Chapter 116: A Three-Way Alliance

“Xiang Luohua, hand over the Demon-Suppressing Pestle. This is not something you can control. Now, I can tell you one thing: Xiang Zhenting is not dead yet. If you surrender the pestle in exchange, both of your lives can be spared.”

The speaker was a young man whose features bore some resemblance to Zi Ming, though their powers were worlds apart—the latter was already a master at the ninth level of the Condensed Vein Realm.

“Do you Purple-Clad Pavilion fools really think I’m that stupid? Hand over the Demon-Suppressing Pestle and I’ll still live?” The corner of Luohua Gongzi’s eye twitched, a trace of helplessness flashing across his face. He desperately wanted to save Xiang Zhenting, but certainly not by giving up the pestle.

Because if he handed it over, both of them would die. Those people only kept Xiang Zhenting alive now because the pestle remained in their hands.

“I, Zi Hao, keep my word. Since I say your life will be spared, there is no other outcome. Believe me, the Purple-Clad Pavilion is strong enough to back that claim.” Zi Hao paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back, radiating immense confidence. His talent was one in two thousand years!

Even Luohua Gongzi and Xiang Zhenting were only once-in-a-thousand-year prodigies. Though Luohua had a slight edge, he was nowhere near the two-thousand-year level.

However, Luohua Gongzi paid no heed to him. His footsteps never ceased; each step covered nearly a hundred meters.

He had now reached the peak of the eighth level of the Condensed Vein Realm, leaping two small realms in one go—a remarkable breakthrough. Even Lin Fan, with all his opportunities, had only advanced from the third to the sixth level.

“Seeking death.” Zi Hao snorted coldly. He had already discerned Luohua Gongzi’s attitude. The sky was beginning to brighten; dawn was near.

“There’s no need to hide anymore. Let’s end this quickly. Capturing this man benefits us all.”

Zi Hao did not attack; instead, he summoned those hidden in the shadows. The Xiang family was far too powerful—completely surpassing the Purple-Clad Pavilion. Only by uniting could they hope to withstand the fury of the Xiang family.

“So I knew you, Zi Ming, wouldn’t act yourself.” The void tore open, and a figure emerged, radiant as dawn. He was supremely powerful, his massive foot descending straight upon Luohua Gongzi’s head.

This young man was unknown to most, but Zi Ming knew his background. The Domain Lord’s Mansion sent only a few, and he was one of them—though not the strongest. There were several others, terrifying even in their thirties, reigning as overlords of the Celestial Realm, a testament to the formidable power of the Ancient Buddha Domain’s Domain Lord’s Mansion.

“That’s not quite right. Though we have the elders’ protection, the Purple-Clad Pavilion is no match for you. If the Xiang family decides to punish us, I fear the Pavilion will be destroyed with a mere snap of a finger,” Zi Hao said, his brow twitching. Though strong, he was prudent, knowing when to endure. Without this wisdom, he would have perished long ago in internal strife.

“Brother Zi Hao speaks truth. We are indeed no match for you, Yang Tong,” came another voice as the void shattered again, and Yi Yuan appeared, clutching a scroll—a forbidden artifact that allowed him to wield the power of the early decline phase of the Celestial Realm. This was the only reason he could stand here and speak on equal footing.

“Hmph.” Yang Tong snorted disdainfully, utterly dismissive of Yi Yuan, unwilling to waste words.

“Get lost!” Though the three conversed casually, Luohua Gongzi was struck by a terrifying force. Yang Tong’s strength was at the ninth level of the Condensed Vein Realm, and he too was a two-thousand-year prodigy, his combat power rivaling the early decline phase of the Celestial Realm.

A giant foot, as massive as a mountain, slammed down, crushing everything beneath. The air exploded with a thunderous roar like war chariots rolling across the heavens.

In Luohua Gongzi’s hand appeared a weapon—the Demon-Suppressing Pestle—though fractured. Nearly a third was shattered, yet no one dared underestimate it. This was a true ancestral artifact; even a trace of its power unleashed could tear everyone apart.

Luohua Gongzi coughed blood, the strain of wielding the pestle immense. He dared not use it unless absolutely necessary. Now, at the brink of despair, he had already used it several times, barely able to draw upon its remaining strength.

A blazing radiance erupted, faintly revealing an ancient Buddha chanting in meditation. A pillar of light shot into the sky, shattering Yang Tong’s massive foot.

Yet Luohua Gongzi was still gravely wounded, retreating with a pale, haggard face.

“A fine ancestral artifact, but alas, not one you deserve to wield.” Yang Tong’s expression shifted. Though this was his first time witnessing the pestle’s power, he was not overly surprised—he must have been briefed beforehand.

He refrained from attacking further, standing back to observe. Though damaged, the ancestral artifact was still formidable; he had no desire to suffer wounds needlessly.

“Indeed, ancestral artifacts are meant for great figures. For it to fall into your hands is but a pearl cast before swine,” Yi Yuan stepped forward, activating his forbidden artifact. A dazzling light spread, forming a vast array that sealed all disturbances within, trapping everyone inside. None could escape unless he released it.

This was the resolve to kill—to seize the Demon-Suppressing Pestle at all costs.

“It seems you truly came prepared. But think carefully—if I awaken the pestle at any cost, all here will perish,” Luohua Gongzi said, calm despite the tension. His greatest confidence lay in the pestle. As long as it was in his hands, he feared no alliance.

“Since you’re here, you must be ready. Your confidence must stem from the pestle, but we have found a way to suppress it,” Yi Yuan sneered, striking out. The void shattered, and a projection appeared—a spectral nine-section whip projected from a distant space, designed solely to restrain the pestle.

The Yi family had invested all their power for this broken ancestral artifact, even stirring the pestle itself.

“You Yi family are truly despicable!” Luohua Gongzi’s fury boiled. He felt his connection to the pestle weaken drastically—he could no longer wield its power.

The nine-section whip’s spectral form grew stronger, chanting secret arts to seize the pestle.

But the pestle was no ordinary relic. Two ancestral artifacts clashed—one shattered and the other but a projection—yet the fight was evenly matched.

“What do you have left now? The foremost family of Gudao County is nothing. Rumor says even the county lord avoids your family. Ridiculous,” Yang Tong sneered, advancing steadily as the void ruptured again and a giant hand reached out.

Luohua Gongzi was flung through the air, his body nearly torn apart. At that moment, Zi Hao struck too. He knew the nine-section whip could not manifest for long, but if Luohua Gongzi fell, the pestle would become ownerless and cease to unleash its might.

A sword gleam stretched across the sky, lethal and sharp. The blade cut directly toward Luohua Gongzi’s head!