390: Chapter 384 Your Qi and Blood Have Begun to Decline

The fierce wind, mixed with saltiness and heavy rain, lashed the city defense Formation of Heavenly Sword City like countless invisible whips.

That layer of pale golden light curtain rippled violently under the interweaving of night and dark clouds. Each ripple was accompanied by a tooth-aching "buzzing" sound, as if this light curtain would shatter at any moment under the power of heaven and earth.

Chen Zhiwen still stood with his hands behind his back, like an eternal statue, quietly standing at the very top of the city wall.

The torrential rain in the sky, upon nearing three feet from his body, seemed to encounter an invisible wall of Qi and was instantly evaporated into nothingness without a sound. His moon-white long robe fluttered in the wind, yet it did not catch even a trace of moisture.

“Clack, clack, clack...”

A series of somewhat heavy and slow footsteps came from beneath the stone steps of the city wall.

In this dark night of wind and rain, the footsteps were exceptionally clear.

Chen Zhiwen did not turn his head; his vast and sharp Divine Sense had already clearly identified the visitor.

“Uncle Baishan.” Chen Zhiwen's voice was calm, penetrating the wind and rain to land steadily in the visitor's ears. “In such heavy wind and rain, why aren't you resting and circulating your power in the City Lord's Mansion, instead of coming to this high wall on the front line? Your vitality has begun to decline; if you are afflicted by the cold poison in this sea breeze, I fear it will affect your combat strength in the coming battle.”

The visitor was indeed Chen Baishan, leaning on a dragon-headed cane.

This elder of the Heavenly Sword Chen Clan, the backbone of the older generation, was currently draped in a heavy black straw raincoat, followed by a worried-looking Chen Yucang. Chen Yucang was holding an oil-paper umbrella that emitted a faint spiritual light, shielding the old man from the wind and rain.

“Cough, cough... I'm old, truly old after all.”

Chen Baishan walked to Chen Zhiwen's side and coughed heavily twice. His furrowed old face revealed a hint of fatigue and gravity that was hard to hide. He reached out a hand as dry as tree bark to lean on the cold city wall battlement, his gaze crossing the golden Formation curtain to look out at the ink-black deep sea.

“Zhiwen, it's not that this old man doesn't want to sleep, it's that I simply can't.” Chen Baishan sighed, his voice sounding somewhat ethereal in the wind and rain. “The million-plus mouths in the city, along with those thousands of resentful Loose Cultivators, it's like sitting on a powder keg. And that isn't even the most lethal part...”

Chen Baishan paused, a flash of deep awe and fear crossing his cloudy eyes.

“The most lethal part is that monster approaching from outside.” Chen Baishan's finger trembled slightly as he pointed toward the end of the horizon. “The Nascent Soul Stage... that is a Nascent Soul powerhouse! Our Heavenly Sword Sect, though we took this sea region under your leadership, if we count everyone, we can't find even one Golden Core Stage Cultivator besides you. How is this battle to be fought?”

Beside him, Chen Yucang couldn't help but swallow hard and agreed, “Indeed, Grand Elder. I was just patrolling the inner city, and although the brothers below don't say it, their hearts are drumming with fear. That pressure belonging to a Nascent Soul Old Monster has already caused the Qi and blood of those Qi Refining Stage Disciples to churn from tens of thousands of miles away. If they truly reach the city gates, the mere Aura alone could crush half our people.”

Listening to their concerns, the corners of Chen Zhiwen's mouth slowly curled into an extremely subtle arc.

It was a cold smile full of mockery, contempt, and even a hint of pity.

“Uncle Baishan, Yuqiang.” Chen Zhiwen finally turned around.

His eyes, deep as a cold pool, seemed to flicker with a faint Sword Intent in the darkness, stinging Chen Baishan and Chen Yucang so much they almost dared not look directly at him.

“What do you two think a Nascent Soul is?” Chen Zhiwen did not answer their question directly, but instead threw back a counter-question.

“This...” Chen Baishan was stunned. As an old Cultivator at the Late Foundation Establishment stage, how could he dare to discuss the Great Dao of the Nascent Soul? He could only stammer an answer, “A Nascent Soul powerhouse naturally has a Lifespan of a thousand years, can move mountains and fill seas, and possesses vast Divine Abilities. They are the true top-tier figures of this cultivation world. They can turn their hands to make clouds and cover them to make rain...”

“Wrong.”

Chen Zhiwen interrupted Chen Baishan's words without mercy, spitting out a single cold word.

“Ah?” Chen Baishan and Chen Yucang looked at each other, their faces filled with bewilderment.

“Uncle Baishan, your vision has been limited too strictly and narrowly by the poor mountains and evil waters of this Southern Wilderness.” Chen Zhiwen turned his head to look at the pitch-black sea again, his tone carrying the arrogance and self-conceit characteristic of a Disciple from a great Sect in the Central Continent.

“In the Central Continent, in the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, a Nascent Soul Cultivator may be considered a regional lord, but they are by no means some god who can turn their hand to make clouds and rain. The density of Spiritual Qi in the Central Continent is ten times that of the Southern Wilderness; Heaven And Earth Treasures are as numerous as ox hairs, and Legacy Cultivation Techniques are as vast as the sea. A Nascent Soul formed in such a place, even for the most ordinary Loose Cultivator, has a Foundation so solid and True Qi so majestic that they are far beyond what these local bumpkins of the Southern Wilderness can compare to.”

Chen Zhiwen extended a long finger, pointing into the depths of the storm.

“The fellow coming from outside calls himself Old Ancestor Xue Ming, doesn't he?” Chen Zhiwen sneered. “Two hundred years ago, when I was still gaining experience in the Central Continent, I was only at the Late Golden Core Stage. That old dog was already at the Early Nascent Soul Stage. To snatch a 'Ten Thousand Year Soul-Returning Grass,' he relentlessly hunted me for three days and three nights.”

“What?!” Chen Baishan cried out in shock. “Two hundred years ago... You were in the Golden Core Stage and were hunted by him, a Nascent Soul Stage? Then... then how did you escape?”

“Escape?”

Chen Zhiwen seemed to have heard a funny joke. He tilted his head back and let out a low laugh. This laughter echoed in the storm, carrying a bone-chilling arrogance.

“Uncle Baishan, I did not escape. In the Luoxia Valley of the Central Continent, I used the Ten Thousand Swords Sect's 'Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation' to forcibly shave off thirty years of his Lifespan and sever one of his right arms! If it weren't for the fact that the blood-path technique he Cultivated was good for survival, and he burned his life essence to perform a Blood Escape Technique, he would have been a dead man two hundred years ago!”

Boom!

These words, like a thunderclap from the Nine Heavens, exploded directly in the minds of Chen Baishan and Chen Yucang.

Golden Core Stage, slaying upward against a Nascent Soul Stage! Not only did he not die, but he also severed the opponent's arm and forced them to flee with heavy injuries!

Is... is this still a human? What kind of terrifying combat power is this!

“So, do you understand now?” Chen Zhiwen withdrew his smile, his gaze becoming incredibly icy. “A waste who was beaten by me two hundred years ago like a stray dog and fled to the Southern Wilderness; a piece of trash who relies on absorbing the essence and blood of Mortals and Cultivating that low-grade, incomplete Demonic Technique to barely maintain his Realm; a frog at the bottom of a well who acts like a tyrant in this remote backwater and truly thinks he is invincible under heaven...”

“What kind of thing is he? Is he even worthy of making me treat him like a formidable enemy?!”

Chen Zhiwen waved his large sleeve, and a majestic Sword Intent soared into the sky, actually splitting a huge crack through the hundreds of feet thick dark clouds overhead in an instant! The bright moonlight poured down through the crack, happening to illuminate him and making him look like a Heavenly God.

“Uncle Baishan, Yuqiang, remember this. I activated the city defense Formation and maintained a strict defense not because I fear Old Ancestor Xue Ming.”

Chen Zhiwen turned his head and looked at the two men, who were already too shocked to speak, saying word by word.

“I am afraid that this old dog will see things going south and use the Blood Escape to run again! This city defense Formation is not a turtle shell for defense, but a cage I am using to catch a turtle in a jar! Since he dares to come, I will gladly accept his Nascent Soul. It will serve perfectly as the main soul for my 'Autumn Water' sword!”

Gulp.

Chen Yucang swallowed with difficulty, the fear in his eyes instantly replaced by a fanatical worship.

“The Grand Elder's Divine Might! This subordinate understands! I will go at once to reassure the Disciples in the city and have them prepare for battle!”

Chen Baishan was also moved to tears, his hand holding the cane trembling: “Good... good! With these words from you, Zhiwen, this old man's heart is finally completely at ease! The Heavenly Sword Chen Clan will surely last for thousands of generations in this Southern Wilderness!”

“Go then.” Chen Zhiwen waved his hand. “Tell the people in the city that no matter how the battle outside goes, no one is allowed to panic. Anyone who dares to cause chaos shall be executed without mercy.”

“As you command!”

The two performed a respectful deep bow and turned to leave the city wall.

Watching their departing figures, the arrogance on Chen Zhiwen's face gradually faded, returning to that calm and cold indifference.

Despise the enemy strategically, but value the enemy tactically. He understood this principle better than anyone.

Though Old Ancestor Xue Ming was a waste, he was still an old monster who had lived for over a thousand years. Over the past two hundred years, he had frantically scavenged resources in the Southern Wilderness, and the power under his command was definitely not to be underestimated.

“Cannon fodder can often consume the most of an enemy's edge.” Chen Zhiwen's gaze involuntarily drifted toward that huge Loose Cultivator camp in the east of the city. “Let's see how much time those Loose Cultivators can buy for me.”

...

At this time, in the Loose Cultivator camp in the east of the city.

The rain poured down like a flood, and the entire training ground had turned into a muddy swamp.

Those simple shacks could not withstand the invasion of the wind and rain at all. Many of the shacks' roofs had been blown away, and the Loose Cultivators inside could only huddle together like drowned rats, with several or even a dozen people squeezed together, using each other's body heat to resist the bone-chilling cold.

Despair, hunger, and fear were like three poisonous snakes, gnawing frantically at everyone's hearts.

In a corner that was still somewhat intact, a young Loose Cultivator named Wang Er was huddled in the mud, his body shaking uncontrollably and violently. His face was as pale as paper, and his lips were frozen purple.

“Uncle Li... Uncle Li...”

Wang Er tightly gripped the arm of an old man beside him, his voice shivering as he pleaded intermittently.

“I... I can't do it... my spiritual power is almost at its end... this rain... has cold poison... without the spiritual power support from a Inedia Pill, my... my Meridians are going to freeze stiff...”

The one he called Uncle Li was an old Loose Cultivator at the Ninth Level of Qi Refining. Uncle Li's situation was not much better than Wang Er's; he was also soaked through, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth hard, desperately circulating the last bit of pitiful True Qi in his body to try and protect his heart.

“Shut up! Don't talk! Talking wastes your breath!” Uncle Li suddenly opened his eyes and lowered his voice, growling fiercely.

But seeing Wang Er's near-death appearance, a flash of pity eventually crossed his eyes.

With a trembling hand, he pulled out a small cloth bundle wrapped in three layers of rags from his inner pocket. After carefully unwrapping it, inside lay half a low-quality Inedia Pill mixed with bran.

That was the ration he had received from the Chen family's law enforcement team yesterday. He hadn't been willing to eat it all, forcibly breaking off half to keep for saving his life.

“Eat it! Swallow it quickly!” Uncle Li stuffed that half Inedia Pill into Wang Er's hand, his voice carrying an undisguised heartache.

Wang Er was like a starving wild dog seeing a bloody bone; his eyes instantly burst with a green light. He shoved the half pill into his mouth, and without even chewing, he swallowed it directly along with the mud and rain.

The low-quality pill dissolved in his stomach, generating a faint stream of heat that barely protected Wang Er's nearly exhausted Meridians.

He let out a long breath, and tears mixed with rain flowed down.

“Uncle Li... thank you... thank you for saving my life.” Wang Er said, sobbing.

“Thank me for what?!” Uncle Li sneered and turned to look at the pitch-black rainy night. “I saved you because when we really get on the battlefield in a while, having one more person beside me to block a blade will give me a better chance of survival.”

Wang Er wiped the mud from his face, a thick sense of resentment suddenly flashing in his eyes.

“Uncle Li, we can't just wait here for death!” Wang Er said through gritted teeth, his voice low but filled with madness. “The Heavenly Sword Sect is keeping us like pigs and dogs! They don't even give us enough to eat! Once the great enemy outside attacks, we will be the first batch of meat shields to die!”

“Then what can you do?” Uncle Li looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Rebel? Didn't you see Commander Chen Jiao's whip yesterday? Old Man Liu, who was at the Great Perfection of Qi Refining, had his heart Meridians kicked apart by him in one blow. This place is surrounded by the Heavenly Sword Sect's Formations; where could you possibly escape to?”

“But...” Wang Er clenched his fists. “I heard from the brothers in the next shack that the one coming from outside is an extremely terrifying demonic Sect. If we fall into the hands of the Demonic Path, our souls will be extracted and refined! Either way it's death, why don't we take advantage of the chaos...”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Uncle Li was so scared he shuddered, suddenly reaching out to cover Wang Er's mouth, looking around in terror.

“If you want to die, don't drag me down with you! To pull little tricks under the nose of that killing god Chen Zhiwen, who do you think you are?” Uncle Li lowered his voice, almost roaring into Wang Er's ear.

Just then, an extremely piercing fluctuation of spiritual power suddenly erupted from the center of the Loose Cultivator camp.

“Ah—! Let go of me! You animals! Let go of my sister!”

A shrill scream pierced through the clamor of the storm.

Wang Er and Uncle Li were both startled and poked their heads out to look in the direction of the sound.

In the center of the camp, dozens of law enforcement Disciples wearing Chen family robes were holding spiritual energy shields against the rain, searching through the shacks like wolves and tigers.

Leading them was the Camp Commander with a face full of scars, Commander Chen Jiao.