Chapter 132: Song Yan Dies
The hairpin magical artifact swiftly returned to Shen Huai’s hand.
She picked up the hairpin and tore off the shattered, ashen talisman paper threaded onto it, tossing it aside without a second thought.
“Shen Huai! What are you doing?!”
The scene before them sent Xu Ziqing into a fury.
Right before everyone’s eyes, a Profound Abyss Sect disciple had actively attacked and killed a Eastern Abyss Sect disciple.
This was enough to ignite a conflict between the two sects.
Facing the Eastern Abyss Sect elder’s accusation, Shen Huai lowered her eyes and turned a deaf ear.
She had no reason or standing to defy Shen Yu’s orders.
Therefore, the commands he issued naturally required no hesitation or consideration.
Song Yan had already nearly reached the very center of the Infinite Hells. The moment the Talisman Treasure was destroyed, he only then intuitively understood just how powerful the Talisman Treasure truly was.
Without its protection, the sky-full of ghostly apparitions in Song Yan’s eyes had virtually no gaps.
“It’s over.”
Demonic whispers buzzed in his ears, dizzying and eerie hallucinations danced before his eyes…
His physical strength failed, his spiritual energy was exhausted, and even his sword qi was nearly spent.
He barely managed to condense one final stream of sword qi, slashing apart the surrounding ghostly apparitions. The densely packed black hands in the ink-darkness clung to him like maggots to bone.
They climbed up his legs, crawled up his body, and pressed against his shoulders.
In the distance, Shen Huai let out a cold laugh and no longer looked at Song Yan.
“We are all ants on a plate, drifting with the current. To survive is already a great fortune. Why struggle needlessly!”
Hummm—
In the blink of an eye, Song Yan was dragged into the hellscape reflection by countless black hands.
He vanished without a trace.
…
He was dead.
In a moment, his bones would surface and become part of the Mountain of White Bones beneath Jin Tianya’s feet.
The feelings of those present varied.
For the demons and monsters of Corpse Bone Abyss and the Underworld Springs Path, this was of no consequence.
After all, this had been a man destined to die.
But for the cultivators of the Six Sects, it was entirely different.
“Old Song!!”
Li Qingfeng’s eyes nearly split with fury.
Xu Ziqing immediately spoke up to confront him: “Shen Yu! Shen Huai killed an inner disciple of our sect, and everyone here witnessed it! You had better give our sect an explanation.”
The cultivators of the Sun-Shooting Sect also turned their gaze toward Shen Yu.
“Explanation?”
Shen Yu let out a soft laugh.
Only after Song Yan had been dragged into the hellscape reflection did he truly feel at ease.
He did not understand why he, a late Foundation Establishment cultivator, had been so afraid of a Qi Refining cultivator ruining his plans.
Now that this ink treasure was within easy reach, he had no more interest in maintaining any pretense.
“Song Yan overestimated his abilities and tried to approach the spirit within the painting to claim the evil treasure for himself.”
Shen Yu sneered: “Our sect’s disciple, Shen Huai, merely did not want him to go astray. Is there a problem with that?”
Utter nonsense, outright lies!
Fine, fine…
Xu Ziqing’s expression had darkened to its absolute limit.
At this moment, Li Qingfeng was still in danger within the arena, but Xu Ziqing had already begun planning in his mind how he would kill someone once this was over!
The cultivators and elders of the other sects remained silent. As for the conflict between these two sects, if they could avoid getting involved, they would.
Cong Yuzhen gazed toward where Song Yan had disappeared, unable to suppress a twinge of regret in her heart.
He had been a rather interesting person. What a pity he died like this.
Jin Tianya atop the Mountain of White Bones suddenly burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha…”
“So-called righteous cultivators, attacking and killing a fellow cultivator without any restraint over a ‘treasure,’ hahahaha!”
“What difference is there from demonic cultivators!”
Shen Yu paid no heed to this mockery, merely continuing to accelerate his refinement progress.
His current progress had already reached sixty to seventy percent.
“Heh heh, the treasures of the world belong to those with the ability.”
“Once I’ve refined your painting spirit, I wonder if you’ll still be able to say such things.”
…
The instant he sank into the hellscape reflection was like falling from the clouds. The viscous ink-darkness carried a bone-piercing cold, flooding through his seven apertures, seeping through his skin and meridians, and soaking into his Dantian.
His entire body’s spiritual energy and sword qi seemed to have been locked away.
Song Yan had been completely reduced to an ordinary person.
Gazing at the scene before him, chills rose repeatedly in his heart.
The sharp blades on the Mountain of Knives were slowly and cruelly cutting into something.
Severed limbs thrashing in the boiling cauldron of oil struggled to reach out and grab his ankles.
Tongue-ripping, Mirror of Retribution, Blood Pool, Knife-saw…
Beneath the Infinite, the Eighteen Hells lay before his very eyes!
The fear in Song Yan’s heart gradually rose, and the ink-darkness around him grew ever thicker.
Countless human faces flickered in and out of view within it.
In a single instant, the sky full of fierce ghosts surged like rolling ink clouds, all lunging at him!
They shrieked as they tore at his flesh and blood.
“…”
What was the most terrifying thing in this world?
The answer to this question was probably different for everyone.
Everyone feared different things.
But there was one thing that the vast majority feared, and that was death.
Especially when you had lost all means of resistance and could only watch as your body was slowly devoured by fierce ghosts, ultimately falling into the Infinite Hells.
This was not merely the agony of the flesh—it was also an extremely terrifying assault on the spirit and will.
The tortures before him switched back and forth between reality and illusion, and agonizing pain washed over Song Yan’s remaining thoughts like a tide.
The ink-darkness also began following his meridians, corroding his Dantian and tainting his spiritual energy into filth.
Then it spread from the inside outward.
Song Yan’s skin began to crack and split, revealing the writhing black meridians beneath.
It was as if his entire being was transforming into a stroke of ink within the hell scroll, becoming one of the fierce ghosts.
Had it been any other cultivator, they might have lost their sanity the moment they were dragged into this hellscape reflection.
However, the Town-Dao Sword Manor trembled violently, and the small sword condensed from his Dao heart suddenly burst forth with pure light.
This allowed Song Yan to grasp a sliver of clarity amidst the chaos.
“Heh…”
Song Yan let out a bitter laugh.
“Even so, what can I do…”
All of his cultivation was gone.
He could only allow the layers of ghostly apparitions within the hell to devour him bit by bit.
He could barely even protect himself.
Let alone leave this place.
A profound despair rose from the depths of his heart, causing his Dao heart to dim along with it.
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“Right now, the only hope might be to pray that the elders outside the boundary can refine this treasure painting as quickly as possible.”
However, it would likely take at least another incense stick’s worth of time before that moment arrived.
And the one most likely to refine the Infinite first was none other than Shen Yu of the Profound Abyss Sect.
“I’m afraid today, there is no escaping death…”
The excruciating pain emanating from every inch of his body had begun to grow dull.
Because Song Yan was gradually losing all sensation in his body.
All that remained was his increasingly muddled mind.
His eyelids grew heavy, his gaze drooping.
He closed his eyes, and the scenes of his life replayed before him like a revolving lantern.
From a young herbalist boy in Stone Bridge Town, to an outer disciple of the immortal sect, and now to late-stage Qi Refining.
In the eyes of the cultivation world, he was merely an ant.
But for a mortal, it could be called a rather remarkable life.
Until, amid the darkness, a mocking voice echoed in his ears.
It was the last thing he had heard before being dragged into the hellscape reflection.
“Ants on a plate, to survive is already a great fortune. Why struggle!”