Achieving physical sainthood begins with the Iron Shirt technique!

The young disciples tumbled and crawled into the dense miasma forest.

He trudged through the mud, one step deep, the other shallow, and one of his white-soled, cloud-patterned boots was long gone. Covered in black mud, he scrambled and rolled, the thorny bushes on either side scraping his cheeks and arms.

Blood flowed down the wound, but he didn't care about the pain at all.

The bizarre and terrifying scene of the massacre just now was replaying wildly in his mind. He was panting heavily, his lungs burning with pain.

"I escaped... I escaped!"

The young disciple, supporting himself on a thick old tree trunk, collapsed onto a pile of rotting, dead leaves, his legs too weak to support him.

He glanced back.

Behind them was an impenetrable black miasma, making it impossible to see the bare-chested mortal.

Once he escapes the oppressive influence of that black rock, he can regroup his true energy. As long as he can ride the wind, this deep mountain forest cannot confine him.

This errand was a complete disaster. When I get back to the city lord's mansion, I'm going to tear that damned steward to pieces.

He hastily raised his sleeve to wipe the blood from his face.

A very faint rustling sound came from the bushes ahead.

The young disciple's hands suddenly froze.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the thin miasma, looking into the darkness ahead.

A pair of beastly eyes, glowing with an eerie green light, silently lit up.

Then came the second pair, the third pair, and the fourth pair.

A dozen or so pairs of bright green eyes stood out starkly in this lifeless woodland.

The smell of decaying leaves in the air was now mixed with a strong, fishy stench.

Ghostly Wolf Pack.

The commotion caused by those immortals throwing fireballs and unleashing wind blades had already alerted the beasts foraging in the area. The fresh scent of blood emanating from the young disciple became their deadliest guiding light.

"No...get away!"

The young disciple was terrified, his scalp tingling, and he fumbled around on the ground with his hands. He had long since thrown away his flying sword in front of that mortal, and now all he had in his hands was a handful of mud.

He desperately tried to activate his dantian, attempting to cast a basic fireball spell to scare away the wolf pack.

The true essence had just gathered at the fingertips along the meridians.

A massive, ghostly wolf leaped out of the darkness directly in front of him. Its thick front paws slammed down on his shoulder, the force knocking him to the ground.

It bit down hard with its gaping maw.

"Ah—help! Help…"

The scream lasted only half a breath.

A dozen or so demonic wolves swarmed forward, completely engulfing the lone disciple of the immortal sect. The crisp sound of sharp teeth tearing through flesh and bone echoed in the darkness.

……

The open space directly in front of the cave.

The screams coming from the woods a few hundred paces away reached the captain's ears very clearly.

The call stopped too quickly.

The captain pressed his back tightly against the black town-guarding monument. His clothes were already soaked with cold sweat.

My calves were spinning wildly inside my pants, and my knees were completely out of my control.

Of his men, some were dead, some were maimed, and the one who ran into the forest was obviously torn apart by the monster.

It's all over.

This isn't an attack on ordinary people; it's like food being delivered to their doorstep.

The captain's hand trembled as he reached for the storage bag embroidered with the Qingxiao Sword Sect's dark patterns at his waist.

He took out a yellow talisman.

Advanced transducer.

This is his last trump card, and also the only magical artifact that allows him to connect with the outside world.

Lu Chen stood not far ahead, making no attempt to stop him. His rough, large hands hung casually at his sides, the iron-gray skin still stained with a few drops of blood from when he had just crushed someone's cervical vertebrae.

Seeing Lu Chen's nonchalant attitude, the captain gritted his teeth and his fierce determination rose.

He suddenly opened his mouth and bit down hard on the tip of his tongue.

A sharp pain shot through me.

A warm stream of semen instantly filled his mouth.

"puff!"

The captain spat a mouthful of blood mixed with true essence directly onto the yellow communication talisman.

The intricate patterns drawn with cinnabar absorbed the essence of blood and instantly burst forth with an extremely dazzling light.

"Xuanni City under attack! The city lord gave a false report!"

The captain roared at the talisman with all his might, his voice completely hoarse.

"That thief isn't a demonic cultivator at all! His physical body is incredibly powerful! All immortal techniques are ineffective against him!"

"Requesting reinforcements from the inner sect! Immediately seal off Broken Immortal Mountain! Immediately..."

He suddenly tossed the glowing communication talisman in his hand into the air.

The communication talisman instantly transformed into a fist-sized ball of fire. This ball of fire, carrying the distress message he had just shouted in, shot straight into the sky, preparing to tear through the miasma of the night and fly out of this damned forest.

The captain stared intently at the ball of fire.

As soon as this message is sent out, the inner sect elders will realize that no matter how skilled this kid is, he absolutely cannot withstand the crushing force of a Golden Core stage elder's flying sword.

The flames had just risen less than ten feet high.

The rough, ancient rock patterns on the surface of the stele suddenly flickered abruptly.

A massive, ancient force field suddenly contracted inward from the Dao Stele.

The spiritual energy in the surrounding air instantly became extremely viscous, even completely ceasing to circulate. The withered yellow leaves were pressed firmly into the mud by this invisible pressure, unable to move even a fraction of an inch.

The ball of fire in mid-air was the first to be hit.

The violent forbidden magic field crushed it mercilessly.

The flame flickered violently twice, then was held firmly by an invisible force of gravity. The light dimmed at a visible speed.

"Don't stop! Fly out!" the captain shouted anxiously.

Not at all.

"Sizzle."

The flames were completely extinguished.

The expensive high-level transmission talisman, under this immense pressure, turned directly into a charred piece of waste paper.

The waste paper spun twice in mid-air before slowly drifting down, landing right in the muddy water at the captain's feet.

The captain stared blankly at the black paper on the ground.

His face was ashen. The flesh on his face twitched uncontrollably.

Despair completely shattered his psychological defenses.

He joined the Immortal Sect at a young age and cultivated diligently for more than a decade, always regarding the Immortal Sect's techniques as the most supreme power in the world.

He believed that as long as one possessed true essence, mortals were nothing more than ants that could be crushed at will.

But now.

Faced with this shirtless mortal and this broken stone, his proud true energy couldn't even ignite a single talisman.

Contact with the outside world was completely cut off.

This place has become a truly desolate wasteland where no one can hear your cries for help.

Lu Chen made his move at that moment.

He slowly straightened up. Beneath his iron-gray skin, exaggerated muscles bulged.

Lu Chen tilted his head slightly.

The joints in the neck move along with it.

"Click click click".

A series of extremely crisp popping sounds echoed through the woods.

Lu Chen took a step, his rough soles making a dull sound as he stepped on the broken branches and rotten leaves.

step.

Two steps.

He walked slowly, but with an extremely domineering and oppressive aura, heading straight for the captain whose name was posted on the road sign.

"Don't come any closer..."

The captain's lips trembled as he repeatedly pushed himself back, leaving several bloody marks on his back as he rubbed against the rough surface of the road marker.

There's no way to retreat.

Either way, it's a dead end.

The captain's eyes were completely bloodshot, the whites of his eyes covered with red veins. He let out an extremely shrill roar.

"You lowly wretch! I'll take you down with me!"

He suddenly raised his right hand and pointed a finger at the Tanzhong acupoint on his chest.

This is the most taboo life-threatening method in the immortal sects.

He directly sacrificed his lifespan of a hundred years, forcing out the last drop of his vital essence from his heart.

The captain's once youthful face visibly withered. Deep wrinkles quickly crept around his eyes, and his black hair, tied back, turned completely white in just a few breaths.

He slapped his withered palm onto the storage bag.

A short, powerful, mid-grade flying sword gleaming with a crimson light shot out.

This was the trump card he had acquired after spending most of his life savings.

All the essence and blood sprayed onto the sword blade.

The flying sword emitted an extremely piercing sword cry.

Normally, once this mid-grade flying sword is activated by essence blood, its sword light can surge to more than three zhang in length, enough to easily cut through a stone pillar as thick as several people could hug.

But now.

The immense pressure of the Dao stele slammed mercilessly onto the flying sword.

The flames that should have burst forth were suppressed at the very surface of the sword blade.

The light on the sword became extremely dim, and it even had a viscous texture, like a fire poker that had just been pulled out of the furnace and had not yet been quenched.

The captain gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands, mustered his last bit of strength, and, despite the weight of the Dao Stele, thrust it fiercely into Lu Chen's heart.

Lu Chen stared at the flying sword that was thrusting towards him.

He didn't make any dodging motion at all.

The muscles in his chest bulged instantly.

The eleventh layer of extreme qi and blood surged wildly within the body, all converging on the membrane directly in front of the heart.

Beneath the iron-gray skin, the black metallic textures deepened instantly, becoming as profound as an unyielding mass of ink.

"when!!!"

A deafening roar.

The tip of the mid-grade flying sword was firmly embedded in Lu Chen's chest.

The immense impact sent a huge, blinding burst of sparks flying. The sparks splattered onto the surrounding mud, scalding the puddles with a sizzling sound.

The incredibly sharp tip of the flying sword only managed to pierce Lu Chen's outermost rough skin.

Further down, it got stuck outside that layer of dark metallic texture.

Not a single drop of blood was shed.

The captain gripped the sword hilt with both hands, his withered old face flushed red. He felt as if he had stabbed not a mortal body, but a mountain of black iron that would never melt away even after millions of years.

The force of the recoil traveled along the sword and shattered the finger bones in both of his hands.

Lu Chen's face didn't even twitch.

Despite the extremely hot temperature emanating from the sword, he forcefully took a step forward with his right foot.

"Creak—"

A sickening metallic creaking sound rang out.

The seemingly indestructible mid-grade magic weapon was forced to bend in the middle by Lu Chen's move, and the blade was instantly pressed into an extremely exaggerated arc.

If it had moved forward just half an inch more, the sword would have broken on the spot.

Lu Chen stopped in his tracks.

He slowly raised his large, rough right hand. His five calloused fingers suddenly spread open.

The hand completely ignored the high temperature and sharpness of the blade, and gripped the still-hot dark red flying sword tightly.

The palm and the blade rubbed together violently, producing an extremely piercing sound.

Lu Chen lowered his head.

He looked down at the white-haired, despair-filled cultivator below.