The absolute, frenzied resolve blazing in Wu Youzi’s eyes — like a roaring inferno — consumed the very last shred of reason in the Rong Family Head.

“Die, you wretched creature!” The Rong Family Head let out a furious roar and summoned his hand-held heirloom treasure, passed down from his Rong Family ancestors: the Supreme Taiji Qiankun Staff. The staff extended a full zhang in length, its body covered in flowing, arcane runes — carrying the force of a thousand catties, it came crashing down toward the crown of Wu Youzi’s head.

Not even a sliver of mercy.

At the sight of this, the Rong Family members felt cold dread crawl up their spines. They backed away instinctively, then backed away further. Those whose sense of crisis had reached its peak let their eyes dart from side to side, then turned and sprinted toward their own quarters, intending to pack up whatever valuables they could and flee.

The Rong Family’s sky had changed.

If the Family Head could be so ruthless toward his own biological son, what were they — mere distant branches — worth in his eyes?

Some, however, placed their bets on the Rong Family Head. After all, he appeared powerful, and this world operated on one truth: the strong devoured the weak. Following the strong meant protection.

And so they formed their array and launched their attack at Lang Jiuchuan and her companions. In an instant the square was chaos — talisman light blazed and flashed, spiritual treasures cutting across each other in dazzling arcs of color.

As for the Family Head’s ferocity, Wu Youzi didn’t so much as flicker. It was as though he had long anticipated the man’s cruelty. He let out a roar and formed an ancient, strange hand seal — a dark-red wave of energy surged through him, transforming into countless grotesque blood-shadows that crashed into the Supreme Taiji Qiankun Staff.

Bang.

A thunderous collision. The square shook violently. Stone tile fragments scattered in all directions. The crowd screamed and fled in all directions. Those caught in the shockwave vomited blood and collapsed unconscious.

“You abominable wretch — you truly did sacrifice everything to some ancient divine demon in exchange for power!” The Rong Family Head screeched in rage.

Wu Youzi broke into loud, unhinged laughter. “Father and son, flesh and blood — I learned it from you! If you can practice the Soul-Devouring Art, why can’t I sacrifice myself? As long as I can kill you and avenge my wife and children, I will die ten thousand deaths and not regret a single one!”

The Rong Family Head’s eyes burned crimson. “You insist on opposing me at every turn — on colluding with that demon woman — forcing this between us, father and son, to tear each other apart?!”

“Save your breath — if you want to fight, then fight!” Wu Youzi, still forming seals, charged forward.

The Rong Family Head’s expression turned cold and sunken. His hands moved rapidly through a complex technique. He murmured words beneath his breath. The dark, black energy around him seethed like demons and spirits — a ghastly, piercing wail from ghosts and monsters stabbed directly at the spirit, coiling around Wu Youzi as he charged.

Wu Youzi felt as though invisible hands were clutching at his three souls and seven spirits, trying to drag them out of his body — and yet he did not slow down at all, driving the dark-red blood shadows formed from his technique straight into the Rong Family Head.

Those blood shadows carried a corrosive force that decayed true essence and shattered the spirit. The Rong Family Head felt his blood surge and his soul sting sharply. He flung his hand up, conjuring a massive palm, and seized Wu Youzi within his grasp. His other hand descended toward the crown of his head.

“I conceived you, raised you, and taught you. Since father and son are to be severed — let me take back everything I gave.” The Rong Family Head drove the Soul-Devouring Art’s sinister power directly into Wu Youzi’s spirit seat, beginning to devour the power he had “borrowed.”

From the corner of her eye, Lang Jiuchuan caught it. Her gaze darkened in an instant. She rapidly recited the Five Thunder Incantation aloud: “Supreme Thunder Lord, vanquish the lightning and drink the rainbow… all those who defy the natural order, heaven’s will shall not tolerate — swiftly in accordance with the edict — Strike!“

Her hand slammed down hard toward the Rong Family Head. A bolt of violet lightning followed the incantation’s descent, crashing down in a deafening peal.

Five thunderbolts upon the crown.

The upright, arcane power of the lightning crackled and sizzled, corroding and dissolving that evil force. The soul-devouring was interrupted. The Rong Family Head had no choice but to release his grip, turning instead to hurl himself at Lang Jiuchuan.

Cut off the head first. This demon woman was the root cause of everything.

Kill her first. Drain her soul and spirit for power — the perfect supplement.

Greed and certainty flared in the Rong Family Head’s eyes. His killing intent blazed like a comet. The terrifying, evil force tore through his body at full capacity — he paid not the slightest heed to how much pain his already-backlashed spirit was in.

He understood that this battle was to the death with no retreat. If he held anything back, today would be his end.

As long as he had enough power, he could rise again.

Not far away, Tantai Di Ji watched Lang Jiuchuan’s attack, momentarily transfixed. Then, seeing the Rong Family Head’s counterattack, she instinctively grabbed Bafang Daochang’s sleeve and said, “Elder — bring him down.”

Bafang Daochang’s eyes flickered, however. “This is internal to the Rong Family. It would be inappropriate for us to interfere. Let us observe a little longer.”

Tantai Di Ji’s cold, beautiful face went taut.

He was returning her own earlier words back to her.

Her eyes turned glacially resolute. Her wrist moved — she unclipped the Qiankun Eight Trigrams Talisman Seal hanging at her waist, just about to unleash it — only for Bafang Daochang to press her pressure point and stop her movement.

“Elder — what is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice like ice.

Bafang Daochang said calmly, “Holy Maiden’s status is of supreme importance. We cannot afford to lose you. I cannot take that risk, or I will have no way to answer to the National Preceptor.”

Tantai Di Ji’s expression shifted through several changes. “Elder, the Rong Family Head has clearly fallen to demonhood. He is a serious threat to our nation of Da Dan.”

“Are they not here for that?” Bafang Daochang said, gesturing elsewhere.

Tantai Di Ji followed his gaze, and her lips pressed tightly together. Anger, helplessness, and a trace of resentful frustration filled her eyes, with nothing she could do.

At that very moment, the Rong Family Head made his move — his first strike was his life-bound treasure: the Shihun Fan.

Fuqi saw it and lurched forward instinctively, but A’Piao stopped him. “Don’t. You’re not a match for him yet. Get rid of these small fry — that’s helping. This is her web of cause and effect. She has to resolve it herself. Otherwise there can be no rebirth from the ashes.”

Fuqi ground his teeth, then forced himself to work with A’Piao, taking down the Rong Family’s followers one by one. Jiangche, lurking in the shadows, chafed at being unable to show himself openly — yet held his position as the woman’s last line of defense, guardian beast poised for any contingency.

Lang Jiuchuan looked at the Shihun Fan, a flash of dark gold light crossing her pupils. So this was the Rong Family Head’s life-bound treasure.

The ten-thousand-law Shihun Fan unfurled into an enormous curtain. Its surface appeared woven from endless darkness and agony — the runes etched across it moved like scuttling spider legs. Once fully opened, the wails of ghosts and the shrieks of demons erupted in full force, and combined with the Rong Family Head driving the Soul-Devouring Art to its absolute limit, this entire expanse of the square was transformed into a deep, terrifying field of carnage.

The face of the Shihun Fan became a bottomless, dark whirlpool of the underworld. A horrifying suction erupted from within — targeting not just the physical body, but attacking the soul directly.

“Ha ha ha — obey me and flourish, defy me and perish! You are no more than ants trying to shake a great tree. You don’t know death! All of you will serve as nourishment for my Shihun Fan!” The Rong Family Head’s voice had grown hoarse and twisted, carrying a maddening quality that chilled the heart to its core.

Within the square, some could not withstand the Shihun Fan’s might and were pulled inward. Their screams rang out — and in an instant, their grotesque faces appeared on the surface of the fan.

This was the might of the Shihun Fan.

Wu Youzi’s voice reached Lang Jiuchuan’s ears: “He has practiced the Soul-Devouring Art — the greater his power, the more potent the Shihun Fan when he drives it. The only way is to collapse it from within. The truth behind that switched identity — I’m counting on you for that. Preserve your strength and search the soul. Child — take care of yourself.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s heart lurched. Before she could say a single word, Wu Youzi had already transformed into a dark-red stream of light and plunged directly into the Shihun Fan’s vortex. At the same time, he drove every last ounce of sacrificed power he had borrowed, transforming it into a blade of blood that bored straight toward the Shihun Fan’s core formation eye.

The Shihun Fan was the life-bound treasure passed down through every generation of the Rong Family Head. But what the Rong Family Head had forgotten was that Wu Youzi had been cultivated as the future heir — he knew exactly where the weakness lay.

The Rong Family Head’s laughter stiffened. In the next instant, his eyes split wide with rage. “You damned wretch!”