Chapter Seventy-Six: The Assault Begins Again

Chu Jie spoke with a chilling tone, “You don’t need to go looking for them—I’ve brought them here.”

As soon as he finished, he controlled the Barbaric Cauldron, pouring out all the corpses of those he’d slain earlier in one heap before Zhou Hua, forming a mound as large as a small hill. The sheer number of corpses was staggering. Even if Zhou Hua cared little for these people, seeing all his men now reduced to lifeless bodies sent a surge of hot blood to his head. Instead of thinking to fire a signal flare, he charged straight at Chu Jie.

Alas, Zhou Hua was only at the third level of the Spirit-Converging realm. Had he triggered the signal flare and fled from the outset, he might have clung to a sliver of hope. But now, there was absolutely no way out.

Zhou Hua himself was no weakling—his strength was impressive for a third-level Spirit-Converging cultivator, enough to contend with those of the fourth level. Unfortunately for him, his opponent was Chu Jie.

“Let me see if you’re as strong as the legends say!” Zhou Hua roared as he lunged forward, his hands forming claws wrapped in crackling lightning. Electric arcs flickered around him, his aura formidable and wild. The gruesome deaths of his subordinates, the mountain of bodies, and the sudden appearance of two enemies had driven him to madness. He attacked with his strongest technique—Thousand Thunder Claws!

Lightning surged ever more violently from his body. By the time he reached Chu Jie, he was shrouded in billowing mist and electric light, like a storm cloud incarnate—a magnificent spectacle.

Suddenly, a golden dragon claw tore through layers of air, manifesting above his head. Chu Jie’s killing intent locked onto him completely.

Just a few steps from reaching Chu Jie, the golden dragon claw descended with a sickening squelch. Zhou Hua’s head was left half-destroyed, but it was not over. All nine **suns** behind Chu Jie soared forward, smashing into Zhou Hua and utterly annihilating him.

Staring at Zhou Hua’s remains, Chu Jie shook his head. Given time, this man would have become a formidable force. Yet, he had chosen to make Chu Jie his enemy, and the only path that led to was death.

Duan Kun drew a deep breath. The relentless slaughter had nearly made him lose himself in the intoxicating feeling of wielding life and death over others.

That pent-up anger in both their hearts subsided somewhat. The two of them cleaned away the traces of blood, then left the area.

This region was now purged—they could move elsewhere to continue their grim work. Their real trouble, however, did not come from these ordinary Martial Vein cultivators, but from the many Spirit-Converging cultivators—the reinforcements that had flooded in.

They would have to find an opportunity to wipe them out.

Chu Jie cast a glance toward the chaotic rocky district; by now, many experts were surely gathered there, scouring for the two of them.

Having finished the killing, it was time to see what loot they had gained. But they could not check here—such an abnormal scene would soon be noticed.

The ninth terrace of the Abyss of Gods and Demons was vast. Before long, they found a secluded spot. Here, some strange remnants of timber stood, etched with eerie patterns. Any wood that survived in the ninth terrace could not be ordinary.

Yet, no one had come to harvest them—their value must not be great. After all, the Abyss of Gods and Demons was often frequented, and now more than ever, people flooded in.

“This is Windiron Wood. If these were living Windiron trees, they’d be worth a fortune, but these remnants are worthless,” Duan Kun explained.

Duan Kun, having spent more time in Bloodslaughter City, knew more than Chu Jie. There were almost no living Windiron trees in this forest—likely long ago cut down, leaving only these useless stumps. From afar, it looked like a sparse, withered woodland.

Even here, cultivators were searching for them. The entire abyss was now abuzz with their pursuit, rumors painting them as peerless fiends—mighty and bloodthirsty, slaying all who crossed their path. If one hoped to win fortune in the abyss, they must first kill these two, or else await their own demise.

Chu Jie knew nothing of these rumors. He leaned against a Windiron stump, his divine sense probing the Barbaric Cauldron. Soon, he found several bottles of Azure Elixirs on Zhou Hua’s body, along with some mid-grade mystic crystals—just a few dozen. There was nothing else. Chu Jie was disappointed; it seemed not one of the Spirit-Converging cultivators he’d met was wealthy.

Still, obtaining some Azure Elixirs was not bad.

He then searched through the subordinates’ belongings, but found only a dozen or so Spirit-Gathering Herbs—nothing more. These men, too, were quite poor.

When he finished, Chu Jie discarded the useless corpses in a pile. Gazing at the mound of bodies, he felt a twinge within and let out a sigh.

“What are you sighing for?” Duan Kun asked, curious.

“I just lament that these warriors valued their lives so little. Had they not come to kill me, they would still be alive,” Chu Jie replied helplessly.

“It’s the law of the jungle. There’s nothing to sigh over,” said Duan Kun. He glanced at the pile of corpses, his own killing intent ebbing further.

They were human, not devils nor gods, and certainly not the peerless fiends of rumor. They had been forced into this by circumstance.

If they wished to survive, they had to make others fear them. Slaughter was their fate—at least within the Abyss of Gods and Demons, they could not afford to show mercy.

“Let’s move on,” Chu Jie said after discarding the corpses, rising to his feet. He and Duan Kun left the place.

They walked a while through the Windiron forest, when suddenly a group appeared ahead. Chu Jie swiftly pulled Duan Kun aside, the two hiding behind a withered tree.

Chu Jie recognized the approaching group—they were all Spirit-Converging cultivators. He felt a bit exasperated. Were even stronger experts searching for them here? But there weren’t too many of them; Chu Jie and Duan Kun still felt confident.

As the group drew closer, Chu Jie’s expression turned odd. He had seen these people before—they were the seven who had been pursuing them all along. Somehow, they had caught up again. He remembered two in particular: the burly leader, Wu Long, and the man beside him, Li Yao.

He had spared them last time, yet here they were again. Chu Jie was speechless.

Duan Kun was also annoyed; were these seven part of the hunt for them? A glint of coldness flashed in Duan Kun’s eyes. If so, perhaps he would have to kill them all.

“Boss Wu Long, why does the atmosphere around here feel off? It’s so oppressive it’s ruining my mood,” Li Yao complained gloomily.

“Hmm, it’s nothing. We’ll be through soon. Too bad we missed the chance to meet the peerless fiends. I really admire them—if only I could be like them, just once, to bask in glory,” Wu Long said fervently, clearly obsessed with the title of peerless fiend.

Li Yao frowned. “Boss, not to dampen your spirits, but do you really think you can find them? Even if you do, will they give you a chance to speak? The whole abyss is after them—it’s to the death now. Would you dare stand against the entire abyss?”

Wu Long glanced at him. “Of course I know all that. But you—aren’t you the same? You want to find them, to become a peerless fiend yourself. In fact, you may want it more than I do, right?”

Li Yao sighed, “I do want it, and I would dare try, but I’ve never had the chance.”

At this, Chu Jie finally understood. No wonder he had always felt something odd about these people—they weren’t after his life, but wanted to become peerless fiends themselves, or perhaps to become his followers.

They were all strong—the weakest at fourth-level Spirit-Converging, with Wu Long and Li Yao both at fifth level. If he could take them as his followers, perhaps they could be of use. But could they be trusted? If they stabbed him in the back, it would be disastrous.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Duan Kun said. “We could use more allies. Our strength in the Abyss is too thin. If we had some helpers, it would make a huge difference.”

So Chu Jie and Duan Kun stepped out.

They stood beneath a broken tree, the atmosphere desolate and somber, the sky above heavy with gloom. Their bodies were flecked with blood—who knew when it had splattered onto them, perhaps in the frenzy of battle.

To Wu Long and his group, the sight was exhilarating. Peerless fiends! At last, they had found them! And in such a fearsome guise, looking as if they had just bathed in fresh blood!

“Is this a hallucination?” Wu Long muttered in a daze. Just moments ago, he and Li Yao had been speaking of the peerless fiends, and now the two stood before them. How could they not suspect they were dreaming?

Li Yao replied, “Boss, it’s no hallucination—they’re real.”

The peerless fiends’ fearsome reputation preceded them; the entire abyss had mobilized thousands to catch them, to no avail—only adding to their legend.

Before they’d found Chu Jie and Duan Kun, Wu Long’s group had yearned for this encounter. But now, faced with them in reality, a chill crept into their hearts, growing until it threatened to swallow them whole.

Only now did they realize how naïve their earlier thoughts had been. If a fiend does not kill, is he truly a fiend? Perhaps meeting these peerless fiends meant they were facing their own doom.

Seeing them silent and stunned, Chu Jie smiled. “What’s the matter, are you nervous to see me? I heard everything you just said. Now, let me ask you one question.”

He paused, then continued, “Are you willing to be my followers?”