Cultivation of Immortality: This is what unorthodox methods are like.

On the mountain:

Wang Quan dropped down command flags one by one:

"The wind is blowing!"

"Rain is coming!"

"Ray is coming!"

The command flag, which had been pre-stored with magical power, was activated by magic, summoning wind and rain to fall into the basin of water, striking and hindering the cultivators inside.

Meanwhile, the king continued to recite the sutra for saving people.

This scripture for saving people transforms into countless spears, vying to pierce the vertical eye.

One.....

Thirty pieces...

One hundred.....

Underground Palace:

With vertical eyes wailing and its body emitting black smoke, it kept pleading with the many cultivators to release their magic weapon prototypes to help it.

As a result, many cultivators expressed their inability to help.

A female nun comforted it, saying, "These unfinished magical artifacts are all meant to suppress you."

"It cannot be used recklessly!"

His shrewd eyes darted around, and he argued, "I have suffered heavy losses and am extremely weak. You need not be wary of me!"

The cultivators remained silent.

The man with the vertical eye sneered inwardly: "Trying to guard against me? Just wait, one day I'll make you all fall into ruin."

While it was pondering, it no longer felt pain.

"The blow is over? That's great!"

At this moment, Shuyan was so excited he wanted to cry.

Many cultivators secretly breathed a sigh of relief: the attack that came from across the sky had finally stopped, and they no longer needed to rack their brains to track down the enemy.

The vertical-eyed one didn't die; at most, it was in pain for a while and lost some power.

They engaged in a magical duel with an unknown master from afar. Although they failed to find the master's physical form, the experience gained from the duel enriched their magical combat skills.

Apart from that, if we ignore the cracked ground, broken walls and other traces of the battle, the underground palace is undamaged.

Great, everyone can pretend nothing happened.

Thinking of this, everyone laughed.

But, in the next instant, all the cultivators heard a voice coming from the sky:

"This isn't the end of the matter of you killing the hunchback!"

"That eyeball, as long as you live, my attacks won't stop!"

"At least a hundred blows a day, let's see how long you can hold out!"

Fellow cultivators...

Eyeballs...

"Everyone, you have to help me!"

"Look, even a complete stranger is threatening me!"

"Everyone... I've sacrificed so much for you, you should value me and protect me!"

His eyes widened in alarm.

The hundred blows just now, while not killing it, permanently weakened its maximum power; and, it really hurt a lot.

He felt that if this blow continued for 180 days, he might really die.

He doesn't want to die.

He also wanted to corrupt the monks, break free of this cage, and enjoy great freedom.

However, these monks didn't care at all.

They felt that this blow was just a minor pain to their eyes.

I never imagined that this attack could weaken the upper limit of Eyeball's strength.

Therefore, they didn't take it to heart.

-----------------

On the mountain:

The king ended the attack on the eyeball.

Then, he released the second first-stage outer core.

The external elixir rotates, replenishing magical power.

This magical power was transferred through the inner realm and landed in the body of the Yang God, thousands of miles away.

The consciousness of the king descended upon the Yang God and then opened the sealed box.

He placed the straw figure representing the bald man on the stone, then lit sandalwood incense, and drew his bow and arrow.

"I don't know if the hunchback's death has anything to do with you!"

"But, in the end, you are keeping something abnormal."

"And hunchbacks are an exception to the ban."

"You two are inherently incompatible; therefore, I'll assume you're the murderer!"

With the next breath, he released the bowstring.

call out!

An arrow landed on the grassman's heart.

"what!"

The straw man screamed in agony, blood streaming from its heart.

-----------------

A certain manor:

While bald Puzhao was gathering the twilight energy to practice his magic, he suddenly felt uneasy.

"What happened?"

He frowned, casually summoned a few tortoise shells, and prepared to perform some divination.

As soon as he held the tortoise shell in his hand, he suddenly felt angina, as if an arrow had pierced his heart. The pain made him roll on the ground and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"Oh no, someone's cursing me to death!"

Bald Puzhao's expression changed drastically. He grabbed a handful of pills and swallowed them, activating numerous defensive magical artifacts. He immediately rushed towards the box beside him.

Click!

The box was opened, and inside was a lifelike bronze figure; this bronze figure was his substitute for death.

When he saw the bronze statue, his face turned ugly.

Because the bronze figure that was supposed to die in place of the deceased had no cracks or injuries.

"Damn it, their spell version is higher than mine."

"But how is that possible? My substitution spell uses the version analyzed in the Ten Thousand Scrolls of Daoist Scripture."

"It's already at its ceiling!"

"There can't possibly be a more advanced version of the spell."

Without a second thought, he unleashed streams of magical power, which landed in specific locations within the room.

The next breath, the entire manor roared, and beams of multicolored light shot into the sky:

Some of them turned into clouds and hovered over the manor.

A portion of them fell, transforming into giant snakes, wild grass, and an army shrouded in mist, weaving through numerous buildings.

"Someone, give me a heart transplant!"

Soon, a new monk ran in carrying a box.

The bald man chanted scriptures, his chest split open, he removed his tattered heart, and then blew on the box.

Click!

The box was opened, and inside lay hundreds of miniature hearts, beating quietly.

He randomly chose one, and the heart pounded into his chest, sprouting arms and legs that connected to numerous blood vessels. It then grew to its normal size and began to beat powerfully.

"It's just a curse; I have plenty of ways to deal with that!"

Bald Puzhao exhaled a breath of stale air and sneered.

But the next breath, his smile froze.

Because, in that very instant, the newly replaced heart ruptured again.

boom!

A surge of passion fills my heart.

The bald man screamed in agony as he underwent another heart transplant.

Then, my heart shattered again.

Bilibili!

Girgh!

He tried more than a dozen methods to break the curse, but none of them worked.

Bald Puzhao looked grim. He gritted his teeth and opted for an external heart transplant.

This time, the heart hanging outside pounded, but it didn't explode.

His heart problem was resolved, but he still looked unwell.

"go out!"

"yes!"

The new monk quietly left, carrying the box.

The bald man repeatedly performed his methods inside the house, tracing the source of the curse.

However, despite trying more than a dozen methods, they were still unable to track it down.

"What a bizarre method!"

He gritted his teeth, activated a magical artifact, and contacted a monk he knew who was proficient in curses.

"Brother Daoist, I am cursed! Please help me!"

At a manor on a certain mountain, a cultivator skilled in curses received Puzhao's message and immediately became interested: "Puzhao, this guy, has also become skilled in curses in order to study anomalies."

"There's even a top-tier version of the substitution technique."

"How could he be cursed?"

While pondering, the cursed cultivator said, "Light the brazier and throw a wisp of Great Sun True Fire into it. I'll pack my things and descend there directly!"

Bald Puzhao breathed a sigh of relief: "Okay!"

He quickly prepared a brazier and threw in a wisp of the Great Sun True Fire.

The flames were golden and flickered.

Before long, the flames exploded, billowing black smoke rose, and wails, cries, and curses rang out.

Then, a monk carrying a box emerged from the flames.

The cultivator had translucent, wailing ghosts floating around him. They were scorched by the Great Sun True Fire, but instead of weakening, they became even more condensed.

He emerged from the brazier and landed on the floor.

Then, the floor beneath my feet began to rot and spread outwards.

hum!hum!hum!

The houses built by architectural techniques exert their power, and decay must be cleaned up.

As a result, even under the pressure of the building's construction techniques, the monk still managed to cause decay to occur within a two-meter radius.