Chapter 25: Breaking Through the Realm

A quarter of an hour had passed.

Gu Xian remained locked in a grueling struggle with the four burly men, whose coordination was nothing short of seamless. Whenever he left even the slightest opening, he would suffer for it. Moreover, even when he cast all caution aside and fought with everything he had to strike one of them down, the figure would simply return to its original state the very next moment, charging at him again with renewed ferocity. This endless cycle was enough to drive one to despair.

Yet, Gu Xian had not gained nothing. Disregarding his own wounds and taking the risk to slay the figures repeatedly, he had discerned a pattern: although these men could be resurrected time and again, their aura grew weaker with each death.

A glint of sharp light flashed in his eyes—there was still a chance.

The next moment, Gu Xian produced a tiny, golden bell. After channeling his spiritual energy into it and giving it a gentle shake, rings of golden light rippled outward like water. Caught in the sound, the four figures suddenly froze in place.

Gu Xian’s aura surged, and the sword in his hand hummed with rainbow-hued energy. He vanished from his spot, reappearing instantly before one of the men. His blade flashed, casting light as fine as silk, and the figure was sliced into fragments by the peerless sword intent. Like a phantom, the man in the green robe darted between them, his sword-light carving through the air. Time after time, he struck them down. Under his relentless onslaught, the aura of the paper-cut figures faded at a speed visible to the naked eye. It would not be long before he finished them for good.

But "Lu Zhi" was not about to stop there. The nine sword-auras had been exhausted, but he had lost four paper-cut avatars in the process. With a mere thought, he commanded the remaining avatars to swarm Gu Xian.

The man in green shifted his stance, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Suddenly, a heavy blow struck him in the center of his back. His internal energy was thrown into chaos, and he was sent flying. Looking up, he saw five more figures surrounding him, one of them a tall, burly man—the one who had just struck him.

Gu Xian struggled to his feet. There was no fear on his face; his robes fluttered in the absence of wind, and with a look of grim determination, he lunged forward. Even against nine opponents, the man in green fought with burning spirit. His internal energy coiled like a dragon, and his sword-light flickered with blinding radiance. Every strike unleashed a serpent of sword-aura as thick as a thumb, lashing out at his foes.

Gu Xian no longer cared if he was struck, so long as each of his own moves drew blood. This desperate, life-or-death style made for a gruesome scene. Before long, his green robes were stained a deep, shocking crimson. It was a sight that would make anyone’s scalp tingle. Fortunately, his opponents were merely paper-cut manifestations incapable of feeling, or they might have long since retreated.

He knew not how much time had passed when a shackle inside him seemed to shatter. His aura climbed rapidly like a rising tide, and his wounds began to knit together at a speed visible to the naked eye. At this critical juncture, he had broken through.

Feeling the surge of spiritual power within, his heart filled with bold resolve. He glared at the nine opponents before him and at the distant "Lu Zhi." Gu Xian narrowed his eyes and struck.

A sharp, brilliant sword-light traced a path before him, leaving behind a straight, slender silver thread. Though it appeared ordinary, the sword-aura moved with incredible speed. In an instant, it swept through the nine opponents he had been battling, slicing through the bodies of two beautiful women like a hot blade through tofu, before reaching "Lu Zhi."

The young scholar’s mouth opened slightly, but before he could speak, the thin silver thread passed through his chest. A moment later, a series of dull thuds echoed through the air. The sword-aura had been so fast and so sharp that, in its wake, it had cleaved everyone in two. The sound was merely their corpses hitting the ground.

Dark gray light swirled, and the scene around the man in green shifted once more. He was back beneath the walls of Fengyang City, standing before the formation base. All around him were fellow cultivators, but most of them stood with vacant, listless eyes, still trapped in the illusion. Only the Daoist Changqing and Xu Qingzhi had managed to break free.

Just then, a whistling sound cut through the air. An arrow, fast as a streak of light, shot toward his back with terrifying speed. It was inscribed with numerous immortal runes. Nine feet. Five feet. Three feet...

When the arrow was but a foot from his back, Gu Xian did not turn. He simply flicked his sword behind him, the blade shimmering with sharp intent. The arrow struck the edge of the sword, sparks flew, and it was sheared in two.

Gu Xian turned to look at the city wall, where a man holding a bow was smiling at him. The man appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in coarse linen, with a rugged face and a fierce aura. Being watched by him felt like being stared down by a viper. Gu Xian felt a vague sense of unease.

Suddenly, the man on the wall drew his bow again and fired another arrow at Gu Xian. Gu Xian raised his sword and swept it, the slashing energy instantly reducing the arrow to powder. The archer sneered and turned to attack others.

In that short interval, four more people had escaped the illusion. Aside from a young cultivator carrying an ancient sword case, there were two men and women in their twenties wearing Daoist robes, and a middle-aged demon-slayer in a black official uniform.

Gu Xian looked at Xia Qinghe beside him. Her expression was one of intense struggle; there was no sign she was about to break free. He couldn't help but mutter to himself that, given Xia Qinghe's temperament and cultivation, she should not have been trapped for so long.

At the same time, a group of cultivators in pale red robes appeared in the surroundings—these were the members of the Longevity Tower. They were deploying all their methods, intending to slaughter the righteous cultivators while they were still lost in the illusion. At a rough glance, Gu Xian counted about a hundred of the demonic practitioners. Fortunately, the Daoist Changqing and Xu Qingzhi were powerful enough to hold them back and protect the others; otherwise, the righteous side would have already suffered heavy losses.

On the other side, the situation in the Zi sector was no better. Master Liu held a long, narrow runic blade, its light cold as frost. Every strike unleashed a wide, long wave of blade-energy, leaving the ground around him scarred with deep trenches.

Qin Hong, the vice-head of Qingyang Academy, was a Confucian scholar. As his sleeves billowed, gusts of clear wind swirled from within them. The middle-aged scholar waved his hands, and the breeze swept out, enveloping those who had yet to emerge from the illusion. When the demonic cultivators were caught by even a wisp of this wind, their expressions changed drastically, and they retreated in haste, their eyes filled with wariness.

Seeing this, Master Liu thought to himself: "The cultivators of the Three Teachings are indeed the greatest bane of these demons and heretics. Their reputation is well-deserved."