Daqin Zhentiansi

Chapter 1099 Qin man Zhang Yuan is here, Yan dogs come to fight!

It's not destruction, it's initiation.

The golden light transformed into countless fine patterns of law, shooting into the depths of his dantian like fire, igniting the long-dormant gray-white light.

The ball of light surged violently.

The churning isn't boiling; something inside is struggling, trying to break free.

Then he saw himself.

The first version of myself emerged from the ball of light.

Covered in blood, his clothes torn, he gripped a standard-issue longsword in both hands.

The blade was covered in nicks and chips, and the edge was bent in three places. The knuckles of the hand gripping the blade had turned white from holding it for too long.

That was Zhang Yuan, who was at the Acquired Realm, and had just crawled out of the pile of corpses on the Yanshan battlefield.

His eyes were bright, so bright that they didn't seem like those of someone who had endured a three-month siege; they were the kind of bright eyes that only come from having trampled death underfoot.

The phantom lowered its body, assuming the starting stance of the Cloak and Blade Technique.

Zhang Yuan recognized the posture.

Step forward and raise the knife.

From bottom to top, the blade grazed the opponent's armpit, severing tendons and blood vessels.

That was the move he used when he first killed an enemy.

The sharp, jarring sensation of the blade cutting into flesh was so distinct that each finger could feel the force.

After that cut, his hand trembled for a long time, not because he was afraid, but because it went too smoothly.

It's too smooth, so it doesn't feel real.

The phantom moved.

The longsword tore through the gray mist in his sea of ​​consciousness, carrying the killing intent of the Acquired Realm's limit, and slashed straight at his brow.

When the blade was swung, the nicks in the blade left thin streaks of light in the gray mist, like broken star trails.

Before the blade even arrived, the wind from it had already ruffled the stray hairs on Zhang Yuan's forehead.

"Zhang Yuan of Qin is here; Yan dogs, come and fight!"

The phantom roared, its voice exactly the same as when it uttered those words between the broken walls years ago.

His voice was hoarse and bloody, yet it shook the gray mist in his mind.

Zhang Yuan did not dodge.

The blade pierced through his chest.

It is not the chest of the body, but the chest of the will.

An indescribable, excruciating pain exploded within me instantly.

The pain wasn't in the muscles and bones, it was branded directly into the soul.

Amidst the pain, even clearer fragments of memory surfaced.

He lay prostrate by the broken wall, feigning death, while the spears of the Yan soldiers pierced the bricks beside his ears, sparks flying and burning his cheeks.

When he slashed off the enemy's head with a backhand stroke, the scalding blood sprayed onto his head and face.

There was also the slightly trembling figure of Young Master Tao, leaning on his wooden spear, standing at the alley entrance, blocking the retreat of the pursuers.

Those are memories of fighting for one's life.

It's not a skill, it's instinct.

It's the kind of resolute decision you make when you're in the Acquired Realm and have nothing but your life to gamble with.

At that time, he didn't understand any rules or origins; he only knew that once he gripped the knife tightly, he couldn't loosen his grip, and he couldn't turn back until the enemy was completely dead.

Just as his will was about to be shattered by this strike, the gray-white light cluster in his dantian suddenly shrank inward.

A torrent of intense heat surged forth from the depths of the ball of light.

It felt like that blood bead had exploded inside my body back then.

Fifty pounds of strength surged into his muscles and bones, and his limbs and bones were burning hot. That heat instantly soothed the tearing pain and pressed his will back into his body.

The acquired realm is about living towards death.

This knife cannot cut him.

He survived the battle at Yanshan, and he can't possibly be killed by his own memories now.

Zhang Yuan slowly exhaled.

The knife wound on his chest silently healed, and the first phantom in his mind scattered into specks of light, merging back into the gray-white light cluster.

The pulsation of the light cluster was even stronger than before.

The scene in his mind suddenly surged.

The scorched earth transformed into raging waves, the boundless sea roared beneath our feet, and the waves crashed against the reefs, the spray carrying a salty, fishy smell.

A more solidified phantom emerged from the raging waves. It was Zhang Yuan, a Grandmaster-level cultivator and Marquis of Qingyang.

He held up one arm to the sky, and behind him was not an ordinary abyss, but a phantom of a bottomless void.

The power of the Ten Abysses condensed in his palm into a great halberd that could suppress the sea. The halberd was pitch black, and a cold blue light flowed along its blade.

Countless jet-black chains formed from the malevolent energy of evil spirits shot out from the depths of the Ruins of Return, binding his arms, his waist, and the shaft of the halberd.

The chains were taut, emitting a harsh metallic scraping sound, and sparks flew from each link of the chain.

The phantom forcefully pulled the halberd from its chains.

The resulting wind pressure reduced the raging waves in his mind by a third.

The seawater rolled to both sides, revealing a bottomless ravine.

"On this journey to the sea of ​​blood, we shall use the power of ten thousand jun of water to forge the sharp edge of this mountain and sea!"

The phantom sounded like thunder, and the halberd, carrying the power of the Void, slammed down fiercely towards Zhang Yuan's head.

When the halberd struck down, the sea exploded.

The power of the Ten Abysses transformed into ten jet-black water dragons that coiled around the halberd shaft, their heads opening wide as they roared silently at Zhang Yuan.

Zhang Yuan still did not dodge.

The halberd crashed down, piercing the crown of the head.

A tremendous force, powerful enough to shatter mountains and split seas, surged in.

That power wasn't meant to crush his body, but to crush his will.

The will of a Grandmaster is control, absolute control over power.

The phantom asked him: With the power of the Ten Abysses upon you, and the lives of ten thousand soldiers hanging by a thread, can you control it?

Zhang Yuan's answer was unspoken.

Light and shadow swirled around him, evoking lingering images of the battle where he used the enemy's strength against them on the East China Sea battlefield.

When the opponent's force flows into your body, don't block or resist it; instead, follow the flow of force and gently nudge it at the most crucial moment.

When the bottomless abyss of Guixu pressed down, he did not bear it.

He redirected the power of the abyss to the side, causing the abyss to crash into the abyss.

The evil spirit's chains wrapped around him, but he didn't struggle. Instead, he redirected the force of the chains, letting them bind him.

The Grandmaster's understanding of the flow of power is not about brute force, but about borrowing.

There is no force in the world that cannot be resisted, only forces that cannot be borrowed.

The grayish-white light suddenly burst forth with dazzling starlight and silver light.

The light, like the gaping maw of a glutton, generated a terrifying suction force, forcibly pulling and swallowing the massive, illusory image of the Ruins of Return, along with the ten water dragons, into the core of the Chaos Furnace.

The illusory image of Guixu shattered inch by inch amidst the starlight.

The ten water dragons let out mournful cries of resentment.

Ultimately, it transforms into the purest particles of power, merging into the light cluster in the dantian.

The pulsation of the light cluster accelerated even further.

The scene changes again.

Before the raging waves of the East Sea had completely subsided, the smoke of battle from the primordial battlefield had already filled the sea of ​​consciousness.

Broken weapons were stuck in the ground, and the sky was torn into countless pieces by demonic energy and spiritual light.

Each fragment reflects an ongoing battle.

The scenes of thousands of battles overlap in one space, making one feel as if their soul is being torn apart at a glance.

The illusory figure of Zhang Yuan, a Grandmaster, stood tall and imposing, with shattered chains of Heavenly Palace laws beneath his feet.

Fragments of the chains were scattered all over the ground.

Each fragment still bore the golden patterns of celestial runes, which faded the moment they touched the ground.

The will of ten thousand troops condensed behind him into the majestic Xuanwu divine image.

The tortoise and snake intertwined, suppressing the void.

The shell of the Black Tortoise is covered with cracks.

Every crack represents a fissure in the will of the soldiers.

That is the weight of hundreds of thousands of people entrusting their beliefs to the same person at the same moment.

The more cracks there are, the heavier the load becomes.

Xuanwu raised its head high, its scarlet eyes reflecting the collapsing phantom of the Heavenly Palace in the sky.

The phantom of a chaotic furnace hung upside down above his head. (End of Chapter)