NOVPUB◎Helian Zheng’s Death, Mid-Level Ninth Rank◎
How could this be?
This is impossible!
Under the impact of internal energy, the vine in Helian Zheng’s hand suddenly snapped. With eyes filled with unwillingness and fury, he clutched the broken vine and plummeted straight down the cliff.
A ninth-rank Martial King does not die easily.
His fingers curled into claws, internal energy surging to his fingertips as he drove them deep into the rocky cliffside, anchoring his body against the uneven stone.
Below was not an endless abyss but the lands of the Carefree Sect. Still, a direct fall would leave him severely injured, if not dead, despite his rugged resilience.
Luckily, he spotted a slender vine and grabbed it, channeling his qinggong to leap downward.
Atop the cliff cave, Lu Jianwei absorbed the last of Helian Zheng’s internal energy.
Even nine-tenths of his energy only nudged her progress bar forward slightly.
A warrior’s internal energy could regenerate—so long as their dantian and meridians functioned normally, their energy would replenish over time.
But if the rate of consumption outpaced recovery, exhaustion would set in.
Helian Zheng had expended ninety percent of his strength earlier, yet even as she absorbed it, his energy was already recovering.
A ninth-rank Martial King’s regeneration was swift. By now, he might have regained enough to fight her again.
Lu Jianwei followed the rope Helian Zheng had left behind, descending from the cave like a fleeting shadow.
On Moonlit Peak, the Five Elites sensed the two had left the cave and immediately turned to descend.
Helian Zheng had already reached the base of the cliff.
He had no intention of facing Lu Jianwei head-on again. Having barely ascended to ninth-rank, he couldn’t afford to die here.
Lu Jianwei was too unpredictable, her cultivation techniques too bizarre. He needed to retreat and bide his time—
“Amuyan?! Why are you here?!”
Amuyan’s gaunt, ashen face twisted into a ghastly smile.
“I knew you’d always leave yourself an escape route. Helian Zheng, let’s settle our decades-long feud today.”
“Settle?” Helian Zheng sneered. “With what strength?”
Internal energy erupted from his palm, surging toward Amuyan, enveloping her entirely.
A ninth-rank Martial King’s strike was beyond what most could endure, let alone someone as withered as Amuyan.
He waited to watch her die before him.
Yet, his energy struck nothing but air—Amuyan had vanished.
“Helian Zheng, I should thank you for your ‘nurturing’ all these years.” Her voice echoed from all directions. “After you faked my execution to secure your position as sect leader, you tricked me into using perception gu to shield myself—for over twenty years.”
Her mastery over perception gu was now flawless, enough to deceive even a ninth-rank Martial King’s senses.
“You deceived me for years. After I gave birth to Xue, you locked me in a mountain cave, forcing me to refine the Gu Emperor for you. You took everything from me. Every day and night, I’ve simmered in hatred.”
Helian Zheng, deceived by the gu, lost all five senses. His vision blurred into white, and Amuyan’s hoarse voice drilled into his ears like countless needles.
For a warrior, losing their senses was fatal.
“Amuyan!” he roared. “In your state, controlling gu to fight me is suicide!”
A gu master needed sufficient strength to suppress their gu—otherwise, backlash was inevitable.
And gu backlash was deadly.
While hiding in the cave, shielding herself from the sect’s warriors below ninth-rank had been manageable. But now, she was targeting Helian Zheng himself.
She wouldn’t last long.
“I don’t care about living. But before I die, I’ll drag you with me!” Her voice was venomous, like a vengeful ghost clawing from hell. “Helian Zheng, today is your end!”
Without his senses, Helian Zheng couldn’t even flee.
Lu Jianwei landed at the cliff’s base to find Helian Zheng stumbling blindly, like a headless fly.
Amuyan stood right before him, yet he saw nothing.
Now, Helian Zheng was no different from a caged beast.
Lu Jianwei no longer felt the urge to battle him.
She understood—Amuyan’s hatred for Helian Zheng surpassed anyone else’s in this world.
Amuyan wanted to kill him herself.
Lu Jianwei would gladly oblige.
“Amuyan! Think of Xue! She’s your daughter—she’s never known her mother. Now that she’s finally met you, how can you abandon her?” Helian Zheng pleaded desperately.
Tears streaked Amuyan’s face. “I’ve been absent for twenty years. I won’t live much longer anyway. Why let her grow attached, only to die and burden her with grief? No matter what you say, I’ll kill you today!”
Helian Zheng snarled, “Amuyan, you can’t outlast me!”
He was a ninth-rank Martial King—his energy would recover.
But Amuyan? How long could her broken body hold on?
Lu Jianwei arched a brow, glancing at the onlookers—the Carefree Sect’s Five Elites and other seventh- and eighth-rank warriors.
Bold and skilled, they’d gathered to witness Helian Zheng’s downfall.
Pei Zhi was among them.
Seeing her unharmed, relief washed over him, and a smile tugged at his lips.
Lu Jianwei approached, brushing her fingers against his—cold to the touch.
“Were you worried?”
“I knew you wouldn’t lose, but I still was.” Pei Zhi clasped her hand. “I’m too weak.”
Lu Jianwei chuckled. “If others heard that, they’d probably curse you in their hearts.”
An eighth-rank late-stage warrior under thirty? Where was the weakness in that?
Pei Zhi murmured, “I want to protect you.”
“You already have.” Her gaze softened. “Without you, if Helian Zheng had activated the jade array, none of us—including me—might have escaped.”
Pei Zhi’s smile deepened, sweet as spring water.
Lu Jianwei turned to the crowd. “Could someone lend me a dagger?”
“Here!” A blade sailed through the air.
She caught it, thanked the owner, and tossed it to Amuyan, who stood unarmed.
Using perception gu to trap Helian Zheng wasn’t sustainable—Amuyan would only weaken further.
Better to let her vent twenty years of hatred now.
A sword would be too heavy for her frail body, but a dagger was perfect.
Amuyan bowed deeply—the highest gesture of the Gu God Sect.
The perception gu, sensing its master’s waning vitality, began to rebel.
Gripping the dagger, she stepped behind Helian Zheng, raised it with both hands, and plunged it into his back!
Thud—
Blood gushed out.
Helian Zheng’s back, already wounded by Lu Jianwei, suffered anew. His face contorted in agony.
He tried to retaliate, but without his senses, he couldn’t even detect Amuyan’s presence.
Thud—
Another stab, this time inches from his heart.
Amuyan didn’t want him to die too quickly. Her sunken eyes gleamed with vindication.
One stab!
Two!
Three!
Shoulder, arm, waist, thigh—each strike drained more color from Helian Zheng’s face.
His robes soaked crimson, blood pooling at his feet.
The crowd watched in silence. No one protested.
This was what he deserved.
Lu Jianwei caught a glimpse of Helian Xue lowering her head in her peripheral vision.
Learning that her father had tormented her mother for over twenty years, then witnessing her mother strike him down—such a feeling was impossible to fully comprehend, but she knew it must be unbearable.
And with so many onlookers present.
She couldn’t offer comfort; Helian Xue would have to process this alone.
Amuyan’s lips were stained with blood.
The Gu worms had begun their backlash.
Yet she showed no fear, even laughing heartily.
The dagger in her hand dripped with blood, soaking her sleeves, each slash splattering crimson across her body.
She looked like a blood-drenched demon.
"Helian Zheng, do you even realize? Right now, everyone is watching your disgrace. The so-called 'Sect Leader of the World’s Greatest Sect,' the 'Ninth-Level Martial King'—none of it matters. In their eyes, you’re nothing but a pathetic clown."
Helian Zheng’s expression twisted violently, his chest heaving.
Nothing enraged him more than being mocked!
"What right do you have to be angry? You’re a joke! A man drowning in insecurity yet bloated with arrogance! You project your own filth onto others, convinced they’re always laughing at you behind your back. You’re ugly, petty, arrogant, and despicable. Even as a sect leader, how many truly respect you?"
"AAAAARGH—!" Helian Zheng flew into a frenzy, his inner energy erupting wildly, lashing out indiscriminately.
Amuyan was struck, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
The Perception Gu inside her grew even more frenzied.
She wiped her lips roughly, the crimson smear reminding her of the intoxicating fruit wine she’d once tasted years ago—a drink the Buwa tribe reserved for honored guests, sweet and potent.
"Mother!" Helian Xue cried out.
Lu Jianwei slashed through the residual energy waves, flicking a glance at the glass beads in her hand. Xiao Wu understood—the Gu Emperor’s aura surged forth, forcing the Perception Gu to retreat.
But even so, using the Perception Gu had drained Amuyan’s vitality.
Her face was already withering.
Hearing Helian Xue’s voice, Amuyan turned to look at her, eyes brimming with guilt and sorrow.
She had never once held her daughter.
But she had to die.
Whether she or Helian Zheng lived, it would only bring suffering to Xue.
Only with both of them gone could Xue truly be free.
Amuyan activated the Perception Gu once more, warping Helian Zheng’s senses, plunging him into an illusion.
He believed he had slaughtered everyone around him, and his attacks ceased.
This was her chance!
Amuyan gripped the dagger and drove it straight for his throat!
The blade pierced his flesh—but in that split second, Helian Zheng regained clarity. Instinctively, he gathered his energy and slammed a palm into Amuyan’s chest.
Both of them spat blood.
Amuyan collapsed, the Perception Gu’s power fading entirely.
The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, yet she felt nothing but triumph.
"Helian Zheng, take your delusions to the underworld!"
Helian Zheng clutched at the dagger embedded in his neck, gurgling as his eyes swept over the crowd.
It was like reliving the past—when he was still at the bottom of the sect, drowning in their disdainful, scornful gazes.
Why?
Why?!
He had clawed his way to the top! He had toyed with the entire martial world! How dare they still look at him like that?!
Had none of his struggles earned him even a shred of respect?
Would he have to kill them all to finally be free of those eyes?
Yes—kill them!
Every last one—!
The dagger had already dealt a fatal wound. He was moments from dragging Amuyan down with him.
The crowd shook their heads in pity.
Then, without warning, an overwhelming force erupted from Helian Zheng’s body, expanding outward like a storm.
"He’s self-destructing—!"
"RUN—!"
Lower-level martial artists fled in panic, knowing that even a single delay would doom them to the blast of a Ninth-Level Martial King’s self-destruction.
Helian Zheng writhed in agony, yet his glare remained fixed on the fleeing figures.
If he was dying, they wouldn’t escape either!
Lu Jianwei’s expression darkened.
Escape was impossible—the explosion would overtake them. If Helian Zheng succeeded, most here would be gravely injured or dead.
Without hesitation, she leaped into the air, her blade flashing as she unleashed the fifth stance of the Frostwind Saber Art—"Cry of the Winter Crow." The devastating slash tore toward Helian Zheng.
Her hands trembled violently, the impact splitting her skin.
The force of the self-destruction was too immense—even she couldn’t stop it alone.
"Weiwei!"
Pei Zhi joined without a second thought, but even his late Eighth-Level strength was insignificant against a Ninth-Level’s suicide blast.
The violent energy carved bloody gashes across his face and body.
"Young Master Huan!" Lang Ye shouted, charging forward with his saber raised.
Xie Tongshu, Yin Sui, Lou Qingyi, and Luo Xianshan—the four of them acted as one, throwing everything they had at Helian Zheng.
Twenty years ago, they had watched helplessly as their sworn brother died. Today, they wouldn’t let history repeat itself with his child.
Lang Ye roared, "Helian Zheng! Even in death, you’re a scourge!"
After a brief hesitation, Shangguan Huai, Zhao Xian, and Ling Zong also stepped forward, weapons drawn.
Behind them were countless young martial artists—as seniors of the martial world, they couldn’t stand by.
Wan Cong sighed but ultimately moved to assist.
He wasn’t interfering in sect affairs—just lending a hand where it was needed.
The remaining Eighth-Level elders of the Carefree Sect exchanged glances before steeling themselves and advancing toward the raging storm.
The self-destruction’s power was like an invisible hurricane, leaving bloody marks on every face—some shallow, some deep.
Lu Jianwei, with her superior cultivation and defenses, suffered the least.
One Ninth-Level Martial King and over a dozen Eighth-Levels fought desperately to contain the explosion.
The fleeing martial artists turned back, eyes brimming with emotion.
Someone bellowed, "What’s there to fear?! It’s just a self-destruction! With so many of us, we can drown him in sheer numbers!"
"Right! While the seniors hold him down, let’s attack together—we’ll take him down!"
"Count me in!"
"Me too!"
The once-terrified fighters rallied, charging back toward the storm’s edge—the farthest they could reach.
Every bit of resistance mattered. Their efforts eased the burden on those at the center.
But even so, the weaker martial artists—along with Shangguan Huai and the other early Eighth-Level elders—couldn’t withstand the backlash. Their meridians and dantians were on the verge of collapse.
They had no choice but to retreat.
Lu Jianwei moved like lightning, slicing apart Helian Zheng’s erupting energy to prevent further devastation.
Even as she neutralized the attacks, she subtly absorbed fragments of his power.
While others weakened, she only grew stronger.
One by one, Zhao Xian, Ling Zong, and the Carefree Sect elders withdrew, until only seven remained at the storm’s heart.
The Five Heroes of the Carefree Sect fought on, refusing to yield.
Lang Ye coughed up blood, his voice hoarse as he shouted, "Young Master Huan! Get out of here—"
The other four also turned their gazes toward Pei Zhi, their intent clear.
Their lives mattered little, but the last surviving heir of the Huan family must not come to harm.
Yet Pei Zhi’s eyes remained fixed on Lu Jianwei.
He could still hold on—he needed to shoulder more of the burden, just a little more.
Having suppressed it until now, Helian Zheng had already burned through his life force. The explosive power of his self-destruction no longer spread, but the storm at its center still raged.
Lu Jianwei flashed to Pei Zhi’s side and said, "Don’t hurt yourself."
Pei Zhi smiled faintly. "I can manage."
The energy around Lu Jianwei had begun to naturally devour Helian Zheng’s power. To onlookers, it seemed as though she had completely suppressed the force of his self-destruction.
Standing at the heart of the storm, she moved with the ease of a leisurely stroll, her eyes brimming with unwavering confidence.
"I’ve had an epiphany. Let me test a new blade technique—give me this chance?"
Pei Zhi trusted her. After holding her gaze for a long moment, he withdrew from the storm.
The Five Heroes of the Carefree Sect exhaled in relief, redoubling their efforts to channel their energy without regard for their own lives.
Lu Jianwei closed her eyes briefly, envisioning the sixth form of the Frostwhirl Blade Art—Frostwhirl’s Embrace.
The first five forms were merely the foundation; this was the true essence of the technique.
"Blanketing the Mortal World" was suppression. "Falling Blossoms" was restraint. "Rising Westerly Wind" was assault. "Moonlit Void" was reconnaissance. And "Cry of the Frost Crow" was the sharpest thrust of all.
With the foundation of the first five forms, her blade could now stir the frost crystals clinging to the earth.
The blade’s light was both gentle and blazing, riding the westerly wind, spreading like the glow of a clear moon, and releasing a piercing, bone-chilling cry. It descended upon the storm’s center with a deceptively slow grace.
A thunderous crash erupted, like a hundred rivers converging. The dazzling blade light clashed with the force of the self-destruction, shaking the earth and mountains.
The storm was split cleanly in two. Blade shadows wove through the tempest, interlacing and gradually devouring the violent energy. The raging storm seemed to fracture into countless frost crystals, collapsing into nothingness.
The scattered particles hovered in the air, gilded by sunlight into shimmering specks of gold, like stars plucked from the heavens.
These stars gathered around Lu Jianwei, draping her in a radiant battle mantle.
Mid-stage Ninth Rank—achieved!
As for Helian Zheng, the architect of the storm, he had already been reduced to dust by the time his self-destruction ended, leaving not a trace of flesh or blood behind.
Lu Jianwei sheathed her blade. Before she could turn, a series of thuds sounded behind her.
The Five Heroes of the Carefree Sect, their meridians damaged and bodies grievously wounded, collapsed to the ground.
The others: "…"
