Chapter Thirty-Two: Demonic Intruders

Within the secret chamber, upon the altar, stood a blood-red wooden effigy of uncanny design—a human body with the hooves and horns of a ram, its eyes slit and casting forth crimson beams. The very air about it shimmered and warped.

At the foot of the altar steps, Liu Kaizong knelt in fervent devotion, bowing low as he muttered, "Great Demon God, your most devout follower faces a crisis of life and death! I beseech you, grant me unrivaled power, that I may slay my foes in your name. Once this is over, your humble servant shall offer a hundred boys and girls in sacrifice, to honor your greatness—please, O mighty Demon God, manifest your miracle!"

Again he prostrated himself, forehead striking the stone until blood seeped from the wound, yet he seemed unaware of the pain.

Suddenly, the wooden effigy quivered, emitting a surge of crimson light. The sculpture trembled and twisted, as if something within sought to break free, only to be restrained by some unseen force. At last, it stilled.

Yet from its scarlet eyes, two beams of red light shot forth, piercing Liu Kaizong’s body and setting his blood ablaze with a wild, uncontrollable fervor. The brand upon his heart seemed to come alive, beating three hundred sixty times in a single instant, sending blood surging throughout his body until his skin glowed red, as though set aflame.

His aura swelled monstrously, but his massive frame began to shrivel, his flesh marked by crimson veins, most grotesque upon his face. From his brow, two horns sprouted.

It was at this moment that Yang Fan leaped down from above.

"Die!"

His Blackcloud Blade tore through the air, striking down toward Liu Kaizong's head with the force of thunder. Yet, in a blur of impossible speed, Liu Kaizong turned and met the blade with his fist, sending Yang Fan hurtling backward.

He struck the wall behind him, his left leg bracing against it and carving out a deep pit in the brick, cracks radiating outward and causing the very ground to tremble. Even the servants in the courtyard felt the earth shake beneath their feet.

"What in the world are you?" Yang Fan steadied himself, staring at his foe, heart pounding in shock and disbelief. Only moments before, he had sensed the change in this place—especially when the wooden idol on the altar trembled. In that fleeting instant, the burst of crimson light had sent a chill to his soul.

Then it had faded, but the red beams from its eyes had sent Liu Kaizong’s power surging, his blood and life force doubling and rising ever higher.

Yang Fan knew he could not wait any longer. He leaped into action.

Truth be told, for a brief instant, he had wanted to flee. But if he left, what would become of Nanshan Town?

Now, however, regret gnawed at his heart. Liu Kaizong radiated a fearsome, unnatural aura.

"I am a divine demon, the great god-demon!" Liu Kaizong bellowed, waving his withered arms, fanaticism twisting his shriveled features, his pupils now slitted and inhuman.

"Lowly human! To stand before me, the great one, and not kneel—you deserve death!"

With a contorted face, as if outraged by a terrible blasphemy, Liu Kaizong charged, his fist whistling toward Yang Fan’s chest with such force it threatened to smother him.

"A god-demon?" Yang Fan's heart trembled.

This world was rife with legends of ghosts and gods, and whispers of demons. Judging from the setting, his memories of a former life, and Liu Kaizong’s transformation—stripped of all humanity—Yang Fan blurted out, "You were worshipping an evil demon! You are a devotee of the unholy!"

As his words fell, he struck as well.

In a flash, three slashes—blade meeting fist in a furious clash. With cultivation at the eighth rank and twenty percent of a Mountain Patrol Envoy’s awakening, his raw strength was already at the seventh rank, at least at the pinnacle.

Yet, at this moment, Liu Kaizong drove him back again and again.

Yang Fan found himself suppressed, his back slamming into the wall and carving out a human-shaped dent.

"Intimidation…" Yang Fan instantly unleashed his art, causing Liu Kaizong to falter for a breath—just long enough.

Yang Fan darted aside with blinding speed, evading a blow and circling to his opponent’s flank.

"Gale Slash!"

In the blink of an eye, three more strikes—yet as the blade cut flesh and muscle, it could not sever bone. The wounds appeared terrible, but did not reach the core.

With a roar, Liu Kaizong turned, sending Yang Fan reeling with a single punch. But as he stepped forward to pursue, the ground beneath his feet gave way.

The power of "Earth Surge"—Yang Fan had triggered another divine art.

"Intimidation!"

"Swift Step!"

"Gale Slash!"

Yang Fan erupted with all his might. As Liu Kaizong stumbled, dazed, Yang Fan closed in, his Blackcloud Blade whipping up a storm as it struck for the neck.

With a wet crack, the blade bit deep—yet was stopped by the unyielding spine.

"My full-strength blow, and I can’t sever his neck!"

Despair flickered across Yang Fan’s face as Liu Kaizong sent him flying with a punch, slamming him into the wall, blood surging in his veins.

He looked again at Liu Kaizong—muscles at his neck squirmed, twisting like worms as the wound knitted shut, leaving hardly a trace.

"You wield the power of an evil demon!" Yang Fan’s mind seethed, murderous intent boiling within him, his eyes tinged crimson as he charged once more.

"Wretched creature, to wound me again and again—you will die for this!" Liu Kaizong’s rage mounted.

They clashed anew, the chamber shaking, earth falling from the ceiling. The house above seemed on the verge of collapse, perilously unstable.

The entire Liu estate quaked, servants struck with terror—some even stumbling to the ground.

"Liu San, go to the city garrison—summon Captain Ma at once!" one man, bearing a resemblance to Liu Kaizong, barked out orders. "And when he arrives, surround the residence. No one enters or leaves without my or my father’s command. Any who disobey—execute them!"

"Yes, Second Young Master!" a middle-aged man replied, dashing toward the gate in panic.

The Second Young Master swayed on his feet, face ashen as he stared at his father’s chambers, helpless to act—forced instead to calm the others.

Within the secret chamber, devastation reigned.

With another thunderous blow, Yang Fan was sent hurtling onto the altar, coughing up blood as his face turned deathly pale. He struggled to his feet, ready to fling himself desperately at Liu Kaizong once more—when he caught sight of those crimson, pitiless eyes, the slitted pupils, the horns jutting from that brow, and shivered uncontrollably.

"Why have I grown so reckless?" he wondered. "It’s as if I’ve lost all reason, consumed only by the urge to kill him!"

His mind churned with agitation and murderous impulse, his eyes flickering red—yet Yang Fan fought to restrain himself.

At the same moment, Liu Kaizong was faring little better. Though his wounds still regenerated, the process had clearly slowed, and he advanced step by step.

"Earth Sense!"

Biting the tip of his tongue, Yang Fan forced his senses to their utmost—and at last, he saw the truth.

Threads of red mist curled through the air, thinning and dissipating the farther they drifted. Turning, he fixed his gaze on the wooden idol.

Red light shimmered, especially in the eyes, which bled crimson into the air itself. Yet in the instant he met the idol’s gaze, Yang Fan’s mind was flooded with boundless murderous intent and visions of unspeakable horror.

Fiery torrents rained from the heavens, the earth crumbled. Stars fell, oceans boiled away. Countless lives wailed in torment, and gods plummeted from the vault of the sky.

These nightmarish visions assailed his spirit, as legions of vengeful wraiths shrieked, cursed, and clawed at his will, seeking to tear his mind apart.

Yang Fan felt himself splintering into a billion fragments, falling into an abyss of eternal darkness.

Yet the last sliver of clarity within him roared out in defiance:

"Awakening—add points, add all the points, now!"