Chapter 339: Chapter 338: Ah! Mmph— Mnnnn~~

Chapter 338: Ah! Mmph— Mnnnn~~

When the glowing screen unfolded atop Xiaofeng Mountain, the scene displayed was already one of the Demon Sect Holy Saint wielding thunder to bombard the chicken Netherkin.

Naturally, this was a carefully orchestrated effect, deliberately controlled by Luo Wusheng.

Even though he was now nearly declaring himself king or emperor under the influence of the Arrogance Attachment, he still instinctively paid attention to the details.

The black broken swords cloaked in lightning were best left unseen by the Nascent Soul cultivators—otherwise, they would immediately notice something was off. Luo Wusheng hoped that this entire mess could be pinned on the chicken Netherkin and that his little broken sword wouldn’t be exposed.

As for projecting the scene outside the space, that was, of course, to rack up another round of recognition value.

This time, he had to go all out with [Phantomless 2.0] as well. The recognition values he had saved up earlier in Sword Province were about to be burned through all at once—he needed to replenish as much as he could.

Naturally, the outsiders had no idea about any of this. They just assumed it was one of the Demon Sect Holy Saint’s mysterious artifact abilities.

The honest-looking Nascent Soul cultivator’s remark didn’t attract much attention—only the copper-bell-eyed old Daoist nearby stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Rather than that, this old man is more interested in what the Demon Sect Holy Saint is actually saying.”

Cradling the black wok like it was a treasure, the old Daoist muttered, “Though this glowing screen lets us see what’s happening, we can’t hear anything from inside. It’s truly frustrating.”

He was clearly a bit obsessive.

Just like now, his wide, elderly eyes stared unblinkingly at the floating screen… especially at the scrolling lines of text, terrified he might miss even a single word.

Any small oversight would bother him for days.

Thankfully, his cultivation was high enough to maintain this intense focus without his eyes drying out.

Then suddenly, he paused, stunned.

On the glowing screen, a new line of text floated across:

[Something’s wrong… That chicken Netherkin’s Origin Form has a problem…]

. . . . . .

Within the void.

“This is starting to get dull… I suppose it’s about time this farce came to an end.”

Floating in midair, Luo Wusheng raised his right hand lightly toward the foul-smelling, black-nether energy-shrouded Origin Form of Manager Ji.

The lightning wrapped around his blood-crystal longsword blazed even brighter.

“Looking back, I suppose it’s a good thing that my earlier comment about using you as a barbecue spit was just a joke. In this state, you’re clearly not something anyone would want to eat.”

His voice dripped with mockery, yet at the same time, an ancient, sorrowful sword intent began to wrap itself around the blade in his hand.

Normally, the power displayed by [Phantomless 2.0] was fixed—but in its sword form, Luo Wusheng could push it even further.

The sword intent he had achieved—at a mastery level—infused this sword with terrifying force.

From the very first time he grasped this sword intent, Luo Wusheng had instantly realized just how suited it was for him.

This sword intent could only empower a single strike—after one use, he would be left temporarily devoid of sword intent.

But the result of that one strike, empowered with all his body and soul, was a blow of utter devastation—the ultimate single strike.

It was a perfect match for [Phantomless 2.0], which also required a full recharge after each use.

Back when he confirmed this synergy, Luo Wusheng had even mused to himself whether, at this rate, he was fated to become a “One-Punch Man”… and whether he’d need to start worrying about hair loss at a young age.

But without a doubt, this was the strongest attack he could currently unleash.

Just as the young man curled his lips into a sneer, preparing to strike—

His body suddenly froze.

A flicker of clarity flashed through his eyes.

Almost instinctively, Luo Wusheng turned his head and looked toward the two girls he had shielded with his Buddhist golden body’s protective light.

His gaze first fell upon Lu Yuliu.

The sleeping girl, at some point, had placed her hand on the wooden sword at her waist. Her brows, above her closed eyes, were furrowed, and the sword-shaped mark on her forehead glowed with a faint light.

For a moment, Luo Wusheng seemed to glimpse a figure dressed in simple robes, holding a wooden sword, emerging from the glow of that mark.

That figure seemed to embody endless truths of the sword path, drawing his gaze irresistibly.

But soon, he paused—something began to grow clearer in his ears, a sound gradually coming into focus.

Almost without thinking, he closed his eyes.

In the next moment, the hand that was not holding his sword was gently taken—fingers interlaced.

In that instant, Luo Wusheng’s world changed.

He saw himself, with the same proud expression lingering on his face.

He saw the Sword Fairy beside him, already gone, her body supported only by a thin strand of silver thread.

And then, he saw a massive husk shrouded in black nether energy—and a shriveled chicken Netherkin with scattered black feathers, its entire body withered and dried, yet its eyes still burned with savage killing intent.

At some point, this chicken Netherkin had drawn perilously close to him—barely a step away.

Instinctively, thoughts surged forth.

And in the eyes of this “other him”, he raised the lightning-wreathed sword in his right hand.

“Th-That’s impossible! How could you have noticed me!?”

“You— no—!”

The next moment, that voice—full of unwillingness and disbelief—was drowned out by a thunderous roar.

Blinding lightning lit up the entire void.

Violent energy erupted like a tempest, as though tearing something out from the emptiness itself.

Luo Wusheng felt as if his body had been utterly hollowed out, a deep and overwhelming weakness flooding through every part of him.

But still, he forced himself to stay upright—and looked down at the figure in his arms.

Bai Xiaoyao leaned gently against him, her face pale, eyes softly closed.

Her slightly cold hand remained interlocked with his left, but now hung limply, as if it could fall at any moment.

His mind buzzed, like thunder still echoing in his ears.

His dried-out dantian had already been squeezed for every drop of spiritual energy—there was nothing left to pour into the girl in his arms.

His eyes dimmed, losing focus…

Until—a soft giggle suddenly rang out by his ear.

“Hehe~~ Senior Brother’s worried about Xiaoyao?”

The voice was weak, but carefully kept steady—and still carried her usual teasing tone:

“That protective technique Senior Brother poured into Xiaoyao just now wasn’t any weaker than what Senior Brother gave Yuli… Doesn’t Senior Brother trust his own technique?”

“Or is it that seeing Xiaoyao like this, all vulnerable, made Senior Brother lose control…?”

At some point, her eyes had opened. In those beautiful eyes was the image of the boy, stunned and frozen in place.

With effort, Bai Xiaoyao curled her lips into a sly smile.

But that smile froze a second later.

A handsome face was rapidly closing in before her eyes.

Her cold, weakened lips were covered by another pair—just as cold at first, but quickly growing warm.

“Ah! Mmph— Mnnnn~~”

. . . . . . .

Neither the boy nor the girl noticed that, at this moment, the void beneath their feet had transformed into a soft earthen ground.

Nor did they immediately realize that not far away, the little sleeping girl’s glowing sword mark had begun to dim, and her hand had slipped away from the sword at her waist…

Without that support, her body began to sway—then slowly fell backward.

She landed in a pile of dry leaves, sending the brittle foliage scattering with a soft rustling sound.

That sound brought them both back to their senses.

As the silver thread lifted, and a slightly labored breath was heard, a previously unseen sight entered their view.

It was a massive ancient tree, its branches covered in lush, crimson leaves.

Beneath it was soft yellow earth, layered with dried fallen leaves.

At the base of the tree’s trunk was a small hollow.

Within it… floated a red string.

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Note: Link to the character Illustration:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1lkIcPnCxeyuyZA4Kkb621dPC05UvWjhD¹

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