“Truly ridiculous! Who do you think you are? With the two Sacred Hall Envoys here, you still dare to make a scene? Envoys, please—let him taste your power!”
Niu Shixiao, believing himself invincible with Zhuo Kong and Zhuo Yi at his side, tried once more to bluff. Yet having been so ruthlessly mocked by Yue Wanqiu at # Nоvеlight # the Succession Ceremony, he couldn’t resist another outburst. After shouting his challenge, he even bowed half a step, gesturing for Zhuo Kong and Zhuo Yi to step forward.
To his utter shock, the two envoys immediately turned on him, slicing him down where he stood. The suddenness of it left Niu Erhua and Niu Li staring in wide-eyed disbelief. Ye Yu, however, offered no explanation. He simply led Yue Wanqiu away from the Manniu territory and set off toward the Sacred Hall—today’s mounts: Zhuo Kong and Zhuo Yi. Not as illustrious as Elder Qiao of the Hall, perhaps, but better than nothing.
Half an hour earlier, when Yue Wanqiu had recounted her Dreamscape experience, Ye Yu had sensed something amiss: a strange woman in his place of fall, and the lost Scripture of the “Emperor” vanishing without reason—far too many coincidences. He’d debated whether to wait for Nangong Jingtang to reunite and then slip back alone into the Yao Realm to infiltrate the Hall. But the arrival of Zhuo Kong and Zhuo Yi changed his mind. Already in the Yao Realm and with the Hall’s envoys seeking him out, why wait? Better to go now and settle everything once and for all.
With two Demon King Realm apex warriors serving as his “mounts,” Ye Yu and Yue Wanqiu swiftly reached the Sacred Hall’s outer perimeter. A monkey demon guardian frowned in surprise at their approach.
“Zhuo Kong? Zhuo Yi? Why are you escorting strangers in like this? If Elder Qiao sees you, you’ll be in trouble!” the monkey demon exclaimed. As Sacred Hall Envoys, they should show no deference to outsiders.
Before the guardian could finish, Zhuo Kong and Zhuo Yi struck, weaving an array to pin him motionless. In the next breath, a thousand-zhang Zhaohun Banner Lu Xian (the Soul-Summoning Banner Lu Xian) descended from the sky, impaling the demon’s chest. Within moments, the once-powerful Demon King Realm warrior was reduced to a thin shred of paper, his soul trapped upon the banner’s surface. Despite his struggles, liberation was impossible.
Ye Yu, with a thought, swaggered past carrying the banner, entering the Sacred Hall. In their prior battle, he’d nearly exhausted the banner’s million souls—but here, among the Hall’s demon kind, the banner would be well fed.
The commotion soon drew other demons out, eager to investigate. Ye Yu selected three he fancied at first glance and unleashed his Shen Yu Kong Xin Jue (Spirit-Domination Mind-Control Art) at its limit. He could control up to five Demon King Realm apex warriors simultaneously to fight the other envoys—but numbers alone wouldn’t suffice. So he produced the Wan Gui Ye Xing Tu (Ten-Thousand Ghosts Night-March Map), unleashing countless spirits like a tidal wave. Paired with the Zhaohun Banner Lu Xian, it was more than enough to resist any Sacred Hall Envoy.
Ye Yu’s aim was clear: make for the Pilgrimage Hall. It was here he had once obtained the Scripture of the “Emperor”—time to uncover its secrets again. Of course, he had no intention of opening it.
Yue Wanqiu followed in astonishment, watching the chaos below. She had known Ye Yu was strong, but never imagined he could shake the fabled Sacred Hall without lifting a finger—yet with immortal and ghostly artifacts, he held the upper hand. Such power was terrifying. Still, she believed the Hall must have deeper trump cards of its own.
Soon they arrived at the Pilgrimage Hall entrance. Waiting patiently was an elder with yellow hair—Huang Zhufeng, guardian of this pavilion and one Ye Yu had once briefly encountered in the Dreamscape. Back then, Ye Yu had bluffed him with Elder Qiao’s name, avoiding a fight and slipping away with the Scripture. But it all seemed too easy in hindsight. Huang Zhufeng’s laid-back demeanor here clashed with the stern image Qiao Wen-song had described—another oddity.
Ye Yu had no time for tricks now; he intended to storm in openly.
“You two have some nerve, trespassing on the Sacred Hall and even controlling our envoys,” Huang Zhufeng’s voice rang out coldly, calm as ever. To him, they were merely two rogue Demon King Realm warriors—no threat to his Half-Step Emperor Realm stature. Why fear?
But it was precisely this overconfidence that would be his downfall. Ye Yu knew well that a single technique couldn’t fell such battle-hardened, long-lived foes. He needed a new approach.
With a step forward, the ground beneath Huang Zhufeng blossomed into a vast, radiant array. The brilliance made the elder frown. An array? He prepared to retreat to safety and cast his arts from afar.
At that moment, jets of black fire, burning through the Nine Nether, rained down, sealing off Huang Zhufeng’s escape upward. “Surrounded on both sides?” he snorted, attempting to form his seals and vanish.
But as his hands came together, he suddenly froze—his body locked in place. His eyes darted upward in alarm: the three bright moons once in the sky had vanished, replaced by a pair of colossal, hypnotic pupils.
Caught in Ye Yu’s ultimate illusion, Huang Zhufeng realized too late that he’d been ensnared.
