203: Chapter 203 A Lively Crowd

"Hahaha!"

Tuoba Ye's wild laughter roared across the entire battlefield like the war drums of a savage era: "Just in time! More people, more fun; it's only satisfying if we kill a lot!"

His arm muscles bulged, veins winding like coiling dragons, as he swung that massive bronze axe engraved with ancient totems.

The axe hummed and vibrated, as if a primordial beast that had slumbered for eons had opened its eyes at this moment—a boundless, violent, and terrifying aura that devoured everything surged outward like a tangible wave!

The giant axe fell.

There were no flashy techniques, only the most primitive, purest power.

Wherever the axe blade passed, space was torn, leaving behind a visible black trail, while the sound of wind and thunder transformed into the roar of a giant beast.

With this single axe strike, he forcibly tore a hundred-zhang-long, shocking, massive gap in the surging sea of Souls!

The fierce Souls and evil spirits within range didn't even have time to wail before they were thoroughly crushed by that supremely violent brute force, turning into black smoke that scattered across the sky.

Almost simultaneously, Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan moved.

His expression was as solemn as ten-thousand-year-old black iron; he said nothing, but his hands transformed into afterimages in an instant.

Spiritual seals flowed from his fingertips like clouds and water, each one precisely merging into the void, triggering a resonance with the Laws of heaven and earth.

"72 Earthly Fiend Soul-Suppressing Formation Flags—Rise!"

He shouted in a low voice, and seventy-two Formation Flags flew from his sleeves.

The flags were of seven colors, corresponding to the Big Dipper, and also secretly aligning with the number of the Earthly Fiends. Each one emitted an ancient and majestic precious light.

The Formation Flags whistled through the air like falling meteors, precisely embedding themselves in specific positions across the battlefield.

"Hum—!"

A low hum came from deep underground, as if the heroic Souls of the entire ancient battlefield were responding.

The next moment, a dazzling wall of light rose from the ground! It was not a simple barrier, but a glazed city wall composed of countless flowing ancient runes. As the light swirled, faint phantoms of ancient ancestors could be seen lining up, chanting, and standing guard within the light wall.

The heaven-shaking formation was formed in an instant!

The surging torrent of evil Soul qi crashed against an invisible dam, firmly blocked outside by the indestructible wall of light. The light wall trembled violently, ripples spreading across it, yet it stood firm.

This brief moment of obstruction bought a chance to breathe for Xuanyuan Zhanxian and the others, who were deep at the core and at the end of their rope.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

The various Prodigies who had originally been terrified and fleeing in all directions under the impact of the Soul tide stopped their retreat.

They looked back, witnessing the wildness of Tuoba Ye's axe cleaving the heavens, witnessing the ease with which Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan cast the formation with a wave of his hand, witnessing the elegance of that green-robed figure cleansing evil spirits with the sound of a flute, and witnessing the determination of Second Prince Wu Yuanchen and Yun Zhi as they led the others against the tide...

And they witnessed, in the deepest part of the Soul tide, those three figures who, even at their limit, still stood tall like pines, fighting to the death without retreating.

In their chests, the hot blood that had been almost frozen by fear suddenly boiled!

"Damn it!"

A burly man covered in blood, from an unknown sect, fiercely wiped the disheveled mixture of blood, sweat, and mud from his face.

The panic in his eyes was completely replaced by a terrifying, resolute light.

"These ghosts are already riding on our necks to defecate; why the hell should we run?! Can we run today and run for a lifetime?! Let's fight them to the death!"

He roared, summoning his golden bronze bell Lifebound Treasure, which he had nurtured for a hundred years and regarded as his life.

The bell shone brilliantly, and with the determination of no return, it slammed violently into the nearest Soul tide!

"Count me in! The home is about to be gone, the mountain gate is about to collapse, why cherish this damn life!"

A female Cultivator shrieked, tearing off the blood-stained half of her sleeve, and tightly bound the long sword in her hand to her palm. "My Revered Master taught me to cultivate the Dao, not to be a deserter!"

"Me too! Instead of being chased and bitten to death by these ghosts like a stray dog, I'd rather die fighting here, at least it'll be quick! In the next life, I can still stand tall and say that I fought the demon spawn!"

"Kill—! For the homeland behind us! For this world! Fight them to the end!"

One voice, two voices, ten voices, a hundred voices...

The long-suppressed roars finally broke through the cage of fear, like a volcano that had been silent for eons, erupting violently!

In an instant, nearly a hundred auras of varying strength, but all burning with the flames of life and carrying the resolve to die, shot up from all over the battlefield!

Like a single spark starting a prairie fire.

Like trickling streams converging into a sea.

Fear was ignited, turning into flames that consumed the body. Cowardice was crushed, forged into iron bones that faced death.

The instinct to survive transformed into a nobler instinct at this moment—protection, and resistance.

"Kill!!!"

Nearly a hundred figures turned into nearly a hundred streams of light.

Splendid sword light cut through the darkness, flying Talismans bloomed with brilliance, roaring Magic Treasures shattered evil Souls, and dazzling Divine Abilities illuminated the netherworld...

Various lights intertwined and fused, finally converging into a majestic, sweeping torrent that sought to change the world.

This torrent was not neat, perhaps even chaotic, but it carried a primitive and tragic power, a determination to seek life while knowing death was certain!

They threw themselves at the boundless dark Soul tide.

Like moths to a flame.

But a thousand times more heroic than moths.

"Saint!"

Fentian's voice carried an irrepressible tremor. He looked at the tragic battlefield ahead where blood and fire, light and darkness were crazily intertwined. His chest heaved violently, and veins bulged under his bronze-colored skin.

"Are we... really going to keep standing by and watching?!"

This question was like a pebble thrown into a still lake, causing the gazes of all the experts led by the Imperial Ancestral Temple Saint Li Chengsi to converge.

Around Lei Potian, azure electric arcs crackled uncontrollably, electrocuting the scorched earth beneath his feet into spiderweb-like cracks. Battle Intent boiled in his eyes like molten lava, almost ready to erupt.

Fairy Mo Ying's figure twisted and elongated slightly at the boundary between light and darkness, like a poisonous snake lurking in the shadows, its tongue flicking silently, ready to strike.

Senior Young Master Yu Qingxuan's face remained as cold as a ten-thousand-year-old cold pool, but in those eyes that seemed capable of perceiving the secrets of heaven, the glimmer of calculating fate spun at an unprecedented speed, showing that his heart was by no means as calm as it appeared on the surface.

And Li Chengsi, who was locked by everyone's gaze—

The composed smile on his lips, as if everything were under control, did not even waver in the slightest.

He even leisurely raised his hand, using his slender, jade-like fingertips to gently brush a non-existent speck of dust from his snow-white cuff.

The Saint's robe, embroidered with dark golden dragon patterns, was spotless, forming a heart-wrenching contrast with the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, the wailing of ghosts and howling of spirits on the battlefield behind him.

It was as if the earth-shaking slaughter, the shrill screams of Soul qi, and the roars of companions charging to their deaths were merely background drums for the drama he was watching.

His gaze swept carelessly across the tragic stage ignited by lives:

Tuoba Ye's blood and Qi burned like red clouds, each swing of his giant axe carrying a savage force that could cleave the heavens. The earth beneath his feet was riddled with gullies, but he was panting like an ox, clearly consuming a huge amount of energy;

The "72 Earthly Fiend Soul-Suppressing Formation" laid down by Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan was dazzling, but it was trembling violently under the impact of the endless Soul tide. On that glazed wall of light, dense, spiderweb-like cracks had already appeared;

The torrent formed by nearly a hundred Prodigies was like a torch thrown into a black ocean, its light being rapidly devoured.

Their eyes were bloodshot, roaring as they burned their lives, blooming with magnificent and short-lived brilliance, forcibly forming a tragic stalemate with the dark Soul tide. Every second, figures exploded within the Soul tide, turning into the final rain of light...

But in Li Chengsi's eyes, there was no hot blood, no sign of being moved.

There was only a condescending, bone-chilling indifference.

This look was not like looking at comrades fighting side by side (at least nominally), nor was it like looking at living, breathing beings.

It was more like looking at actors struggling on a stage according to a pre-set script, looking at chess pieces being manipulated on a chessboard, looking at samples in a laboratory destined for death.

In the deepest part of those eyes, which were as deep as an ancient well, there was even a trace of extremely faint, almost imperceptible playfulness and appreciation—as if this heroic sacrifice, ignited with life as fuel, was nothing more than a climax of a well-choreographed, immersive drama for him to appreciate and enjoy.

"Saint! If you don't act now, they will all be wiped out! We won't be able to hold on alone!" Lei Potian could no longer hold back, his knuckles cracking, lightning flashing around him, shattering the rocks beneath his feet.

Li Chengsi finally spoke slowly.

His voice was calm, clear, without a ripple, yet it carried the undeniable majesty of thunder from the Nine Heavens, instantly overpowering the faint roar from the battlefield and freezing the restlessness in everyone's hearts:

"Act?"

He tilted his head slightly, seemingly finding the question a bit interesting. The composed smile on his lips deepened a little, but it was cold, without a shred of warmth.

"Why act?"

His slender fingers raised casually, pointing remotely at the seemingly vast and tragic torrent of counterattack formed by nearly a hundred lives burning their Divine Souls.

His tone was indifferent, as if commenting on an antique unrelated to himself, or stating an immutable truth:

"The courage of a common man, the spirit of blood and courage, may be moving and tear-jerking."

"However, it cannot change the big picture in the end, it only adds to the joke."

A nearly cruel mockery curled at the corners of his lips, the smile seeming to carry the chill of ancient black ice, causing the temperature of the surrounding air to drop sharply:

"They..."

He paused slightly, his gaze drifting lightly over the figures fighting in the blood in the Soul tide and constantly falling, like leaves in the autumn wind. The mockery was deeply engraved into the marrow of every listener:

"Are nothing more than epiphyllums watered by the last drop of hot blood in the abyss of despair. The moment they bloom, it is indeed brilliant and eye-catching, drawing a few sighs and tears from onlookers."

He shook his head gently, as if in regret, but there was only cold calculation in his eyes:

"But what about the next moment? Once the cold wind passes, they wither into mud. Aside from adding a few more unwilling vengeful Souls to this ancient battlefield, letting that Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner drink its fill of resentment and grow even more ferocious... what meaning does their sacrifice have?"

"Like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, or a moth flying into a flame. Tragic, but foolish."

Fentian's throat bobbed violently. He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to retort, wanting to say 'the lips are gone, the teeth are cold,' wanting to say 'it is a matter of righteousness,' wanting to say 'how can we sit idly by while our comrades fight to the death'... But all these words were nailed deep back into his throat by the indifferent gaze that Li Chengsi swept over him.

That gaze held no threats, no anger; it possessed only a calmness that saw through everything and controlled everything. It was a calmness that made one's heart run cold.

Li Chengsi stopped looking at Fentian. He slowly turned around, his gaze like an unsheathed, peerless sword, slowly sweeping across those under his command—Lei Potian, Fairy Mo Ying, Senior Young Master Yu Qingxuan, Fentian, and the elite Disciples of the Imperial Ancestral Temple and the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches Holy Land behind them.

In those eyes, which had always been calm and waveless, a sharp, tangible light finally erupted. It was a sense of absolute control, viewing all things as mere chess pieces:

"Listen closely, all of you."

His voice lowered slightly, but every word was like a chisel, clearly carving itself into everyone's heart, carrying an irresistible will:

"Our goal has never been these wailing and howling cannon fodder, nor is it the victory or defeat of this single moment or place."

"It is not even that Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner, nor that shadowy demon hiding its head and showing its tail."

He lifted his chin slightly, his gaze piercing through the chaotic battlefield, landing precisely on those three figures who, even in the heart of the Soul tide, remained like pillars stabilizing the sea—Xuanyuan Zhanxian, Jian Tanghuang, and Chu Zhanxiao.

"Our only goal will be those three."

"The Legacy of the World Guardians, the forbidden treasure techniques, the pivot of Luck... and clearing away the biggest stumbling block on our path to the future."

The calm smile of a strategist at the corners of his lips emerged once again, deeper and colder than before:

"So, why the rush?"

"Let them fight, let them struggle, let them flip over their trump cards one by one, let them exhaust their strength bit by bit."

"When they have exhausted everything, reached their limit, and fought that demonic shadow to a mutual destruction..."

Li Chengsi paused, his gaze passing over the lingering reluctance in Lei Potian's eyes, the stirring killing intent of Fairy Mo Ying, the thoughtful calculations of Senior Young Master Yu Qingxuan, and the struggling anxiety of Fentian.

Then, he softly uttered the final verdict that would decide their fates:

"That will be the time for us to step in, to 'assist' our comrades, to 'eliminate' the demonic threat, and incidentally... to 'receive' what they have left behind."

This order was clear, cold, and decisive. Like ice water in the depths of winter, it instantly extinguished the restless, hot blood that had just been ignited in everyone's hearts by the battlefield, leaving behind only the frozen obedience of absolute rationality.

"But Saint..." Lei Potian looked at the back of Xuanyuan Zhanxian in the distance, which remained as straight as a spear even while stained with blood. The last shred of reluctance struggled to surface in his eyes. "If they... if they truly all fall here, the demonic shadow's ferocity will be monstrous, and we will be unable to stand alone. I fear that we..."

Li Chengsi glanced at him indifferently.

That gaze was calm and waveless; there was not even blame or anger.

Yet this calm glance caused Lei Potian's entire body to stiffen, as if he had fallen into a ten-thousand-year ice cave. The lightning and hot blood boiling throughout his body froze in an instant. It was an absolute suppression coming from the level of the Soul, a disparity in status, an instinctive trembling of an ant looking up at the firmament.

"Lei Potian."

Li Chengsi's voice remained steady and ripple-free, yet it was as heavy as a ten-thousand-ton divine mountain, pressing down on everyone's hearts:

"Remember—"

"Mercy is a luxury that only the strong are entitled to. It is an embellishment for the victor during their leisure, not an excuse for the loser while fighting for their life."

"Before becoming a strong player who holds the chess piece, survive..."

He turned his gaze back to the battlefield, looking at the points of light that were constantly falling, his voice coldly dropping the final word:

"And achieving the goal is the only thing that matters. Everything else is vanity."

He said no more, casting his gaze back to the core of the battlefield, the center of the vortex that was the most chaotic, the most tragic, and the one that would determine the final outcome.

The setting sun was like blood, struggling to pierce through the thick, ink-like black fog, casting its last few strands of bleakly beautiful light obliquely onto his incomparably handsome, yet cold-as-an-ice-sculpture profile.

That calm, indifferent smile of someone who held the wisdom of the situation in their grasp never changed.

Like a chess player detached from the world, watching with cold eyes the struggles, collisions, sacrifices, and annihilation of the pieces on the chessboard.

All the blood, roars, tragedy, and sacrifice, in his eyes, were nothing more than the increase or decrease of chips used to calculate victory or defeat.

He gently raised his hand, as if holding an invisible chess piece, toward that Shura killing field, toward those burning lives, toward that fluttering Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner, and toward those three figures struggling bitterly, whispering in a voice only he could hear, almost like a murmur:

"Struggle, bloom, and then... wither away in peace."

"Let me be the hand that finally cleans up the mess and plucks the greatest fruit."

Though these words were soft, they were like the most venomous curse, echoing in the hearts of everyone from the Imperial Ancestral Temple and the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches Holy Land, completely freezing the last shred of restlessness, reluctance, and hesitation in their hearts, sealing them beneath a layer of absolute rationality.

The people of the Imperial Ancestral Temple and the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches looked at each other, all seeing the same coldness and determination in each other's eyes.

No one raised any further objections; they all sat cross-legged and closed their eyes to regulate their breathing.

Rays of spiritual light of varying strengths rose from their bodies, constructing a strange and cold "tranquility" on the edge of this blood-reeking, wailing purgatory.

And the corners of Li Chengsi's lips, from beginning to end, held that faint smile of someone who had the wisdom of the situation in their grasp and was detached from the world.

As if all the joys and sorrows of life and death, the heroism of love and hate, all the sacrifices and struggles, all the hopes and despairs on this ancient battlefield...

Were nothing more than the final chapter, already perfectly calculated and destined to unfold, in the game of chess he held in his hands.

"Boom—!!!"

Just as Li Chengsi's voice fell, a sudden change occurred at the core of the battlefield!

The entire ancient battlefield shook violently!

It was not an ordinary tremor, but a terrifying shock as if an ancient beast was turning over deep within the earth, or as if stars were colliding above the firmament!

With the torrent formed by the burning lives of Xuanyuan Zhanxian and the other two, Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, Yun Zhi, Tuoba Ye, Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan, and nearly a hundred Prodigies as one side, and the infinite Soul tide driven by the demonic shadow and reinforced by ancient battle Souls as the other—

Two forces, representing the ultimate resistance of "Life" and the ultimate resentment of "Death," finally climbed to their peak and collided with a boom!

There were no techniques, no flourishes, only the purest, most primal, and most tragic crushing of energy and clashing of wills!

The extremely Yang and rigid blood-Qi Divine Power, like a brilliant sun, burned life and bloomed into the final, and most searing, light;

The cold and resentful Evil Qi and Soul Power, like the Nine Nether Sea, swept through the ages, breathing out the ultimate darkness that devoured everything.

The two forces frantically eroded, collided, and annihilated each other!

Blinding white light and the black radiance that devoured everything intertwined and exploded, erupting with a terrifyingly strong light capable of instantly blinding ordinary Cultivators!

Following closely behind was a heaven-shaking roar, deafening and seemingly capable of shattering the Soul!

This was the sound of Laws colliding and space lamenting!

The earth cracked like a fragile eggshell, with bottomless ravines spreading across it, spewing out scorching earth-fire and cold Evil Qi.

The firmament lost its color, the sun and moon lost their light, and space was torn by the terrifying energy into countless pitch-black, hideous cracks, only to be instantly mended by the instinctive repair of the Laws of Heaven and Earth, and then immediately torn open again... repeating this cycle, as if the apocalypse had arrived, and the world had reached the edge of its end.

"Roar—!!!"

The demonic shadow's roar, filled with shock and rage, sounded twisted and hideous amidst the frenzy of energy:

"Ants gathering together, daring to shake the heavens?! You don't know whether you are living or dying! You don't know whether you are living or dying!!!"

"Give me—Refine! Refine! Refine!!!"

It felt the threat, a real threat!

The power gathered by these insects, which it viewed as ants and blood-food, had actually shaken the death Domain it had laid down with the Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner!

Fury and a trace of imperceptible panic made the demonic shadow completely mad.

It no longer cared about consumption, frantically driving the Origin demonic power within its body, even going so far as to burn its unstable demonic Soul Foundation, pouring tsunami-like power recklessly into that Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner!

"Woooo—Hummm—!!!"

The Ten Thousand Soul-Devouring Immortal Banner emitted an unbearable, teeth-grinding, sharp buzzing and ghost wailing; the surface of the banner expanded and contracted violently as if being inflated, and the billions of twisted faces on it simultaneously let out hysterical shrieks!

Inside the banner, it seemed as if the passage connecting to the Nine Nethers was being forcibly widened! More, fiercer, and more powerful and terrifying fierce Souls and evil spirits, like the waters of a breached Styx, gushed out!

The Soul-evil spirits that gushed out this time were not just the previous vengeful Souls.

Among them were shockingly mixed some terrifying existences with solidified forms, wearing ancient, tattered armor, holding rusted but Evil Qi-soaring weapons, with hollow, dead eyes yet monstrous killing intent—ancient battlefield hero spirits and battle Souls!

They retained part of their combat instincts and fighting experience from when they were alive, their combat power far exceeding ordinary fierce Souls, and each one exuded a heart-palpitating, tragic aura.

The power of the Soul tide suddenly soared several times over!

That tangible, terrifying oppressive feeling, mixed with extreme resentment, deathly silence, icy cold, and slaughter, was like billions of ancient divine mountains stacked together, crashing down upon that torrent of light and heat!

The torrent of light was instantly swallowed by the boundless darkness, and like a candle in the wind, its radiance dimmed rapidly.

The shadow of despair once again shrouded the hearts of every fighter.