Crossing the Cultivation Realm: Two Souls Coexist

Seeing their surprised and uncertain expressions, Yang Li waved his hand and said seriously:

"Don't think about that now. The most important thing right now is the present. Don't you still have your predecessors on the battlefield?"

We can't just go out unscathed like this; we have to put on an act, so they can't tell we didn't actually fight, and... we even had a pretty good chat.

After saying that, he took out a short, gleaming blade with a unique design from his pocket without hesitation.

He didn't even flinch under the astonished gazes of Hu Qing and Gu Yang.

With a swift movement, the knife fell, and with several muffled "thuds," the sharp blade instantly pierced five bloody holes of varying depths in his chest and abdomen!

Immediately afterwards, he grabbed his right arm with his left hand and exerted force with a sudden, teeth-grinding crack as he broke his left forearm!

The intense pain turned Yang Li's face ashen, and beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

He deliberately didn't use his spiritual power to suppress the wound, and thick blood with a dark red hue unique to his race gushed out.

It quickly soaked through his black robes, dripping onto the ground.

Hu Qing and Gu Yang's eyes twitched in shock.

Yang Li is too ruthless to himself!

But since things had come to this, they could only follow suit, each channeling their spiritual energy to inflict injuries of varying degrees on themselves.

Gu Yang punched himself in the chest, forcing out a mouthful of blood, and then cut several deep gashes on his arms and thighs, revealing the bone.

Hu Qing then channeled his spiritual energy back into his meridians, causing internal injuries and bleeding from the corners of his mouth. His face turned pale, and he used his sword energy to leave crisscrossing wounds on his body.

In a short while, three "blood men" appeared in this space.

They looked at each other, their faces disheveled and covered in blood, and were stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter that was both painful and absurd.

The laughter was filled with helplessness, self-deprecation, and an indescribable, complex emotion that transcended their respective positions.

As the laughter subsided, Yang Li raised his hand to wipe away the tears that had streamed down his face. His words carried a barely perceptible hint of lingering affection and sadness as he softly said:

"Well then... we're getting ready to go out."

Hu Qing and Gu Yang also fell silent, taking one last look at the mirrored space that held their brief exchange and complex emotions.

The next moment, the surrounding environment began to distort and fluctuate violently, shattering and peeling away like a broken mirror.

A strong sense of spatial displacement washes over you, with light and shadow shifting rapidly.

In the blink of an eye, a damp, salty sea breeze swept over me, and the sound of waves and the faint clamor from the distant city walls reached my ears.

The three of them, bearing "severe" injuries, reappeared in the real world.

Yang Li almost instantly transformed into a dramatic performer, letting out a piercing, tearful scream, and staggering towards the night like a startled rabbit:

"Night! Protect me! Those humans are so despicable! They actually... they actually attacked me two by one!"

His voice was filled with terror and grievance, coupled with the horrific injuries he had inflicted on himself—

Five holes still gushing blood, a limp, severed arm, and a robe soaked in blood—it was truly a gruesome sight.

Although Ye was filled with fear and unease because of the death of the crow, she was relieved to see her young master in such a "miserable" state.

He instinctively rushed forward and shielded Yang Li behind him.

He gripped his staff tightly, his eyes scanning Hu Qing and Gu Yang across from him with nervous intensity beneath his hood. Array formations flickered around him, as if he were facing a formidable enemy.

Just now, at Die's frightened signal, he saw on the beach the gruesome body of Ya, split in two.

Even the Crow Lord, who was at the late stage of the Dust-Severing Realm, had perished, and now the young master was seriously injured. Ye's heart was filled with coldness.

I felt that this mission had failed and I would probably not escape the Holy Lord's severe punishment when I returned. I just hoped that the punishment would be lighter.

Despite her disdain for this "useless" young master and the chill brought on by the death of the crow, Die forced a show of respect onto her face.

She simply couldn't understand how a young master at the peak of the Dust-Severing stage could be defeated by two human boys at the mid-Dust-Severing stage, and end up in such a sorry state.

But due to the Holy Lord's majesty, she could only bow and ask for instructions, her voice hoarse: "Young Master, the situation is unfavorable right now, should we retreat?"

Yang Li continued his performance, his whole body "trembling," his eyes "unfocused," as if he had suffered a great shock and blow, his voice trembling:

"Let's go... wait, wait for the rest of the people to come out, then we... we'll leave immediately..."

His dejected and cowardly appearance made Butterfly's eyes almost overflow with disgust, and she cursed inwardly: You have completely disgraced the Xin Clan!

Just then, the space between the two groups rippled again, and two figures suddenly appeared.

It was Zheng Su and Xiao who fought to the very end!

They were clearly still engaged in fierce fighting in their own private space.

Zheng Su held the whisk that was now bare, with only the metal handle remaining, and his Taoist robe was slightly disheveled.

However, he did not have any obvious serious injuries and his breathing was long, indicating that he had the upper hand in the battle just now.

The owl opposite him was in a much worse state, his naked, muscular upper body covered with deep red marks from being struck by a whisk, some of which were even torn open.

The large sword in his hand, as big as a door panel, was pitted and cracked, as if it would shatter at any moment.

The most frightening thing was the wound on his face, which stretched from his cheekbone all the way to behind his ear. The flesh was rolled up and the wound was so deep that the bone was visible. Fresh blood stained half of his neck and shoulder.

If the formation hadn't suddenly dissipated, giving Zheng Su more time, Xiao would probably have truly perished under that whisk.

Both of them were momentarily stunned when they were suddenly moved away from the battlefield.

Zheng Su quickly scanned the entire room, snorted coldly, and with a flick of her sleeve, she retreated to stand in front of Hu Qing and Gu Yang.

He first noticed the two men's "horrific" injuries and frowned, but then his eyes flashed like lightning as he keenly spotted Yang Li, who was hiding behind Ye and looked severely injured and weak. A knowing look flashed in his eyes.

When he looked around again, spreading his divine sense, he failed to detect the presence of Li Yan, Han Ce, or Yan Bing. He only sensed three familiar, cold, and deathly fluctuations on the city wall behind him.

The usually composed old Taoist priest trembled slightly, and his eyes were instantly filled with an overwhelming sense of grief and sorrow.

My former comrades-in-arms have all perished...

When Hu Qing and Gu Yang clearly "saw" the remains of the three predecessors placed side by side on the city wall, their last shred of hope was completely shattered.

An overwhelming grief crashed over them like a tsunami, causing their bodies to tremble uncontrollably.

The physical wounds seemed to have lost their sensation, but the heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, causing excruciating pain that made it almost impossible to breathe.

Their faces turned deathly pale, their eyes instantly reddened, tears mingling with the blood on their faces silently streaming down their cheeks, their throats choked with sobs.

It let out suppressed whimpers, like a wounded cub, and could barely breathe.

It was a grief that came from the depths of the soul, far more piercing than any physical trauma.