83: Chapter 83 Chaos Demon Weapon

Before they had walked even five miles back, Lu Mingyuan suddenly came to a halt.

Zhang Qingyuan, holding the lantern, turned back to look at him.

"What is it?"

Lu Mingyuan did not answer, merely staring back the way they had come. The dark red light in the sky was growing brighter, as if something was surging out from The Rift.

Then, they heard a sound.

It was not the sound of footsteps, nor was it a roar; it was a low, deep hum, like countless insects vibrating their wings at once, or like muffled thunder rolling in from the distance. The sound grew closer and louder, making one's heart tremble with unease.

The flame within the lantern in Zhang Qingyuan's hand suddenly flickered violently.

"This is bad," he whispered. "What's coming out this time aren't Demon Puppets."

Before he could finish his sentence, a dark mass appeared on the horizon.

They were not the twisted humanoids of the Demon Puppets, but a true army—orderly ranks, grim armor, and cold weapons. They emerged from the dark red mist, each step heavy upon the ground, leaving behind dark red footprints.

Unlike the Demon Puppets, their steps were steady and heavy, like truly well-trained soldiers.

Lu Mingyuan focused his gaze, his pupils shrinking slightly.

Those things carried the aura of Chaos.

It was not ordinary Devilish Qi, but something more primal and ancient—the aura from before the heavens and earth were split, when Chaos was undivided. He had heard of this aura when Xuanweizi was preaching the Dao, and had felt it during his Earth Immortal Breakthrough, but he had never seen it on a living creature.

"Chaos Demon Soldiers," Zhang Qingyuan's voice trembled slightly. "They've really come out."

Lu Mingyuan looked at him.

"You know of these things?"

Zhang Qingyuan nodded, his face pale.

"In twenty years, they have only appeared three times. Each time was when The Rift expanded. In the previous three times, only a few dozen emerged each time. But this time—"

He gazed at the dark mass in the distance; there were at least three to five hundred of them.

"This time is different."

The demon soldiers drew closer.

Their forms were similar to the Human Race, yet upon closer inspection, they were different in every way—some had three eyes, some had four arms, some had the heads of beasts, and some had no heads at all, with only a rift at the neck from which dark red light surged.

Their armor was no ordinary armor either, but was condensed from Chaos aura, sometimes solid and sometimes illusory, sometimes hidden and sometimes visible. Their weapons were the same—sabers, spears, swords, and halberds—each wrapped in dark red mist.

The most terrifying part was their eyes.

The eyes of the Demon Puppets were hollow, containing nothing. But within the eyes of these demon soldiers, there was something—madness, bloodlust, and a desire to destroy everything.

They spotted Lu Mingyuan and Zhang Qingyuan.

Then, they charged.

It was not the sluggish run of the Demon Puppets, but a true charge. The three to five hundred demon soldiers split into three paths, flanking from the left and right while the middle launched a frontal assault, faintly resembling the shape of a Formation.

Zhang Qingyuan held the lantern and took half a step back, standing beside Lu Mingyuan.

"Run or fight?"

Lu Mingyuan watched the charging demon soldiers, feeling the dense Chaos aura radiating from them.

Then, he smiled.

"Fight."

Before his voice had even faded, Lu Mingyuan had already rushed out.

He used no Talisman and no sword arts; he simply circulated his Wanxiang True Qi, letting that Chaos aura flow wildly within his body.

This was his first true battle after becoming an Earth Immortal.

He wanted to test just how strong his Dao really was.

The first demon soldier he met had three eyes, four arms, and held two long sabers. Seeing Lu Mingyuan charge, a bloodthirsty light flashed in its eyes as its four arms swung the sabers simultaneously. The blades, wrapped in dark red mist, slashed toward Lu Mingyuan's head, neck, chest, and abdomen.

The four blades arrived at once, sealing off all paths of retreat.

Lu Mingyuan did not retreat.

He simply raised his right hand and struck out with a palm.

This palm strike had no flourishes; it was the simplest of palm thrusts. Yet, it carried the Wanxiang True Qi—the power of Chaos that melted the essences of the Daoist, Buddhist, Confucian, and Martial schools into a single furnace.

The palm wind collided with the blade edges.

"Boom—"

With a muffled explosion, the demon soldier's four long sabers shattered simultaneously, dissipating into dark red mist. Immediately after, the palm wind struck its chest; its armor, condensed from Chaos aura, instantly crumbled, and its entire body was sent flying backward, crashing into the demon soldiers behind it and knocking down seven or eight others.

But it did not die.

It struggled to its feet, a massive palm print on its chest from which dark red mist surged. It looked down at its wound, then raised its head to look at Lu Mingyuan, the madness in its eyes growing even more intense.

It opened its mouth and let out a roar.

Then, it continued its charge.

Lu Mingyuan's brow furrowed slightly.

He had used thirty percent of his strength in that palm strike. Logically, thirty percent of an Earth Immortal's power should heavily injure even a Nascent Soul, let alone a Golden Core. Yet this demon soldier was only repelled, without even losing its combat effectiveness.

He had no time for further thought as more demon soldiers swarmed around him.

Blades flashed and shadows danced, the dark red light filling the sky.

Lu Mingyuan wove through the throng of demon soldiers, his Wanxiang True Qi operating at full capacity. Every palm strike sent a demon soldier flying; every punch shattered a demon soldier's armor.

Yet they simply would not die.

They fell and climbed back up. Their armor shattered, and the Chaos aura condensed once more. Some demon soldiers even had half their bodies destroyed, yet they still used their remaining hands to grip their weapons and pounce forward madly.

Lu Mingyuan grew more alarmed as the fight went on.

These things had no fear, no fatigue, and no sense of pain. They had only one thought—to kill everything before them.

Even more terrifying was that their Chaos aura and his Wanxiang True Qi shared the same source.

With every collision, his Wanxiang True Qi would be depleted slightly, while the Chaos aura of those demon soldiers seemed to receive a continuous supply of replenishment from The Rift. As one side waned and the other waxed, Lu Mingyuan actually began to feel a faint strain.

He suddenly recalled the words Xuanweizi had once spoken—

"When Chaos was undivided, there was no good or evil, no life or death. Everything was nurtured within Chaos, including the Dao, and including the Demon."

The Chaos Demon Soldiers were things nurtured within Chaos.

They were not created; they had "leaked" out from The Rift. What had leaked out was the residual killing intent and madness of the era of Chaos.

How could such things be killed?

In the distance, Zhang Qingyuan held the lantern, not joining the fray.

It wasn't that he didn't want to, but that he knew his participation would be useless. A Golden Core Late Stage cultivator would be torn to pieces in an instant in a battle of this level. All he could do was stand at a distance, holding that heart lamp to illuminate a path of retreat for Lu Mingyuan.

But as he watched, he suddenly noticed something was wrong.

While besieging Lu Mingyuan, those demon soldiers had actually split off a small squad to creep toward his direction.

That small squad of about thirty demon soldiers silently circled to the flank and, taking advantage of Lu Mingyuan being entangled by the main force, suddenly accelerated their charge.

Zhang Qingyuan's expression changed, and he turned to run.

But before he had run even a hundred steps, he was caught.

The thirty demon soldiers surrounded him in a circle, raising their sabers and spears to strike at his head.

Zhang Qingyuan held his lantern, with nowhere left to retreat.

He gritted his teeth, hugged the lantern to his chest, and drew a short saber from his waist with his other hand.

That short saber was very ordinary, forged by a Mortal blacksmith. But on the blade, a single word was engraved—

"Protect".

He had engraved that twenty years ago. Since then, this blade had never taken a life. It was only used to chop wood, cut grass, and slice vegetables.

At this moment, holding this blade and facing thirty Chaos Demon Soldiers, his heart was surprisingly calm.

He thought: I have protected for twenty years, and if in the end I cannot protect myself, there is nothing to be done. But at least, that lamp is still there.

As long as the lamp is there, the light remains.

As long as the light remains, there will still be people who can see the path.

At the very moment the blades were about to fall, a figure descended from the sky.

It was Lu Mingyuan.

He was covered in blood—not his own, but the blood of the demon soldiers. That dark red liquid splashed upon him, emitting a pungent odor. But his eyes were terrifyingly bright.

The moment he landed, his hands formed a seal, and Wanxiang True Qi surged out wildly.

"Chaos—Sword Realm!"

This was a sword technique he had realized back on Wudang Mountain, and now, performed with the power of an Earth Immortal, its might was more than a hundred times stronger.

A streak of Sword Qi shot out from his palm and exploded in mid-air, transforming into countless tiny sword beams. Those beams were neither gold nor white, but Chaos-colored—a hazy gray that could not be seen clearly, yet every beam contained the full power of the Wanxiang True Qi.

The sword beams fell like a rainstorm, like a gale.

The thirty demon soldiers were pierced by the sword beams simultaneously. Their armor shattered and their bodies collapsed, turning into dark red mist that dissipated into the air.

This time, they did not climb back up.

Zhang Qingyuan was stunned.

Lu Mingyuan was also stunned.

He looked down at his hands, at the sword beams that had not yet fully dispersed.

"So that's how it is..."

He suddenly understood.

The reason the demon soldiers couldn't be killed before was because he was using "force," "striking," and "destroying." But the essence of these demon soldiers was Chaos killing intent, residual resentment. The more force you used against them, the more they could absorb your power, and the harder it was for them to die.

But that sword strike just now was not about "Destroying," it was about "Returning."

Under the shroud of the Sword Realm, the Chaos aura on those demon soldiers was assimilated and gathered by the Wanxiang True Qi, and then—dispersed into heaven and earth.

It was not killing them, but sending them away.

Sending them back to where Chaos ought to be.

7

In the distance, the remaining demon soldiers also stopped.

They turned their heads, looking this way, looking at the dissipating dark red mist, and at the Chaos-colored light upon Lu Mingyuan.

The madness remained in their eyes. But beneath that madness, something seemed to be flickering—was it fear? Was it confusion? Or was it something else?

But it was only for an instant before that flicker was extinguished.

They turned and ran back the way they had come.

It was not a flight, but a retreat. An orderly retreat, like an army.

Lu Mingyuan did not give chase.

He stood where he was, watching the retreating backs of those demon soldiers and the increasingly bright red light in the distance, suddenly feeling very tired.

It was not a physical tiredness, but a weariness of the heart.

Where on earth did these things come from?

Just how was that core of resentment to be mended?

He stood there for a long, long time.

Until Zhang Qingyuan walked to his side and held the lantern up before him.

The flame within the lantern was still flickering. Weak, yet stubborn.

Lu Mingyuan looked at the flame and suddenly smiled.

"Let's go," he said. "We'll talk more when we get back."

Zhang Qingyuan nodded.

The two turned and continued walking toward the village.

Behind them, that red light grew brighter and brighter.

But the lantern in their hands was also lit.

It remained lit.