Mu Zhanting declared confidently, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. When I return, I’ll help you elope secretly.” He added with a boastful grin, “There’s no need to concern yourselves about me. Without Mu Zhanting, the literary world would be in eternal darkness. I’ll be fine.”
A true man should achieve great deeds in his lifetime. Nan Yan had always thought her brother was reckless, but she never expected him to plant his flag so boldly and then dash off so quickly.
As Nan Yan hesitated to speak, Yin Ya suddenly remembered his responsibility as an older brother. Without hesitation, he said, “You go first. I’ll hold him back.”
Nan Yan doubted Yin Ya could stop Mu Zhanting. After all, who in the world had a more determined spirit for the Way than her brother? She couldn’t think of anyone else.
However, before she could voice her thoughts, Yin Ya swept her away with his tail. She could only seize the moment and fly towards Xumiyan.
Meanwhile, Mu Zhanting had already engaged in battle. The moment he saw the Confucian figure in his vision, he slammed his palm to the ground. Instantly, the sky filled with fiery clouds, and flames rained down like a natural disaster.
Striking first was Mu Zhanting’s usual tactic. Yet, as this initial probing attack fell, the Confucian figure remained unperturbed. Clad in a green robe with flowing sleeves, he approached as if taking a stroll, covering a hundred zhang with each step. In the blink of an eye, he was within a hundred paces of Mu Zhanting.
The Confucian figure glanced in the direction Nan Yan had left and said, “I dislike engaging with juniors. Step aside.”
Flames began to flicker around Mu Zhanting’s body, forming patterns like dragon scales. Simultaneously, the projection of the Mountains, Rivers, and Seas Crown appeared above his head. This crown could instantly elevate one to the Nascent Divinity realm, but the Dragon Lord had insisted Mu Zhanting absorb enough primordial spiritual energy first, sealing away nine levels of spiritual power.
Now, as the seal broke, Mu Zhanting instantly reached the Nascent Divinity realm.
Fearlessly, he retorted, “What a coincidence. I enjoy challenging my elders.”
“You’ve lost your chance for survival,” the Confucian figure replied. He raised the hand behind his back, wielding a bamboo brush. With one horizontal stroke, a trail of ink appeared in midair, then gushed forth like a vast ocean.
Mu Zhanting immediately rose, but soon felt a resistance around him. Looking down, he saw the ink ocean transforming into a scroll, automatically sketching his figure stroke by stroke.
He felt a mysterious pulling force as if his entire being was about to be sucked into the scroll.
This technique… Nan Yan had encountered it in the Dao Sheng Tian. Once painted, a person would be drawn into his painting realm. With even a moment of mental instability, even the mightiest of immortals would be trapped and brainwashed.
This spell transcended the understanding of ordinary Five Elements techniques, touching upon the realm of cause and effect. The Confucian figure didn’t think these newly ascended Nascent Divinity juniors could resist. After casting the spell, he prepared to bypass this area and continue pursuing Nan Yan.
Unexpectedly, just as he turned, the Confucian figure raised an eyebrow and looked back to see the forming ink suddenly engulfed in a sea of flames.
“Boil the sea!” Mu Zhanting shouted. Half of his body had been drawn into the painting, but he decisively counterattacked. Concentrating the Panya Celestial Fire in one spot, he ignited the entire scroll. As the scroll burned to ashes, he broke free from the spell’s constraints.
“Oh?” The Confucian figure reassessed him, quickly recognizing the origin of the flames. “The source of Huitie, the Great Sun Fire Essence.”
Huitie could slay immortals and gods. Born from the Great Sun Fire Essence, its power, though not as potent as Huitie itself, could still incinerate all things.
“What a pity,” the Confucian figure said impassively, observing the wall of fire behind him that prevented pursuit. “Among Five Elements Fire cultivators, you must be a once-in-a-millennium talent. But facing me is unwise.”
“Who told you I’m a technique cultivator?” Mu Zhanting raised his hand, summoning the Wan Shi Ping that had been hovering in the air, ready for battle. “As long as my heart yearns for Confucianism, I am a Confucian cultivator!”
The Confucian figure, lacking true consciousness and responding only to a thread of divine will, saw the Wan Shi Ping trembling and about to attack. He casually wrote the character “永” (eternal).
The eight strokes of “永” transformed into eight ink dragons, nimbly lunging at Mu Zhanting. Simultaneously, countless poems erupted from the Wan Shi Ping, instantly turning the scene into a chaotic battlefield.
Confucian cultivation focused on the mind, and this avatar was initially calm. When the ink dragons gained the upper hand, the Confucian figure remained unsurprised. However, he soon lifted his head in confusion.
Why were the poems from the Wan Shi Ping so unfamiliar?
By this time, Yin Ya had barely arrived. His burden was lighter, as Xumiyan had just passed through, leaving some remnant demons in the area. With a wave of his banner, he commanded these demons to engage the Demonic figure, allowing him to assist Mu Zhanting in dealing with the Confucian figure.
But when he turned to look, his tail nearly shed its fur in shock.
“Did you demonize the Wan Shi Ping? Are you a devil?!”
Divine treasures like the Wan Shi Ping possessed their consciousness and couldn’t be demonized. Yet after forcibly claiming it, Mu Zhanting had recklessly infused his poetry collection into it. Now, ancient masterpieces mingled with modern verses, creating a bizarre mix:
“Ten years of life and death, unthinking yet unforgetting, brocade hats and sable coats, a thousand horsemen sweeping across the plain…”
“Spring colors fill the garden, unable to be contained, as brothers and sisters alike venture beyond the walls…”
“If the Dragon Lord of Chen State inquires, this disciple has already crossed ten thousand mountains…”
Poetry had always been diverse, but after Mu Zhanting’s “poisoning,” the Wan Shi Ping was in utter chaos. Verses were incomplete, rhymes were off, attacks missed their marks, and defenses faltered. Yet, the Wan Shi Ping’s nature was to bombard continuously with poetic blades. As the saying goes, “Wild punches can defeat even a master,” and it somehow managed to disperse the eight ink dragons.
It was terrifying.
The Confucian figure, not being truly alive and only reacting based on his opponent’s moves, showed a hint of hesitation in the face of Mu Zhanting’s chaotic poetic assault.
“Now’s our chance,” Yin Ya said, noticing the Confucian figure’s momentary weakness. He circled behind, forming a purple illusory spear in his hand, and hurled it at the figure.
“Naive,” the Confucian figure said, turning to counter with a brush stroke, only to hit empty air.
…It was an illusion!
“Your opponent is here!” Mu Zhanting, who had been waiting for this moment, brandished the Tianba Axe, imbued with the power of the Great Sun Fire Essence, and brought it down on the Confucian figure.
This strike utilized his twelfth-level cultivation, causing the void to resound. The bamboo brush in the Confucian figure’s hand cracked and split in two.
As his form dissipated, the Confucian figure murmured, “You absorbed the Dao Lord’s Great Dao spiritual energy…”
After jointly defeating the Confucian figure, they turned without hesitation towards the Demonic figure, which was surrounded by numerous demons. Worryingly, as the Confucian figure vanished, the Demonic figure’s aura seemed to strengthen. With one slash, demonic energy ravaged the area, instantly reducing the surrounding demons to white bones before turning its gaze on them.
“This doesn’t seem right. Kill one, and the remaining two grow stronger. Then…” Yin Ya frowned, unable to finish his analysis before the Demonic figure suddenly grinned oddly. Instead of engaging them, it touched its brow and vanished.
The next moment, a gray figure shot like an arrow from the distant sea toward Nan Yan, approaching Xumiyan at an incredible speed.
“Not good!”
With the Confucian and Demonic figures gone, the Dao figure that most resembled Yingzeweiyu broke free from its stone seal and pursued Nan Yan.
Yin Ya and Mu Zhanting felt their scalps tingle with anxiety. They shouted in unison, “Five Ghosts Transport!”
Under normal circumstances, they would never use this ghostly technique reserved for the Prison Lord. As they cast the spell, five large ghost heads—cyan, yellow, white, red, and black—appeared around them, spewing ghostfire. The space around them compressed and expanded, instantly transporting them before Xumiyan.
The five malevolent ghosts circled them gleefully, asking, “Does the Prison Lord need anything else from us?”