Lu Yan raised his hand, and formation lines spread from his palm, swirling around him. It was as if something that had slept for far too long had finally welcomed its master back. They intertwined, hovered, and vibrated in the air, emitting a soft hum as if cheering in joy, paying their highest respects to their sovereign. Lu Yan smiled, waved his hand, and let them disperse.
Spiritual energy seeped from his fingertips—not much, pitifully thin. Lu Yan frowned slightly. It had been a long time since he last felt this weak. Oh well, this will have to do. Besides, it was more than enough to crush these ants. With a tap of his foot, he soared into the sky, meeting the gaze of the black-robed Guhan.
Guhan felt himself locked onto by a gaze. It was the sensation of being peered at by a far superior existence—a feeling he had only ever experienced in front of the Lord Heavenly Envoy. Facing Lu Yan now, that exact sensation returned. A chill rushed from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head, shooting up his spine and piercing the back of his skull, leaving him cold to the bone. He didn't actually have a body temperature, yet he suddenly felt incredibly cold. It wasn't a physical chill, but a deep, primal, heart-stopping terror. The terror of facing a higher plane of life. He did his best to suppress the panic in his heart, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade inside his sleeve, his grayish-black, crystalline knuckles turning white from the sheer force.
What's wrong with this kid? Isn't he blind? How did he suddenly turn into a completely different person? He's become... Guhan cursed inwardly. However, his years of surviving on the edge of a blade told him not to move right now, and certainly not to strike in person. He decided to test the waters first. With a wave of his hand, the thousands of Ice Spirits behind him began to surge, as if kneaded together by an invisible hand. Ice crystals fused, stacked, and reorganized, condensing into several Heavenly General-level Ice Spirits. Armed with sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, and battle-forks, they let out low hums and charged toward Lu Yan. Guhan's complexion instantly turned dreadful, as if something had been forcibly drained from his body. He hunched his back and coughed twice, spitting out icy shards shrouded in white mist. This was a secret technique of the Ice Spirit Cult that allowed Ice Spirits to rapidly fuse. He stared intently at Lu Yan, waiting to see how he would die—or perhaps, he was preparing to flee at any moment. This was the wisdom of survival in the cultivation world; there was no shame in it.
Lu Yan didn't even budge. He looked down at the charging Ice Spirits, his lips twitching in utter boredom.
“A crude imitation of an Innate Dao Sovereign. And half-baked ones at that.” He raised his hand, and formations gushed from his fingertips, stacking layer upon layer, weaving into screen after screen of light patterns before him. The gorgeous arrays, carrying an aura of destruction, wove a brilliant canopy of light in the sky. Beams of crimson-gold light erupted from the formation lines, as thick as the trunks of century-old trees, slamming into the swarm of Ice Spirits and bursting into dazzling blossoms of light. Lightning crashed from the clouds, striking the head of every single Ice Spirit with pinpoint accuracy and blasting them out of the sky. Fire and frost intertwined, collided, and exploded in the air; shattered ice splattered, vaporized into steam by the flames, condensed back into ice crystals by the freezing wind, and was finally burned to ashes by the fire.
Standing high in the air, he conjured a chair out of nowhere and sat down with his legs crossed. Looking at the Ice Spirits below being swallowed by the chaotic elemental tide, he shook his head. “Boring.” He conjured a teacup, the tea still steaming. Blowing gently on the floating tea leaves, he took a sip of the warm tea and sighed. No use wasting time. Might as well end this quickly.
Space rippled continuously as a transparent film, thin as a cicada's wing, descended from the sky, slowly pressing down toward the few struggling Heavenly General-level Ice Spirits. Wherever the film passed, space began to warp. Gravity condensed into visible spheres around the film like miniature black holes, sucking in the surrounding light, snow, Ice Spirits, and air. Before those Ice Spirits could even struggle, they were caught by the gravitational spheres—compressed, folded, and flattened into flat, two-dimensional "pictures" stuck tightly to the film. They still held their slashing stances, still in mid-charge, but they could no longer move. They had completely lost all signs of life, though they had never truly been alive to begin with. Lu Yan watched the film, making no move to stop it, letting it continue to expand, devouring and compressing the surrounding space.
The snowflakes suddenly stopped. Every single snowflake hung suspended in midair, frozen in its descent as if someone had hit the pause button. A scrutinizing gaze descended from the depths of the clouds, completely devoid of emotion—no anger, no curiosity, no pity. It was searching, searching for the entity that did not belong to this world. Lu Yan clicked his tongue, putting away his teacup and chair. “Played a bit too hard and pissed off the minor world's consciousness.” He raised his hand, and the film stopped, slowly shrinking back until it condensed into a thin bookmark held between his fingers. The two-dimensional portraits of those Ice Spirits were still plastered onto the bookmark, lifelike, like preserved specimens. He tucked the bookmark into his sleeve, turned to Guhan, and grinned. The snow began to fall again, and the wind resumed its howl. “Your turn.”
Guhan felt himself locked onto again. It was the same gaze, the same chill shooting from his tailbone to the crown of his head. He had never been this terrified in his entire life. To casually crush dozens of Soul Transformation-level Ice Spirits to death, and even go as far as to inadvertently draw out the Lord Heavenly Envoy... Guhan dove into the swarm of Ice Spirits at the absolute fastest speed of his life, plunging into that deep blue tide. He hid behind one Ice Spirit after another, desperate for their freezing bodies to offer him some meager sense of security. He knew it was futile, but he didn't know what else to do besides run.
Lu Yan curled his lips. “I've seen people refine puppets, and I've seen people refine themselves into incarnations of the Heavenly Dao. But to refine yourself into a half-baked puppet and run all over the world... only you dumbasses would do something like that.” Though his words sounded like an observation, there was no real wonder in his voice—only absolute disdain.
Guhan had already blended deep into the swarm of Ice Spirits, suppressing his aura to its absolute limit, almost merging completely with them. He stealthily shifted southward—one step, two steps, three steps. He thought he was perfectly hidden.
“Oh? What did you say just now?” Lu Yan's voice drifted down from high above. It wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear. “Ah, I remember now.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Did I say you could leave?”
He stretched out his hand, fingers splaying open, his palm aiming directly at the tide of Ice Spirits where Guhan was hiding.
“Chains of Heaven.”
Rate on N.U.
