Purple Forbidden Enclosure’s Blood Tempering
Elder Shou and Yu Feiyuan already rescued His Majesty. Luo Clan’s forces had been subdued.
“Hurry,” Shen Yiren urged of the three men trailing behind her, eager to go to Ming Feizhen’s aid as it had been a while since he had been thrown into the cauldron.
Though the three weren’t particularly terrifying as fighters, they were experts at soft weapons, such as whips. The reason Shen Yiren needed the trio was that she needed their implements in order to pull Ming Feizhen up from the face of the cauldron. Everything was proceeding as she hoped when the cauldron breathed a breath of fire, scaring off everyone near the cauldron.
“Feizhen!” Shen Yiren couldn’t imagine anyone surviving when the heat distorted the air. Unlike when she snapped on Fu Xiang, Shen Yiren’s brain and body froze for several seconds. She felt an ominous chill that impelled her to wrap her arms around herself reflexively.
“He’s… dead? No… No, he can’t die.” Adrenaline flooded Shen Yiren again, pumping and spurring her forward again, but an energy signal, the type that would be associated with a primitive savage coming out of the woods, caught her attention.
The flames from the cauldron had gone dormant, yet it felt as though ants were crawling on their skin. All the fighting ceased; their bodies wanted to run fast for the safety of the hills or to a crate of weapons, yet their legs wouldn’t move. The cauldron absorbed all of the sound around, letting dead silence permeate in the air. The encroaching footsteps elevated their primal fear and decreased logic.
When everyone expected the door to the workshop to fling open, they heard the sound of paper ripping. Like time froze for a few seconds, the doors then fell apart in four fragments moments after the sounds.
Nobody could resist the urge to gaze at the white smoke still whisking from the sword in Luo Ming’s hand. If Fool was considered heavy and large, Luo Ming’s sword was the titanic of swords. Nobody would want to try and catch the weight of it head on even if their weapon was robust.
“Not enough.” Without granting anyone time to interpret what he was talking about, Luo Ming whipped his sword, separating twenty heads from their bodies. In spite of how easy it was for him to take off that many heads in one go, he didn’t look emotionally moved in any capacity.
“Luo Ming, you would kill the innocent?!” Shen Yiren howled.
Hong Jiu and company rushed into the ring: “You don’t deserve any of the renown you’ve been showered with, you brute.”
Luo Ming stared at Shen Yiren and those around her the way a predator would: “It craves blood, so sacrifices are necessary.”
“Oh, necessary for sure!” roared Luo Yan, yanking off his mantle. “I’m back… Brother.”
“Mm, still alive, I see,” Luo Ming indifferently replied.
“Yeah, I am. Disappointed?”
“Not really,” answered Luo Ming, only interested in his new sword. “The sword isn’t complete yet.”
“It’s already thirsting for blood upon birth, which goes to show it’s an incarnation of evil. How could you forge that sort of weapon? Luo Ming, did you feed Father’s smithing teachings to a devil?!”
“Incarnation of evil?” Luo Ming finally glanced up at his brother, although he still seemed indolent. “It’s not… strong enough.”
When Luo Ming reached into his shirt, everyone stepped back and prepared to shield themselves, albeit not knowing how to when they couldn’t work out how he beheaded twenty people in one stroke.
Luo Ming insouciantly opened two small glass bottles and poured the blood onto the blade. His Enlightenment had reached new heights and so did the ominous feeling everyone else felt.