Chapter Sixty-Six: A Heap of Rotting Flesh

“I know where he’s escaped to. Follow me.”
Everyone looked at Lei Xiang with odd expressions. Linghu Zhong couldn’t help but tease, “You know again? Is there anything in this world you don’t know?”
Lei Xiang bared his small tiger teeth in a grin. “Yes, I don’t know who Old Chen is, nor who the Royal Uncle is.”
What did that mean?
The group boarded Lei Xiang’s black Swift Step. Lei Xiang channeled all his spiritual power, and the Swift Step transformed into a streak of black lightning, soaring through the air. None of them knew where Lei Xiang would take them, but they were certain that as long as they followed him, they would find Old Chen’s soul, for his actions over these days had earned him their utmost trust.

Several days later, within the imperial city of Dongyue, at the entrance to the Blood Fiend Alliance’s secret teleportation array, a middle-aged man stood silently among the pile of rotting flesh sculptures. Deep lines creased his broad forehead, and his temples had gone gray. Anyone familiar with him would hardly recognize him as the current sovereign—once the Royal Uncle of Dongyue.
It was as if he had aged ten years overnight.
There he stood, unmoving and unspeaking, like a statue from time immemorial. The grotesquely abstract sculpture of rotting flesh before him kept him company in its own stilled silence. No one knew how much time had passed when the Royal Uncle, feeling weary, shifted his weight and was about to move his foot, when the sculpture before him suddenly spoke in its feeble voice.

“Wei Jie, you’ve worked hard. My soul has recovered about fifty or sixty percent. We must leave as soon as possible. By my estimation, Lei Xiang should be able to deduce my whereabouts. At his traveling speed, he’ll likely arrive by tomorrow or the day after.”
So the Royal Uncle’s real name was Wei Jie! And just now, he had been protecting this pile of rotting flesh?
Wei Jie’s facial muscles twitched. “Very well, please take control, Alliance Leader.”
Take control of what?
The sculpture of rotting flesh sighed. “I hadn’t wanted to use your body, but with Old Chen’s body destroyed and my own lost to a cultivation mishap, turning me into this, I have no choice but to borrow yours for now.”
Wei Jie replied mournfully, “Alliance Leader, what are you saying? This body was always yours to use whenever you wish. Wei Jie harbors not the slightest complaint.”
The sculpture fell silent. A blood-red orb emerged, spiraled in the air, and plunged into Wei Jie’s crown. A look of pain flashed across Wei Jie’s face, and though he struggled for a moment, he quickly relinquished control.
Moments later, Wei Jie flexed his limbs, glanced around with a trace of reluctance in his gaze, and murmured, “It’s time to go. I’ll take this soul-nourishing wood too—might prove useful one day. Years of painstaking effort, ruined by a mere stripling. Hmph. When my power is fully restored, that will be the day of your doom.”

With a sigh, he was about to beckon to the rotting flesh sculpture when a distant voice rang out, “No need to wait. Why not settle things here and now?” In the blink of an eye, a streak of black lightning shot over, resolving into the black Swift Step and the figures of Lei Xiang and his four companions.
“Lei Xiang?” Wei Jie could hardly believe his eyes. How could this minor Foundation Establishment cultivator move so swiftly—nearly two days ahead of his calculations? But Wei Jie quickly regained his composure. “So you’ve found me, but you’re too late. Nothing can be changed now.” With that, he formed a spell with a single hand.
Lei Xiang, just having stowed away the Swift Step, quickly twisted his Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance. The gleaming golden reverse scale flashed, forming a protective barrier before him. But to his surprise, the spell was not cast at him, but instead shot into the sculpture. The mound of flesh quivered, and suddenly came to life.
None of them could grasp what was happening. The mound of flesh rose three zhang high, sprouting two human legs beneath it and standing up.
“While he’s not yet fully formed, destroy him!” At Lei Xiang’s shout, five beams of light shot forth from above, below, and the middle. Lei Xiang’s Divine Thunder Slash arrived first—a silent blue bolt slashed across the creature’s newly grown legs. With a crack, the legs snapped, and it toppled to the ground.
Wei Jie, in a fit of rage, stamped his foot and lunged at the mound of flesh, diving into it in an instant. The flesh rolled away, putting thirty zhang between itself and Lei Xiang’s group, then spat a mouthful of blood mist onto the ground, which was instantly absorbed. A miniature teleportation array appeared.
Trying to escape?
Lei Xiang’s mind raced. His Windfire Boots sprouted four wheels, sparking against the ground as he sped toward the mound of flesh. Much of it had already entered the array. Lei Xiang’s quick reflexes allowed him to seize a protruding chunk of flesh with one hand, while channeling his spiritual power into the other, ready to unleash the chilling Yin Finger, a technique of Dugu Yixiao.
The mound of flesh, panicked, began chanting a swift incantation. The blood-light of the array flared. “Now, the Sky-Piercing Pestle—attack!” At Lei Xiang’s shout, the burly man swung the ten-zhang-long Sky-Piercing Pestle, smashing it down at the flesh.
Suddenly, a bloody haze enveloped the array’s edge. The pestle struck the array with a boom, instantly shattering it. Both Lei Xiang and the mound of flesh vanished.
In that instant, Lei Xiang felt an irresistible force pulling him through the array. Suddenly weightless, he was sucked in, but his powerful will kept him calm. “This teleportation can’t be far—should be the same one I used before.”
A wave of vertigo swept over him, his stomach lurched, and he vomited bile and stomach acid. “Damn, even that high-speed windmill ride wasn’t this bad—who knows where I’ll end up this time.” As the dizziness faded, he quickly tossed out his beast-hide tent and gripped the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance, then surveyed his surroundings.
A mountain so tall its summit was hidden from view, barren and devoid of vegetation. A few withered old trees, a flock of unknown black birds, and beneath his feet, the teleportation array. Lei Xiang stepped off the array when suddenly a flash of cold light swept before him.
Instinctively, he tapped his Windfire Boots, gliding more than a zhang away. The cold gleam struck the stone behind him, shattering the millstone-sized rock into seven or eight pieces. “Who’s sneaking up on me? Wei Jie?” Lei Xiang released his spiritual sense, scanning a hundred-zhang radius in a carpet search, but found nothing.
With a cold chuckle, Lei Xiang focused his gaze, blue light blazing in his eyes as he scoured every inch. At last, behind a massive boulder, he spotted a faint human shape—visible only with his blue vision. A middle-aged man, hair streaked with gray, forehead creased with deep lines, clutching a strangely shaped hook.
It was indeed Wei Jie.

With a cold snort, Lei Xiang tossed the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance into the air. It transformed into a five-clawed golden dragon and soared at Wei Jie. Seeing his cover blown, Wei Jie leaped sideways onto the mountain path. The golden dragon shadowed him closely, stretching out a half-foot-long claw.
Wei Jie dared not slacken. With a slanting slash of the Dongyue Hook in his hand, a bright silver flash cut at the golden dragon’s claw. With a clang, the claw was repelled, but the dragon lunged onward, spewing golden flames from its mouth. The fire coiled and shrank. Realizing the threat, Wei Jie withdrew the hook and summoned a cloud of blood mist to envelop the dragon.
Seeing the mist take effect, Wei Jie let out a sinister laugh. “Lei Xiang, you have no helpers this time. Come, let me show you the might of Dongyue’s national treasure!” With that, he summoned the Dongyue Hook and began weaving intricate spells. The hook’s surface shone orange, growing ever brighter until it vanished with a whoosh.
Lei Xiang started, hurriedly activating his reverse scale defense. Blue light blazed from his eyes as he searched for the hook’s location. With a thunderous crash, the Dongyue Hook slashed at the beast-hide tent. Though made from a third-tier demon beast, the tent’s defense cracked under a single blow.
Indeed, the national treasure of Dongyue lived up to its reputation.
With no time to spare, Lei Xiang slapped his storage pouch. The Blue Lotus Disc flew out, shielding the tent. At a command, dazzling blue light flared, conjuring a spectral blue lotus—a spell Lei Xiang had mastered after his recent growth in power.
The Dongyue Hook struck again, but was easily blocked by the blue lotus projection, which blossomed proudly, unshaken by the attack. Wei Jie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What is this… Could it be a spirit treasure? Impossible—you can’t have a spirit treasure! There may not even be a single supreme spirit treasure on the entire Wuji Continent. In that case, you must die all the more!”
Lei Xiang paid no heed to the growing greed in Wei Jie’s eyes. With a wave of his long sleeve, fourteen flying swords shot forth. With a flick of his triangular banner, he formed the Wuji Sword Array and unleashed a spell. Fourteen streaks of cold light slashed toward Wei Jie without mercy.
“You really do have quite a collection,” Wei Jie said solemnly, his form blurring as a pure black robe embroidered with a flood dragon appeared on his body. He used the robe to cover the Dongyue Hook, casting an unknown spell. When he removed the robe, the hook had transformed into a white flood dragon, which grew rapidly to seven or eight zhang.
“Go!” At Wei Jie’s command, the white dragon lunged, colliding with the blue lotus. Roaring, it recoiled several zhang, infuriated, while Wei Jie’s brow twitched as he hurled spell after spell onto the white dragon.
“Blood in Bloom!”
With his shout, the white dragon soared, lowered its head, and spat a vast cloud of blood mist at the blue lotus. The mist rolled and mingled, forming a blood sea dozens of zhang across, encircling Lei Xiang and the Blue Lotus Disc. The blood mist also absorbed the one trapping the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance, which fell lifelessly to the ground, its spirit extinguished.
Lei Xiang reinforced the beast-hide defenses while searching with his blue vision. Suddenly, within the blood mist, he glimpsed a seven-petaled blood flower. More and more appeared, palm-sized but multiplying without end.
The blood flowers surged, all rushing toward the blue lotus, drowning its radiant blue in a tide of crimson.