Pang Shixie stood clad in black armor, his face obscured by a menacing black mask.
The mask bore the intricate carving of a venomous black scorpion, its stinger pointed ominously at the center of Pang Shixie's brow, amplifying his aura of malice.
Zhao Wu and the three others were halted by a youth in white. The youth's previously hidden aura now erupted with force, instantly suppressing the four of them.
Their combined strength paled in comparison to the youth's overwhelming presence. Even as they joined forces, they could barely withstand the oppressive pressure.
Pang Shixie held a black spear in his hands. At the junction of the spearhead and shaft, another carved black scorpion coiled menacingly.
This weapon was the source of Pang Shixie's name, a spear that had drunk deeply of the blood of countless weaker lives.
At the sight of the spear, Zhao Wu and the others knew that Ji Xia was in grave danger. The spear exuded an almost palpable stench of blood—too thick to ignore.
"Surely, countless lives have perished under this spear!"
Zhao Wu thought to himself: This clan brother possesses an astoundingly vast reservoir of spiritual energy—unprecedented—but alas, his cultivation is far too shallow, not even breaching the Heaven's Barrier...
While barely parrying the white-clad youth's casual strike, Zhao Wu lamented the situation. Earlier, the group had hoped that with this mysterious clan brother joining them, their odds against the white-clad foe might improve.
After all, before Ji Xia arrived, their numerical advantage—four against two—seemed significant. Yet, in the boundless wilderness, sheer numbers often proved meaningless.
The white-clad youth, though suppressing his aura, exuded immense pressure. Only someone at least two spiritual marks above their level could generate such dominance.
To make matters worse, their opponent had another ally—a black-armored warrior with cultivation comparable to theirs.
When Ji Xia appeared, hope flickered briefly. If they could muster five mystical cultivators, even a fourth-layer Mystic Realm opponent would need to tread carefully.
But to their dismay, the white-clad youth had no intention of compromise. He coldly commanded Pang Shixie to kill Ji Xia, forcing their hand.
The youth's confidence was staggering.
At the white-clad youth's command, Pang Shixie unleashed his spiritual energy. Zhao Wu and the others immediately discerned his strength.
"A spiritual wheel engraved with two spiritual marks—Mystic Realm, second layer!"
Zhao Wu swung his long blade, evoking a flashing natural rune, barely dodging a casual palm strike from the white-clad youth. He roared in warning to Ji Xia.
The youth's palm strike narrowly missed Zhao Wu, landing instead on a towering tree over seven or eight zhang tall.
The tree was instantly pierced by the strike. The razor-sharp spiritual energy invaded the tree's trunk, wreaking havoc. In mere moments, the century-old tree collapsed under the assault.
But Zhao Wu and the others had no time to lament the fallen tree. Their hearts raced with urgency. Together, they could barely hold their ground against the white-clad foe.
If Ji Xia were to fall, freeing Pang Shixie to join the fray, their deaths were certain!
"This silver-clad youth, though his spiritual energy is terrifyingly dense, his cultivation is too weak. He'll surely perish to Pang Shixie!"
The black-haired girl, Fan Zhu, sighed inwardly.
Having stepped into the Mystic Realm long ago, they understood the vast gulf between it and the Nine Heavens. Mere density of spiritual energy could not bridge such a chasm—especially against someone like Pang Shixie, a second-layer Mystic Realm cultivator.
Pang Shixie advanced, spiritual energy surging, aiming for Ji Xia. But Ji Xia showed no fear, stepping forward boldly.
He moved as if wading through crashing waves, undaunted.
"Wave-Stepping Stance!"
This was a variant martial art Ji Xia had devised after days of studying the Hundredfold Waves. Where the Hundredfold Waves emphasized accumulated force, the Wave-Stepping Stance focused on momentum.
In combat between cultivators, momentum was critical. To hesitate was to court death.
Step after step, Ji Xia advanced. His aura grew sharper, the blade of his sword shrouded in spiritual energy, a foot thick and steadily thickening.
By the ninth step—the ultimate number—Ji Xia's aura peaked, resembling a mountain unshaken amidst Pang Shixie's overwhelming presence.
By then, Pang Shixie had closed the distance. His spear, like a living dragon, surged forward without hesitation.
Ji Xia's nine steps reached their climax, and he struck back!
His longsword swept toward Pang Shixie, a faint image of a celestial figure—the Jupiter Deity—emerging from Ji Xia's body and merging into the blade.
The sword descended!
For the first time, Pang Shixie felt a chill of dread—a sensation alien to him in battles against those of similar cultivation.
How could a mere Nine Heavens youth make him feel such unease?
Yet, Pang Shixie's confidence, forged through countless victories, would not falter.
Pouring his spiritual energy into his spear through a unique route, he imbued it with power. The black spear took on a faint crimson hue, the scorpion at its junction turning blood-red, its stinger gleaming ominously.
"Blood-Drinking Scorpion!"
This Mystic Realm martial art, inscribed as Pang Shixie's second spiritual mark, roared to life.
Zhao Wu and the others, sensing the spiritual energy emanating from behind, exchanged shocked glances.
Pang Shixie was unleashing power far beyond expectation!
Fan Zhu, however, averted her gaze, as if unwilling to witness Ji Xia's death.
The clash was earth-shattering.
Sword met spear, and both combatants were thrown backward.
Pang Shixie steadied himself, only to feel a crushing force emanate from his spear—a force that obliterated his spiritual energy and surged into his body.
Roaring in defiance, Pang Shixie mustered his spiritual energy to counter the invading force.
But suddenly, his spear fell to the ground. His skin turned crimson, bloodlines ruptured across his body, and his bones cracked audibly.
Blood seeped from his black armor, pooling around him, until his form was drenched in crimson.
"Nine Heavens... How can it be this strong?"
He murmured in disbelief.
Ji Xia shook his head silently.
"What technique is this?" Pang Shixie rasped.
"It's not a technique. It's a sword art," Ji Xia replied.
"This strike is called Starfall. Jupiter Hell Sword—Starfall Style."
Pang Shixie nodded faintly before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
Ji Xia glanced at his fallen foe before turning to the white-clad youth, narrowing his eyes.
"You said that if you wanted me dead, I'd die?"
"Clan brother, are you dreaming?"