Chapter 119: The Assault

Ji Hao’s eyes burned with fervor as he watched three flying knives slash through the air. His excitement was overwhelming, every hair on his body twitching with anticipation. Though it was only three flying knives before him, there was no doubt—they were manifestations of the Sword Control Technique. In the Age of Decline of his past life, Sword Control was but a legend. Ji Hao had scoured Taoist scriptures, Buddhist sutras, and the records of various sects, finding only fragmented accounts.

To wield a sword in midair, to strike across thousands of miles in an instant—such was the grace of the legendary sword immortals. For a long time, Ji Hao had been utterly enchanted by their elegance, a fascination that fueled his tireless efforts to comprehend the Nine-Character Mantra Pill Scripture.

Alas, back then, he could not even find a single sentient sword.

But now, three knives gleamed with radiant light, each suffused with spiritual energy, slicing downward toward him with deadly force.

Harboring a trace of admiration, Ji Hao momentarily forgot the life-or-death nature of the battlefield. His body traced a nimble arc, narrowly evading the three blades. From his waist, he drew a dagger forged of refined steel. As the knife flashes swept past him, he lightly tapped one against the shimmering blade.

Silent and effortless, not even a tremor in his wrist, the steel dagger was shattered to fragments by the blade’s energy.

A mere sweep of the blade’s aura scraped across his hand, shredding the thick skin on its back and revealing the translucent, gem-like bones beneath. The armor forged by Abao emitted a clear light to block the blade’s aura, but having just been struck by a treasure orb, its defense was still weakened. Ji Hao suffered a heavy loss.

Blood poured from his wounded hand, pain clouded his vision, and he hastily invoked a secret method to forcibly seal the nearby blood vessels, staunching the flow.

The three knife flashes spun once more before slashing toward Ji Hao again. This time, he dared not risk another close call. With a fierce shout, he summoned his Flowing Light Fire Wings and darted toward a dense forest beside him.

Two young men had already caught up. Seeing a youth blocking Ji Hao’s path, they laughed in unison, “Senior Brother, didn’t expect you to have such refined tastes.”

The senior brother lightly waved a short flute at his lips and played a soft note, then laughed heartily, “Junior brothers, this one’s armor is truly a treasure, deeply fated to me. Surely you won’t contest me for it?”

The two juniors’ faces darkened as if forced to swallow three pounds of dung; their fair, handsome features turned pitch black.

Yet since their senior brother spoke, they could only reluctantly shake their heads and forced a dry laugh, “This treasure is indeed destined for Senior Brother!”

Their laughter was warm with brotherly camaraderie, but a flicker of disdain flashed in the senior brother’s eyes, while the juniors’ gazes betrayed a swift surge of embarrassment and resentment—small details unnoticed by others.

With a finger gesture, the senior brother sent the three knife flashes hurtling toward Ji Hao. Then, bringing the flute to his lips again, he smiled softly, “Then, junior brothers, please block this brat for me. Such a young age, yet quite troublesome.”

The two juniors forced a few dry chuckles, darkened their faces, and quickened their pace, pursuing Ji Hao with all their might.

Ji Hao sprinted forward, nearly slipping into the forest’s embrace. The youths were still over half a mile behind, but the three knife flashes were less than twenty yards from him. Yet Ji Hao was confident—he would vanish into the forest before the blades could catch him.

The southern wilderness was rugged, tangled with vines and dense brush—a perfect Feng Shui sanctuary for survival and concealment.

But the senior brother smiled quietly, lightly pressing the green bamboo flute to his lips. A melodious tune rose like a clear breeze, quickly spreading across ten miles amid the storm.

Ji Hao’s vision blackened as the Purple Palace Golden Core within him spun wildly. The enchanting flute melody became a deathly siren in his ears, like countless sharp knives piercing his soul.

Worse still, grotesque, twisted ghosts materialized around him, reaching out with bloodied limbs to seize him. A chilling, sinister coldness swept over him, stiffening his body as if his very organs were freezing.

An illusion—an illusion, it must be!

Ji Hao roared, uttering the Nine-Character Mantra’s three great words in succession: “Battle,” “Formation,” and “Array.” His spiritual power coalesced fiercely, radiating an unyielding, mountain-like strength from within.

Opening his mouth, he exhaled a great plume of golden flames—ancient Golden Crow fire imbued with supreme demon-banishing power—roaring out and engulfing a radius of tens of yards. The dark spirits wailed and fled, and Ji Hao’s sight cleared to reveal the same storm-ravaged forest.

Behind him, the senior brother gasped as the flute cracked faintly.

“You brat, you seek death!” he howled, pointing with a finger. The three knife flashes accelerated threefold, tearing through twenty yards of void in the moment Ji Hao was distracted by the flute, slashing viciously into his back.

Ji Hao cried out in pain, the armor’s light swirling to block the blades from piercing his body, but the fierce sword intent hidden in the blades partially penetrated, stabbing his internal organs like countless tiny knives.

Pain churned in his belly, and he spat a mouthful of blood.

The three knife flashes spun like windmills, ascending swiftly, then twisted downward like whirling blades aimed at Ji Hao’s neck.

Ji Hao steeled himself, turning around to face the three youths—perfectly aligned before him.

Fixing them with a fierce gaze, he sneered and drew the golden token gifted by Manman—a mark of her identity and a weapon of immense power. Though it had only one strike, its destructive force far exceeded that of his current Great Witch realm.

A flash of fire shot forth in a straight line. The three white-clad youths stood perfectly aligned; Ji Hao’s hand was steady, without the slightest tremor. The red flame pierced through their heads, vaporizing them instantly.

The three knife flashes nearly reached Ji Hao’s neck. With the senior brother’s head suddenly vaporized, the blades froze midair and dispersed, revealing their true forms—three crescent-shaped throwing knives radiating dazzling light.

Ji Hao gave a bitter laugh, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, and grasped the three razor-sharp crescent knives, turning them over in his hands with fondness.

After careful contemplation, he circled his divine will around the knives, imprinting his soul mark onto a subtle rune at their cores. Immediately, he felt a strange connection forming between himself and the blades.

Chuckling proudly, Ji Hao searched the three headless corpses, collecting all their belongings.

Most rewarding was a palm-sized brocade pouch hanging from the senior brother’s waist. Inside, the space measured over five feet in every dimension, capable of holding a vast array of items.

After a brief moment, Ji Hao, triumphant, transformed into a fiery streak and vanished, the three corpses reduced to ashes.

Unbeknownst to him, in the woods, a tiny black monkey the size of a palm stared wide-eyed, its three emerald eyes fixed unwaveringly on his departing figure.

***

A golden belt for murder and arson—in this savage world, that alone is the truth!

Robbery! Robbery! Bring out your recommendation votes!