Wandering Swordsman |

The Three-Handed Sword Demon, Leng Wuhen, wielded the Martial God Sword, his eyes gleaming with the light of a victor. A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips, as if he were admiring a peerless work of art. However, hidden within that smile was boundless killing intent.

"Sect Leader Duan, you are too naive." Leng Wuhen's voice was low and sinister, like the howling wind in winter. "In this martial world, kindness and trust will only make you pay a heavy price."

Duan Qianya struggled to raise his head, his eyes filled with despair and anger: "Three-Handed Sword Demon! You overseas evil cultivators... how dare you betray the agreement!"

Leng Wuhen sneered, raising his black sword once more, pointing it at Duan Qianya's heart: "Betrayal? Aren't agreements meant to be betrayed?" With that, he thrust forward, the black sword piercing Duan Qianya's chest like a venomous snake, blood gushing out and staining the stone slab beneath him red.

Duan Qianya's eyes widened, a mouthful of blood gushed from his mouth, his body trembled violently a few times, and finally he collapsed to the ground, powerless.

His eyes gradually dimmed, as if the flame of his life had been extinguished at the last moment.

The air around them seemed to freeze, with only Leng Wuhen's footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

"If it weren't for the fact that only the internal energy of the righteous sects of the Central Plains was injected to drive it, would the matter of the Martial God's Tomb have come to you?" Leng Wuhen gently stroked the blade of his sword, his voice carrying a mocking and sarcastic tone.

......

Meanwhile, inside the secret chamber, Elder Yao Guangyuan stood rooted to the spot, feeling a strange unease creep into his heart. His brow was furrowed, as if he sensed something ominous was about to happen. The candlelight cast dappled shadows on his face, reflecting the deep unease and worry in his heart.

"Elder Yao, what's wrong?" a young disciple couldn't help but ask in a low voice, his voice trembling slightly.

Elder Yao Guangyuan did not answer, but simply waved his hand silently. However, what he did not know was that the same fate befell the Diancang elders who entered the other five stone gates.

In another passage, Elder Liao Qingfeng led his disciples, following in the footsteps of the Blood-Handed Judge, into the passage riddled with knife marks.

When they arrived at a similar room, they saw the divine weapon – the Martial God Blade!

Using the same method, the Blood-Handed Judge exhausted Elder Liao's inner strength before severing his throat with a single stroke. Elder Liao's disciples attempted to resist, but their skills were ultimately no match for the Blood-Handed Judge, and they all fell into pools of blood.

......

In the spear passage where Granny White Bone resided, Elder Chen Yuanshan met the same fate. Granny White Bone mercilessly killed him with her eerie spear. Elder Chen's body slowly fell, his blood staining the surrounding ground red, and a heavy stench of blood filled the air.

......

Inside the Whip Stone Gate passage, the Soul-Shattering Whip Demon used the same method to lure Elder Diancang into obtaining the whip, intending to then steal it and kill him. He used his nimble black whip to entangle the elder's arm, forcing him to exhaust his inner strength to retrieve the Martial God Whip. Once the elder succeeded, he unhesitatingly raised the black whip and struck the elder heavily in the chest, taking his life.

......

The passage behind the stone gate was as deep and dark as a beast's belly, filled with a dull smell of old dust and rust, as if even breathing was a heavy burden.

Elder Zhao Zihan led several Diancang disciples into the towering stone chamber, their gazes immediately drawn to the Martial God Staff in the center—a massive, jet-black weapon as thick as a child's arm. The staff was deeply embedded in a black iron base, its surface shimmering with a dark golden light, with faint, lightning-like cracks appearing and disappearing in the light, like a slumbering ancient beast awaiting awakening.

"Wow, what an amazing staff!" The Immortal Child skipped forward, his childlike, rosy face beaming with an innocent smile. His eyes were clear as springs, and his voice was as melodious as a mountain stream. "Elder Zhao, this is a divine weapon left behind by the God of War. If we can obtain it, the Diancang Sect will surely become a force to be reckoned with in the martial world!"

Zhao Zihan frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over the other person with the sharpness of a hawk. He was over fifty years old, a seasoned veteran of the martial world, and had seen far too many hypocritical faces. Although this "young boy" before him looked childish, deep within his eyes lay a sinister ruthlessness and scheming far beyond his years, like a venomous snake lurking beneath a deep pool.

"Divine weapons and powerful artifacts naturally have their rightful masters." Zhao Zihan's voice was deep and carried an undeniable authority. "Our Diancang Sect acts with integrity and uprightness, never taking what is unjust, nor coveting any improper connections."

The smile on the Immortal Child's face froze instantly, then quickly returned, but the smile no longer reached his eyes, appearing utterly insincere. "Elder, why be so pedantic?" He shook his little head slightly, his tone tinged with grievance. "This divine weapon is here, waiting for its destined owner. You only need to step forward and activate it with your inner strength. If you can pull it out, it is the will of Heaven! We followed our leader Oda to search for the Tomb of the God of War, but our target is not this God of War Staff. If you can obtain it, then it will belong to Diancang! I promise I will not try to steal it."

"A guarantee?" Zhao Zihan sneered, his gaze piercing the other party like a blade. "You have no connection with my Diancang Sect, so what 'guarantee' do you have? This place is strange, with danger at every turn. I advise you not to try to seduce me any further." He waved his hand to signal his disciples to retreat, while he himself focused his mind on guard, his inner energy flowing quietly through his meridians, ready to deal with any sudden changes.

The "innocence" on the face of the ageless child was finally completely stripped away, and the corners of his mouth stretched into an almost ferocious arc, his eyes instantly turning cold and cruel.

"If you won't listen to reason, you'll have to suffer the consequences!" Before he finished speaking, his figure flashed like a ghost, so fast that only a blur remained.

Before everyone's eyes had even cleared, he had already coiled around the youngest Diancang disciple, Lin Xiaochuan, like a venomous snake.

The immortal boy's withered, bony hand gripped Lin Xiaochuan's throat like an iron clamp, while his other hand revealed a gleaming short dagger, the tip of which was lightly pressed against Lin Xiaochuan's carotid artery. With just a little force, blood would splatter on the spot.

"Ah!" Lin Xiaochuan's face turned pale, his eyes were filled with fear, and his body struggled violently due to suffocation, but he could not budge an inch.

"Elder Zhao!" The voice of the Immortal Child was like the spitting of a venomous snake, cold and piercing. "If you don't take the staff, I will make this disciple bleed five steps away!" He slightly increased the pressure on his hand, and Lin Xiaochuan let out a painful whimper, with tiny beads of blood seeping from his neck.

"Stop!" Zhao Zihan was struck dumb, her heart sinking into an ice cave.

He looked at his disciple's pained and contorted face, unable to bear the sight, and slowly closed his eyes. Listening to the faint groans, a heart-wrenching pain and a sense of powerlessness instantly gripped him.

"I'll go get it!" He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, there was a deathly resolute look in them.

He slowly walked towards the Martial God Staff, each step feeling as heavy as if he were carrying a thousand-pound boulder. He knew he might be falling into the trap of the Immortal Child, but for the sake of his disciples' chances of survival, he had no other choice.