Thanks for the Gift from This Ant

Ghost Hidden felt an inexplicable palpitation as he saw the cruel and sinister smile on Gu Qingfeng's face. His years of walking the line between life and death, honed by countless battles, screamed at him—danger! Danger! Extreme danger!

"Not good—run!"

The thought of fleeing had barely formed in his mind, his feet not yet moving, when suddenly a massive hand seized his right wrist—the one gripping his blade.

Ghost Hidden's expression twisted in horror as he struggled desperately, but the hand remained immovable, tightening relentlessly.

The sound of bones straining under pressure echoed.

Crack… crack…

"Ah!" Ghost Hidden let out a pained scream, his eyes flashing with ruthless determination. A surge of immortal light flickered at his right shoulder.

Swish!

His right arm severed instantly from his body, and in the next moment, he flickered several miles away, gasping for breath, his blood-red eyes locked onto Gu Qingfeng with venomous intensity.

He was an assassin. He knew exactly how lethal his attacks were. Yet, even his strongest strike had failed to leave so much as a scratch on Gu Qingfeng. What did that mean?

It meant this man's physical body had reached an unimaginable level of resilience.

That was why, the moment his arm was caught, Ghost Hidden had chosen to sever it without hesitation.

Against a body-refining cultivator like this, close-quarters combat meant certain death. The only chance of survival lay in hit-and-run tactics, wearing him down from a distance.

Gu Qingfeng glanced at the severed arm in his grasp, his cruel smile widening. "Escape? Do you really think you can escape this Emperor's grasp?"

With a sudden exertion of force—BANG!—the arm disintegrated into dust, while the obsidian dagger it had held was swiftly pocketed.

Ghost Hidden's eye twitched. His right arm had already regenerated, but that dagger was lost to him now.

"Now!" he barked, slashing his hand through the air.

In an instant, ripples tore through the void as over a dozen figures materialized, their overwhelming auras soaring into the heavens, shaking the skies and distorting space itself.

A dozen True Immortals charged toward Fairy Miaohua, Shangguan Wan'er, and the other two women, their immortal radiance blazing, murderous intent shaking the world.

Fairy Miaohua and the others paled. Under normal circumstances, such foes wouldn’t have been worth her notice. But now, grievously wounded, with less than a tenth of her strength remaining, facing a dozen True Immortals meant defeat was only a matter of time.

A blood-red warblade tore through the sky, wreathed in eerie crimson flames. A single slash transformed into a hundred-zhang-long dragon, descending upon Miaohua and the others.

Simultaneously, several other attacks of equal ferocity followed in rapid succession.

Among the three women, Shangguan Wan'er was the weakest, not yet having reached the True Immortal realm. Against a dozen True Immortals, she wouldn’t survive even a single strike.

Terrified, she immediately ducked behind her sister and master.

Shangguan Qing, though a True Immortal and no weakling, was still no match for a dozen of her peers. She could barely defend herself, let alone protect the others. In the end, everything depended on Fairy Miaohua—a starved camel was still larger than a horse.

Ignoring her injuries, Fairy Miaohua summoned every last drop of her power, raising her immortal sword to meet the onslaught. Purple lightning erupted around her, the sheer force of her counterattack shaking the heavens.

While the battle raged fiercely around the three women, Gu Qingfeng’s side was eerily calm.

Monk Faxu stared at him with grave intensity, while Ghost Hidden vanished into the void once more, lurking like a venomous serpent waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"May this humble monk ask… just who are you, benefactor?" Faxu asked solemnly.

Gu Qingfeng smirked disdainfully. "I’ll give you one last chance. Kneel before this Emperor as my dog, and I’ll spare your life."

Faxu’s face darkened with fury. "So the benefactor insists on being sent to the Western Paradise to embrace Buddha’s grace? Then this monk shall oblige!"

"Indestructible Vajra Body! Indestructible Vajra Form!"

Faxu roared, his body swelling violently, expanding dozens of zhang in height as eight arms sprouted from his back. Golden light cascaded over him like liquid, coating his skin in a divine sheen. Each of his eight hands wielded a sacred Buddhist treasure—prayer beads, a wooden fish, a lotus lamp—his entire form radiating solemn majesty, like a golden Buddha statue brought to life.

"Benefactor!" Faxu thundered. "The sea of suffering is boundless—let me send you to paradise!"

With that, the Buddha-like Faxu charged at Gu Qingfeng.

Every step he took shattered the earth, sending tremors rippling outward like an earthquake.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Despite his massive size, his speed was terrifying. In the blink of an eye, he was upon Gu Qingfeng, all eight arms striking simultaneously.

Gu Qingfeng’s interest was piqued. He met the assault head-on, his two fists clashing against Faxu’s eight arms in a frenzied exchange. Demonic energy erupted like a volcanic explosion, as if a demon god had descended upon the world.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The void itself fractured under their relentless barrage.

On one side, endless demonic energy surged; on the other, boundless Buddhist light clashed against it. The two forces collided so violently that the heavens and earth were split by a stark, dividing line.

A minute passed.

They fought from the skies to the earth, from the earth to the seas, leaving devastation in their wake. The landscape was ravaged, scarred by the aftershocks of their battle.

After countless thousands of blows, a crisp crack finally rang out.

A fissure appeared—visible to the naked eye—on Faxu’s Indestructible Vajra Body.

The battle raged on, but with that first crack, the damage spread like an avalanche. Crack! Crack! More and more fractures spiderwebbed across Faxu’s golden form, until he resembled a shattered statue on the verge of collapse.

"Impossible!" Faxu’s eyes bulged in disbelief. "You… you broke my Indestructible Vajra Body! This is the supreme divine technique of my Buddhist sect!"

Gu Qingfeng only looked disappointed. "Pathetic. This Emperor suppressed ninety percent of my strength just to enjoy a good, even fight. And yet, you couldn’t even last a minute."

"Arrogant fool!" Faxu snarled, his face contorted with rage. "Take this monk’s final technique—Ten Thousand Buddhas Pay Homage!"

With a furious roar, Faxu clasped all eight hands together, his body erupting in blinding golden radiance. Then, his hands formed a series of intricate seals.

An immense swastika symbol, woven from endless golden light, descended from the heavens, crushing down toward Gu Qingfeng with overwhelming force.

Seeing this, Gu Qingfeng decided to use… one and a half percent of his true power to respond.

But just as the swastika was about to land—

A sudden ambush!

Ghost Hidden, who had been lurking in the void all this time, appeared—right within the golden light of Faxu’s attack.

This had all been a setup. Faxu’s assault was merely a distraction—the real killing blow came from Ghost Hidden.

With eerie precision, Ghost Hidden struck, black lightning coiling around his body. His eyes gleamed with an abyssal glow, as if he had crawled straight from the depths of the underworld.

And in his hands—

A black spear.

Its body was obsidian-dark, crystalline like polished onyx, the tip glinting with a razor-sharp, soul-chilling edge. An aura of death and malice radiated from it.

The Spear of the Nether God—

The ultimate treasure of the Carefree Mountain sect, Ghost Hidden’s trump card.

Countless black lightning bolts crackled at its tip, the sheer terror of its presence suffocating.

"Die!"

Ghost Hidden roared, thrusting the spear with every ounce of his strength, his mana burning at its limit.

This strike—the pinnacle of his life’s training, the most flawless attack he had ever executed—was aimed straight at Gu Qingfeng’s heart.

With this strike, he was confident that no Earth Immortal could withstand it—only a Celestial Immortal might stand a chance.

But in the next moment, Ghost Hidden's expression froze.

Because his Nethergod Spear had stopped.

Before it could even pierce his enemy, it hovered motionless in midair.

Ghost Hidden stiffly lowered his gaze, only to see a pale yet powerful hand gripping the spear. The terrifying black lightning crackling along its length instantly dissipated.

Then, he could only watch helplessly as the Nethergod Spear was slowly, inexorably, wrenched from his grasp.

As the spear slipped away, his eyes grew increasingly vacant, his spirit seemingly draining with it.

"Many thanks for the gift, you insignificant insect," Gu Qingfeng's voice whispered beside Ghost Hidden's ear.

Then, his tone shifted abruptly, turning sinister and chilling.

"To repay your generosity, this Emperor shall use it to send you straight to hell. Heh heh heh..."