The seal upon the Fallen God Valley, which had held for ten thousand years, shattered completely the moment Cang Yaochen stepped beyond its mouth.
Jiang Li, held in his arms, was impossibly light. Her hair, which had turned from ink-black to stark silver, slithered down Cang Yaochen's blood-stained monastic robes.
"He has come."
Chu Cansheng, the Great Elder of the Primal Sword Sect waiting upon the plains, felt his eyelids twitch violently. Behind him stood three thousand sword cultivators, joined in the "Great Five Elements Demon-Slaying Array." Every flying sword pulsed with a piercing, liquid light, sealing off every inch of space for a hundred miles.
"Evil creature! Release the demoness and cripple your own cultivation, and the Sacred Ground may yet leave you a whole corpse!" Chu Cansheng's voice, bolstered by spiritual essence, echoed across the plains.
Cang Yaochen came to a halt.
He glanced at the three thousand-strong sword array and slowly bowed his head. He brushed away the silver strands of hair veiling Jiang Li's face, his fingertips trembling as he wiped a smudge of dried blood from the corner of her eye.
"A whole corpse?"
Cang Yaochen abruptly snapped his head up.
"Ten thousand years ago, the founding ancestor of your Primal Sword Sect knelt before the Buddha for seven days and seven nights just to beg for a single volume of my tattered scriptures," Cang Yaochen's voice was hoarse, laden with a crushing weight. "And now, his descendant offers me a 'whole corpse'?"
"You court death! Fire! Activate the array!" Chu Cansheng was visibly shaken by that single gaze, his voice rising to a hysterical shriek.
"Whiz—Whiz—Whiz—!"
The God-Slaying Bolts of the Heavenly Pivot Sect instantly tore through the air. Each bolt was wreathed in armor-piercing baleful energy. Simultaneously, three thousand sword cultivators manipulated their blades in unison, a rain of sword-light sealing off every path of retreat.
Cang Yaochen stood amidst the torrential rain of arrows, motionless.
He pressed Jiang Li firmly against his chest, shielding her with his back as he took the impact of the ten thousand bolts and blades.
Pfft! Crack!
The sounds of flying swords carving flesh and bolts slamming into bone were as dense as a drumbeat.
"...All manifestations... are but vain illusions..."
Enduring the agony of shattering bones, he chanted the scriptures in a low voice within the heart of the array.
However, just as a look of joy surfaced on Chu Cansheng's face, believing the demon-monk was finally about to be executed, Jiang Li let out a sudden, sharp, and feeble gasp. It was the energy of the Sacred Ground's "Demon-Slaying Array"; it was purifying the unstable Evil God origin within her body.
Jiang Li's fingernails dug deep, tearing the skin of Cang Yaochen's chest and leaving behind a trail of blood.
In that instant, he ceased his chanting. His voice became unnervingly calm—a calm that inspired utter despair.
"Buddha is merciful." He whispered. "But for whom is this mercy intended? For slaughter? For greed? For the wicked and evil multitudes?"
Boom—!
The God-Slaying Bolts that had been lodged in his flesh shattered into fine powder in that heartbeat, unable to withstand the sudden surge of his status's pressure.
"My turn."
Cang Yaochen's form moved like a lightning strike, his bare hands shattering the incoming Primal swords. Within three breaths, the slaughter had turned into a one-sided dismemberment.
Cang Yaochen moved through the crowd with fluid grace, like a patient butcher seeking the perfect angle for the cut.
"Save me... No!" Chu Cansheng found with horror that Cang Yaochen's silhouette had already appeared before him, his hand clamped firmly around his throat. The crisp sound of snapping bone echoed in the depths of every eardrum across the plains.
Cang Yaochen wiped a smear of foul blood from his face and turned his head. His double pupils scanned the surviving sword cultivators with cold indifference. The Buddhist mudra formed by his left hand trembled slightly before finally curling into a tightly clenched fist. Carrying the limp Jiang Li, he stepped out into the distance through the rain of blood, never looking back.
...
Inside a dilapidated Earth God temple, fallen stone statues lay scattered everywhere. Cang Yaochen carried Jiang Li into the shadows. The moment he sat down, the bone-deep wounds on his back began to bleed profusely. He reached out with a trembling hand, wanting to caress Jiang Li's face.
But by the faint moonlight, he saw the black qi seeping from his fingertips. That energy was greedily following Jiang Li's breath, boring into her body.
"Get back..."
Cang Yaochen let out a low growl, clutching his own left arm with such force that he tore away a piece of his own flesh.
It was then that Jiang Li slowly opened her eyes.
Before her was Cang Yaochen, his face covered in blood, looking like a stranger to her.
"Holy Monk?" she asked, reaching out a cold hand.
Cang Yaochen recoiled into the shadows. "No. I can no longer bear the title of 'Holy Monk'."