blueteamnovel Chapter 125 The Evil Bandits' Defeated Defeat
Chapter 125 The Evil Bandits' Defeated Defeat
After despair comes insidious scheming.
If he can't have it, then nobody else can either.
He abruptly raised his hand, bit his tongue, and spat out a mouthful of his vital essence. The essence was black, thick as ink, and emitted a pungent, fishy stench. It exploded in the air, turning into countless tiny droplets of blood that all disappeared into the ground. This was a forbidden technique of the evil race, using vital essence as a catalyst to detonate the foundation of an evil array buried underground. The caster would not stop until death; once activated, even he himself could not stop it.
A dull tremor came from underground. It wasn't an earthquake; something was writhing, expanding, and about to burst forth from the ground. The array surrounding the entire core area began to fluctuate violently, and cracks in the ground spread in all directions like a spider web, emanating a dark green light and a nauseating stench from the fissures.
"I'll detonate the evil race's foundations on the outer edge of the secret realm, releasing the Soul-Controlling Gu Mother!" The evil elder's voice was hoarse and crazed, a trace of black blood hanging from the corner of his mouth. He grinned maliciously, like a gambler who had lost all his chips flipping the table. "Then the entire secret realm will become a Gu nest! Everyone will be buried with me!"
Lin Chen's eyes sharpened.
Without hesitation, without even a second thought, he forcefully activated the Star Martial Core within his dantian, compelling his already dried-up meridians to unleash star power once more. It wasn't a surging, abundant flow, but rather the squeezing out of the last drop, the last breath. The Star Sword was drawn once more, its blade dull and lifeless, with only a tiny, silvery-white starlight condensed at its tip—small, about the size of a thumbnail, but that single point of light was condensed to its extreme, like a star compressed to its limit, all its light and heat locked within that small space.
The sword is drawn.
That single point of starlight shot out into the sky, not fast, but heavy as a moving mountain. It passed through the smoke and dust of the battlefield, through the surging evil mist, through the pervasive stench of blood, its trajectory straight and unbiased, directly plunging into the dantian of the evil elder.
The old man from the evil race suddenly froze.
He glanced down at his dantian. The skin there was intact, without wounds or bloodstains, except for a small, silvery-white dot that glowed faintly beneath. Then that dot spread—like a drop of ink falling into clear water, but in the opposite direction, spreading from the inside out. The silvery-white light spread from his dantian to his abdomen, from his abdomen to his chest, and from his chest to his limbs.
The source of his evil power—the evil core that condensed his cultivation over hundreds of years—was as fragile as paper before that point of starlight, pierced, torn apart, and purified. The evil power leaked out from the cracked evil core, rampaging through his body, then gushing out from his seven orifices, from his pores, from every wound, turning into thick black smoke and dissipating into the air.
"Ugh—!"
The old man of the evil race let out a piercing scream. The scream was not human; it was like the wail of a wild beast on its deathbed—sharp, shrill, and filled with resentment and fear. His body shriveled up like a deflated balloon, his skin wrinkled, his bones protruding, transforming him from a withered old man into an even more emaciated, mummy-like figure.
He collapsed to the ground. His black robe spread out like a black flag being lowered. His eyes were still open, pupils dilated, mouth agape, lips cracked. The tremors beneath the earth ceased, the spreading cracks stopped expanding, the green light within the fissures went out, and the impending explosion of the Gu worm nest was completely extinguished, falling silent at the last moment.
Seeing this, the remaining soldiers lost all will to resist. The surviving villains abandoned their companions, shedding their cumbersome black robes to reveal their night-clothes beneath, and fled towards the secret passage of the realm. The Qin family members were even more disorganized, abandoning their armor and weapons. Some threw their weapons on the ground, while others took off their storage bags and stuffed them into their clothes. They huddled together, trying to break through, pushing, trampling, and cursing each other, displaying a grotesque and disgraceful behavior.
Qin Hao hid at the very back of the crowd.
He neither ran nor fought, but simply hunched over, trying to avoid being noticed. His face was pale, his lips trembled, and his eyes were fixed on Lin Chen's back, like a snake whose tail had been stepped on, wanting to bite but daring not to move. Taking advantage of everyone's attention being focused on the evil elder, he silently slipped through the gaps in the crowd, stealthily making his way towards the Martial Emperor's altar. His footsteps were as light as a cat's, without a sound.
Su Ling'er was the first to catch a glimpse of the departing figure.
"Qin Hao ran away!" She pointed towards the altar, her voice shrill and urgent. "He went towards the altar!"
Leng Feng drew his sword and was about to give chase.
"I'll go." Lin Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it was firm.
He pushed Su Muyue's hand away. Su Muyue's hand was still on his arm, unwilling to let go, but she could feel the muscles in Lin Chen's arm tensing—it wasn't a sign of him about to fall, but a preparation to charge forward. She hesitated for a moment, then released her grip.
Lin Chen took two steps forward, his steps were a little unsteady, but he became more and more stable.
"You stay behind to clear out the remaining enemies, heal the wounded, and hold the outer defenses." His gaze swept over the crowd, landing in the direction of the altar. The mist had gathered again there, completely obscuring the distant view, but he knew Qin Hao was in that direction, and so was the Star Essence Liquid. "Qin Hao is heading straight for the Star Essence Liquid. He's a direct descendant of the Qin family; he must have a backup plan. I must stop him."
Su Muyue's lips moved. She wanted to say, "Your injuries are too severe," she wanted to say, "It's too dangerous for you to go alone," she wanted to say, "I'll go with you." But looking into Lin Chen's eyes, she swallowed those words. There was no impulsiveness, no bravado, no stubbornness of a young person wanting to prove anything in those eyes. Only a calm, clear-headed, calculated decision. He wasn't trying to be a hero; he genuinely believed that going was the most suitable option.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Lin Chen smiled slightly. The smile was faint, almost imperceptible, but Su Muyue saw it. He used the Star Step, his figure transforming into a silver shadow. Although he was a little slower than before, he was still so fast that no one could see his trajectory as he chased Qin Hao into the depths of the mist in the direction he had fled.
Su Muyue stood there, watching the silver figure disappear into the mist, her hand still in the position of supporting him, suspended in mid-air, before slowly lowering it.
Chu Fan moved swiftly across the battlefield, loudly issuing orders. His voice had regained its usual calm and methodical quality, like a machine that had been restarted, each instruction clear and precise.
"Everyone do your duty! Treat the wounded, seal off the secret passages, take inventory of the prisoners, and guard against any counterattack from the remaining evil forces!"
He walked over to Leng Feng and reached out to quickly bandage the still-bleeding wound on his shoulder. Leng Feng didn't say a word, or even glance at him. He simply sheathed his sword and turned to chase after the fleeing thugs.
Chu Fan walked over to Su Ling'er and picked up a few scattered jade bottles from the ground, handing them to her. Su Ling'er's eyes were still red, but she had already knelt down next to an injured freshman and began to treat his wounds. Her movements were swift and precise, a stark contrast to her usual self.
"Mu Yue." Chu Fan walked up to Su Mu Yue, adjusted his glasses—the bloodstains on the lenses had dried, but he hadn't wiped them away. "Please take charge of the formation and stabilize the entire area. There are still some residual evil energy on the outer perimeter that haven't been cleared; we can't let them spread."
Su Muyue nodded. She glanced down at her hands—empty, without any array flags or talismans. She picked up an array flag from the ground; the flagpole was covered in dirt, and the runes on the flag were dull and lifeless. She gripped the flagpole, took a deep breath, and channeled her true energy into it, causing the runes to glow again.
The smoke from the battlefield gradually dissipated. The air still held the lingering smells of blood, burnt fur, and the medicinal aroma of exploding pills, all mingled together in a thick, viscous tang. The ground was littered with weapons, storage bags, tattered robes, and corpses. Some were already cold, some were still warm, and some had been dragged aside and neatly arranged in a row.
The main force of the evil race, who had colluded for millennia, was defeated, and the Qin family's power on the outskirts of the secret realm crumbled. The sound of counting prisoners echoed across the battlefield, one after another, the numbers growing ever larger. Wounded military warriors bandaged each other, scions of noble families cleaned up the battlefield, and rogue cultivators gathered the spoils of war.
But everyone knows that the real destination is not here.
At the very center of the secret realm, atop the Martial Emperor's Altar, the Star Marrow Liquid lay still, like a quiet heart, awaiting its final resting place. Lin Chen, alone, walked through layers of mist towards it. His steps were slow but firm, unhurried, each step more stable than the last. Behind him lay the battlefield that had subsided; ahead of him, the fire still raged. No one knew what traps awaited him on the altar, nor what trump cards Qin Hao held. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was already on his way.