6.9 - Mastered Core, Sundered Earth

For weeks now, Zhang Lifen had been traveling with Ren Huang and Yi Xiurong through the fertile plains of the central empire. Disguised as mortals, they’d been largely unhindered as they moved, sticking to the roads. They’d been headed mostly west, seeking to avoid the increasingly frequent attacks from cultivators of all walks of life. The bounty on their heads had climbed considerably, and plenty were willing to risk a fight with three peak Soul Refining experts for a chance at it.

The unmistakable presence of two core users flared in Zhang Lifen’s spiritual perception. All three of the former disciples turned to the east. The newcomers approached quickly, and they made no effort to hide themselves. The stronger of the two presences was unfamiliar. But Zhang Lifen already had a fairly good guess of who had finally come for them, given the furious impression of molten earth she got from the less advanced expert.

“Seems we’ve worn out our welcome,” Zhang Lifen said.

Yi Xiurong’s lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing. Zhang Lifen couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. Probably admonishing herself for leaving Sha Xiang to die in the wilderness—something she’d clearly not done.

Calling his wolf-tooth club from his storage treasure, Ren Huang hefted the weapon onto his shoulder. “If we’re going to run, we’d best get moving.”

Zhang Lifen arched an eyebrow at what she assumed was a joke. Ren Huang would know just as well as she did that this was it. The stronger of the two spirits was clearly in the Eighth Realm—there would be no outrunning that one. Besides, given how quickly the two of them approached, they had to be using flying treasures. Of the three of them, only Yi Xiurong would likely escape. A quick glance in her direction confirmed Zhang Lifen’s suspicions about that notion. Yi Xiurong had drawn herself up, lifting her chin in that imperious way of hers, and folded her hands within the sleeves of her gown.

There would be no running from this fight.

When the two approaching immortals arrived a few moments later, Zhang Lifen’s suspicions were confirmed. Sha Xiang sneered down on them from atop a flying sword. Little seemed to have changed with her, at least in terms of her outward appearance. True, she’d lost much of the youthful cast to her face, and where her features had once been sharp, they were now refined. Her build was still all lean muscle, but she lacked the sort of nervous, almost twitchy energy she’d once had. It seemed her advancement had done her well, Zhang Lifen thought as she assessed Sha Xiang’s spirit with her perception technique.

The younger woman’s spirit was much as Zhang Lifen remembered it. A thing of cracked, molten earth. An expansive volcanic plain, where fissures spewed yellow, toxic smoke. Somewhere within that smoke lurked a beast. A creature of violence and avarice—the demon core. It seemed the rumors had been true after all. Sha Xiang had survived her expulsion from the sect, and what Yi Xiurong had assumed would be her death in the wilderness. She’d also mastered the core and made it her own.

Standing next to Sha Xiang on a flying sword of his own, was an older man. A man who could only be Long Tingguang, right hand of the Twilight Empress and her “true dragon.” His appearance and spirit both stood up to his reputation.

Beneath his jet-black robes adorned with red and gold formation script, he was possessed of a clearly powerful build. A crown hairpin adorned with a single ruby held his silky hair in place, before it cascaded over his back and shoulders. His features were as strong as they were severe. A neatly kept beard came to a noble point, and his sword-like eyebrows rested above his fierce, cold eyes. His posture and bearing projected nothing short of absolute confidence and authority. Rightly so, given his advancement.

He stood fully within the Eighth Realm. Long Tingguang’s spirit was a tangled mess of shadow and metal. It opened up into a pit, a chasm of suffering and torment that stretched to the deepest and darkest places of the underworld. The walls of that chasm were lined by blood caked blades that had been honed over centuries, only barely concealed within his umbral spirit.

Zhang Lifen suppressed a shudder. The sheer amount of killing intent she felt from him made her stomach turn.

“So,” Yi Xiurong said, her voice clear and firm as she stepped on to her peacock feather. “You’ve finally come.”

As she rose into the air, drawing even with Long Tingguang and Sha Xiang, she released her own spirit. A colorless star hung in the sky, casting a stark, uncompromising light over the world. As a second peak Sixth Realm presence joined that of Sha Xiang and Long Tingguang, Zhang Lifen couldn’t resist the combined pressure without releasing her own spirit.

A glassy still sea stretched out from one horizon to the next. Within its black depths, violent currents flowed with the power of thousands of tons of water. All who sank below the surface of her spirit would be pulled to abyssal oblivion, never to return. Next to her, Ren Huang released his spirit as well. The massive, black-furred wolf glared up at the experts in the sky, flames leaping from its claws and embered eyes.

As valiant their display, it wouldn’t be enough. There may be three of them, but Long Tingguang was of the Divine Soul Apotheosis stage. He could wipe all three of them out with but a single technique if he wanted to. And should they try to run? Well, Ren Huang had the right of it. Running was pointless. All they had left was to fight, then to die.

“The three of you have caused no small amount of trouble. Would that my empress had dealt with you sooner,” Long Tingguang said. “No matter. The three of you die here, today.”

“Coming to beat a few pups, are you?” Zhang Lifen said. “I’m not so sure this is the best use of your time.”

The corner of Long Tingguang’s mouth quirked. At least he’d found it funny, but Zhang Lifen could hardly blame him. She’d always been possessed of irresistible charm.

“I’m fighting you,” Sha Xiang said. “All of you.”

Zhang Lifen rolled her eyes. “Surely you can’t be serious. There’s three of us, and aside from the obvious outlier, everyone here is peak Soul Refining. But if you insist, I’ll not object to those odds.”

Next to her, Ren Huang shifted. “Don’t underestimate her.”

Long Tingguang pulled back his spirit and drifted a bit behind Sha Xiang. “Do not fail me,” he said.

Sha Xiang landed in front of Zhang Lifen in an explosion of molten rock and fractured earth. “Been waiting for this,” she growled, her voice turning half-feral as her demon core joined her in battle.

Rough, cracked stone lined her arms, reaching all the way to her shoulders and partially covering her chest. Glowing molten rock dripped from her knuckles, igniting fires in the road. Her eyes gleamed with killing intent, and Zhang Lifen nearly gagged once again as the toxic fumes spilling from the ruptured earth wrapped smothered the land. It was all she could do to drift back on her movement technique, the Tidewalker Step, and avoid the blow aimed at the side of her head.

Her bow of qilin horn fell into her hands, and she loosed half a dozen arrows before Sha Xiang had completed the follow-through of her punch. Golden earth qi rippled out from Sha Xiang’s fist, warping the very air around her. Although every one of Zhang Lifen’s arrows found their mark, Sha Xiang shrugged them off as though they were the attacks of a mere Foundation stage child.

Ren Huang swung his club, sending a wave of fire cresting over Sha Xiang’s head. When the flames passed, Sha Xiang had a dark figure superimposed over herself. The demon core. A creation of Jin Xifeng, it contained a fragment of her power—and Sha Xiang had enough mastery over it that she could command it to take the brunt of an attack like that.

A brilliant beam of radiance shone down. It was one of Yi Xiurong’s most powerful techniques, and even from the distance she’d created, Zhang Lifen struggled to keep her body art—the Frost Lotus Incantation—active. If Yi Xiurong’s technique had any effect on Sha Xiang, she gave no clear evidence. When Yi Xiurong dropped on her from above with a flying kick that cracked the air, Sha Xiang didn’t even turn.

Like back when she’d fought He Yu in the tournament, a demonic arm tore free of her body and grabbed Yi Xiurong by the foot. The core swung her around and tossed her into Ren Huang. Before Yi Xiurong had managed to fully recover—a process that took only the blink of an eye—Sha Xiang was on them both.

Zhang Lifen fought back the rising fear in her chest and cycled her cultivation art to calm her runaway heart. Even as she launched hundreds—thousands—of arrows at Sha Xiang with the Heart Piercing Black Rain, the balance here was obvious.

Yi Xiurong was a peerless martial talent. But Sha Xiang met her blow for blow. Under the constant barrage of radiant qi from the nine golden discs Yi Xiurong called to aid her in the fight, Sha Xiang came out on top of every exchange. Before Ren Huang’s unrelenting assault with fire and club, Sha Xiang stood tall. Even as the sky blackened under a cloud of arrows greater than any army could loose, Sha Xiang endured.

At equal advancement, she stood against them all. And blow by blow, moment by moment, the fight swung ever more in her favor. A burning black wolf, a radiant star, and a relentless tide all threw themselves against the molten earth—and failed to move it.

Two arms—each of that same umbral substance that now covered Sha Xiang nearly completely—had joined her natural, stonewrought limbs. The Four Demon Fists. They acted at her direction now, and in the sight of Zhang Lifen’s perception technique, it was clear Sha Xiang had fully mastered this art. The damage she’d once done to her cultivation by using it before she was ready had been restored—leaving not even a mark. It had likely been Long Tingguang’s doing. Zhang Lifen cursed Yi Xiurong under her breath. That was all she allowed herself, though—they could bicker over the past later. If they lived.

One of Sha Xiang’s umbral arms blocked a massive overhand strike from Ren Huang. The earth beneath them cracked, a crater forming from the spiritual weight of that instant’s exchange. Yi Xiurong moved in, aiming a quick series of punches and kicks at Sha Xiang’s midsection. She blocked or weathered all of them, then grabbed Yi Xiurong by the throat.

Zhang Lifen activated to Tidewalker Step. She struck Sha Xiang’s dantian, injecting a burst of her own water qi into the churning center of Sha Xiang’s fire and earth aspected cultivation. It didn’t do nearly as much as she’d hoped, but it did enough.

Sha Xiang grunted and released her hold on Yi Xiurong. She swung at Zhang Lifen, this time clipping her in the side of the head as she miss-timed her dodge. Stars exploded in her vision.

“Ow,” she said. Mostly in an attempt to smother the momentary panic with humor. The strike had allowed her to take Sha Xiang’s measure better than before, and she cared little for what she saw.

Sha Xiang laughed. It wasn’t hard to see why. As they exchanged techniques and tore apart the once-pristine river valley, they failed to land a single solid blow on her. Three on one was a massive advantage, and to be sure, they did land attacks. Frequently. But Sha Xiang shrugged them all off.

Blow for blow, she was more powerful than Ren Huang, whose strength was legendary. Her form, timing, and finesse were all at least equal to, often surpassing, that of Yi Xiurong. The former First Disciple had been considered peerless before the fall of the Shrouded Peaks Sect. And Sha Xiang’s speed was more than enough to keep up with Zhang Lifen herself, even relying fully on her connection to her Dao of Grace.

At least when the call came, it came from Yi Xiurong. “Scatter,” she yelled. “At least one of us has a chance to escape.”

Zhang Lifen didn’t waste an instant. Bloodied from more hits she’d taken in over fifty years, and with aching meridians, she poured what she could of her cultivation into the Frost Lotus Incantation and the Tidewalker Step. Ren Huang bounded away, trailing embers and tiny fires in the grass, and Yi Xiurong soared on her peacock feather. All three of them went in opposite directions, each understanding what they were meant to do. A potential sacrifice, a potential chance.

A wild laugh rang out after her, and she grimaced. It seemed Sha Xiang had elected to follow her, of all people. Honestly? Zhang Lifen could hardly blame her. Pouring all her qi into her movement technique, she set her sights to the west. To Iron Gate City. It was a longshot, but she couldn’t see any other options.