Chapter 128: Righteous Path Encirclement

Wei Tianhe's brows were tightly knit, his expression dark as still water.

He was, after all, a pillar of the Righteous Path Alliance, and six fellow Nascent Soul cultivators stood behind him.

If he retreated now, voice transmissions across ten thousand li of the Heavenly Abyss Sea would claim by tomorrow that Old Devil Jiuyou had barged into the heart of the Righteous Path alone, wiped out an entire sect, and that Wei Tianhe had not even dared to face him.

If word spread, it would tarnish more than a lifetime of renown—it would damage the very fortune and foundation the Righteous Path Alliance had built over several thousand years.

He drew a deep breath and abruptly raised a hand.

A small bronze cauldron flew from his sleeve, expanding rapidly upon contact with the air. In the blink of an eye, it swelled to several zhang across, hanging suspended over Jiuyou's head.

Mottled and etched with dense runes, the cauldron radiated an archaic aura. Its heavy spiritual pressure crashed down like toppling mountains, bending the void within a hundred zhang into faint distortion.

This was Wei Tianhe's natal magic treasure, which had accompanied him through centuries of battle without ever failing.

"Jiuyou, you have crossed the line."

The cauldron shuddered, then crashed downward with a thunderous roar.

Jiuyou barely shifted. He tilted his head slightly, sparing the falling cauldron a single glance.

A Cyan Chain shot silently from his sleeve, wrapping with pinpoint precision around the cauldron's frame. Metal grated against bronze, sending sparks flying as an ear-piercing screech tore through the night sky. The cauldron hung frozen in midair, trembling violently while its spiritual radiance flickered. After several breaths of deadlocked struggle, it failed to descend even a fraction of an inch.

Wei Tianhe's pupils contracted.

Though he had used only seventy percent of his power in that strike, it was more than enough to crush an ordinary cultivator in the Middle Nascent Soul Stage. Yet Jiuyou had not only stopped it, but had done so with effortless ease.

He recalled the small cauldron. His expression remained composed, yet turbulent waves churned in his heart.

The old devil's strength far exceeded his estimates.

The world had long known that even in the Middle Nascent Soul Stage, Jiuyou had been the most intractable, untamable figure among his peers, roaming unchecked with scarcely an equal. Now that he had stepped into the Nascent Soul Late Stage, he was all the more troublesome to handle.

Wei Tianhe had no confidence he could keep him here, and he was even less inclined to stake his life for Yuqing Sect.

Yet if he gave up now, the entire Heavenly Abyss Sea would mock his cowardice by morning.

As he hesitated—

A sudden burst of radiant light blazed across the distant horizon.

Immediately after came a second, a third, a fourth...

Scarlet, orange, azure, violet, gold—over a dozen streaks of escape light tore through the firmament, converging from every direction. Like meteors plunging to earth, like arrows loosed from a bowstring, they surged straight toward the ruins of Yuqing Sect. Each streak radiated the aura of a Nascent Soul cultivator; varying in strength, the lowest was still at the Nascent Soul Early Stage.

Wei Tianhe raised a brow. A flicker of surprise and understanding passed through his eyes before hardening into a cool chill.

Before half the time it took to drink a cup of tea had passed, twelve streaks of escape light touched down behind him. The brilliance receded to reveal an array of varied faces: some solemn, some uncertain, some wearing sneers, and others harboring veiled killing intent.

"Fellow Daoist Wei, we heard that Yuqing Sect suffered a catastrophe and rushed through the night to offer aid. The surrounding waters for several thousand li have been locked down by our joint forces, sealed beneath layer upon layer of grand formations. Today, this villain of the demonic path will not escape even if he grows wings."

The grey-robed elder at their head cupped his hands in greeting, his voice booming like a bell. His gaze swept past Wei Tianhe to settle on the blood-soaked figure atop the ruins, his pupils contracting slightly.

Wei Tianhe nodded slightly, offering no reply.

Still more streaks of escape light rushed in.

Six, twelve, seventeen... In just a few dozen breaths, nearly thirty to forty Nascent Soul cultivators had gathered. The Nascent Soul experts of the Righteous Path Alliance had practically turned out in full force.

They had hurried from their respective sanctuaries, awakened from secluded cultivation, or rushed from distant lands upon hearing the news. Some were old acquaintances of Yuqing Sect, some were vassals of Spiritual Immortal Island, and some had simply come on their own after catching word.

Whatever their reasons for coming, at this moment, they all stood by Wei Tianhe's side, encircling that solitary silhouette in ring after ring.

Dozens of gazes woven with murderous intent, sharp as blades and swords, locked simultaneously upon the blood-drenched figure at the center of the ruins.

The night wind moaned through the broken walls and devastated rubble, a chilling, gruesome sight.

Yet that figure stood squarely in the center of it all. His tattered cyan robes were drenched in blood, clinging tightly to his frame.

Dark crimson stains covered his face, his hands, and his clothes. Yet his back remained ramrod straight, like a spear thrust firmly into the ruins.

Moonlight spilled across his shoulders, stretching his lean shadow long against the earth.

He did not speak. He did not even glance at them.

He simply stood with his hands clasped behind his back, calmly looking toward the horizon cloaked in bloody mist—as if the combined pressure of several dozen Nascent Soul cultivators were nothing more than a passing breeze.

Wei Tianhe glared at him, his face darkening further.

The Nascent Soul cultivators behind him stared as well. Every one of them was either a sect ancestor or a grand elder, formidable figures whose renown resounded across the four seas. Yet here they were, assembled together, surrounding one man.

Some were enraged, some vigilant, some sneering.

Yet still, none dared to make the first move.

The blood-soaked figure simply stood in silence, neither speaking nor moving, steady as a mountain.

"Jiuyou, you demonic scoundrel, your insolence knows no bounds." Wei Tianhe finally spoke again, his tone cold, as though addressing a corpse. "You dared trespass into the heart of our Righteous Path and slaughter all of Yuqing Sect. Today, the heroes of our Righteous Path stand united, and you will repay this debt in blood."

Not only he, but nearly every righteous Nascent Soul cultivator present was convinced that Old Devil Jiuyou was dead without question.

It was not merely because he had slipped into the domain of the Righteous Path and wiped out a major sect, trampling the Righteous Path Alliance's dignity. Even more so, it was because he had achieved the Nascent Soul Late Stage, becoming another peak pillar of combat power for the demonic path—and they would never allow a second Grand Cultivator to emerge among their foes.

To them, if this man returned alive, the demonic path would surge in power and inevitably suppress the Righteous Path with ruthless force.

This was something no one present was willing to witness.

For the alliance or for themselves, Jiuyou had to die.

Even if Jiuyou was now a Grand Cultivator of the Nascent Soul Late Stage, they deemed it impossible for him to escape alive under the heavy encirclement of thirty to forty Nascent Soul cultivators.

Nearby, another elder in the Middle Nascent Soul Stage strode forward several paces, fury blazing across his face. Zhou Xuanqing had been his drinking companion for centuries, yet had now been murdered by Old Devil Jiuyou—how could he not be enraged?

"You damned devil, do not even think of resisting! We have encircled this place on all sides and laid an inescapable net. Today, we will ensure you have no ground to bury your bones; your Nascent Soul shall be obliterated, and you will never enter the cycle of reincarnation!"

A female cultivator in vibrant robes rebuked him sharply, the spiritual light of her magic treasure surging and receding in her hands.

"Devil! You slaughtered countless cultivators and destroyed a sect of our Righteous Path! Your deeds are monstrous, your sins unpardonable. Our Nine Glow Sect acts today to claim your head for the tens of thousands of fallen souls of Yuqing Sect!"

Dozens of voices rose and fell, interweaving into a net of indignation that pinned the blood-stained figure firmly in its grasp.

Jiuyou stood quietly upon the ruins. Without a ripple of emotion, he looked at the righteous cultivators shouting for his slaughter and threatening to extract his soul and refine his spirit. Listening to the din, he felt only a stirring of irritation.

His eyes gazed out toward the churning, restless sea. The hairpin atop his head shimmered with a faint luminescence, while a dim crimson light seemed to drift across his pupils.

Those around him each harbored a ghost fetus; though their tongues clamored to slay demons and uphold the Dao, they acted only for profit, prestige, and the survival of their sects. He saw through it all with crystal clarity, but could not be bothered to call it out.

A mortal trap seemed already sealed.

Yet from first to last, he had never felt even half a shred of fear.

...