Body command feeding world

The night was already as dark as ink, but now it was completely swallowed up by the overwhelming malevolent energy surging from the western wilderness. It was not fog, not wind, but a living black tide—viscous, foul-smelling, and icy—rolling across the sky, devouring the last traces of starlight and moonlight. The entire sky above the Stone City seemed to be tightly covered by a black cloth soaked in corpse fluid, pressing down so hard that one's chest felt like it was about to burst, and even breathing carried the stench of rotting bones. Only a suffocating, deathly silence remained between heaven and earth.

The warding-off-evil braziers burning all night on the city walls, originally warm and bright yellow, suddenly turned green upon contact with the incoming evil energy. The eerie green flames leaped, flickered, and twisted among the battlements, making the faces of the defending soldiers ashen white, even their armor taking on a deathly bluish hue, as if their souls had been tainted by malevolence. The wind was no longer just wind; it was filled with countless tiny sobs, shrill laughter, children's cries, and dogs' growls, all mingling together, piercing the eardrums and seeping into the bone marrow, making one's scalp tingle, one's hair stand on end, and one's mind tremble uncontrollably.

"They're here—!"

A hoarse roar erupted, and before the words were even finished, the black tide crashed against the city walls like a tsunami, like ten thousand ghosts descending upon the city. The first to pounce were the Rotting Fang Hounds, half a man's height, their bluish-black scales like rusted armor plates, black saliva dripping from their teeth. As they landed, their claws scraped against the bluestone with a piercing, sharp sound. They were mindless, driven only by bloodlust, swarming forward and attacking the outermost city guards, their fangs gleaming with a cold, malevolent light.

puff-

The sound of canine teeth tearing flesh was clear and piercing, so crisp it sent chills down one's spine. Someone was knocked to the ground, their throat instantly severed, blood splattering into the green flames, sizzling and releasing an even stronger, sweet and acrid stench. Someone swung a knife wildly, the blade striking the scales only sending sparks flying, before their wrist was bitten off, their screams abruptly silenced. The ferocious hounds growled as they devoured, a chilling aura seeping into the wound, causing the victim's skin to rapidly turn blue, black, and ulcerate, even their screams frozen in their throats, turning them into a cold, mangled corpse in an instant.

The area beneath the wall instantly transformed into a living hell. Flesh and blood flew everywhere, limbs fell to the ground, and green flames reflected the rolling heads and gushing blood. Heart-wrenching screams rose and fell, only to be quickly swallowed up by even denser, more ferocious sounds, as if all life on earth was being devoured bit by bit by this black tide.

Wu Wei stood in the middle of the city wall, his old purple-gold robe fluttering in the wind from the baleful aura. His blood energy was as calm and unwavering as an abyss, showing no sign of panic. His eyes were cold and icy, and the double-edged marrow spear in his hand was pointed diagonally at the ground. The spear trembled slightly, as if it were thirsting for something, as if it were resonating with something, tightly connected to his soul, bone marrow, and blood essence, inseparable from him.

This spear is a natal marrow weapon forged from the user's own Xuan Iron spear, fused with five superior-grade evil treasures, and repeatedly tempered by burning the user's own bone marrow essence. Its entire body is a dark, deep black iron base color, with golden and red interwoven marrow patterns hidden on the shaft, flowing like blood vessels. It feels slightly cool to the touch yet harbors a hidden, scorching vitality. It is neither gold nor iron, neither stone nor jade, but a supreme treasure where bone marrow and evil treasures, blood essence and Daoist principles are fused. The spear shaft is symmetrical front and back, with two equally long blades. The blades have a streamlined, wind-breaking arc, and the edges are thin yet tough, gleaming with a restrained yet terrifying cold light. It has no head or tail, its front and back are both killing points. The shaft is slightly thicker in the middle, perfectly conforming to human palm lines and grip strength habits. Whether wielded with one hand for light, agile long-range attacks or gripped tightly with both hands for domineering close combat, it can be used with ease and without any hindrance. The gun is deeply bound to his soul. With a thought, the gun follows; with a surge of blood essence, the blade ignites; with a surge of marrow power, the edge becomes sharper. It truly embodies the principle that where there is a gun, there is power; where there is a gun's sound, there is the Dao.

The Yang Flame Blood Essence surged through his meridians, scalding hot as if boiling, its heat reaching his fingertips. This starkly contrasted with the surrounding bone-chilling cold, creating a ripple of energy around him that was difficult to discern with the naked eye.

Shu's voice was extremely faint, yet it resonated deep within the soul: "Low-level evil tide, numbering over a thousand. Shadow Fiends have already infiltrated the shadows, be careful."

Wu Wei remained silent, taking a step that cracked the bluestone ground as he shot forward like an arrow. His twin spears twirled in his hands, the golden grip locking them firmly, his wrists slightly twisting—this was a spearmanship instinct etched into his very bones, the foundation of an Earthly master unleashed in this world with its most ferocious edge. Every movement was precise, concise, and deadly, without a single superfluous stroke.

A single dragon pierces the sun!

Holding the gun in one hand, he thrust forward, the blazing blood essence flowing into the spearhead like a scalding torrent. The spear tip sizzled and crackled in the air, the heat reverberating from the shaft to his fingertips, clearly perceptible. Every bit of force, every wisp of fiery energy, was precisely controlled by him. *Thud*—the spear tip pierced straight through the head of a rotten-toothed demon hound. Its bluish-black scales were as fragile as paper. The scalding blood essence instantly exploded within the demon hound's body, its flesh, bones, and demonic soul all incinerated by the blazing heat, emitting a pungent, hissing sound. Black blood splattered, igniting upon contact with the flames, leaving not a trace behind.

Wu Wei twisted his wrist, drawing the spear out cleanly and swiftly, the blade tracing an arc without a drop of blood. A gust of wind swept from behind, and another ferocious hound lunged forward, its fangs gleaming coldly, its stench overwhelming. Without turning back, he reversed his stance, the spear blade slicing horizontally. The black iron blade, combined with the force of the Yang Flame Qi, severed the hound's neck. Black blood gushed out, and the corpse fell to the ground below the city walls, crashing to the earth with a dull thud.

"Shadow Fiend!" someone exclaimed.

A dark shadow slithered along the ground, like a snake, silently coiling around the shadow of a soldier. Instantly, the man's face turned ashen, his limbs stiffened, his blood and energy drained away, his eyes rolled back, and in a short breath he withered away, as if all life had been drained from him, collapsing to the ground as nothing but skin and bones, without even a struggle.

Wu Wei's eyes turned cold, and the yang energy around his body surged slightly.

A rainbow breaks through illusions!

The spear shot out like a thread, a single golden beam, the extremely condensed Yang Flame bursting forth from the double-edged marrow spear, piercing through the darkness and shadows, chasing straight for the invisible Shadow Fiend. Yang Flame is most effective against invisible fiends; the Shadow Fiend, struck by the spear's wind, let out a sharp shriek, its dark shadow dissolving into a faint black aura that dissipated, only to writhe and condense again in the shadowy corner of the wall, extremely sinister.

"They can't be killed off...they just can't be killed off!"

The soldiers broke down and cried out, but before they could finish speaking, they were pounced on by three or four ferocious dogs at the same time. Their screams stopped abruptly, leaving only a grating gnawing sound that was particularly jarring in the chaotic battlefield.

Wu and Wei's spear thrusts never ceased, their double blades rotating, alternating attacks from both near and far, leaving no opening. A single-handed thrust into the distance was the Blazing Flame Spear, its blade imbued with yang flames, burning away evil and dispelling malevolent forces. Its range stretched for several meters, each strike deadly, melting away evil and burning away black blood wherever the blade passed. In close combat, they locked the spears with both hands, unleashing the Twin Dragons Slicing the Moon technique, both blades striking simultaneously, parrying and slashing, cutting left and thrusting right, a close-quarters swarm that shattered scales, splattered black blood, and felled corpses as densely as cutting grass. The double-bladed design completely compensated for the traditional spear's shortcomings in close combat, seamlessly integrating offense and defense, allowing for free movement.

With each thrust of his spear, he could clearly feel: the resistance of the spear tip piercing through armor, the stinging pain of the collision between yang and yin energy, the scalding heat of surging blood, the tingling numbness of his bones trembling, and the force of the spear shaft's recoil. These three senses intertwined, giving him a complete grasp of the power, angle, and timing of each strike. Every sound was sharp and clear; every strike was a real tearing, piercing, burning, and crushing. There were no feints, no fancy moves, only the purest essence of spearmanship and killing intent.

There were too many evil tides. The black waves piled up one after another, seemingly endless. The Rotting Fang Evil Dogs and Shadow Evils were just the vanguard. Behind them were even more ferocious, more cunning, and more poisonous mid-level evil spirits, which were constantly surging out from the black tide, forcing the city wall defenses to retreat step by step.

Before long, an even colder and more eerie aura rose from the depths of the black tide, like a bone-deep infection, chilling one's soul. From the shadows of the ramparts, pale little figures slowly emerged, all resembling three-year-old children. Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes pitch black and lifeless, their tattered white shirts stained with blood, and their three-inch-long, bluish-black fingernails gleamed with an eerie, cold light under the green flames. These were the Little White Children, most skilled in insidious and sneaky attacks.

They neither charged nor cried out, but merely tilted their heads, chuckling sinisterly. Their voices were thin, sharp, and piercing, sending shivers down one's spine and causing one's blood to rush to the head. A young martial artist gritted his teeth and swung his sword, but the little white child blurred, passing through the wall in a short distance, appearing directly behind him. His bluish-black fingernails pierced the back of his neck, and the malevolent poison instantly invaded his meridians.

"Well--!"

The martial artist froze, his skin turning blue and festering at a visible speed. The poison had seeped into his body, chilling his bones. He opened his mouth but could not utter a sound. He fell straight down, his body rapidly turning black and shriveling, becoming a dried corpse in a short moment.

More little white children crawled out from the shadows, corners, doorways, and piles of corpses, densely packed, covering the city walls like persistent evil spirits. Then, a crimson aura swept in—blood-clawed fangs pounced, their bodies stained with blood, fangs and claws sharp, their strength capable of splitting stone, shattering shields with a single claw, tearing men and wood apart, blood splattering into the sky; icy mist surged, water demons lurked in the moat and wells, their blue-green figures twisting, their water-controlling blades shooting forth, freezing through soldiers' chests, wounds instantly freezing, flesh turning bluish-purple, the cold poison penetrating to the bone, incurable.

Intermediate-level evil spirits are now fully available.

A section of the city wall completely crumbled, and cries, screams, the sounds of shattering, gnawing, and sinister laughter rose and fell, merging into a dirge of hell that echoed throughout the heavens and earth. Wu Wei's twin spears, stained with blood and blazing with malevolent energy, slew several small white children, three blood-clawed fangs, and two water demons. Wherever the wind from his spears passed, the evil dissipated, but the colder his gaze grew, the heavier his heart became. He knew very well that these were merely appetizers; the true terror lay in the deepest recesses of the Black Tide.

Because an even more terrifying aura was approaching. That aura was cold, domineering, and full of intelligence, far surpassing all low- and mid-level evil creatures, like a king descending upon the world, looking down upon all living beings.

In the center of the black tide, the figure of a seven-year-old boy slowly rose up. His face was pale, with two horns growing on his forehead and his eyes glowing with blue light. He wore a white brocade robe embroidered with black patterns, and more than ten miniature white demonic spirits surrounded him, chattering and laughing incessantly. He was none other than the leader of the Yin Sha Hundred Demonic Spirits, who had slaughtered Qinglu Village and had a blood feud with Wu and Wei.

The moment it appeared, the surrounding demonic children knelt in worship, their malevolent energy surging several times over, making the air thick and icy. The child-headed creature merely swept its gaze across the city wall, its eyes cold and condescending, as if looking at a flock of lambs to the slaughter. The next instant, it raised its palm, and a ball of dark, ink-like Yin energy rapidly condensed, carrying a chilling aura that could freeze the very soul, before crashing down with a deafening roar.

boom--!

The black energy exploded several meters away, the shockwave sweeping across the city walls, cracking the stone bricks and sending debris flying. The seven or eight ordinary warriors and two martial arts masters who were nearby were unable to resist. Their meridians were instantly frozen, their bodies stiff as stone statues, and then cracked inch by inch, shattering into a pile of ice shards and black ash. Even their souls were devoured by the black energy and dissipated into the world.

Sold out instantly.

The absolute overwhelming strength left no time for despair to even arise.

Tong Shouqing's eyes flickered, his gaze piercing through the chaotic battlefield and landing precisely on Wu Wei. The mockery and coldness in those eyes were something Wu Wei would never forget. Old hatred, blood feuds, the pain of the massacre of the village, and the resentment of escaping death surged to the top of his head in an instant, rushing straight to his mind. The yang energy around his body couldn't help but surge violently, his twin-edged marrow spears hummed incessantly, and his killing intent almost burst out of his body.

Wu Wei's hand gripping the gun was white at the knuckles, the joints were taut, and the black iron shaft was slightly warm from his grip.

Enemies meeting are bound to be filled with hatred.

Today is the day to settle old scores.