Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 650: Chapter 315: Divine Fusion (5K Word Chapter)_2

"The Samadhi True Flame is truly terrifying, it can actually withstand the Celestial Phenomenon?" Huang Sanlang murmured softly.

At this moment, he finally witnessed the terrifying aspect of Zhang Fan.

On that day, in Yellow Skin Cave, if Zhang Fan had used this technique, afraid that, except for the Ancestor, not a single Yellow-skinned Rat in that cave would have survived.

"The Thunder Essence Dharma Assembly is not yet to this extent," Yu Xuanji intoned solemnly.

At this very moment, everyone halted; they knew the showdown between Zhang Fan and Li Changgeng was the true crux—life and death on the scales, fate tipping in an instant.

Rumble—

Indeed, scarcely had the words fallen when, above in the firmament, arcs of electricity weaving through the clouds began to slowly converge, morphing into ethereal figures. Robes billowing, immortal radiance intertwining, their presence soared to the Ninth Heaven, as if ascending to attend the Thunder Essence Dharma Assembly.

"Divinities, divinities, ascending the Celestial Court. Five-Thunder Wind Master, ten thousand ghosts obliterated."

"Breaking Mountains and Attacking Temples, slaying demons, eradicating spirits. Above all reigns the Profound City, may the immortals manifest."

"All dharmas gather in court, the Thunder Essence manifests, those who follow thunder shall live, those who defy it shall perish."

Brahmanic chants drifted, swelling between heaven and earth, as though echoing from the wrath of heaven’s thunderclap.

One by one, those mysterious figures appeared forged of lightning, and in this moment gained true essence and spirit. Coldly, they gazed upon the mortal world, locking on to the great rebel.

Rumble—

Suddenly, those dreadful forms twisted violently, torrents of thunder crashed down from the firmament, densely packed, almost beyond vision’s grasp.

"Heaven’s might is eternal, Heaven’s might is eternal..."

All hearts pounded madly; before such celestial wrath, human strength seemed pitifully insignificant.

It was unimaginable—how could even cultivators wield such extraordinary power?

Buzz—

Almost simultaneously, Zhang Fan moved. The Samadhi True Flame flared uncontrollably, crimson light blazing, flooding earth and sky, standing ten zhang tall, in an instant forging a realm of fire.

Rumble—

Barrages of raging thunderstrikes fell within his domain.

Heavenly thunder stirred earth’s fire; ignorance roiled the Primordial Spirit.

In the split instant as time itself turned, Heaven’s fury tore down like withered leaves, sundering the Samadhi True Flame asunder. The purple-garnet radiance, in the end, overwhelmed the blazing divine glow.

"Damn!"

Witnessing the sight before their eyes, Xia Weisheng, Qi Delong, Qi Dongqiang, Fang Changle... all their expressions shifted abruptly.

Even Zhang Wuming, hidden within the ruined Daoist Temple, felt his heart plunge to the abyss.

Heaven’s might is eternal—ultimately, it was insurmountable.

Boom—

A thunderous roar split the air; amidst the surging thunder, the Samadhi True Flame dissipated. A figure shot outward, its whole body shrouded in scorched-black smoke, energies waning, smashing through layer upon layer of rock, finally crashing into the old Daoist Temple.

"Zhang Fan—" Fang Changle cried out involuntarily.

The Samadhi True Flame, in the end, had not been defeated by the Thunder Essence Dharma Assembly alone.

"This is where it ends."

Li Changgeng’s expression was indifferent; on his calm visage there was still not the slightest ripple. He raised his head, gazing at the pitch-black opening of the ruined temple, and strode forward—to settle all scores.

"Are you unable to defeat him?"

Suddenly, a gentle yet doubting voice emanated from the blackened temple entrance.

"A woman!?"

Li Miaoyin’s voice sounded at that moment, frail beyond measure.

"Who said that? I’m just not using my full strength yet."

Zhang Fan’s voice rang out, tinged with fatigue and weakness.

"Then use your strength! Don’t stop."

"I’m resting for a while."

"If you’re able, you’re able. If not, you’re not. What does resting mean?"

This strange banter drifted out from the pitch-black ancient cave, making even Li Changgeng pause in his advance.

"Enough of your quarreling..."

At this moment, a third voice arose.

"Zhao Jie Xuan!?"

Qi Delong’s face changed slightly, instantly recognizing it.

"Divine Fusion!"

Just then, Zhang Fan and Zhao Jie Xuan’s voices sounded together, unraveling in the profound darkness of the cave like a shaft of light splitting the eternal night, piercing the ancient firmament.

...

Jiangbei Province, Zhenwu Mountain.

Black clouds spanned the sky, shrouding the brilliant moon.

This night, the mountain wind was peculiarly strong.

To the west of Nanxuan Palace, looking down, one faced a precipitous cliff that fell ten thousand fathoms.

Yet at this moment, a solitary figure was resting on the railing, gazing into the vastness of the heavens.

"Master..."

Taoist Pojie stood behind, eyes upon Chu Chaoran’s back, unable to refrain from calling out—the hour, on usual nights, destined for rest long since.

Transcendent Zhenren’s habits were always orderly.

"Such a night sky—I have not seen it for a long, long time," Chu Chaoran murmured softly.

"Night sky?"

Pojie was briefly stunned. He looked up, baffled. Tonight’s sky seemed no different—mountain winds raging, black clouds crossing, only a few lonely stars remaining high above.

"The last time the sky looked like this was over eighty years ago."

Chu Chaoran uttered in his low, profound voice, eyes deep as the endless firmament itself—impossible to fathom their depths.

Buzz—

Just then, a long, crisp resonance arose; the Peach Wood Sword suspended above the Nanxuan Palace cliffs suddenly quaked, its sword-song piercing, splitting the fierce winds asunder.

"What’s this... Why has Ancestor Lv’s Magic Sword become resonant?" Taoist Pojie’s expression changed sharply.

Others would not know, but he was well aware—this unremarkable wooden sword was, in fact, a Pure Yang Treasure, left by Ancestor Lv. For six hundred years, wind and rain had beaten against it on the cliffs of Nanxuan Palace, yet it showed not a hint of decay.

Tonight’s abnormality was anything but ordinary.

"Master..." Pojie looked toward Chu Chaoran, unable to suppress his voice.

"You may go,"

With a wave, Chu Chaoran calmed the trembling Pure Yang Magic Sword at once.

Pojie froze, then gazed deeply at the Pure Yang Magic Sword, and withdrew reverently.

The mountain wind was gentle and vast, caressing the wide Daoist Robe. Beneath that old man, the sprawling Zhenwu Mountain itself seemed diminished by threefold.

His gaze drifted toward the northwest, his murmurs carried into the wind.