A bloody grin split Young Master Shi's face. "Incredible... such power. Now this is interesting." His body swayed, his chest a concave ruin, but with a shudder, the flesh began to knit itself back together. The moment he was whole, Jiang Dao was on him again, a hand as wide as a platter reaching for him.
Ice-filled Young Master Shi's eyes. With a guttural shriek, his fingers shot out, elongating into twin daggers of blackened bone, each half a foot long, aimed straight for Jiang Dao's core.
CLANG!
The sound of metal on metal rang out as the claws struck Jiang Dao's body. They first hit the invisible barrier of his internal energy, the Health-Preserving Art, and shattered it. But the skin beneath was another matter. Jiang Dao's flesh, shimmering with the luster of dark metal, refused to yield. Before his foe could react, Jiang Dao's massive hand clamped around his unnaturally long neck and yanked.
Young Master Shi roared, pulling forward until they were face-to-face. "Let go!" he howled, his ten newly reformed nails scrabbling for the pressure points on Jiang Dao's body. But Jiang Dao's muscles swelled, veins like thick cords bulging against his metallic skin. The counter-attack was useless; the force of the impact shattered all ten of Young Master Shi's nails again.
"What?" he roared, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Playtime's over," Jiang Dao's voice was frosty. The instant he had his grip, his other palm ignited with the terrifying power of the [Wind-Thunder Poison Sand Palm] and smashed directly into Young Master Shi's face.
BOOM!
A thunderclap echoed as the palm, now a deep, toxic purple, connected. Searing heat and venom flooded the man's senses. He let out a shriek of pure agony as his face imploded. He tried to heal, to regenerate, but Jiang Dao's fingers curled into a claw and raked across the ruined visage. With a wet, tearing sound, a spray of red and white painted the air. Without pausing, Jiang Dao swung his hands together like he was swatting a fly.
SPLAT!
The force was devastating. The man's head was flattened between Jiang Dao's palms, and a gurgling scream bubbled up as blood poured from every orifice.
"Good... hit me... hahaha..." he croaked, defiant to the last.
Jiang Dao's face was a mask of brutal focus. He clapped his hands again. And again. And again.
SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!
The screams finally dissolved into whimpers of terror. Taking full advantage of his superior size, Jiang Dao treated the creature like a gnat to be swatted from the air, his relentless claps pulverizing everything from the head down to the neck. Each impact was a sickeningly loud crack, accompanied by a fresh spray of gore.
Fear finally broke through Young Master Shi's arrogance. He struggled wildly, but there was no escape. After dozens of blows, his body went limp, a shapeless, bloody ruin that slumped to the ground, no longer recognizable as anything that had ever been human.
"That's it?" Jiang Dao tilted his head, his expression cold as he stared at the pile of gore. "That's all you had?" He lifted his heavy boot and stomped down, grinding the remains into the dirt. Looking up, he called out, "Father, do we have a large wok? Boil a pot of oil. I want to fry what's left of this."
Stunned into silence, Jiang Dalong and the others could only stare. Finally, Jiang Dalong snapped out of it and ordered a servant to prepare the oil. A bonfire was soon roaring in the courtyard with a massive wok set over it. Jiang Dao's men shoveled the bloody mess into the bubbling oil.
"Let's see you resurrect from that," Jiang Dao muttered, his eyes fixed on the wok.
The fire burned all night, the oil sizzling, filling the air with a strange, rich aroma.
Far away, in a shadow-choked forest, stood a dark and ancient mansion. Inside, a figure cloaked in black sat in silent meditation. Suddenly, its ghostly green eyes snapped open. It glanced to the side. Two dim, crimson lanterns that had been glowing softly had just flickered and died.
"They're gone... White Bone and Young Master Corpse. Both of them," the figure hissed, its eyes narrowing to malevolent slits. "Damn it. Is there an exorcist faction moving against us?"
A murderous aura bled into the room. Ever since their Spirit Child Palace had acquired the sacred artifact, they had drawn unwanted attention. This felt targeted, deliberate. How else could a mere mortal kill two of their most powerful fiends?
The black figure rose and glided out of the hall. Standing in the courtyard, it let out a low, eerie call.
From the darkness, a mountain of a man emerged. He was nearly seven feet tall, his bare torso a roadmap of knotted muscles. A colossal black greatsword was strapped to his back. His long hair hung loose, and his eyes held a chilling indifference.
"Left Protector," the man's voice was a low rumble. "You summoned me."
"Pang Long," the figure said. "I believe an exorcist faction is targeting the Spirit Child Palace. Go to Fengzhou City. Find the Jiang family. See who they are working with. Find out who is behind this, but do not—I repeat—do not engage with them. Investigate."
"And if there's no faction?" Pang Long asked, his tone flat.
"Impossible," the Left Protector replied coldly. "But if by some chance you find nothing... kill them all."
"Understood." Pang Long turned and walked away, his presence a palpable threat.
He was Pang Long, the Exorcist. One of the six masters of the Spirit Child Palace, a warrior famed for his terrifying, explosive power. Among his peers, he had another name: the Mad Dragon. For when his fury was unleashed, he was as unstoppable as a force of nature.
The next morning, the Jiang family convoy was on the move. Jiang Dao, having watched the boiling wok all night, saw nothing more to be done. He mounted his horse and took the lead, guiding his family toward the relative safety of Qianyuan City.
After two days of hard travel, they were finally clear of Fengzhou's territory.
"Father, Qianyuan City is just over that mountain," Jiang Dao called out. "I've already sent riders ahead to prepare for our arrival."
Jiang Dalong pulled back the carriage curtain. "Good, that's good," he said, relief in his voice. "Dao'er, we've been on the road for two days straight. Can we find a place to rest for a bit?"
Jiang Dao scanned the rugged terrain. "Alright. I'll have someone scout ahead." He nodded to his lieutenant, Guo Dutian, who immediately galloped forward with a few men. He returned shortly after.
"Hall Master, there's an abandoned village just up ahead!"
"Let's go," Jiang Dao said, steering his horse toward it.
The entire convoy was exhausted. The family had managed some sleep in the bouncing carriages, but the servants had been on their feet the whole time. They were reaching their breaking point.
Jiang Dao reined in his horse at the edge of the village. It was a small, desolate place, maybe a hundred homes in total. Earthen walls had crumbled, doorways were splintered, and everything was choked with weeds and draped in thick cobwebs. It looked like it had been empty for decades.
He did a quick patrol around the perimeter. Seeing no immediate threats, he gave the signal for everyone to dismount and rest.
In the quiet of the derelict courtyard, Jiang Dao turned his focus inward, taking stock of the power thrumming beneath his skin. He had already allocated his latest gains, pushing his Innate Grand Sage Art forward by another two hundred years. This had unlocked a new ability: Grand Sage True Qi.
It was the ultimate refinement of his internal energy, a terrifyingly pure force. Two hundred years of cultivation were needed to produce a single, hair-thin strand. But that one strand, humming with pure, unadulterated power, was more potent than all 420 years of his Health-Preserving Art combined.
But with this new power came a new problem: he had hit a wall.
His meridians—the channels that carried energy through his body—were full. If internal energy were water, his body was a bottle filled to the brim. He couldn't hold another drop. No matter how much he improved his internal arts, his energy reserves wouldn't grow.
A cold frustration settled in his chest. Is this the limit of a mortal shell? He thought, a familiar anger simmering within him. Am I destined to hit a ceiling while monsters and exorcists operate on another level?
He refused to accept it. This power to modify his own abilities was a gift, and he wouldn't let it be wasted. Hitting his meridian limit didn't mean his growth had to stop. His theory was simple: a larger body should have wider, higher-capacity meridians. His previous training had pushed his physical body to its peak, but his new internal power had shattered that ceiling. Now, he could focus on external arts again, on forging a body that could contain even greater power. Internal and external arts—the two had to grow in concert.
He pulled up his internal status:
Name: Jiang Dao
Strength: 5.6
Speed: 4.5
Spirit: 1.6
Martial Arts:
Mad Demon Blood Soul Blade: [Unmodifiable] - Enhanced Speed, Malice, God-Slaying Slash
Eagle Claw Vajra Body: [Unmodifiable] - Vajra Indestructibility
Health-Preserving Art: [Unmodifiable] - Regeneration, Recovery, Qi Shield
Innate Grand Sage Art: [Unmodifiable] - Indestructible, Qi Net, Grand Sage True Qi
Wind-Thunder Poison Sand Palm: [Unmodifiable] - Poison Palm, Thunder Flame
Gale Blade Technique: [Unmodifiable] - Speed
Next, I'll focus on the Poison Palm and the Vajra Body, he decided. One would add new dimensions to his attacks, and the other would expand the vessel.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
A heavy, rhythmic sound echoed from outside the village. It wasn't the sound of a normal man walking. Each footstep landed with impossible weight.
Jiang Dao's head snapped up. Guo Dutian and his men were already moving, rushing to the village entrance. They stopped short, mouths agape.
The figure striding toward them was even larger than Jiang Dao. A hulking brute with a massive greatsword on his back, muscles coiled like thick ropes, and wild, unkempt hair. His eyes were sharp and brutally indifferent.
"Halt! Who goes there?" Guo Dutian challenged, his voice tight.
The man's head swiveled toward him. "A traveler," he rumbled, and kept walking.
"Guo Dutian, stand down," Jiang Dao's voice cut through the tension. He felt it instantly—a strange, unsettling aura clinging to the newcomer. The unmistakable signature of an exorcist. Jiang Dao's policy was simple: don't start a fight, but always be ready to finish one.
Guo Dutian and his men retreated, their hands still on their weapons.
The burly man entered the village and sat down against a crumbling wall, the sheer pressure of his presence making the air feel heavy. He drew the greatsword from his back and laid it across his lap. Even seated, his head was level with a normal man's shoulders. His gaze, sharp and predatory, swept over the Jiang family, lingering on each of them for a moment too long.
A palpable dread washed over Jiang Dalong and his family. Being watched by this man felt like being sized up by a hungry wolf.
"Hall Master," Guo Dutian whispered, "this man is trouble."
"Dao'er," his father pleaded softly, "maybe we should go. We can rest somewhere else."
Jiang Dao gave a curt nod. "Agreed. Let's leave."
A wave of relief went through the camp. The servants, desperate to get away from the unnerving stranger, began packing with renewed urgency. But just as the first carriage began to move, the man's deep voice rolled over them like a boulder.
"How did White Bone and Young Master Shi die?"
Jiang Dao pulled his reins so hard his horse whinnied. He turned, his eyes locking with the seated giant. "I knew you were trouble," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Spirit Child Palace sent you?"
Guo Dutian and the others immediately formed a defensive circle around the family.
The burly man looked up, his eyes boring into Jiang Dao with the intensity of a predator. "You killed them?" he asked, his voice flat and heavy.
"Here for revenge?" Jiang Dao shot back.
"A mere mortal couldn't have killed that many of our masters alone," the man stated, ignoring the question. "Who helped you?"
Jiang Dao let out a short, harsh laugh. "Help? I don't need help to crush a couple of insects." He cracked his neck, a savage smile twisting his lips. "Forget it. It doesn't matter who you are. Now that you know, you can die."
The giant, Pang Long, stared back, a cruel smirk touching his own lips. "You're the first person who's ever dared to say that word to me."
In the same instant, a murderous glint flashed in both their eyes.
BOOM! BOOM!
The world erupted. Two black blurs—one the hulking man, the other Jiang Dao launching himself from his horse—didn't just move; they detonated. The force of Jiang Dao's push was so violent that his horse's legs exploded in a spray of blood and bone, its body crashing to the earth.
Mid-air, the two figures collided.
CLANG!
The clang of their clash was not a simple ring of steel; it was a thunderclap, a physical shockwave that tore through the air, sending chaotic gusts of wind ripping through the abandoned village.