Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 602 Extra Chapter (6)

Just as the sword energy was about to cleave through the array and strike her, a burst of spiritual light appeared beneath Fu Shan's feet, and her figure vanished.

Zhu Wuyao sensed the fluctuation of spiritual energy behind him and immediately turned around to slash, only to see that the Wufeng Sword seemed to shatter and was divided into countless pieces in the space around Fu Shan.

Sword fragments drifted within the array surrounding Fu Shan, their black scales shimmering like long snakes coiling around him.

As the array surrounding him rotated, the sword energy of the bladeless sword was infinitely subdivided and crushed.

Formation cultivators excel at long-range combat.

This is a consensus in the cultivation world, but it doesn't apply to Fu Shan.

The formation, dormant for a thousand years and hidden deep within Fu Shan's bones and blood, rose and fell slowly with every breath he took.

She coexists with the formation.

Just like Zhu Wuyao's soul and body were stitched together by the spirit pen.

The intertwined formations, under the influence of the fragments of the Heavenly Dao, connected blood and bones, bringing together the various parts of the body to form Fu Shan's physique.

A hand suddenly reached out from behind and grabbed Zhu Wuyao's neck.

Those were bones, which gradually became covered with flesh and blood as they emerged from the void and entered the mortal world. Her body, exhausted of vital energy, resembled the crumbling Juque Sect, thin yet containing the power to still fight.

Zhu Wuyao suddenly turned around, and the countless broken scales rearranged and reorganized as he drew his sword.

But it was caught steadily by a withered hand.

Fu Shan is located in the south, with his feet firmly planted on the ground, and can command the power of mountains and rivers.

The bladeless sword slashed downwards, cutting Fu Shan's palm. A drop of blood fell to the ground, spreading into a dense, oppressive blood mist.

It surged like a heat wave, as if boiling, burning, and rising.

Like the raging fire that never ceases in Fu Shan's heart, scorching all living beings, it imprisoned Zhu Wuyao within it. Waves of fire rushed towards him, violent and consuming his flesh and blood, as well as the spiritual power of immortals.

Zhu Wuyao charged forward with his sword and saw those eyes that were desolate and ascetic, yet brimming with boundless ambition.

A desperate battle.

The overwhelming pressure, the toppling of rivers, and the chilling sight of white bones and gushing blood filled Zhu Wuyao with dread.

Just as the two were locked in fierce combat, her heart began to pound, sensing an impending riot.

The blood mist was chaotic and disordered, and the magic brush suddenly appeared.

"Song Kezi is dead. Zhu Wuyao, will you abandon me or keep me?"

Heaven's way is impartial and cannot be tainted by malice.

Those who attempt to interfere with the Way of Heaven are not exempt from this fate.

As the blood mist erupted in chaos, Zhu Wuyao did not hesitate for a moment. He reached out and grabbed the spirit pen, pulling out the dense, intertwined threads of cause and effect from his body.

She was like a tree growing in blood, sprouting branches and leaves between heaven and earth, instantly unfurling countless branches, so full of vitality.

Leaving behind the spirit pen allows one to prolong their life, but the one who survives will no longer be Zhu Wuyao.

Instead, it was a demon whose mind had been maliciously corrupted and who had reached the Nascent Soul stage.

Those countless causal threads seemed to cut the blood mist into pieces, like a spool of thread being put away and swallowed up by the spirit pen suspended in the air.

As a result, the trees withered.

In the instant before his soul shattered, the copper coin in his arms, symbolizing "the perfection of cause and effect," suddenly lit up, and the departing souls instantly reunited.

She saved her life.

As the illusory bodies were completely destroyed, and as the cause and effect of this world were stripped away, leaving only the true self, the greatest cause and effect that had always hung over his head finally crashed down.

White hair spread out like an avalanche.

Zhu Wuyao didn't know who killed Song Kezi, cutting off Fu Shan's chance of survival, and also cutting off hers.

So timely.

We must wipe out everything that should not exist in this world.

Fists collided with fists, arms met arms.

The resulting shockwave overturned the rising mountains and dispersed the withered sword energy.

Fu Shan's voice seemed to be filled with hatred: "You want to drag me down with you."

But when he met Zhu Wuyao's eyes, he was stunned, then burst into wild laughter:

"You don't know, you're also resentful!"

With their bodies repaired, one exhausted of vital energy, the other nearing the end of his life, the two strongest people in the world were simultaneously pushed to their doom.

The Spirit Brush is locked in a fierce battle with the blood mist.

The white and blood-red fragments, seemingly mingling with bone and blood, are merging and devouring each other as Zhu Wuyao and Fu Shan fight.

She convinced herself to willingly face death, to embrace this inevitable end.

But in Fu Shan's eyes, filled with resentment, she saw her own reflection.

On the chessboard, the two sides fought fiercely. Regardless of whether Black or White won, Zhu Wuyao and Fu Shan would both be rendered useless.

Ideally, they should perish together, returning their lingering lives to the heavens and earth, leaving no more aliens or those who would tamper with the Dao of Heaven. This would be the best ending for the cultivation world.

For monks, the signs of death are extremely clear.

Fu Shan was unwilling to accept this.

Therefore, they fought with all their might, hoping to make the Juque Sect reclaim the scattered fortune, using the great battle as a heavenly tribulation to forcibly advance to the Nascent Soul stage, and to seize all the fragments of the Heavenly Dao and suppress destiny.

I wish you well without being invited.

Therefore, she avoided battle, clinging to a sliver of hope that she wouldn't be drawn into the game, nor did she want to truly stand on the opposite side of Fu Shan and perish together with him.

The clash between swords and formations became even more intense. The two relentlessly and haphazardly squandered their spiritual power, determined to make this battle a resounding success and to announce it to the mountains.

Even the resentment of impending death could only be swallowed whole.

The two fought like mortal enemies.

I'd fight with all my might so that someone could die a step slower.

The trapped beast still fights.

Even the victor perishes.

But Zhu Wuyao could not keep Fu Shan here, just as she could not allow her mind to be eroded, so she chose to do so when her time was up.

Fu Shan's will to survive is too strong, and his strength is too great.

A thousand years of imprisonment could not extinguish the flame in her heart; Fu Shan would do anything to survive.

Therefore, Zhu Wuyao must fight on if he is to die after her.

The sword without edge flew out of his hand, attempting to pin down the violent spiritual energy surging into the distance with the formation. Seeing that its momentum had not stopped, the magic seal was used to steal the sky and change the sun, transferring the connection between the formation and the living beings in the south to himself.

"You're looking for death."

"I'm going crazy. I want to live, but I'm going to die."

Zhu Wuyao wanted to live, but her actions seemed to be courting death. The chaotic spiritual energy was rampaging through her meridians, but she seemed completely unaware and fearless.

He gripped the bladeless sword again, channeling his sword intent and forcefully inviting a flurry of snowflakes.

As the bladeless sword swept past him, spiritual energy surged and vented, sword energy crisscrossing the area.

The chaotic flow of spiritual energy brought about by the formation seemed to miraculously manipulate the wind and snow, restoring order to the circulation of spiritual energy within her body.

It seemed as if dust was falling, like the ashes that blew down on her body when she burned bright yellow paper money on the mountain that year.

The mountains, covered in snow and frost, rushed towards the burning blood mist, extinguishing the karmic fire of the common people.

The Copper Furnace Formation for All Living Beings has now fallen into oblivion.

"One will not die at dawn, but will not perish at midnight."

"There are two more hours until I can send you to your final rest."