I Can Strengthen Infinitely

Chapter 556: Chapter 320: Power of Huang Ting and the Great Ghost Venerable (Part 2)

Changqing’s face was deathly pale, all traces of blood drained; his chest had just been struck, leaving him with no chance to react at all.

At that very moment, a figure suddenly appeared in front of Changqing. This person swept his duster, directly brushing away the chill-laden blade flung by the Azure Ox, saving Changqing’s life in the nick of time.

"Who?!" Liu Daoyuan, who had planned to kill Changqing and then head to Lu Yuan, saw Changqing rescued and couldn’t help but roar in anger.

Huang Ting caught Changqing and landed, flicking his duster as he said, "Greetings, fellow Daoist."

"I see your cultivation is not shallow; how can you not perceive the situation and help such a traitor?" Liu Daoyuan said.

"Fellow Daoist, the world has changed." Huang Ting shook his head. "The Great Tang’s fate is in decline, but you have yet to see through it."

"Nonsense." Liu Daoyuan swung his staff, and once again a stag soul howled forth, charging straight at Huang Ting.

"Careful, Daoist!" Changqing gritted his teeth and warned.

Huang Ting’s duster whirled around, spinning like a circle; as it turned, a golden ring manifested, blocking the incoming stag soul.

This soul was quite troublesome for Martial Artists, but before the fellow Daoist Huang Ting, it was nothing to be feared.

Huang Ting knew that for someone like Liu Daoyuan, preaching would be useless, and he himself was not one inclined to soft-hearted admonishments.

Daoists need not be merciful; those who must die, must die.

Huang Ting stepped out in a bizarre footwork, his figure ghostly and strange. With each stride, a spectral purple shadow appeared behind him.

Whenever the spectral purple shadow appeared, Huang Ting’s form would briefly vanish into thin air, only to reappear in the next blink of an eye.

This Body Technique was exceedingly odd. Liu Daoyuan immediately grew alert. Truly, Daoist magic is myriad; one must never underestimate another’s art, lest one suffer for it.

Huang Ting’s expression was calm, as if he did not care to put Liu Daoyuan in his eyes at all.

Liu Daoyuan had lived many years, seen all manner of things, and possessed his own pride. He immediately urged the broken-horned bull forward, wielding his antlered staff in readiness to lock into a melee with Huang Ting.

The moment the antlered staff smashed down, Huang Ting lifted his hand; before his palm even touched, a violet hand had already seized the antlered staff.

"Hm?!" Liu Daoyuan was startled.

What clutched his antlered staff was a violet monstrous claw, stretching from the air itself.

Where had this come from?

Before Liu Daoyuan could react, another violet claw burst from the ground, reaching for his ankle.

Liu Daoyuan’s reactions were quick; with a powerful leap, he evaded, but his mount was less fortunate, the strange claw raking a sizable chunk of flesh from its side.

For a moment, even the bull’s ribs were exposed.

The broken-horned bull bellowed in pain. Liu Daoyuan, seeing his beloved mount so wounded, was furious and pained, yet Huang Ting’s techniques were simply too bizarre—leaving him scarcely any recourse.

Soon yet another arm stretched from the void, clawing at Liu Daoyuan’s chest.

Liu Daoyuan hastily chanted a spell; a beam of cyan light bound the monstrous claw, preventing it from drawing any closer.

"Thunder Burst!" Suddenly, Liu Daoyuan flung a silver Token into the sky. At once, dark clouds gathered, flickering with hidden thunder.

Huang Ting looked up. Among magics, Thunder Skill was rare; for Liu Daoyuan to have mastered one, it was indeed impressive.

Boom!

As the Token began to fall, a pillar-sized green lightning bolt twisted down from the clouds, striking towards where Huang Ting stood.

This sudden disturbance in the heavens naturally drew the attention of everyone atop the city wall.

Behind Huang Ting, a dense purple shadow emerged, forming into the shape of an umbrella that covered him.

The instant the lightning struck this object, it vanished at once, completely dissolving into the air.

"What?!" Liu Daoyuan’s mouth hung agape. Thunder Skill was the mightiest of magics—yet who would have thought Huang Ting would dispel it so effortlessly?

What astonished Liu Daoyuan even more was the nature of Huang Ting’s spell.

The purple umbrella suddenly began to writhe; five columns protruded abruptly, transforming into a giant claw reaching for Liu Daoyuan.

Liu Daoyuan had no idea what this thing was, but sensed mortal danger. Without a second thought, he turned to flee.

Yet in the next instant, multiple monstrous claws stretched from thin air, latching onto Liu Daoyuan’s arms, rooting him immovably to the spot.

Pa!

The monstrous claw gripped Liu Daoyuan’s whole body, squeezing him ferociously.

Crack, crack, crack!

The sounds of bones breaking rang out, ceaselessly,

Blood gushed from between the fingers, dripping to the ground.

The act was swift and ruthless, leaving no chance at all.

Liu Daoyuan likely never imagined he would die so humiliatingly, powerless before Huang Ting.

The giant claw relaxed; what fell to the ground was already nothing but an unrecognizable lump of flesh, a single eyeball stubbornly remaining visible.

With a flicker of thought, all the grotesque claws—including the giant one—vanished instantaneously into thin air.

"The power of the Great Ghost Venerable is truly formidable." Huang Ting stared at his own hands, muttering to himself.

Despite their differences in age and temperament, Liu Daoyuan and the others had been friends for many years. As He Yongnian rushed over to confront the Sword-bearing Daoist, seeking to avenge the fallen Lu Yuan—

Ah Dan, witnessing the scene, had been locked in a dead-even duel with Fu Bo. Suddenly, he thrust his staff to the ground; scripture radiated from the iron staff, snaking across the earth to bind Fu Bo’s legs, fixing him in place.

Earth-binding Spell!

With that done, Ah Dan slapped his short mule, speeding toward the Sword-bearing Daoist.

Approaching the Sword-bearing Daoist, he and He Yongnian struck at once, unleashing their full arsenal of arts. However, the Sword-bearing Daoists of West Qi Mountain Temple remained unflustered, standing back to back and forming a Sword Array.

This Sword Array, arranged in the pattern of the Five Elements, enabled the five swords to attack and defend together—as if five blades became one. Not only could He Yongnian and Ah Dan gain no advantage, they quickly found themselves in dire straits.

The Sword-bearing Daoists advanced and withdrew as a single entity, repeatedly forcing He Yongnian and Ah Dan into retreat. Ah Dan’s Golden Bell Shield was struck several times, until it finally shattered to pieces.

A sword quietly sliced through, piercing Ah Dan’s chest.

"Ah Dan!" He Yongnian saw this and roared with bloodshot eyes.

Of the four, never mind He Yongnian appearing the youngest—he was, in fact, an old soul who had stolen a young man’s body, making him eighty-nine years old in truth.

Thus, he was the strongest among the four. Seeing the five Sword-bearing Daoists slay his friends in quick succession, He Yongnian flew into a furious rage.

He normally cut a dashing figure, a small folding fan in hand, with no obvious weapon on his person.

Yet in that moment, He Yongnian brushed his jeweled belt, and a jade flute instantly appeared in his grasp.

Drip-lili!

He Yongnian raised the flute to his lips and began to play.

An elegant, melodious tune rang out across the battlefield, heard by the Yuan Army and the Sanhuang army alike.

All at once, everyone seemed unsteady on their feet, their minds clouded in confusion, barely able to remain standing.

The five Sword-bearing Daoists were only slightly affected—seeing stars before their eyes, but forging ahead as they stabbed their swords at He Yongnian.

Five blades thrust as one at five vital spots, yet He Yongnian carried on playing, as if oblivious.

The ethereal sound waves seemed to snatch away souls. Just as the Sword-bearing Daoists were about to strike, they involuntarily shuddered and their blades swerved aside, missing He Yongnian by a wide mark.

He Yongnian evaded with ease. Then, gripping his mount—a white stag—with a squeeze of his legs, he charged toward the Sword-bearing Daoists, ramming at them with his antlers.

The longer the Sword-bearing Daoists heard the flute, the less responsive and controllable their bodies became.

He Yongnian instantly conjured a spell, fire spewing from his hand to engulf the Sword-bearing Daoists.

Though the Sword-bearing Daoists were strong, if struck by these flames, even they would surely perish. But all were still under the spell of the flute, lacking any ability to dodge—they could only watch helplessly as the fire drew ever closer.