Chapter 685: Mu Moli (II)

The panther-like demonic beast glanced at the scene and spat out a gust of wind as it charged forward. But before it could reach Mu Moli, Li Xijun formed a hand seal and chanted an incantation. He kept his two fingers pressed together as dozens of white streams burst forth. Waves of cold light transformed into fine, pine-needle-like snowflakes. The waves were carried by the wind as it swept toward Ju Wu.

“Hah! You—” The demonic beast had barely spoken when the chilling yin qi pierced through its body. Snowflakes gently descended from the sky and Ju Wu’s movements stalled. Li Xijun calmly reached for his sharp sword and unsheathed it in one smooth motion.

Clang!

A dazzling white sword light flashed. The Foundation Establishment Realm sword, Han Lin, had been forged for over a decade. Now, it finally displayed its true brilliance. The slender blade danced and its fierce radiance gleamed like snow.

Celestial Moon Slash!

All the snowflakes in the surrounding space shifted an inch in unison. Ju Wu let out a sorrowful wail as two short, thick claws flew into the air. Li Xijun had wielded a sword since he was a child. He had practiced against the falling snow in the mountains. Forty years later, he felt an exhilarating satisfaction as his blade tasted blood.

Many in the Li Family had mastered Celestial Moon Slash in the past century. Li Xuanling had great talent in swordsmanship but had perished too soon. Li Yuanjiao treated the sword merely as a tool for killing and did not refine his technique. Their Celestial Moon Slash was always the same pale-blue glow that merely imitated the sword of Li Chejing.

Only Li Tongya’s Celestial Moon Slash had ever been as grand as a ship’s sail. His slash carried a deep and vast sword force. He had truly made it his own sword. Now, as Li Xijun unleashed a fierce and drifting snow-white light, he finally stepped beyond mere imitation.

Threefold Moonlight!

His sword flicked back, releasing three agile streaks of white light. As he wielded his blade, admiration flashed across Li Xijun’s mind,

The sword canon is profound. One could spend a lifetime and never exhaust its mysteries. My ancestor only wielded the blade for fifteen years before composing this text. Such a talent, truly peerless.

But his sword did not slow even as he reflected. Slaughter Jun Kui Light was a perfect complement for his swordsmanship. Ju Wu struggled to cast any magic, let alone defend against the sword as he was already bound by the spell. It was struck again and again until it vomited black blood.

Ju Wu was utterly terrified. It had been reduced to nothing more than a mount though it was a demonic beast. It was already weaker than most rogue cultivators. How could it endure such swordplay? In despair, it cried, “To hell with aiding you, Mu Moli... I’m about to be slain!”

Mu Moli, still locked in a stalemate with Li Ximing, felt a chill in his heart. He spoke coldly, “Leave at once! Find our senior brother!”

Mu Moli swallowed several pills, forcing his Immortal Foundation into full operation. His eyes gleamed with a faint red light as he retrieved a bronze tablet. He grasped his own shoulder and with a sickening crunch, tore off his own arm.

Before the blood could even flow, he hurled the severed arm high into the air. A flash of red light erupted as it transformed into a massive green-faced, fanged demon that charged fiercely at Li Xijun.

“Finally, a proper shamanic spell,” muttered Li Xijun. Li Xijun let the demon rush forward, knowing that Kongheng would handle it. Examining the creature with interest, he stepped forward, drawing his sword.

Although Mount Wu carried a lineage of shamanic cultivation, Duanmu Kui himself, along with his disciples, had followed the Purple Mansion and Golden Core Dao. Though Duanmu Kui likely possessed knowledge of shamanic spells, he rarely taught them. He only left a few techniques for his disciples to study on their own.

As a result, the shamanic spells used by the Mount Yue cultivators were a mix of Daoist and shamanic arts. It was often awkward and incomplete. Now that he was bearing witness to a fully realized shamanic spell for the first time, Li Xijun observed it carefully.

The green-faced demon stood over twenty feet tall, with a grotesque visage and a mouthful of fangs. Its body was covered in intricate runes, but instead of emitting mana, it radiated a faint green aura.

After a few sword strikes, Li Xijun noticed that the demon’s body was soft, almost like clay. It regenerated quickly but seemed particularly vulnerable to spell arts.

Forming a spell seal, he channeled Slaughter Jun Kui Light, and sure enough, the demon’s green aura rapidly diminished. He took out various talismans and started testing them one by one, silently memorizing their effects.

While Li Xijun conducted his experiments, Mu Moli was still struggling against Li Ximing after over a hundred exchanges. Forming a quick seal, he slapped his storage pouch and flung several skulls into the air.

The black smoke around him surged into the skulls, transforming into five or six shadowy mountain ghosts that shrieked as they charged toward Li Ximing. The ghosts were attempting to bypass

Radiant Origin Pass

and strike directly at his body.

Yet, the moment the ghosts rose, four ancient sigils on the left pillar of

Radiant Origin Pass

flared to life and immediately repelled the ghosts.

Li Ximing laughed. "My Bright Yang may not compare to Profound Thunder against such filth, but it ranks among the best. Senior, don’t bother with these petty tricks!"

But just as Li Ximing unleashed

Radiant Origin Pass

, Mu Moli transformed into a streak of crimson light and fled. Taking no chances, Li Xijun immediately gave chase. But, a figure emerged in the distant mist. The silhouette swept his sleeve and captured Mu Moli with ease.

Li Ximing stopped, brows furrowed. He was momentarily stunned as he watched the figure glide effortlessly through the air on a white, porcelain-like flying shuttle.

"This..."

The man bore the marks of age and wear, yet his expression was warm. His deep-set eyes and long face carried a serene demeanor. His white hair and beard had streaks of gray running through it as it framed his face. Dressed in a flowing white robe with cloud-patterned sleeves, he stood with his hands behind his back.

Several medicine pouches hung from his waist. In his hand, he held the transformed Mu Moli, effortlessly containing the crimson light’s movements no matter how it twisted and surged.

He met Li Ximing’s eyes and spoke in a gentle voice, "Ming'er."

Li Ximing quickly kneeled in respect. His voice was choked with emotion as he reverently greeted, "Disciple Ximing greets Master!"

Li Xijun immediately understood and followed suit, bowing as he respectfully addressed, "Greetings, Senior Xiao!"