153: Chapter 153 Ancient Killing Array

The overbearing and unparalleled power collided with the rotating star chart—the Big Dipper dispersed its edge, the Ziwei Star devoured its brilliance, and ten thousand shattered stars quietly eroded its momentum.

In the blink of an eye, that terrifying fist aura, sufficient to kill a Golden Core Late Stage Cultivator, dissipated into nothingness amidst the rotating galaxy, as if it had never existed!

"Pfft—!"

Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan suddenly spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, which exploded into a mist in the air, splattering onto his lapels.

His figure swayed like a candle in the wind, and he relied entirely on his palms to firmly support himself on the ground, preventing him from collapsing to his knees.

With his Divine Soul and spiritual power both exhausted, his vision darkened in waves, and every breath pulled a burning, rusty pain from the depths of his lungs.

Yet when he raised his head, a fire burned in his eyes that refused to be extinguished—in that fire was stubbornness, unyielding resolve, and an almost obsessive pride—

He had ultimately received this blow!

The grimace on Third Prince Wu Huang's face suddenly froze, turning into incredulous horror, only to be swallowed by monstrous fury.

The blood Qi around his body boiled like molten lava, churning until even the air distorted: "Eighteenth Brother... you truly have hidden yourself deep."

But this anger only boiled for an instant before settling into a more terrifying calmness.

The ostentatious blood Qi filling the sky suddenly recoiled, like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, all of it contained within his body, not a single bit leaking out.

The towering phantom behind him became even more solid at this moment; the patterns of its ancient armor were clearly visible, and every mark seemed to be engraved with the slaughter and glory of the primordial battlefield, the pervading aura of destruction causing even the Nascent Soul Cultivators in the spectator stands to feel a chill down their spines!

"Eighteenth Brother, you do indeed have the qualifications to make me take you seriously."

Third Prince Wu Huang's voice was low like muffled thunder from underground, slamming into everyone's Divine Soul word by word, making their scalps tingle.

"But, the farce should end now."

He slowly raised his hands and brought them together in front of his chest.

The extremely compressed blood Qi gathered in his palms, condensing into a dark red light sphere the size of a fist.

On the surface of the sphere, ancient runes slithered like living snakes, flickering incessantly, and the energy compressed inside had already caused the surrounding space to slightly distort, with light even bending and diverting around it—

This was a destructive power that even a Nascent Soul Cultivator would have to retreat three times to avoid!

"Being able to be defeated by this move is your honor."

Third Prince Wu Huang's eyes held cold light like blades, his tone indifferent as a verdict.

"Tyrant Blood—God-Slaying Cannon!"

He pushed his arms forward fiercely.

Swoosh—!!!

There was no explosion, no roar, only a shriek that pierced the Divine Soul, as if all sounds in heaven and earth had been drained away by this single shriek.

The dark red beam was like a death ray projected from Hell; wherever it passed, even light was devoured, leaving only a twisted, seemingly never-healing pitch-black crack in the air, as if space itself were wailing for this blow.

This was a blow that concentrated the destructive power of the Tyrant Blood to the extreme, and its piercing might far exceeded all previous ones!

The referees' expressions changed drastically; they unleashed their spiritual power, their Magical Artifacts rang out in unison, and various colors of spiritual light exploded at the edge of the arena—this blow had crossed the line, and they were ready to save him at any moment!

However.

Facing this fatal blow, a strange, almost relieved expression surfaced on Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's paper-white face.

That was not despair.

It was a sense of relief that had been buried for a long time and had finally arrived at this moment—the calmness of a hunter watching the prey step into the trap at the very last moment.

His lips moved slightly, his voice like a mosquito's hum, yet it clearly reached Third Prince Wu Huang's ears:

"I finally... waited for your full-power blow."

Before the words had faded—

The runes furiously circulating in his eyes suddenly froze, condensing into an ultimate Formation seal that encompassed the stars of the heavens and the birth and destruction of all phenomena!

Following that, he did something that caused an uproar throughout the arena:

He separated his hands and voluntarily dispersed all the starlight around his body!

"What is he doing?!" "Destroying his own Formation? Is he courting death?!"

Exclamations exploded like a tide, the sound wave almost overturning the viewing platform, and even Emperor Wu Tianba suddenly stood up, his Dragon eyes wide open, pressing a palm onto the railing, causing the thousand-year ironwood to crack in response.

Without the protection of the star Formation, how could Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan have any chance of survival?

But just at the moment the starlight dissipated—

An unexpected change, suddenly occurred!

The dark red beam of the "Tyrant Blood—God-Slaying Cannon" had already touched his robes, the aura of death almost pressing against his throat, and that destructive heat had already scorched his hair.

But at that very instant—

Blood light exploded around Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan!

That was no ordinary spiritual light, but one woven from billions of ancient runes as fine as stardust, each one glistening with a cold, dark red hue, circulating with the aura of slaughter that had settled since the primordial battlefield, as if every rune had tasted the blood of gods and demons.

The runes swirled and condensed crazily, finally turning into illusory yet unparalleled sharp sword-shaped light blades, layered upon layers, blooming like a bloody lotus, forming a lethal sword Formation that enveloped his entire body!

Where the sword blades pointed, heaven and earth were filled with killing intent.

"The number one Primordial Killing Formation—"

"Open!"

Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's voice was like thunder falling from the nine heavens, like the verdict of an ancient deity, every word carrying a cold determination to sever Karma and slaughter gods and demons, as if heaven and earth themselves had to bow in submission to this sound!

Hum—!!!

Heaven and earth lost their color.

The originally clear sky was instantly shrouded in a layer of gray desolation, as if an invisible palm had covered the firmament.

The sound of wind, breathing, heartbeat... all sounds came to an abrupt halt, and even the dust stopped falling.

Only the low humming emitted by the blood-colored sword Formation, like the long tolling of a funeral bell, pierced straight into the Divine Soul, shaking the spiritual platform of every Cultivator present and causing their Dao Heart to become unstable!

In the spectator stands, Jian Tanghuang's body suddenly stiffened, her hands clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms, seeping blood.

A trace of irrepressible fear flashed in her eyes, and she even unconsciously took half a step back—as a sword Genius, she knew better than anyone what the killing intent contained in that sword Formation meant.

This was a power sufficient to sever her sword heart.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian, who was beside her, immediately noticed, and his warm palm gently covered her cold, trembling hand, silent yet firm.

He did not speak, but the temperature of his palm was better than a thousand words.

Jian Tanghuang took a deep breath, suppressing the palpitation in her heart, her gaze still locked tightly on the arena, but her fingertips no longer trembled.

Chu Changsheng took everything in, his fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest, his eyes as deep as night, but a barely perceptible arc curled at the corner of his lips.

—This killing Formation was even less simple than he had thought.

And on the arena—

An indescribable blood-colored flame of light erupted from the center of Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan!

This light was not dazzling, but it exuded an extreme deathly silence, as if it were the first ray of killing light from the beginning of the Universe, the destination of all things ending, the prologue to the twilight of the gods.

Everyone who saw this light felt a bone-chilling cold rise from the depths of their souls, as if they would be swallowed in the next second, with even the qualifications for Reincarnation being stripped away, forever sinking into nothingness.

The moment the blood-colored sword Formation took shape, time seemed to fall into a quagmire, slowing down to the point of near stagnation.

The dark red beam, capable of slaying gods, the instant it touched the edge of the sword Formation, began to dissolve and disintegrate silently, like spring snow meeting boiling soup.

It was not blocked, nor was it deflected, but was directly "erased" from the root of its existence by the concept of "killing" that had been purified to the extreme.

There was no explosion, no waves, not even a single extra ripple.

The entire process was terrifyingly quiet, eerily quiet, quiet enough to make a bone-creeping chill arise in the heart of every witness.

The whole arena was dead silent, everyone's eyes wide open, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to think, with only their souls left trembling in silence.

"...What?!"

The ferocity, confidence, and fury on Third Prince Wu Huang's face froze completely, as if someone had slapped away all his expressions.

Following this, boundless horror and bewilderment engulfed him—it was a kind of collapse from the depths of his cognition that he had never experienced before.

He could clearly feel that the connection between himself and the "God-Slaying Cannon" had been forcibly severed by an absolute force!

The blow that had condensed all his Tyrant Blood power had actually acted as if it had never existed—

This transcended his understanding, subverted all his cognition of "power," and crushed everything he had been proud of for twenty years into dust.

However, the might of the blood-colored sword Formation did not end there.

After erasing the "God-Slaying Cannon," the killing aura that filled the arena spread toward Third Prince Wu Huang like a tide.

It was not fast, even arguably slow, yet it carried a sense of "destiny"—like fate itself, like the judgment of the Heavenly Dao, slow, yet irresistible.

As if no matter where Third Prince Wu Huang fled, no matter what means he used, how much Lifespan he burned, or which deity he prayed to, he would ultimately be swallowed by this slaughter, ending his life and destroying his Divine Soul completely.

"No... No!! What kind of monster is this!!"

Third Prince Wu Huang finally collapsed, letting out a shrill scream filled with despair and fear; where was there any trace of a prince's dignity, where was there any trace of the arrogance of a Tyrant Blood Awakening?

He frantically urged the remaining Tyrant Blood in his body, dark red blood Qi erupting like a volcano, laying down layer after layer of thick barriers in front of him, each one sufficient to withstand a full-power blow from a Golden Core Peak Cultivator—he even spared no effort to burn his essential blood, not caring about damaging his Foundation, just begging to hold on for one more instant!

But all of this was as laughable as paper in the face of the encroaching blood-colored aura.

The aura swept over.

The barriers were like bubbles under the sun, "pop, pop, pop" breaking in succession, unable to even delay it for an instant, as if those barriers that had cost him half his life were nothing but fragile phantoms.

Third Prince Wu Huang watched helplessly as that aura of death drew closer and closer, his whole body icy and bone-chilling, even losing the strength to move—no, not lost, but the pressure of that killing aura was too terrifying, and his body was already instinctively giving up resistance.

Only fear.

Fear that seeped into the bone marrow and froze the soul.

This was the true despair of facing death that he had never experienced in his life.