Reaper of the Martial World - Book 13: Chapter 2: Blood Boiling

Immortal God Crane couldn’t even react. Even with her speed lowered, Little Gold was still, without a doubt, the fastest creature in all of existence. And to that fact, there was no competition.

The strike of lightning was swift, powerful, and held an aura of majesty that was impossible to match.

BANG!

Crane was sent flying back the way he came more than ten times faster. It was hardly a blink of an eye before his body disappeared down the long, dark corridor.

“… Master…” Nazaire was shocked.

“Can’t you recognize a Sapientia when they’re right in front of you? It’s not like it’s difficult. Their black hair and golden eyes are basically right in front of your face.”

“… Crane doesn’t have golden eyes, though…”

“Is that so?”

This was all Dyon said. He didn’t seem to have the intention of explaining.

“Let’s go.”

Dyon leapt onto Little Gold’s back with Saru and Lilith in tow. Though they were only clones, Dyon knew that Little Gold was a bit naïve. Even with her strength, he wouldn’t feel at ease leaving her alone.

This could only be expected. How could you be anything other than innocent and naïve if, all your life, you were forced to live without interaction with others. Little Gold’s experiences were only a little better than a blank slate. She knew some stuff simply by virtue of observing the world in silence for so long, but that was about it.

QIIII QIIIII

Little Gold spread her wings wide. Just her happy cry alone made Nazaire feel as though he might collapse. Is this what his master meant by existence beyond the Peak Immortal God realm?

“Hurry up.” Dyon said.

It was only then that Nazaire snapped out of his thoughts and jumped onto Little Gold’s back.

The beautiful Lightning Sparrow seemed dissatisfied with this turn out, but knowing the situation, she didn’t lash out and simply accepted it. However, she didn’t forget to give Nazaire a nice, long glare.

Stretching her slender, tall neck upward, Little Gold roared. Compared to her clear, sonorous cry, this one put dragons to shame.

Without suspense, the top of Peak Mountain shattered, revealing the sight that those who were present that day would never forget.

Each one of Little Gold’s feathers were immaculate. They shimmered with an assortment of colors, flashing lush greens, deep blues, and vibrant violets. Each fluttered as though they had a mind of their own. Sometimes they would appear to be as soft as clouds, and at other times, even the scales of mighty dragons seemed inferior.

The creature originally seemed beautiful enough. Elegant wings that stretched over ten kilometers, a long, slender neck, eyes that shimmered like two pearls swimming with a milky blue-violet. However, what those experiencing this could have never imagined was that this was only the beginning.

The moment Little Gold shot into the skies, it was as though it commanded it. Streaks of lightning tore their way down, not to hurt her, but to worship her.

First it was just normal streaks, but soon even tribulation lightning began to fall.

Yellows, greens, blues, violets, reds, blacks, whites, and even golds. Each wrapped around her body, bouncing off of her scales and making their luster shine even brighter.

~Moments ago

On the ground below, a confrontation the likes of which Pill Sword Mountain hadn’t seen in countless generations was taking place.

What all of the alchemists who had gathered today for the sake of Dyon’s challenge couldn’t have known was that a lurking cancer that had taken hold of all of their organizations would suddenly strike out so swiftly and so viciously. It hadn’t even been half an hour since Dyon entered Peak Mountain, but the bazaar that had once been known for its elegance was bathed in blood.

“Alchemy God Millman! Why are you doing this?!”

A group fought back against an assault led by Millman, but were very clearly on the losing end. Many of them were Alchemy Gods as well who ranked beneath the top three. What they could have never expected was for Millman to betray them all like this.

They had just been complaining about Dyon’s arrogance in solidarity, then in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Even Alchemy God Crane was heavily injured. They paid a heavy price to send him out of the encirclement so that he could go search for the Sect Master. But, judging by the momentum of their enemies, they wouldn’t survive their wait for him to come back.

“Dammit! Raolet I went to your daughter’s wedding just 30 years ago! You’re going to treat me like this?”

“Conon! You bastard! When you were poisoned with 9-eyed spider venom, wasn’t it me who gave you my last precious healing elixir?!”

“If I don’t kill you today, I’m not a man! Sela, you fucking whore! I gave my heart to you yet this is how you treat me?! Fuck!”

Indignant roars filled the battlefield.

What was worse was that the traitors didn’t jump out all at once. It was like a slow acting poison seeping into the marrow. Every few minutes, another group they were certain was on their side would jump out again, stabbing them in the back.

After several cycles, no one knew who to trust anymore. Whatever resistance they had crumbled because no one knew who they could trust and who they couldn’t.

With things continuing like this, everyone wanted to escape on their own. With even lifelong friends and dao partners defecting one after another, they felt like they couldn’t even trust people they would have given their lives to just an hour ago…

It was then that a rumble shook the skies and the call of a bird resonated in their chest.

A sight so impossibly beautiful engulfed their lines of sight. No… It was more accurate to say that they allowed it to. They could have moved their gazes away, but they somehow found it impossible to.

On Little Gold’s back, Dyon looked down indifferently while Nazaire was horrified.

“Don’t move.” Dyon spoke to Nazaire coldly. “Just protect your grandson, I don’t have the time to wipe your ass. Hand me Pill Stick Pebble’s formation core.”

Nazaire subconsciously tightened his grip on his grandson’s body.

Though being trapped by the God Stele was a sort of death, there was a benefit as well, that being that aging was stopped. Since they were immortals, as long as one didn’t experience the days normally, it was impossible for the dao heart to deteriorate, and as such, it was impossible to age.

As a result of this, this boy was the last of Nazaire’s family.

So, when he saw the poor youths who had overestimated themselves lying in a pool of their blood and realized that his grandson might very well have been one of them had Dyon not taken him away, his heart was filled with fear.

“Hey!” Dyon roared. “Nazaire, don’t disappoint me anymore. Or else I really won’t take you for my disciple any longer.”

Dyon’s words were cold and harsh.

Dyon knew what was burdening Nazaire’s heart. He knew how much family meant to him. These were matters that had once plagued Dyon as well. In fact, they plagued him even now.

But, allowing them to rule his mind was unacceptable.

“If you don’t want to lose anymore, gather your courage and focus your mind. Now give me the damn formation core.”

This time, Saru and Lilith remained silent. Protecting Nazaire would only go so far. Sometimes seeing reality for what it was, was important too.

Nazaire steeled his jaw and flipped his palm. An intricate ball of light appeared in his hand.

Within it, countless gears and runes floated. This was the control center of Pill Sword Mountain’s ancient formation. It had stood here for several billion years and over countless generations.

An Ancient Formation was not unlike an Ancient Cauldron. However, instead of going through cycles of seasoning, an Ancient Formation was the brainchild of the best formation masters a sect had to offer over countless generations.

Every time a new formation master was born within a Sect, it would be their life’s work to add a new element to the formation. Most of them would be able to tweak a few nodes to strengthen the formation overall. The most talented of them would be able to add an entirely new layer to cause a qualitative change to it.

This was all to say that even if Dyon had become familiar with this formation in the past, after so long, it would have undergone several iterations and changes. It might not even be recognizable anymore.

Yet, with a single glance at the formation core, Dyon’s soul qi had already ballooned in full force.

A grin spread across his face. He was going to enjoy this.

His enemies would have never imagined that the moment they were planning to launch an all out assault on him that he would spring such a plan. The gathering of so many alchemists in one place was an opportunity the Sapientia couldn’t pass up, and it was Dyon who provided this opportunity to them.

However, neither the Elven Hegemon, the Phoenix Hegemon, or the Sapientia themselves knew that they were dancing in his palm.

This was a feeling he had missed… Toying with the Immortal Plane as though it was a puppet on his string. Such an intoxicating experience made his blood boil.

But, the idea of massacring the Sapientia made it boil even more. He was going to enjoy this.