sphere of light.
The black light lunged first, tearing a shred from Meng Zhonglun's soul. Pain rippled through him, but he countered without hesitation, biting back a piece of the other.
Black and white crashed together in a savage struggle, twisting and clashing in the sea of consciousness. Each bite Meng Zhonglun landed stained his own soul a little darker — the corruption of demonic qi creeping into him — but he grit his teeth and fought on.
Wu Siyuan arrived just in time to sense something was wrong. One sweep of his divine sense told him no one could help Meng Zhonglun now. This battle was his alone.
With a flick of his hand, Wu Siyuan sliced apart the brown-red vein that bound Meng Zhonglun and cast a protective barrier around him.
Then his sword plunged straight into the palace floor, pinning the fleeing blood sac to the ground. The entire palace shuddered. From beneath the earth, the blood sac's thick tendrils burst upward, dragging living victims into its pulsing mass.
The inner court dissolved into chaos. Wu Siyuan's frown deepened. If this continued, the entire city would die with it. He formed a rapid seal, and a great barrier fell over the whole palace.
Jian Wu arrived on his sword, seeing Wu Siyuan already engaged. Hovering in midair above the capital, his voice boomed through every street:
"Disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect are here to slay a evil cultivator. All civilians, evacuate the city at once to avoid harm!"
The quake had already roused the populace. Seeing the white-clad immortal above, they knew disaster had arrived. They snatched up clothes and bundles and poured toward the gates.
The city guards dared not hinder them — this was an immortal's command. They threw open the gates and let the flood of people escape.
More Heavenly Sword Sect cultivators were already on their way, their pace quickening at the surge of spiritual energy ahead.
Once the streets cleared, Jian Wu entered the barrier. His sword, Thunderclap, flashed with lightning as he struck, cleaving one of the blood sac's massive tendrils in half.
Wu Siyuan and Jian Wu fought side by side, each sword strike mercilessly hacking into the blood sac. The ground quaked with every blow, half the palace reduced to rubble. Any survivors were whisked to safety with a sweep of Wu Siyuan's sleeve.
By the time the first strike team arrived, more were closing in fast. Wu Siyuan barely had a chance to continue before the younger cultivators took over.
It was a rare chance to temper themselves, and they took turns assaulting the blood sac, grinding it down until Wu Siyuan finally finished it with a burst of alien flame that left not even ash.
Within the barrier, they worked quickly to cleanse the foul blood before it could taint the palace grounds.
Wu Siyuan raised his hand. "Leave one squad here to gather information. The rest, proceed with the original plan. We have already clashed with evil cultivators. Such a commotion will drive them deeper into hiding. You must act with greater care from now on. Understood?"
"Yes, Zūnzhǔ. We will be vigilant."
Jian Wu added, "Watch for messages from Ink Jade. Maintain contact. If you encounter trouble beyond your means, send a warning at once."
"Understood."
The cultivators mounted their swords and departed. Below, the people fell to their knees in gratitude.
Wu Siyuan and Jian Wu went to Meng Zhonglun's side. His body alternated between emitting tendrils of demonic qi and bursts of spiritual light. The possession struggle had reached its peak.
Jian Wu's brows drew tight. This was dangerous. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He slipped a string of prayer beads from his wrist and pressed them into Meng Zhonglun's hand.
The moment they touched, the beads glowed with gentle Buddhist light, spreading from his palm to every inch of his body. At his head, the light met the seeping evil qi and began to resist it.
In his sea of consciousness, Meng Zhonglun suddenly felt lighter. The black taint on his soul thinned. Someone was helping him. It must have been a fellow disciple who saw his distress signal. He rallied himself for another round of battle.
When the sun rose in the east, Meng Zhonglun opened his eyes. His amber gaze was clear and steady. A sweep of Wu Siyuan's divine sense confirmed that he had not been possessed, though his cultivation had fallen to mid-Golden Core, a full realm lower.
Meng Zhonglun rose and bowed. "Many thanks to Wu Zūnzhǔ and Jian Wu Jūnshàng for guarding me, allowing me to defeat this demon cultivator's soul."
He held out the prayer beads to return them.
Jian Wu waved a hand. "Keep the Bodhi Beads. I order you to return to the sect at once and report to Jian Lu Zūnshàng. I will assign someone to take your place."
"Yes. This was my failure. I allowed a demon cultivator to find me, leading to this disaster."
"It is not your fault. Do not blame yourself. Obey orders."
"Yes!"
By now, Wu Siyuan had restored the palace to its former state. But with the demon cultivator dead, the emperor who had enjoyed youth restored through foul arts suddenly aged into a feeble old man, barely clinging to life. He sent his descendants to beg the immortals for an extension of his years.
Jian Wu's eyes flashed with scorn. This so-called ruler had bargained with a evil cultivator for longevity, kept the blood sac in his palace, and fed it who knew how many lives just to regain his youth.
Jian Wu merely pointed at a reluctant-looking man among the imperial kin. "The emperor's lifespan is over and his dragon qi has dispersed. This is your new emperor. His dragon qi is complete. Prepare the succession."
Without another word, he took Meng Zhonglun and vanished from sight.
When the new emperor went to deliver the message, he found the old one already dead. For a moment, he could not tell whether to feel more relief or grief.