Chapter Thirty-Eight: Braveheart (XIII)

The altar erupted in brilliant white light, echoing with the faint wails of spirits and the sorrowful cries of souls. Tendrils of black mist streamed from the jade altar, gradually coalescing into the shadow of a demonic figure, as if a lord of the underworld had returned to the mortal realm.

“Who summons me?” An ancient, weathered voice drifted through the air, as though crossing the chasms of time and space.

“Black Crow, it’s me. A million years ago, you once sent a fragment of your soul to explore this place. We crossed paths then,” the Demon Fetus replied, urgency lacing its tone.

“Heh, so it’s you, little one. Do you still wish for my help to break the seal? Did I not tell you before that this seal is suppressed by many forces, and my power alone cannot shatter it?” Black Crow chuckled softly, speaking with slow indifference.

“Black Crow! Things are different now. This place has become a netherworld on earth. Of the two suppressing forces, only their projections remain; they are powerless now,” the Demon Fetus pressed, growing more anxious.

“Oh, it is indeed a fine opportunity. But why should I help you?” Black Crow remained unhurried, as if sitting calmly by the water, waiting for the fish to bite.

“A wisp of deathly yin energy! If you lend me your strength, I will give you a wisp of deathly yin energy!” The Demon Fetus seemed desperate, its words tumbling out with frantic speed, leaving no room for pause.

“A wisp of deathly yin energy, you say?” Black Crow hesitated briefly, yet his voice remained measured.

“That’s the most I can offer! Black Crow, I am about to be completely suppressed. If you dally any longer, you will get nothing at all!” The Demon Fetus’ voice teetered on the edge of madness, cold and urgent.

“Hmph! Why so impatient, little one? For a single wisp of deathly yin energy, swear upon your Heavenly Yin Origin, and I shall descend to aid you,” Black Crow snorted, his tone turning decisive.

“I swear upon the Heavenly Yin Origin that has nurtured me for countless eons—if my promise today is false, may the Heavenly Yin abandon me, and may I suffer the tortures of the Nine Hells for all eternity!” The Demon Fetus declared its oath swiftly and resolutely, anxiously awaiting Black Crow’s arrival.

No sooner had the oath been sworn than the tranquil, mirror-like night sky began to boil. Strange lights burst forth, swirling together to form a massive blood-red vortex in the heavens. Bolts of black lightning streaked across the sky, twisting into serpentine forms that coiled around the vortex.

As the black lightning gathered, a distinct sound of shattering echoed through the void. A figure slowly emerged amid the storm of blood and lightning, appearing from afar like a demon king of unrivaled power.

When the last of the lightning faded, the mists in mid-air split apart, dissolving into dense clouds of yin energy that soon faded into nothingness.

A sudden tearing sound!

A colossal pillar of blood-red light shot upward from the vortex, piercing the heavens.

The pillar vanished as quickly as it appeared, dissipating without a trace. In its wake, a spectral figure materialized in mid-air—a man shrouded in a black robe, his entire form wrapped in mysterious blood-red light, his features obscured.

The instant the phantom descended, the mountain of white jade began to quake violently, as if it had come alive. A blinding white light soared skyward, merging into the figure’s body.

At that very moment, Luo Hanya’s body trembled uncontrollably, as though faced with a mortal nemesis. Yet he could do nothing—his body was not his own, and all he could do was await Black Crow’s arrival in silence.

A moment later, with a deafening thunderclap, the blood-red vortex in the sky exploded and vanished, the black lightning dispersing in all directions. Luo Hanya’s vision flashed with blood-red light. In the next instant, he regained control of his body, eyes wide with shock.

The black-robed figure that had emerged from the vortex was gone without a trace. In its place stood a colossal demon, howling at the sky.

This demon towered over a hundred feet tall, with a fierce and monstrous visage, fangs bared, and a mane of blood-red hair. Its body was encased in jet-black armor that gleamed ominously, with faint trickles of blood seeping through the cracks. A black sigil shone between its brows, flickering with mysterious light. Thick black mist swirled around its back, where a pair of black wings unfurled.

The wings radiated a deep, eerie light, their surface inscribed with circles of enigmatic markings. On closer inspection, these transformed into shifting demonic shadows, each exuding an unusual, malignant aura.

“At last, I have descended upon this world!” Black Crow roared with laughter. No longer cloaked in the guise of a black-robed man, he revealed his true form to all, his power surging like a mountain, dominating the land.

“Black Crow, to the altar—help me, quickly!” The Demon Fetus’ voice echoed from the black mist, filled with elation.

The black mist surged toward a specific direction, as if guiding Black Crow.

Shrinking his form to the size of an ordinary man, Black Crow glanced with curiosity at Luo Hanya, who lay collapsed upon the white altar—a worm he had killed once before, yet who had returned from the dead. Without hesitation, Black Crow seized Luo Hanya and flew swiftly in the direction the black mist indicated.

“Who are you? How dare you attack a disciple of Mount Sumeru?” Ma Lishou cried out in shock, staring incredulously at the demon emerging from the shadows.

Black Crow, upon reaching the altar, had not attacked immediately. Instead, he tossed Luo Hanya aside and melded into the darkness, stalking forward like an assassin in the night.

When he neared the altar, he reached into the void with one hand. A flash of black light, and a short black spear appeared in his grasp.

Intricate runes were carved across the spear’s surface, the shaft radiating malice, the tip wreathed in blood-red vapor. Within the swirling mists, countless visions flickered: gods and Buddhas with slit throats, mighty demons suffused with death, and even a handful of monstrous fiends steeped in demonic energy—all claimed by this weapon. It was clear: this was an evil treasure, a tool of slaughter.

Black Crow caressed the spear, then struck without warning. He became a shadow, tearing through the second barrier of the altar like a bolt of black lightning, driving straight for Ma Lishou, the Heavenly King of the Guardian Nation.

At that moment, Ma Lishou was wholly focused on suppressing the Demon Fetus’ final struggle, unaware of the peril behind him. He felt only a chill creeping up his back, as the Golden Dragon Flower Marten let out a miserable shriek.

“Hmph! Such a beast, loyal to its master to the end.” Black Crow cast a cold glance at the marten, now impaled upon his spear. With a snort, he flung the dying creature aside and melted back into the shadows.

It was as if the scene had begun anew. Ma Lishou, consumed by rage and grief, cradled the lifeless marten in his arms, only to realize it was already dead—a corpse in his hands. His hands trembled, his eyes were bloodshot with fury. “Curse you! You killed my Golden Dragon Flower Marten! I will have vengeance for this blood feud!”

“Look out!” Ma Liqing cried out suddenly. Ma Lishou heard the clang of metal behind him and turned to see Ma Liqing’s Azure Sword intercepting Black Crow’s surprise attack.

Thwarted, Black Crow vanished once more into the darkness.

The Four Heavenly Kings scanned their surroundings with utmost vigilance, not daring to relax for a moment. The Demon Fetus, relieved of its suppressors, allowed the black mist to spread anew—clearly, the Eight Ghosts of Mount Changyang alone could not restrain it.

Realizing the assassin’s formidable power, the Eight Ghosts dared not devote themselves wholly to the suppression. They split again into eight streams of black smoke, attempting to coalesce into the Demonic Form of Xingtian.

“Aaah!” Before the form could take shape, one among the Eight Ghosts let out a wail and dissolved into yin energy, drawn into the black spear!

“Fifth Brother!” The Seven remaining Ghosts wailed in grief. They abandoned their attempt to merge, reverting to their true forms.

At that moment, the Demon Fetus was free from all restraint. It laughed heartily as black mist surged to envelop the third tier of the altar, seeping down into the second, and swept toward the Four Heavenly Kings.

In the span of a breath, the entire situation had been utterly transformed.