Zhou Yue’s illusion realm.
An abandoned temple stood amid the bleak, chilly wind, with flickering crimson flames appearing and disappearing in the darkness.
Zhou Yue’s health bar was almost empty, but he showed no sign of retreat. His eyes remained as calm as still water as he watched the furious old man before him.
A ring of crimson baleful energy swirled around the Sculptor.
Zhou Yue knew all too well that this was the power of karmic fire.
He had no idea how many souls the Sculptor had slaughtered to become tainted by such terrifying karmic consequences. In a low-martial world like this, the energy had practically condensed into tangible “aura.”
“Although I’m about to die… I’ve already seen through your moves, old man.”
Zhou Yue smiled calmly and raised Kusabimaru to block in front of him.
The Sculptor’s movements were broad and powerful, unlike those of a human martial artist. Instead, they bore some resemblance to those of ferocious beasts. His attacks also changed with astonishing speed, making them extremely difficult to deal with.
Zhou Yue had been killed by the Sculptor a full eighty times before he finally grasped a few of the fight’s essentials.
This was the closest he had ever come to victory.
His health was flickering like a candle in the wind, but the Sculptor was in no better shape. After Zhou Yue’s continuous deflections, the Sculptor’s posture meter was also nearly full.
In other words, victory or defeat would be decided by a single strike.
“Come on!”
“GRAAAH!”
The Sculptor let out a strange roar that sounded nothing like a human voice. A faint mass of crimson flame appeared in his chest, and his speed instantly surged to its absolute limit.
“Fast slash… fast slash… slow slash!”
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Zhou Yue caught all three attacks.
“I win, old man!”
Seeing that his posture meter was full, the Sculptor staggered backward, leaving himself wide open. Zhou Yue thrust his sword forward.
But at that moment—
A mass of crimson karmic fire suddenly burst from the Sculptor’s chest and spread rapidly.
His previously wavering body abruptly steadied. A streak of crimson flame shot from his ruined left arm and knocked Zhou Yue’s blade aside.
Just as the Sculptor’s body was about to be devoured by the karmic fire—
“Lord Sarutobi, please calm down.”
Emma, who had been silently watching the two spar in the courtyard, suddenly spoke.
Her voice, usually as warm as a spring breeze, now carried a cold, imperious killing intent. Even Zhou Yue, who had experienced death countless times in Sekiro, felt his heart tremble beneath it.
It was as though, if he refused to obey her, his head would fall from his shoulders in an instant.
“What the heck? Miss Emma?”
Zhou Yue felt every hair on his body stand on end as he looked at Emma in the distance.
Miss Emma was still smiling sweetly, but her smile was as cold as the wind blowing through the courtyard, carrying an indescribable chill.
Looking closely, Zhou Yue noticed that she seemed to have one hand hidden beneath her sleeve, as though she were gripping something.
The Sculptor’s eyes suddenly cleared. The karmic fire that had nearly swallowed him vanished in an instant.
He looked at Zhou Yue, then at his own palm. After a long moment, he nodded approvingly.
“Your fangs… have grown sharper.”
With that, the Sculptor turned and walked toward the dilapidated temple. As he went, he picked up the small curved knife and used it to scratch his back.
Perhaps sensing Zhou Yue’s gaze on him, he waved a hand and said in his hoarse voice:
“If that day ever comes, I hope…”
“That you will be the one to kill me with your own hands.”
Zhou Yue listened thoughtfully.
Originally, he had only cared about the battles and swordsmanship within Sekiro’s illusion realm. But now, he was growing increasingly curious about the story hidden beneath it all.
“Oh, right.”
The Sculptor had just entered the temple when he poked his head out again, revealing a rare, kindly smile.
“My mouth is terribly dry… If you have anything to drink, bring it to me.”
“Sure thing!”
Zhou Yue immediately smiled and cupped his fists.
[Zhou Yue of the Lingxiao Sect has completed the first kill of the boss: the Sculptor (Normal)!]
When the first-kill announcement appeared, Zhou Yue’s eyes lit up.
“Why do I feel so excited…? I sound like some country bumpkin who’s never seen the world… Huh? Wait, that’s not right!”
Zhou Yue suddenly realized something was wrong. He quickly exited the illusion realm and examined his body with delighted anticipation.
Black-and-red flames were slowly flowing through his meridians.
“This is… I’m about to break through!?”
[This book may be getting an animated comic adaptation in a few days. I have no idea how the quality will be, but everyone is welcome to show your support when the time comes~]
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
ver to a world of cultivation and returned invincible. Modern medicine is child's play compared to elixirs; technological might crumbles before true cultivation. My name is Qin Ning, Earth's sole cultivator!
