137: Chapter 137 What kind of technique is this?!

The slate was extremely heavy and ancient, its edges jagged from deep-sea erosion, its surface covered in dense holes embedded with fragments of moss and seaweed that had been dried for untold years.

Zhou Shudan's blood seeped from beneath his fingernails, flowing along the grooves on the slate's surface and dripping into the holes corroded by seawater. He didn't feel pain—or rather, he had no time to care about the pain.

The Taixuan Sect had united with more than a dozen Sects in Yuzhou, boasting over a thousand Cultivators and no fewer than a dozen above the Sixth Realm.

How many people did the Imperial Court have?

Even generously counted, the Imperial Guards numbered only a few hundred. The highest combat forces available among the Royal Enshrined Masters were merely a few Sixth Realm and one or two Seventh Realm Cultivators; the rest were new Cultivators who hadn't fully grown yet.

Last night, the residents of several main streets outside the Imperial City had been evacuated in batches by the Imperial Guards to hidden relocation sites outside the city. Important archives from the Imperial Academy of Medicine and the Hall of Archives were also moved, leaving only those in the Imperial City who had voluntarily chosen to stay behind.

He didn't have to sit on this Dragon Throne.

He could have had his ministers draft an abdication edict, taken the slate through a secret passage out of the city, and laid low somewhere far from the Imperial City for a few years until he gathered enough strength to return.

But he didn't.

He sat on this Dragon Throne because he was the Emperor.

If the Emperor retreated, who would stand before the Cultivators on behalf of the Mortals of Jiuzhou?

He looked down at the faint, blurry yellow sigil on the slate, his fingers slowly rubbing along its edges.

He didn't recognize the pattern on it, nor did he even know if the deity behind this slate was a Great Old One or an Outer God.

When that Sixth Realm Enshrined Master presented the slate to him, he had carefully questioned the records in ancient texts. The most similar entry came from a notebook left behind a century ago by a mad Cultivator, which contained only three lines:

The Unspeakable King in Yellow.

Aldebaran.

Lake Hali.

After writing these three lines, the Cultivator burned the rest of the notebook.

Zhou Shudan did not know how to invoke the deity behind the slate.

But he knew that if he destroyed this slate, that deity would surely be enraged.

He had flipped through countless ancient texts recording beings beyond Jiuzhou—beings older than anomalies and more terrifying than Cultivators. Their wrath could easily crush a Sect, a city, or even an entire continent.

"If there is no one else, then I will do it."

He whispered to himself, his fingers lingering on the slate for a long time before he slowly raised his head to look out of the hall toward Yuzhou.

The candlelight reflected deep in his pupils; there was no fear within them, only a profound, freezing resolve.

He would drag those high-and-mighty Cultivators, who proclaimed themselves Dominators, along with his own Dragon Robe long soaked in the blood and tears of generations of Mortals, into the abyss of the Great Old One's fury.

Meanwhile, the battle on Xie Feng's side had reached a white-hot pitch.

On the square, several hundred Cultivators had surrounded the three of them like an isolated island. The front-row Taixuan Sect Disciples pressed forward with blades and swords drawn, while the high-ranking Cultivators in the back retreated half a step in unison.

It was not fear, but wariness.

After Xie Feng deactivated the Fog Ring Spell of Eibon, his aura spewed out wildly. It was too chaotic and dense—willpower of different Great Old Ones coexisting beneath a single person's cloak.

(Note: The Spell actually exists, but hiding one's aura is a headcanon/custom setting.)

This man was like the lock on a monster cage; once opened, if the things behind it broke out, it would be difficult to handle. Thus, they sent lower-Realm Cultivators to wear him down, waiting to capture Xie Feng alive or break his bones before taking him.

Tu Ziguan planted the maxim tripod firmly on the ground, the ammo belt clattering as it unfolded, pointing the barrel toward the densest part of the crowd.

He didn't pull the trigger, only slowly sweeping the muzzle from left to right. Several Taixuan Sect Disciples in the front row subconsciously flinched back half a step.

Lu Mingyuan stood at Xie Feng's side, his right hand spread open, a steady, pure silver-white halo of mana glowing at his fingertips.

"Why are these old bastards just watching and not moving?" Tu Ziguan spat on the ground, turning his head. "Hundreds of people surrounding three to fight, and Sixth and Seventh Realm masters are all standing in the back watching the show! Have they no shame?"

"They've lived for who knows how long. Having Cultivated to this level, they treasure their lives more than anyone."

Xie Feng shifted his blind staff to his left hand, the silver-white mana threads at his right fingertips condensing into an extremely fine bundle.

"With a scan of their Divine Sense, they know how many things I have attached to me. Whoever steps up first is the first to die."

"Then how do we break out? You open a Spacetime Gate—" Tu Ziguan swallowed his words halfway through, remembering that Xie Feng's Spacetime Gate couldn't even send himself to the right place accurately.

"No opening gates."

Xie Feng took half a step forward, the three flames beneath his veil slowly scanning the faces of those high-ranking Cultivators at the edge of the square.

"We're going to talk with them."

Then he turned around and shouted out loud.

"Fellow Daoists of the Taixuan Sect, your slogan for forcing the palace this time is quite well-crafted! I have a question to ask: is forcing the palace to restore the Sects' local official appointment rights and reclaim jurisdiction over post roads and trade routes—"

Obviously, "talking it out" only works in comics, and Xie Feng was clearly not good at it.

What's more, his ability to communicate was given by Lord Cthulhu, and it had now been taken away by The King in Yellow.

The Sect Master of Taixuan Sect stood at the entrance of the council hall, his Seventh Realm spiritual pressure unfolding like majestic mountains.

He didn't respond to Xie Feng's words, merely raising his right hand slowly.

This was the signal for a general attack.

Hundreds of spiritual aura fluctuations lit up simultaneously across the square, and the sound of unsheathing swords joined into a continuous roar. The high-ranking Cultivators still didn't enter the field personally, but they were no longer standing by.

They ordered their Disciples to charge, intending to completely crush these three outside disruptors with sheer numbers.

Xie Feng thutted his blind staff against the ground.

"Tu Wu, left flank. Mingyuan, right flank."

Tu Ziguan slammed the trigger down; the maxim's muzzle spouted a long tongue of flame, and spiritual bullets lashed out like a dark-gold light whip across the left flank.

Lu Mingyuan spread all ten fingers, a strange weapon appearing in his hands.

Plasma-like energy spewed out violently.

Xie Feng stood in front of the two, holding the cold crystal blind staff upside down. Silver-white mana threads gushed from his fingertips, weaving a continuously spinning barrier three feet in front of him.

He hadn't intended to kill anyone, but if someone picked a fight with him, Xie Feng didn't mind letting these Cultivators know that standing before them was someone personally accepted as a retainer by Tawil, and the Gatekeeper of the Silver Key never favors cowards.

"Green Decay!"

As a Spell was cast, a Second Realm Cultivator in front instantly turned into a puddle of mushy moss.

"Wither Limb!"

Another Cultivator's limbs instantly shriveled like matches that had burned out.

Most of the people present were held back.

These Cultivators truly could not comprehend what on earth this Fourth Realm Cultivator's Cultivation Technique was.

First was that green barrier surrounding him, extremely difficult to breach, isolating the inside from the outside.

Barrier of Nak-Titer.

Then there were his Cultivation Techniques—bizarre and evil, terrifying and disgusting. Those who saw them not only suffered injuries but also felt their perspective shifting. A few who were normally perceptive (high Insight) had already passed out.

Yet the three of them were completely fine?!

It was a good thing Xie Feng couldn't hear their inner thoughts; otherwise, he would have burst out laughing.

One was a lunatic with locked sanity, one lived in a Cthulhu mythos world with high resistance, and one was a pure mythical creature.

With great difficulty, a Cultivator rushed up and slashed his blade at that veiled monster.

That guy shrieked a string of words that nobody could understand.

"Damage Reduction!"

And then he actually tanked the attack just like that?!

In the end, they could only deploy their core forces, as a portion of Fourth Realm and Fifth Realm Cultivators began pressing forward.