Chapter 47: Execution of Mo Daoren
At the instant Han Yu closed his eyes, awaiting death—
"Old thief!" A furious shout thundered like a bolt of lightning. "Birth, aging, sickness, and death, the cycle of heaven and reincarnation! You cultivate evil arts and seek to seize another's body—you will surely suffer divine retribution!"
Senior Brother Li!?
Hearing that familiar voice, Han Yu's eyes snapped open. He stared at the cave entrance in disbelief—
It was indeed Li Hanzhou!
He still wore coarse linen clothes, eyes blazing with fury, fixed firmly on Mo Daoren.
Perhaps from excessive agitation, his chest heaved violently, and his words came with heavy breaths.
Mo Daoren was first startled, but once he saw clearly, he burst into wild laughter. "Hahaha! And who did I think it was? So it's you, the worthless one!"
His gaunt face twisted with ridicule. "That day you escaped, and today you dare deliver yourself here to die? Perfect! I happen to lack a corpse puppet—today I gain double fortune! Moreover…"
He flicked his sleeve, a sinister wind surging forth. "You speak of divine retribution? I toiled bitterly for a hundred years, day and night without rest, yet remained stuck at the Profound Link Realm without progress! Now, my lifespan nears its end! If there truly is heaven's will, then heaven's will is nothing but unjust!"
"Senior Brother Li, run!"
Han Yu's eyes burned, yet he knew Li Hanzhou was no match for the demonic cultivator. He shouted urgently—when suddenly—
"Whether there is a heaven's will above, I do not know," a lazy voice echoed, "but fairness may yet exist in this world."
Whoosh!
A white-robed figure drifted down like flowing clouds, landing firmly before Han Yu.
Turning back, he winked at Han Yu with a smile at his lips. "Young friend, my character reading was accurate enough, was it not?"
Han Yu's heart pounded so wildly he nearly could not speak. "Sir…"
"It's you?" Mo Daoren's expression darkened. "So that day, you were the one who rescued that waste!"
"And what if it was?"
Mo Daoren snarled bitterly. "You and I are strangers. Why do you repeatedly ruin my plans?"
"Why, you ask—" Chen Chang'an pretended to ponder. "Did I not say? This world does have fairness… but perhaps it is also because you are simply too ugly."
Mo Daoren appeared deranged, nearly maddened by the sense of failing at the last step. "Fairness? What is fairness?"
"Since you so earnestly ask,"
Hearing the constant prompts resound in his mind—[Han Yu Loyalty +5] [Han Yu Loyalty +5]—Chen Chang'an was in high spirits. He laughed aloud—
"Zheng!"
The long sword left its sheath, cold light illuminating the cave.
"I shall mercifully tell you—listen well!"
He flicked the sword edge with his finger, the clear cry like a dragon's roar soaring to the heavens.
"How about this 'fairness' of mine?"
Then, sword light like lightning pierced straight toward Mo Daoren's throat, carving a blinding arc in the darkness of the cave!
"Nine Heavens Thunder Movement—Thunderclap!"
Chen Chang'an struck first, for this incarnation of his was far from the true body, capable of only the early Profound Link Realm's strength.
Among the supreme immortal arts he had mastered, the Heaven-Blocking Sword was peerless for defense, but for sheer offense, none surpassed the Nine Heavens Thunder Movement Sword Art!
Mo Daoren, believing he had already seen through Chen Chang'an's foundation, gave a sinister laugh. His gaunt frame twisted like a specter, black robes surging as dozens of streaks of black qi coalesced into venomous serpents, hissing as they lunged at Chen Chang'an.
"Merely early Profound Link, and you dare act rampant before me?"
Chen Chang'an swiftly retreated, his sword sweeping across, thunder exploding as the black serpents were all cut down. Yet the scattered black qi reformed in midair into a giant ghostly claw that crashed down fiercely!
"Boom!"
The ground split, stones flying. Chen Chang'an barely dodged, but his robe was grazed, instantly corroding into a charred hole.
Though his heart grew cautious, his face remained calm, even smiling faintly. "Old Mo ghost, this rotten flesh of yours matches your cultivation technique well."
Mo Daoren laughed in rage. "Sharp-tongued! Soon I shall rip out your soul—let us see if you can still speak then!"
Yet inwardly he lamented. If he could seize this youth's body, it would surely be stronger than Han Yu's. Unfortunately, at the Profound Link Realm, body and soul were nearly fused, difficult to separate.
Bringing his palms together, the blood-red runes within the cave suddenly blazed. Thick blood seeped from the ground, quickly rising to his ankles.
"Did you think I made no preparations?"
Ever since Li Hanzhou's rescue, he had been secretly on guard, hence this cave's arrangement.
"Blood Prison Trapping Immortal Formation—rise!"
The blood churned, forming countless tendrils that bound toward Chen Chang'an's legs. At the same time, from Mo Daoren's sleeve flew a bone dagger, shrieking sharply as it stabbed straight for Chen Chang'an's chest!
"Sir, beware!" Han Yu cried from behind.
Chen Chang'an's eyes sharpened, spiritual power surging madly within. Thunderlight erupted from his sword.
"Nine Heavens Thunder Movement—Heaven's Punishment!"
"Boom—ka!"
A true bolt of thunder burst forth from the sword's edge, instantly shattering the blood-water tendrils and colliding fiercely with the bone dagger!
In the blinding white light, the dagger splintered inch by inch. Yet Mo Daoren seized the opportunity to close in, his withered palm glowing with eerie green light as it struck directly at Chen Chang'an's dantian.
"Die!"
At that critical instant, Chen Chang'an's left hand formed a seal, and a streak of golden light shot from his sleeve.
"Clang!"
A small bronze shield blocked Mo Daoren's strike, but the overwhelming force still drove Chen Chang'an back several steps, forcing him outside the cave. A trace of blood welled at the corner of his mouth.
Seeing his opponent injured, Mo Daoren pressed the advantage relentlessly, sweeping both sleeves as he pursued.
But in the next moment, Chen Chang'an bit his tongue sharply, spitting a mouthful of essence blood onto his sword.
"Nine Heavens Thunder Movement—Divine Firmament!"
Instantly, dark clouds gathered around the cave, and nine bolts of thunder roared down like enraged dragons!
"Impossible!" Mo Daoren's expression finally changed. "How can you summon heavenly thunder?!"
He hastily produced a black banner, countless resentful spirits shrieking forth to form dark clouds above his head.
The thunderclaps collided with the black haze, the blinding brilliance rendering all temporarily sightless.
When vision cleared, Mo Daoren knelt half-collapsed on the ground. His black robe was charred and shredded, while the black banner had turned to ash.
"Cough… cough…" He spat black blood, raising a ferocious face. "So this is Heaven's Punishment… but do you think it ends here?"
He tore open his chest garment, revealing a shriveled torso covered in etched runes.
"With my essence blood, I summon the Corpse Demon!"
"Desperate now?" Chen Chang'an sneered coldly. "Old ghost, did you think I lured you outside despite injury for no reason?"
Hearing his words, Mo Daoren's heart suddenly lurched.
A pillar of blood light shot skyward, the cave roof collapsing with a deafening crash. Amid the dust, a massive cyan-black claw slowly emerged…
Chen Chang'an drew a deep breath, raising his sword to the heavens. At once, tribulation thunder descended in a vortex, weaving into a net around him.
"Nine Heavens Thunder Movement—Ten Thousand Tribulations!"
In the next instant, Chen Chang'an became pure lightning, merging with his sword, and pierced straight through Mo Daoren's left chest!
"Puh!"
The blade pierced through, blood gushing from Mo Daoren's chest. His eyes widened, staring in disbelief at the gaping wound.
"You…"
His vision began to blur.
At the same time, he felt his soul fracturing, breaking apart like dried clay crumbling away.
Am I dying?
The thought was so absurd it nearly made him laugh. He had cultivated for centuries, abandoned his humanity, slaughtered peers, even attempted to seize disciples' bodies, all in pursuit of immortality—yet in the end, he fell to an unknown sword cultivator?
Memories surged before his eyes like a lantern show.
As a boy, he was a mountain village child, taken into the sect for his spiritual root talent. His master had patted his head and said, "This child's gift is excellent; within a hundred years, he will surely enter the Profound Connection Realm."
As a youth, he cultivated tirelessly, his peers calling him "Dao fanatic." But one day, he watched helplessly as a less-talented junior, by sheer fortune, broke through with ease, leaving him far behind.
As a middle-aged man, he killed for the first time. His victim, an innocent rogue cultivator, had carried a single "Profound Spirit Herb" that promised advancement.
The memories flooded on.
He descended into obsession with slaughter and treasure-plundering, yet no matter how many spirit herbs he consumed, the barrier of the Profound Connection Realm stood immovable before him.
He turned to corpse puppetry, blood-forging arts, even remade himself into something half-human, half-ghost. His peers branded him demonic, his master banished him with tears.
The final image froze on this day.
His last gaze fell on Han Yu—the youth still pale with fear, his face childish, yet possessing the young body and future that Mo Daoren had yearned for all his life.
Why…
Mo Daoren's mouth opened, black blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
"Heav… en's… will… not—"
Before he could finish, his body shattered inch by inch like brittle pottery. The Corpse Demon, never fully manifested, dissolved into nothingness with a resentful roar.
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