Mo Fan had holed up in the inn room for two days.
Though that heart-palpitating "underground march" had passed two days ago, and though the rat infestation in town continued, that massive spiritual energy fluctuation seemed temporarily quelled.
These two days, he hadn't stepped foot outside, like a genuine traveling rogue cultivator frightened out of his wits. Except for occasionally going downstairs to buy provisions, most of the time he huddled in his room, staring blankly at that motionless "cousin" in the corner.
"Third day now."
Mo Fan sat by the table, untying those two bulging sacks, pouring the wind-dried rat tails onto the table to count.
"forty-five total. According to the bounty price, can exchange for over 20 low-grade Spirit Stones."
This was a windfall.
But he couldn't feel happy about it at all.
That sense of crisis, like thorns pressing against his back, didn't dissipate with time's passage—instead, it tightened like a bowstring drawn ever tauter, making him unable to breathe.
As a Necromancer, his sense for "death" and "danger" was a hundred times sharper than the most sensitive beast.
Since this morning, his scalp had been tingling in waves, as if an invisible dragon coiled in the clouds overhead, coldly observing this ant nest.
"Something's wrong... too quiet."
Mo Fan's fingers froze mid-air, that dried rat tail dropping onto the table with a pat.
Outside the window, the street that had previously carried a few dog barks and pedestrian footsteps suddenly fell completely silent.
Like... the deathly stillness before a storm.
Run? Or hide?
This thought had barely surfaced in his mind, before he could decide—
CRACK!
The overcast sky above suddenly shattered like a mirror struck by a heavy hammer, without warning.
No fragments fell. What descended was—pressure.
An extremely terrifying spiritual pressure carrying heavenly might, like the Milky Way pouring down from the ninth heaven, instantly submerged all of Qingmu Town.
Thud, thud, thud.
On the streets, in the inn.
Whether mortals without cultivation or low-level rogue cultivators at the early Qi Condensation stage, unable to withstand this absolute suppression from a higher life level, they fell to their knees like harvested wheat.
"Ugh!"
Inside the room, Mo Fan's knees suddenly weakened.
He clenched his teeth hard, hands gripping the table edge, his entire skeleton emitting unbearable crack-crack sounds. By sheer force of his perfected Iron Bone Art physique and stubborn determination, he half-knelt on the ground, refusing to completely prostrate himself.
"This... this is a high-level cultivator?"
Mo Fan struggled to raise his head, looking through the window crack toward the sky.
A magnificent azure sword light capable of splitting heaven and earth tore through the sky, hovering above Qingmu Town.
The sword light dispersed, revealing two figures.
The leader appeared as a middle-aged scholar. Standing with hands behind his back, he didn't step on a flying sword but stood on empty air, robes fluttering. His expression was cold, eyes looking at the masses below like ants, or like dead objects.
Azure Cloud Sect Inner Sect Elder—Liu Yun.
Half a step behind him stood a youth in snow-white robes. Appearing barely twenty, he carried a radiant Spirit Sword on his back, face full of pride, spiritual energy fluctuations radiating from him a hundred times stronger than that Steward Wang from before.
Personal Disciple—Luo Yu (Late Foundation Establishment).
"Evil spawn!"
Liu Yun looked down from above, voice not loud yet rolling like thunder in everyone's ears, shaking Mo Fan's blood and Qi.
"Raising poisonous creatures under my Azure Cloud Sect's very nose, undermining our foundation—do you truly think my sect has no one?!"
With this furious rebuke, he casually pointed downward.
RUMBLE—!
The earth began shaking violently.
That "Ding Section" spirit field Mo Fan had investigated before, that underground entrance hiding countless secrets, instantly collapsed.
Next, a nauseating blood light shot skyward.
"Hisss—!"
That "underground blood river" composed of countless mutated creatures that had surged through Mo Fan's [ Death Vision ] actually broke through the surface!
They no longer scattered but, under some evil will's manipulation, devoured and fused with each other, instantly forming a blood-colored python over three hundred feet long, body flowing with pus, blood, and malevolent Qi!
The giant python raised its head, issuing a shrill hiss, actually withstanding that terrifying sword pressure from above.
Amid churning blood waves, a red-robed, withered old man emerged laughing maniacally atop the python's head. Black demonic Qi swirled around him, hands clutching a still-beating black heart.
"Kekeke! Old Liu Yun, you're too late!"
The demonic cultivator's voice was sharp and piercing, like nails scraping glass. "The 'Blood Spirit Seed' is complete! I've drained the Spirit Veins within a hundred miles of this town! Now that I've become the blood river, as long as one drop of blood escapes, I cannot die! How will you stop me?!"
"Obstinate and unrepentant."
Elder Liu Yun's face remained expressionless, merely uttering four words lightly.
"Sever."
He didn't draw his sword, merely formed a sword with his fingers, gently slashing downward.
A blinding white light instantly lit up heaven and earth. Spiritual energy from all directions gathered, transforming into countless tangible azure light swords, pouring down like torrential rain.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each light sword created a crater several meters in diameter. That power—any single sword could instantly kill the current Mo Fan a hundred times over.
This was dimensional superiority in combat.
The [ Corpse Explosion ] Mo Fan took pride in was merely children's firecrackers before this casual "Ten Thousand Swords Return" technique.
"Ahhh—!"
The demonic cultivator frantically counterattacked with the blood python, foul blood water splashing everywhere, instantly corroding large holes in buildings and ground where it landed.
Even just the battle's aftershocks caused Qingmu Town's outer buildings to collapse and crumble like paper.
"This is... immortals fighting?"
Mo Fan huddled in the inn's corner, watching the apocalyptic scene outside through the tottering window, face deathly pale.
For the first time, he so directly felt his own insignificance. On the System's numerical panel, he was LV. 4. But in those two above's eyes, he didn't even count as a LV. 0.1 mob.
"Master, leave these dregs to your disciple."
Just then, that white-robed youth Luo Yu who'd been standing behind Liu Yun moved.
He didn't interfere with elder-level combat but turned his gaze toward those Spirit-Devouring Rats that had gone berserk from the blood river's eruption and were rushing into town trying to attack people.
"A pack of filthy things."
Disgust flashed through Luo Yu's eyes. He didn't even land, merely floated in mid-air, Spirit Sword in hand casually waving several times.
Swish-swish-swish—
Several frost-white sword Qi rippled outward.
No flying flesh and blood, no screams.
Those several hundred mutated rats on the street preparing to pounce on mortals froze instantly. Next second, their bodies neatly split down the middle, cuts smooth as mirrors, even instantly frozen by cold Qi.
Screen-clearing move.
Movements elegant and effortless, as if he wasn't slaughtering but trimming excess weeds from his home garden.
Watching this scene, Mo Fan's mouth couldn't help twitching.
A few days ago, he'd led Mo Yan and Summon No. 003, working himself to death with all his schemes just to kill dozens. This person casually waved—hundreds gone.
Was this the gap between a "prodigy" and a "cheat user (early stage)"?
"Too strong... not even the same dimensional beings."
Suddenly, an extremely powerful Divine Sense wave descended from above, sweeping across all of Qingmu Town like radar.
That was Elder Liu Yun searching for the demonic cultivator's backup plans.
"Not good!"
Mo Fan's heart raced wildly, that feeling of being locked onto by "death" made every hair on his body stand on end.
Run? Absolutely impossible to escape.
Under this level of Divine Sense coverage, whoever moves dies. Any abnormal spiritual energy fluctuation would be as conspicuous as a torch in the night.
"Hide! Must hide!"
Mo Fan curled up like a frightened mouse under the inn bed, hands firmly pressing down on the equally motionless Mo Yan beside him.
He frantically issued the highest priority commands in his mind:
[ System! Forced hibernation! ]
[ Sever all undead connections! Suppress all death Qi! ]
As commands were issued, that weak soul fire in Mo Yan's eye sockets instantly extinguished. The entire skeleton completely lost activity, becoming a pile of cold, lifeless bones with no energy fluctuations.
Summon No. 003 in the storage bag was also completely sealed.
After doing all this, Mo Fan still wasn't reassured.
He closed his eyes, frantically circulating the Iron Bone Art.
He didn't mobilize even a trace of Mana, but concentrated all his will on muscles and bones, controlling his heartbeat, breathing, body temperature.
He wanted to make himself look like a frightened-silly mortal body cultivator with nothing special except a slightly stronger physique.
"Can't see me... can't see me..."
Mo Fan trembled, burying himself in the dust.
The instant that terrifying Divine Sense swept through the inn, he felt stripped naked and thrown into ice and snow, seen through inside and out.
In this moment, transmigrator dignity, System pride—all unimportant.
Survive.
Only by surviving does one have the qualification to discuss the future.