Sword Zombie, Haozi Step Back

Ji Wushang stood at the very peak of the sacrificial altar.

Black light surged up from beneath his feet, like chains crawling out from the depths of hell, coiling around the nine-coffin altar and the entire Abyss of Ten Thousand Ruins.

He gazed down at Wang Hao.

That look was no longer one of viewing an enemy.

It was the look of watching prey that had already fallen into a spider's web, still struggling to no avail.

"Stiff-lipped."

Ji Wushang spoke lightly.

"Me?"

"A coffin lid propping up a latrine pit?"

"Wang Hao, you truly are amusing."

"Too bad—no matter how amusing a dead man is, he's still dead."

BOOM!

The four ancient corpses stepped forward in unison.

The primordial killing formation pressed down once more.

In that instant, heaven and earth seemed to close like an immense coffin lid slamming shut.

Countless formation runes burst forth from the cracks in the altar, woven in black and crimson, like the blood vessels left behind by ancient gods after their deaths, dense and sprawling across the void.

Wang Hao knelt on one knee upon the shattered stone steps, both arms braced against the ground.

Blood dripped from between his fingers.

Every drop that fell was devoured by the formation runes beneath the altar, hissing with corroding sound.

His chest heaved violently.

Breaking through to the second level of the Martial God realm just now had indeed surged his combat power.

But that surge had come too fast, and too painfully.

Thunder force, death qi, and imperial true essence were forcibly smelted within his body, like stuffing a volcano into his meridians and hammering it into shape inch by inch.

For anyone else, their meridians would have already exploded, their soul scattered.

Wang Hao could endure because he was ruthless.

Ruthless to others.

Ruthless to himself.

But ruthlessness did not equal invincibility.

Especially now.

The four half-step transcendence ancient corpses had formed a primordial killing formation—each one striking was equivalent to a combined assault from all four corpses.

The Flesh Ancient Corpse stepped forward, its withered fist wrapped in black-crimson formation light, slamming down in one punch.

The Slaughter Ancient Corpse raised its broken spear slightly—before the spear tip had even thrust out, a drop of blood had already appeared on Wang Hao's brow.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse's black fissure, which split from its face down to its chest and abdomen, slowly stretched open.

"Hee..."

The Death Domain Ancient Corpse unfolded its domain, black mist rolling back like an inverted ocean, completely drowning Wang Hao's surroundings.

Wang Hao clenched his teeth.

"System."

[Current intel: Once the four corpses form the formation, their power resonates. The formation's core is the nine-coffin altar and the fissure in the Emperor's Fallen Monument.]

[Danger level: Extremely high.]

[Supplementary note: Host's current condition is insufficient to forcibly break the formation.]

Wang Hao's eyelid twitched.

"Speak plainly."

[You can't win.]

Wang Hao: "..."

He had guessed as much already.

But those two words coming out of the system's mouth still stung a little.

"Any way to run?"

[Strategic retreat is recommended.]

Wang Hao's spirits lifted.

"Say it more elegantly."

[Where there's life, there's hope.]

Wang Hao's expression softened slightly.

"Even more elegant."

[Your Majesty, wise and divine, retreats momentarily to avoid the brunt of the assault, and when you return in force another day, you will dig up Ji Wushang's ancestors' graves and wipe them clean.]

Wang Hao was satisfied.

"Now that's more like it."

He was no brute.

He had always believed that true strength was not about having half a breath left and still shouting "My fate is mine to command!"

That was called passion.

It was also called being easy to kill.

True strength meant—

If you can win, beat them to death.

If you can't win, remember their names, and come back with people, soldiers, ancestral artifacts, and eighteen generations of ancestors to fight them again.

Wang Hao took a deep breath.

True essence churned wildly within him.

His peripheral vision swept across the battlefield.

The Demon Lord still had a gaping hole in his chest, black-gold demonic blood flowing ceaselessly, yet he was still trying to get up.

Yue Ji knelt on one knee, blood seeping from all seven orifices, only three phantom moons remaining out of her nine.

Ghost Granny had been slashed nearly in half, only barely stitching her flesh back together with poison arts.

Shadow's shoulder had collapsed, their form flickering between light and dark, as if they might be crushed by formation force at any moment.

Xue Wuhen was drenched in blood, cursing as he yanked the lingering spear light from his shoulder.

Yin Jiuyou was even worse—half his body looked like a desiccated corpse buried for three hundred years, while the other half desperately tried to prove he was still alive.

In the distance, on the spirit boat.

Han Shanyue's eyes were bloodshot.

The soldiers of Great Xia gripped their weapons tightly, yet the formation's pressure was so immense they could not even take to the air.

Everyone was watching him.

The Emperor could not retreat.

But Wang Hao knew full well—

The Emperor could not die either.

If he died here, Great Xia would truly be finished.

Wang Hao slowly rose to his feet, drenched in blood, his imperial robes in tatters, yet his spine remained straight as ever.

"Everyone."

He spoke.

His voice was hoarse, yet it pierced the darkness.

"I will remember this debt today."

The Demon Lord paused.

Yue Ji froze as well.

Yin Jiuyou's mouth twitched.

He knew Wang Hao too well.

When His Majesty said "remember this debt," it usually meant someone was about to be screwed so badly they wouldn't even have a coffin left.

Ji Wushang narrowed his eyes.

"Trying to leave?"

Wang Hao grinned.

"Strategic retreat."

"Ever heard of military tactics?"

Ji Wushang laughed.

"Within the four-corpse killing formation—do you think you can get away?"

Wang Hao slowly raised his hand.

The Thunder Abyss Tower hummed and trembled.

On the tower's body, the ninth-floor gate faintly materialized.

In that instant, all the thunder intent in the entire abyss seemed to be forcibly dragged toward it.

Purple light surged behind the gate.

The second full-power strike from the ninth level—

The Purple Thunder Dragon.

This was one of Wang Hao's strongest trump cards.

Used to kill, it might not slay the four corpses.

But if used to tear open a corner of the formation, perhaps it could carve out a thread of hope.

Wang Hao calculated rapidly in his mind.

First, use the Thunder Abyss Tower to blast open the Death Domain.

Then use the fifth and sixth palms of the Heaven-Sealing Earth-Crushing Palm to forcibly hold the space.

Let the Demon Lord take the severely wounded and retreat first.

Use the ten-thousand-people's willpower to shield himself through one wave of lethal attack.

Finally, charge out.

The plan wasn't flawless.

But it was very Wang Hao.

The key point: as long as he could run.

Just as Wang Hao was about to make his move—

In the distance, the New Emperor Sword, trapped beneath the pile of rubble, suddenly stopped screaming.

Moments ago, it had been shouting "Wang Hao, save me!"

Now it had fallen into an eerily silent stillness.

The blade was bent like a humiliated loach.

The black-gold sword light dimmed to near extinction.

The Slaughter Ancient Corpse glanced at it once, then paid it no mind.

In the eyes of the four corpses, though this sword was peculiar, it had already been suppressed by the formation's force.

Just some odd artifact.

Discarded is discarded.

Ji Wushang paid it even less attention.

His gaze remained locked on Wang Hao.

Wang Hao hadn't noticed, either.

Or rather—he had, but had no time to care.

This sword was usually a mouthy little pest, but in critical moments, it could take a beating.

For the time being, it probably wouldn't die.

If it did die...

Wang Hao figured he'd grieve for at most three breaths.

Then he'd bury it.

The tombstone would read: This sword was very cheap while alive.

And yet—

Just as the four-corpse killing formation began to churn once more, and one of the ancient corpses' fissure opened wide, ready to destroy Wang Hao's soul with its laughter—

A faint trace of black light flickered across the blade of the bent New Emperor Sword.

Not sword qi.

It was an extremely sinister, extremely cunning, extremely shameless aura of trickery.

Like something crouching in a corner, waiting for someone to pass by, then sticking out a foot to trip them.

The sword spirit's voice echoed within the blade, so low it was barely audible.

"Laugh."

"Go on, laugh."

"I'll make you bloom like a flower."

The next instant—

The New Emperor Sword did not charge at the Slaughter Ancient Corpse, nor did it fly back to Wang Hao's hand.

Its blade suddenly contracted.

The black-gold light compressed into a thread so thin it was nearly imperceptible, and slipped silently through the cracks in the altar's formation runes.

It did not ram against the formation.

Instead, it crept along the path of death qi.

It even disguised itself as a wisp of decaying corpse qi.

This move was sinister beyond belief.

Even Wang Hao would have fallen silent at the sight of it.

Because this didn't act like a sword.

It acted like him.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse was howling with laughter.

Its crack stretched from its face down to its chest and abdomen, pitch-black and hollow, with countless broken soul shadows churning inside.

Its power specialized in mental erosion.

It was also the most sinister link in the Four-Corpse Killing Formation.

Earlier, Wang Hao's third strike, "Cleaving the Star River," had split open its skull.

That wound had yet to fully heal.

And now, to unleash its most powerful spiritual shockwave, the Spirit Ancient Corpse had deliberately widened the crack.

That was equivalent to a man opening his mouth wider than a door mid-fight, confident that no one would dare shove anything inside.

The New Emperor Sword had been waiting for exactly this moment.

Whoosh!

The black-gold thread suddenly shot upward.

It emerged from the void behind the Spirit Ancient Corpse like a venomous snake that had lain hidden for a long time, and with pinpoint precision, it dove straight into that black crack.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse's laughter cut off abruptly.

"Hee—"

The sound got stuck.

Like someone had grabbed it by the throat.

The next moment, from deep within the gash in its chest, came the New Emperor Sword's wildly excited shriek.

"Dinner time!"

BOOM!

The Spirit Ancient Corpse's entire body jolted violently.

The black crack twisted madly.

Countless fragmented souls screamed, trying to flee.

But a terrifying devouring force erupted from within its body.

The New Emperor Sword's first ability—Devouring Evolution!

It was already a sinister artifact.

And it had devoured a vast and pure portion of Wang Hao's dark side.

In terms of treachery, the Spirit Ancient Corpse was an ancient monster.

But the New Emperor Sword was a blade-person raised by Wang Hao himself.

A scoundrel.

A sword-scoundrel.

When it came to who was more lacking in virtue, the ancient corpse clearly still had much to learn.

"Not good!"

For the first time, Ji Wushang's expression changed.

The balance of the Four-Corpse Killing Formation instantly cracked.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse stood at the north position, serving as the spiritual pivot.

It was responsible for linking the will of all four corpses with its mental dark arts.

Now that the New Emperor Sword had burrowed inside and was devouring it, it was the same as stabbing the formation's core from within.

The four corpses' qi stalled.

The terrifying killing pressure bearing down on Wang Hao immediately loosened.

Wang Hao had been about to hurl the violet thunder dragon.

Seeing this, he froze for a moment.

"This sword..."

"When did it learn three-tenths of my essence?"

The Demon Lord, face covered in blood, lifted his head with difficulty.

"Your Majesty, isn't that your sword?"

Wang Hao immediately denied it.

"Don't talk nonsense."

"I am the Sacred Monarch of Great Xia, upright and aboveboard. How could I have raised such a viciously underhanded sword?"

Yin Jiuyou couldn't help coughing blood as he said, "Your Majesty, doesn't your conscience ache when you say that?"

Wang Hao gave him a cold look.

"My conscience was already handed over to the national treasury for safekeeping."

Yin Jiuyou: "..."

Fair enough.

Perfectly fair.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse struggled madly.

Its arms hung to the ground, its body twisted into unnatural angles, and from the crack erupted countless overlapping shrieks.

Those shrieks were no longer attacks.

They were pleas for help.

The Slaughter Ancient Corpse immediately turned, its broken spear thrusting toward the Spirit Ancient Corpse's chest.

It was trying to force the New Emperor Sword out.

Wang Hao's eyes turned cold.

"Trying to save it?"

"Did you ask me?"

He forced up a surge of true qi and slammed both palms forward.

"Palm of Heaven-Sealing Earth-Caging!"

"Fifth Palm!"

"Sixth Palm!"

Two colossal golden palms crushed down from above.

Though Wang Hao was gravely wounded, with the imperial true qi of the Martial God Realm's second layer behind them, the Sixth Palm's power still roared with the majesty of mountains toppling and rivers inverting.

BOOM!

The golden palm blocked the path in front of the Slaughter Ancient Corpse.

The broken spear pierced through the first palm print, then shattered the second, but was held back for exactly one breath.

One breath.

That was enough.

Inside the Spirit Ancient Corpse's body, the devouring power erupted completely.

The New Emperor Sword cackled.

"HAHAHAHA!"

"Keep laughing!"

"Laugh now!"

"Today I'll show you what true mental pollution really is!"

CRASH!

The Spirit Ancient Corpse's chest exploded.

The black crack split from the inside out.

Countless psychic remnants were devoured into the sword's body by the New Emperor Sword.

The blade burst out from the corpse, its once-curved form snapping straight in an instant.

Black-gold radiance shot into the sky.

Strange patterns surfaced across the blade.

The ranks of sinister artifacts trembled!

Inside Wang Hao's mind, the system's voice rang out rapidly.

[Detected: New Emperor Sword has devoured the core of the second-rank Spirit Ancient Corpse.]

[Sinister artifact evolving...]

[New Emperor Sword current combat power increasing.]

[Mortal God Realm Early Stage... Mortal God Realm Mid Stage...]

[Mortal God Realm Late Stage!]

BOOM!

A sword might far beyond the previous erupted across the abyss.

Darkness was slashed into ten thousand cracks.

The ritual altar's array patterns quaked violently.

The Spirit Ancient Corpse let out one final scream, its crippled body entirely devoured by the New Emperor Sword, leaving only wisps of black smoke that scattered away.

The Four-Corpse Killing Formation lost one corner!

The north position collapsed!

At that moment, the suffocating tomb sensation pressing down on everyone suddenly lifted.

The Demon Lord gasped for breath, shock flickering in his eyes.

Yue Ji stared blankly at the sword.

"It... ate a half-transcendent ancient corpse?"

Ghost Granny's lips twitched.

"For all my years, this is the first time I've seen a weapon eat a corpse with such gusto."

Xue Wuhen swallowed a mouthful of blood.

"Your Majesty, what did you feed this sword on a daily basis?"

Wang Hao's face was expressionless.

"Losses."

Everyone: "..."

Does it look like it's ever suffered a loss?