149: Chapter 148 The Formation Breaks

The map of mountains and rivers trembled violently, the starlight flickering erratically.

Yun Ming spat out a mouthful of blood, his entire body slumped over the Formation Eye, his hand still pressed against the scroll, refusing to let go.

The third strike. Tu Gang raised his hammer, and Granny Bone raised her staff.

Yun Ming looked up at the shield that was on the verge of shattering and suddenly smiled.

He thought of Qin Wan. Before the breakout, he had found an excuse to send her into the map of mountains and rivers. She didn't Cultivate, had no spiritual power, and wasn't even at the Qi Refining Stage. Leaving her outside would have meant certain death.

He then thought of Yun Xi. That girl was out on a trial and didn't know about the Qingxuan Sect's situation. That was for the best; at least she wouldn't have to experience this catastrophe. He also thought of Jiu Jiu. That silly bird had gone out with Yun Xi, and he didn't know where it was now. If he were still alive, if he could find them, if...

There were no more "ifs."

Boom—!

The shield shattered. The map of mountains and rivers was sent flying back, landing on the ground with the light on the scroll completely extinguished.

Yun Ming was sent flying by the shockwave, crashing into the ruins behind him, spitting out a large amount of blood. His Golden Core shattered—his five Golden Cores simultaneously shattered, turning into countless fragments that splattered throughout his Dantian. His Meridians were severed, his internal organs displaced, and every inch of his bones ached.

Tu Gang and Granny Bone landed before him, looking down at him from above.

Tu Gang grinned maliciously, "Kid, where's your Formation? Where's your starlight? Light it up again for me to see."

Yun Ming lay on the ground, covered in blood, without even the strength to move a finger. He looked at Tu Gang, at Granny Bone, and at the sky behind them shrouded in Devilish Qi, yet he remained calm.

He knew he would come back to life, but he didn't know where he would be, when he would see Yun Xi again, or if he could still find Jiu Jiu.

But at least Qin Wan was safe and could still be with him. At least the Old Ancestor and the others had escaped. At least someone from the Qingxuan Sect was still alive.

That was enough.

Tu Gang raised his Black Hammer and swung it down.

Yun Ming's body exploded, turning into a mist of blood that filled the sky, with not even a bone remaining.

Tu Gang put away his Black Hammer and snorted coldly, "We let this kid off too easy."

Granny Bone said nothing.

Tu Gang turned and looked toward the east. The Old Ancestor and the others had already fled far away. The One-armed Middle-aged Man had pursued them, though it was uncertain if he could catch up.

"Let's go," he said. "Go after that old thing."

The two of them flickered and disappeared into the horizon. The Mountain Gate of the Qingxuan Sect fell completely silent. Only ruins and scorched earth remained.

...

Meanwhile, the Old Ancestor was at the front, his body covered in wounds and his spiritual power nearly exhausted, yet his speed was still incomparable to that of a Golden Core Cultivator. Fu Qingyun brought up the rear, while Fu Qingyun and Han Song protected the injured as they ran in the middle. No one spoke; there were only hurried footsteps and heavy breathing.

After running for about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the Qingxuan Sect was no longer in sight. The roar of the Formation shattering echoed from afar, like a series of muffled thunders in the distance. The Old Ancestor's footsteps paused slightly, but he quickly continued to rush forward. He knew the Formation had broken and that Yun Ming might be dead. But he couldn't look back. If he did, everyone would die.

After another short while, a dark figure suddenly appeared ahead. The figure was extremely fast, cutting in from the side and blocking the front of the group in the blink of an eye. The Old Ancestor's pupils constricted, and he came to a sudden halt. The Disciples behind him also stopped, some nearly crashing into those in front of them.

The middle-aged man stepped out from the morning mist. His left sleeve was empty, fluttering in the wind, and the gloom on his face was even heavier than a few days ago. He blocked the middle of the road, a cold sneer hanging on his lips.

"Running?" he spoke, his voice raspy and piercing. "Where do you think you're going?"

The Old Ancestor didn't speak. He took a step forward, shielding everyone behind him. His spiritual power was nearly gone, and his injuries were far from recovered, but he stood there with his back perfectly straight.

The One-armed Middle-aged Man sized him up, his sneer deepening. "In your current state, you still think you can stop me?"

The Old Ancestor still didn't speak. He just stood there, motionless.

The Disciples behind him began to grow restless. Fu Qingyun gripped his Broken Sword and took two steps forward. Fu Qingyun gritted his teeth, also wanting to rush forward. The Old Ancestor raised his hand, stopping them.

"Go," his voice was soft but left no room for doubt. "Go east, and don't look back."

Fu Qingyun was stunned. "Old Ancestor—"

"Go!" the Old Ancestor shouted sternly.

Fu Qingyun gritted his teeth, his eyes red. He turned and roared at the Disciples, "Go! All of you, go! To the east! Fast!"

The Disciples began to run.

The middle-aged man watched the Disciples fleeing into the distance, his brow furrowing as he moved to pursue them. The Old Ancestor stepped out, blocking him. The middle-aged man stopped and looked at him, a flash of impatience in his eyes.

"Old thing, are you bent on seeking death?"

The Old Ancestor didn't answer. He raised his hand and struck out with a palm. The wind from the palm whistled, carrying all of his remaining spiritual power. This palm strike was the weakest of his life, yet also the most resolute.

The middle-aged man snorted coldly, and a bloody light met the palm wind. The two forces collided, exploding in a shockwave. The Old Ancestor was shaken back several steps, a trace of blood leaking from his mouth. The middle-aged man also took half a step back, his brow furrowing even tighter.

"Is this all you've got?" he sneered.

The Old Ancestor steadied himself, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and stepped forward again. A second palm, a third, a fourth. Every strike used all his strength, and each was weaker than the last. His spiritual power was being consumed at a visible rate, and his body was decaying at a visible rate. But he did not retreat.

The middle-aged man gradually lost his patience and began to strike back. One bloody light after another, each carrying sharp killing intent. The Old Ancestor dodged and parried with difficulty, adding several more wounds to his body. His left arm was completely unable to lift, his right leg was weakening, and his whole body was teetering.

But he still did not retreat.

In the distance, the Disciples had already fled far away. Their figures disappeared into the morning mist, and the sound of their footsteps grew fainter. The Old Ancestor finally breathed a sigh of relief. He stood there, covered in blood, his aura withered to the extreme, but a faint smile appeared on his lips.

The middle-aged man's face darkened completely. He realized the old thing was stalling for time. He laughed out of sheer anger, bloody light condensing in his palm, growing brighter and more intense.

"Old thing, you've successfully infuriated me."

The bloody light surged, transforming into a Blood-colored Blade Light several zhang long, slashing down toward the Old Ancestor's head!

The Old Ancestor closed his eyes.

Just then, a sword light struck from the side.

That sword light was sharp to the extreme, carrying a world-destroying Sword Intent as it crashed into the Blood-colored Blade Light. With a boom, the blade light shattered, and the sword light dissipated. The middle-aged man was shaken back several steps, his expression changing drastically.

"Who is it?!"

The Old Ancestor opened his eyes and saw a young man walking out from the morning mist. The young man looked to be in his twenties, with a resolute face, wearing a green robe and holding a long sword. His aura was profound and sharp—he was remarkably at the Early Nascent Soul Stage. His body bore the marks of travel, with several tears in his robe and his hair somewhat disheveled, clearly having traveled a long way.