The Fear of the Red Moon Demon Sect, the Martial God Body Begins to Lose Control

Perfected Qingmu slowly drew his iron sword.

Master Iron Sword led the remnants of the six sects and charged to the front of the formation.

The two sides confronted each other across hundreds of feet of yellow sand.

On one side was a defeated and fleeing army.

On the other side was a pursuing army.

On one side were the old allies.

On the other side were the new subjects.

Master Iron Sword was covered in blood, and the iron sword in his hand had been broken in half.

He stared fixedly at Perfected Qingmu.

"Qingmu!"

"Have you forgotten that when we came to the Western Regions together, we swore to live and die together?!"

The hand holding the sword of Perfected Qingmu trembled slightly.

There were tears in his eyes.

But his voice was very calm.

"I haven't forgotten."

Master Iron Sword laughed angrily.

"Haven't forgotten?"

"If you haven't forgotten, then why did you lead Wang Hao's army to kill me?"

Perfected Qingmu closed his eyes and opened them again.

"It is precisely because I haven't forgotten that I can't watch the remaining disciples die with you."

"Iron Sword, surrender."

"Wang Hao at least... won't kill surrendered soldiers."

These words were spoken with difficulty.

Because he knew this was not forgiveness.

It was utilization.

Wang Hao didn't kill surrendered soldiers because surrendered soldiers could still be used as soldiers, guides, cannon fodder, and a source of taxes.

To an emperor, a dead person only had value once.

A living person could be squeezed many times.

Master Iron Sword obviously understood too.

He laughed miserably, "Surrender?"

"Let our disciples go and be Wang Hao's cannon fodder?"

"Go fight the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect?"

"Go fight the Heavenly Secret Pavilion?"

"What's the difference between dying on the battlefield and being treated as a consumable!"

Perfected Qingmu was speechless.

Because what Iron Sword said was the truth.

Since the western expedition, the casualties of the Great Zhou Imperial Guards had been extremely low.

But the various sects, aristocratic families, and guest elders of the Demon Suppression Alliance had died crop after crop.

Wang Hao used benefits to tie them to his war chariot.

Then he used military law to make them unable to get off the chariot.

This chariot went all the way west, and under its wheels were not only demons but also the bones of their own people.

But Perfected Qingmu had no turning back.

He said in a low voice, "At least some can live."

Master Iron Sword was stunned.

Then he looked up at the sky and laughed.

"Some can live?"

"Qingmu, you weren't like this before."

"You used to say, if we live, we live together; if we die, we die together."

A cloudy old tear slid down the corner of Perfected Qingmu's eye.

"When people get old, they are afraid of seeing young people die."

Master Iron Sword fell silent.

The wind and sand swept between the two of them.

Eight hundred years of friendship was like a string pulled to its limit.

Finally.

Master Iron Sword raised his broken sword.

"Having our bones buried in the yellow sand is better than kneeling as slaves."

"Disciples of the six sects!"

"Follow me to break through!"

The sound of killing suddenly arose.

The Demon Suppression Crossbows fired simultaneously.

Buzz—!

Tens of thousands of astral-piercing crossbow bolts tore through the dusk, like a black rainstorm.

Master Iron Sword roared and slashed out with his sword.

Sword qi shot across the sky, shattering hundreds of crossbow bolts.

But more crossbow bolts fell into the crowd.

Puff, puff, puff!

Blood flowers bloomed in the desert.

Disciples of the six sects fell in rows.

Someone was still calling out for their master before they died.

Someone had their chest nailed through just as they drew their sword.

Someone knelt on the ground, clutching their abdomen, blankly watching the blood flowing from between their fingers.

Xiao Chen stood on the flank, his face ugly.

He had killed demons.

He had killed anomalies.

He had killed people who deserved to die.

But this battle made his heart feel blocked.

What were these people?

Rebels?

Abandoned pieces?

Or a group of pitiful worms pushed around by various giants, finally dying in the desert?

Ye Guyun said in a low voice, "Don't be soft-hearted on the battlefield."

Xiao Chen gripped his sword hilt tightly.

"I know."

Wanyan Gu looked ahead, uncharacteristically not making any jokes.

He muttered a curse, "This Wang Hao is really ruthless."

New Emperor Sword squatted on a nearby sand dune at some unknown point, holding his scabbard and watching the show.

He said seriously, "You humans are just troublesome."

"If you want to kill, just kill. You insist on first talking about two hundred years of brotherhood."

"After talking, you kill, and it feels even worse."

Wanyan Gu glared at him.

"Shut up."

New Emperor Sword sighed.

"This is called battlefield psychological analysis. It's very professional."

On the other side, Master Iron Sword had already fought through two military formations.

He was bathed in blood, and his broken sword had cracked with numerous fissures.

Perfected Qingmu finally moved.

He took a step out, and a green light appeared between heaven and earth.

His wooden sword was unsheathed.

There was no earth-shattering sword light.

Only a thin green line.

That green line crossed the yellow sand, crossed the corpses, and crossed the eight hundred years of time between the two.

Master Iron Sword turned and slashed.

Clang!

Iron sword clashed with iron sword.

A crisp sound.

The iron sword completely broke.

Perfected Qingmu's iron sword pierced into Master Iron Sword's chest.

Time seemed to stand still.

Master Iron Sword looked down at the blade embedded in his chest.

Blood flowed down the wooden sword, dyeing the green patterns red.

He looked up at Perfected Qingmu.

There was no hate in his eyes.

Only exhaustion.

"You... can't turn back."

Perfected Qingmu's voice choked.

"I know."

A smile suddenly appeared at the corner of Master Iron Sword's mouth.

In that smile, there was sarcasm, and there was also relief.

"This is good too."

"At least I don't have to look at this world ruined by Wang Hao anymore."

After he finished speaking, his body slowly fell.

The yellow sand caught him.

Like catching a broken iron sword.

Perfected Qingmu stood rooted to the spot, his wooden sword hanging down, blood dripping.

He didn't cry out loud.

But his whole person seemed to have aged ten years.

The remnants of the six sects quickly collapsed.

Some died in battle.

Some surrendered.

Some knelt on the sand and wailed.

This battle ended very quickly.

So fast it was like an execution.

On a distant sand dune.

Wang Hao stood with his hands behind his back, his dragon robe flapping in the wind and sand.

The Thunder Abyss Demon Suppression Pagoda hovered above his head, its thunder patterns flickering.

Wei Zhongxian stood behind him and said in a low voice, "Your Majesty, Master Iron Sword is dead."

Wang Hao nodded.

"I see."

Wei Zhongxian hesitated for a moment.

"Should we send someone to comfort Perfected Qingmu?"

Wang Hao looked at that aged back in the distance.

"No need."

Wei Zhongxian was startled.

Wang Hao said indifferently, "A person with a broken heart is more useful than a person with a heart."

"A person with a heart will hesitate."

"A person with a broken heart only has orders left."

Wei Zhongxian lowered his head.

"Your Majesty is wise... professional."

Wang Hao nodded in satisfaction.

"You learned well."

He turned and looked to the west.

There, red clouds churned.

The blood-colored cloud layer was like a giant demonic face, covering half the sky.

Wang Hao's eyes were calm.

"Pass down the order."

"Gather the surrendered soldiers and reorganize the remnants of the six sects."

"Continue the march."

"The next target—the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect."

The wind and sand howled.

Half of Master Iron Sword's corpse was covered.

Perfected Qingmu, carrying the bloodstained iron sword, silently followed the army.

He didn't look back again.

Because he knew.

He no longer had a past.

The hinterland of the Western Regions.

Crimson Moon Canyon.

This was not an ordinary canyon, but a scar on the earth spanning a thousand miles.

The cliffs on both sides pierced the sky like blood-colored blades, and the cliff faces were covered with eerie runes.

The runes squirmed like living creatures, sometimes forming human faces, sometimes turning into bloody eyes, watching every living being that approached this place.

Deep in the canyon was an active volcano that spewed magma year-round.

The crimson magma surged like a river, and the rolling heat waves distorted the void.

Above the magma river hovered a massive blood-colored palace.

The palace had no foundation.

It was like an excavated heart, suspended above the crater, constantly beating.

With every beat, the entire canyon trembled.

This was the headquarters of the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect.

The last giant nest of the demons in the Western Regions.

At this moment, in the deepest part of the blood-colored palace.

On a massive sealing altar, ninety-nine black iron chains hung down from the void, locking down a colossal mountain of flesh in the center.

The mountain of flesh was a full thousand feet tall.

Yet, there was no demonic aura on its surface.

Instead, it radiated a faint, auspicious light.

Golden, cyan, white, and purple divine runes flowed across the surface of the flesh, making it look like the remains of an ancient god.

If one ignored the constantly writhing flesh and blood, as well as the crimson eyes that occasionally opened, they might even mistake it for the Dharma body left behind by some great sage.

This was the Crimson Moon Demonic Cult's most terrifying trump card.

The Martial God's Body.

To be precise, it was the mutilated corpse of a Martial God—polluted by eerie anomalies, refined by the Demonic Cult, and suppressed by the Heavenly Secret Pavilion's array formations.

It was not a complete Martial God.

Yet it possessed power surpassing the Sky-Soaring Realm.

Over the past few centuries, the Crimson Moon Demonic Cult had relied on it to run rampant across the northern part of the Western Regions, standing as an equal against the Black Water Demonic Lair.

Countless righteous sects would turn pale at the mere mention of the words "Martial God's Body."

But now.

This Martial God's Body was trembling.

Not out of anger.

Not out of excitement.

But out of fear.

The ninety-nine black iron chains clattered loudly from its shaking.

Around the sealing altar, the elders of the Crimson Moon Demonic Cult knelt on the ground.

None of them were weak in cultivation; the lowest among them was at the Astral Qi Realm, and there were even several at the Sky-Soaring Realm.

Yet at this moment, their faces were deathly pale, their foreheads pressed against the floor, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

In front of the altar, a man in a blood-red robe stood beside a throne.

His face was enchantingly demonic, with a blood-red crescent moon tattoo between his eyebrows.

His eyes were narrow and long, and deep within his pupils, it seemed as though two blood moons were rising and falling.

He was the Cult Master of the Crimson Moon Demonic Cult.

Chi Wushang.

A giant of the demonic path in the Western Regions.

The host of the Martial God's Body.

Once, just by sitting on his blood-colored throne, a single glance from him could make thousands of demonic cultivators kneel in submission.

But right now, his eyes were bloodshot, and his handsome face was twisted into a near-hideous grimace.

"Why?"

"Why are you afraid?!"

Chi Wushang took a step onto the altar and roared at the Martial God's Body.

"You are the Martial God's Body!"

"You are the foundation upon which I dominate the Western Regions!"

"You once devoured the blood sacrifices of seven sects, and suppressed and killed three peak Sky-Soaring Realm experts! You repelled the Great Zhou's avenger alliance."

"And now you are actually afraid?"

"Afraid of whom?"

"Afraid of Wang Hao, that little emperor at the Astral Qi Realm?"

Boom!

The Martial God's Body violently shuddered.

Countless eyes on the surface of the mountain of flesh opened simultaneously, letting out a piercing shriek.

That shriek was not a physical sound.

It was a spiritual soul impact.

An Astral Qi Realm elder kneeling below the altar instantly bled from his seven orifices, his body twitched a few times, and then exploded into a mist of blood with a bang.

The other elders shrank even lower in terror.

Chi Wushang, however, acted as if he didn't see it.

The blood tattoo between his eyebrows lit up, and a massive phantom of a crimson moon appeared behind him.

Within the crimson moon, a blurry humanoid silhouette of light slowly opened its eyes.

That was the phenomenon he had acquired after merging with the Martial God's Body.

Once, whenever this phenomenon appeared, ten thousand demons would bow in submission.

Now, however, that humanoid silhouette was trembling.

Chi Wushang reached up and pressed his fingers against his glabella.

Deep in his mind, an ancient and hoarse voice echoed once again.

"Let me out..."

"Kill that anomaly..."

"He carries an aura that should not exist..."

"Blood sacrifice the entire Eastern Wasteland..."

"Let me out..."

Chi Wushang's face turned pale.

"Shut up!"

He roared.

"I am the master!"

"You are nothing but the empty shell of a dead man!"

The ancient voice let out a low chuckle.

The laughter sounded like countless dry bones grinding against each other.

"Master?"

"From the moment you merged with me, you were no longer the master."

"You are a door."

"A lock."

"A vessel."

"The skin bag for my triumphant return."

A look of agony flashed in Chi Wushang's eyes.

He bit the tip of his tongue and spat out a mouthful of lifeblood.

The lifeblood fell onto the array runes of the altar, transforming into crimson chains that viciously wrapped around the Martial God's Body.

The Martial God's Body struggled violently.

The entire blood-colored palace shook madly.

Outside, the magma river surged up by hundreds of feet, and hundreds of demonic cultivators were swept up by the heatwave, instantly turning into ash.

A red-haired elder said with a trembling voice, "Cult Master, we cannot agitate the Martial God's Body any further."

"Ever since the remnant body of the Night Nightmare in the Yan Mountain Secret Realm was devoured by that eerie sword of the Great Zhou, the main sealing ground of the Night Nightmare has been rioting."

"All the eerie anomalies across the Western Regions are acting up."

"We already damaged the foundation of the seal when we retreated from our northern ancestral land back to the Crimson Moon Canyon with the Martial God's Body."

"If we continue to forcefully suppress it, I'm afraid..."

Chi Wushang snapped his head around.

"Afraid of what?"

The red-haired elder gulped.

"I'm afraid the Martial God's Body will backlash against the main headquarters."

Deathly silence filled the hall.

Backlash against the main headquarters.

These words were far more terrifying than the Great Zhou army coming to slaughter them.

The Crimson Moon Demonic Cult had risen to power by relying on the Martial God's Body.

If the Martial God's Body went out of control, they wouldn't be wiped out by their enemies; instead, they would be crushed to death by their own ancestral tablet.

It would be a very undignified death.

Another gaunt elder spoke in a low voice, "Cult Master, when the Heavenly Secret Pavilion reinforced the seal for us back then, they definitely left a fallback plan."

"Since Xie Wujiu dared to make a deal with us, he surely doesn't want the Martial God's Body to lose control."

"Perhaps we could seek help from the Heavenly Secret Pavilion."

Blood light flickered in Chi Wushang's eyes.

"Xie Wujiu?"

He sneered.

"That old fox is probably even more afraid of Wang Hao than we are right now."

"The Black Water Demonic Lair was annihilated overnight."

"The Righteous Alliance has been split in two. Master Iron Sword is dead, and Perfected Qingmu has become a lapdog."

"Will Xie Wujiu save us?"

The red-haired elder said cautiously, "He doesn't have to save us, but he has to be afraid."

Chi Wushang narrowed his eyes.

The red-haired elder continued, "If the Martial God's Body is completely unsealed, the Crimson Moon Canyon will be destroyed, and the Western Regions will fall into chaos."

"But we won't be the only ones in chaos."

"The main sealing ground of the Night Nightmare will also be implicated."

"The Heavenly Secret Pavilion has been laying out plans in the Western Regions for years. Once the tide of anomalies completely erupts, Xie Wujiu can forget about coming out unscathed."

Chi Wushang fell silent.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the hall.

A disciple of the Demonic Cult rushed into the hall, kneeling on the ground and shouting hoarsely.

"Report—!"

"The vanguard army of the Great Zhou has annihilated the rebel forces of the Righteous Alliance!"

"Master Iron Sword has died in battle!"

"Perfected Qingmu is leading the six surrendered sects to continue marching west!"

"The central army of the Great Zhou is less than five hundred miles away from the Crimson Moon Canyon!"