Chapter Forty-Five: Bloodshed Bonds True Brothers

“He’s standing up!”

“This kid must be some kind of monster. How can he stand with wounds like that?”

On the plaza, every pair of eyes stared in disbelief at Luo Hao, trembling as he rose from the rubble. Though his entire body was soaked in blood, those scarlet, ferocious eyes showed not the slightest hint of fear as he fixed his gaze unwaveringly on Murong Ying.

Compared to the astonishment of the crowd, Luo Hao himself was inwardly alarmed by Murong Ying’s overwhelming strength—it had far surpassed his expectations. Even after recklessly employing the Blood Ignition Technique, the gulf between them remained insurmountable. This was, without doubt, the gravest life-or-death crisis he had faced since the ancient corpse atop Black Mountain.

“Oh, you can still dance, can you?” Murong Ying’s soft exclamation rang out as he watched Luo Hao force himself to stand. He knew precisely the power behind his previous blow—even a mid-stage Blood Condensation cultivator would have been gravely injured, let alone Luo Hao, a mere seventh-stage Qi Spirit ant, who had taken that strike head-on and could still rise to his feet.

Step by step, Luo Hao’s faltering body moved toward Murong Ying at the center of the plaza. With each pace, his face grew paler, tracing a bloody path from the shattered stones behind him.

Silence—an utter and deathly silence!

The entire scene was eerily bizarre; not a single voice could be heard. Even the disciples of the Ziwei Pavilion, who had longed for Luo Hao’s demise, fell mute at this moment.

His chest was caved in, the entire ribcage shattered, his organs displaced, and his meridians grievously damaged. Such injuries would have killed even a Blood Condensation cultivator on the spot.

Yet with wounds so dire, the man before them endured, clinging tenaciously to life. None could fathom what feelings roiled in his heart at this moment. What kind of willpower could sustain him through such devastating pain?

“Not a bad look in your eyes,” Murong Ying murmured, watching Luo Hao approach, those beastlike, blood-red eyes brimming with murderous intent. A chill ran through Murong Ying’s heart. This ant, a mere seventh-stage Qi Spirit, somehow unsettled him. Yet that sliver of unease was quickly severed by his formidable will.

“One last chance: submit or die!”

His tone was as cold as before, but Luo Hao’s tenacity had sparked in Murong Ying a faint desire to subdue him. Like a sovereign gazing down at his subjects, Murong Ying exuded an aura of peerless arrogance, his presence surging forth like the wrath of heaven.

Blood spurted from Luo Hao’s lips under the crushing pressure. “Get lost! If we were equals, I’d slaughter you like a dog.”

Blood mixing with his words, Luo Hao’s voice was icy and chilling as it rasped from his throat. Though not loud, every martial artist present heard it clearly—a naked challenge.

“Like an ant daring to glare at a dragon; Luo Hao has provoked Murong Ying again and again. Today, it seems, he’s doomed to die here.”

Sighs rippled through the martial artists encircling the plaza. A prodigious talent was about to perish before their eyes. Just as everyone thought Murong Ying would strike, the man atop the Death Stage suddenly laughed, his clear voice stirring the heavens. Spiritual power raged in the wake of his laughter. “Slaughter me like a dog if we were equals? Is this your final struggle? Very well, I’ll give you a chance—take two of my palms. If you can withstand them, we’ll let this matter rest.”

Since joining Celestial Sea Sect, Murong Ying had been held in high esteem by the elders and always prided himself as a genius—one with all the arrogance of genius. To him, Luo Hao’s words were a direct affront to his dignity.

The plaza erupted in astonishment. None had expected Murong Ying, holding such an advantage, to make this offer. As Murong Ying’s words fell, a faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered across Luo Hao’s lips.

“Murong Ying, you clearly mean to kill Brother Luo. Two palms, is it? I, Sikong Xuan, will take them in his place.”

Like a great bell, Sikong Xuan’s voice rang out as he shoved through the crowd, stepping between Luo Hao and Murong Ying, intercepting the oppressive force emanating from Murong Ying. Then, under countless gazes, Yan Longyuan calmly took his place beside Sikong Xuan. “If two blows aren’t enough, how about two more?”

Yan Longyuan’s gaze was deep and still as a dead pool, so calm it was terrifying. He seemed utterly unfazed by Murong Ying’s pressure, standing there in white robes and flowing black hair, as ethereal and unapproachable as a banished immortal.

“Is today supposed to be auspicious, I wonder? It seems this year’s newcomers are in need of a lesson. Let me show you what rules are.”

As he spoke, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth suddenly grew violent. A hand, white as jade, tore the air apart, slamming toward Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan.

The air exploded. That immense, spiritual hand, like the hand of heaven itself, bore the power to shatter mountains. Countless palm lines shone with blinding radiance as the hand crashed down to suppress them.

“Eight Desolations Annihilation Finger!”

Facing Murong Ying’s assault, Yan Longyuan dared not be careless. He jabbed a finger forward, shattering the void before him. Amid the fractured space, an earthen-yellow light coalesced into a massive finger, ancient and etched with profound patterns. Luo Hao, watching from behind, could see only half of the finger’s form—its entirety hidden from view—but its oppressive aura disturbed even the dragon force within his own body.

“Heaven-Annihilating Divine Thunder Seal!”

On the other side, Sikong Xuan roared as countless purple bolts of lightning crackled and coiled about him. In the stunned gaze of all, the lightning serpents converged between his hands, birthing an ancient, purple thunder seal.

Boom!

The age-worn finger and the thunder seal surged forth to meet Murong Ying’s spiritual hand. The earthen finger seemed to descend from an unknown realm, the thunder seal indestructible, while the palm lines on Murong Ying’s hand blazed with mysterious power that left all breathless.

Crash!

The instant the three forces collided in midair, the world itself seemed to freeze. Then, an explosion of terrifying energy erupted between them.

The shockwaves, potent enough to rend the void, surged like a tsunami. Under this onslaught, Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan were driven back, while Murong Ying remained unmoved, steadfast as a boulder. The disparity was instantly obvious; even united, Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan were no match for him.

“Look out! Roar—Tiger Descends the Mountain!”

With a furious roar, Luo Hao’s battered body lunged forward once more. His golden fist, carrying the last of his strength, swept out in a horizontal strike.

The tiger’s roar echoed as Luo Hao’s fist transformed into a fearsome tiger’s paw, shattering the force sweeping toward Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan.

Blood spurted from Luo Hao’s mouth, his face drained of all color. Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan too bled at the lips, clearly wounded by the recent clash.

“Brother, are you all right?” Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan, both injured, hurried to support Luo Hao, their faces full of concern. Luo Hao forced a smile and waved them off. “No need, my friends. Knowing you two has made my life worth it, even if I die here today. There’s just one thing I ask of you.”

“No more words. Brothers in this life, none in the next.” This time, it was Yan Longyuan, usually so calm, who spoke first, his voice uncharacteristically emotional.

“As it should be!”

Their brief exchange stirred the disciples of Celestial Sea Sect. What does it mean to be brothers? This is brotherhood—standing by your side in the darkest hour, sharing life and death, enduring hardship together.