Chapter 125: Where the Sword Passes, No One Can Stand

As soon as the woman in purple appeared, Nan Luo recognized her. He had originally intended to trap Peng Meng, who had infiltrated Luoling Cave, but upon seeing her, he realized there was no time for elaborate schemes. He struck out with overwhelming, peerless mana, forcing Peng Meng into the open.

As Nan Luo had suspected, Peng Meng’s cloak was a treasure. Not only did it allow for silent infiltration—nearly bypassing even his own profound level of perception—but it also possessed the ability to weaken incoming attacks. Like a fish in water, no matter how turbulent the current, it could suffer no true harm.

Years ago, when he had recklessly pursued the Mosquito Taoist, the entity had vanished inexplicably. Looking back now, Nan Luo realized how dangerous his impulsiveness had been, acknowledging he was no match for the creature at the time. He surmised that the Mosquito Taoist’s sudden disappearance must have been due to the intervention of this woman in purple, just as Fuxi had once driven the creature away after it had burrowed into his own body.

Kindness need not be spoken of; it is enough to repay it when the benefactor is in their greatest hour of need. To hold onto such gratitude, undiminished by the passage of time, is a rare virtue indeed.

A giant, five-colored hand extended from Luoling Mountain, as if the mountain itself had sprouted a limb. It tore through the void, crashing violently into the sky-filling array of black wind runes. Da Feng shook his Soul-Binding and Spirit-Destroying Banner fiercely, sending countless black wind runes swirling like blades to whittle away at the five-colored hand.

Though the hand’s speed remained undiminished, it began to shrink rapidly, dissolving into wisps of smoke like an iceberg submerged in warm water. Yet, judging by its speed, it would surely reach the woman in purple, who was trapped by the black runes, before it could be fully eroded.

The woman in purple, her face pale and haggard, gazed at the giant hand in bewilderment. She tapped weakly against the snow-white rock, coaxing the fading white light that shielded her to expand just a fraction further, though it was stretched so thin it threatened to vanish at any moment.

She had been passing over Luoling Mountain when she stumbled upon the conflict, hoping to use the chaos to shake off her pursuers. She had not expected to be drawn into the fray, becoming utterly unable to escape.

In the past, she could have maintained her defenses indefinitely. However, ever since she had been wounded by the Mosquito Taoist’s Nether Stinger, her injury had only worsened, preventing her from recovering her mana. Each spell she cast drained her further, and the lingering corruption of the wound clouded her mind. She felt her spirit fading; simple spells that were once second nature now required intense concentration to perform.

Seeing the giant hand descend, she felt a surge of despair. Did some powerful master in these mountains recognize her? Why else would they target her the moment she appeared?

Just as the giant hand, though weakened by the rune array, surged toward her, a black shadow materialized before it—the very person who had been fleeing from it moments before.

"He was hiding so close to me, and I felt nothing?" she gasped in shock, unsure if her weakened state or the perfection of his stealth technique was to blame.

It was Peng Meng, who had escaped the five-colored hand. As he emerged from the black wind, he threw a punch directly at the incoming construct.

*Boom!*

The void shattered, and the five-colored hand disintegrated into a mist of multicolored light, continuing to drift toward the woman. The black wind runes, seemingly unaffected by the shockwave, merely rippled before returning to their oppressive state.

As the multicolored mist enveloped the woman, the runes began to slice through it like a whirlwind, quickly dispersing it entirely. She attempted to flee, but the surrounding runes blocked every path. Each failed attempt only wasted more of her precious mana.

"Heh heh, to think you could escape once trapped in my banner array—what a foolish delusion!" Da Feng sneered.

Before his words had faded, clouds of five-colored mist rose from the mountain, dreamlike and ethereal, surging upward as if to envelop the black wind array. But before they could reach it, a cloak materialized in the void, drifting like a fallen leaf. It expanded in the wind, transforming into a dark shroud that blocked out the sky and covered Luoling Mountain. Peng Meng had used this tactic before to plunder the Qingyan Sword, only to have his arm severed and his cloak rent by the blade.

Believing the Qingyan Sword was no longer present, he dared to use it again. He was confident in his cloak; it had taken him centuries to refine from the rarest of materials. He had thought only Hou Yi’s arrows could pierce it, yet Nan Luo’s sword had shredded it as well. The memory of that terrifying sword intent and the irresistible brilliance of the blade still made his heart tighten.

The cloak billowed, surging with hidden, turbulent power. Peng Meng’s hands glowed with frosty light as he wove complex hand seals, his lips moving in a silent, rapid chant. The cloak shimmered with a cold, clear light, pressing down upon Luoling Mountain with crushing force.

"Heh heh..." Da Feng laughed hoarsely, shaking his banner with renewed vigor, unleashing an endless torrent of black runes.

The woman in purple watched as the light from the snow-white rock beneath her grew increasingly dim. A breakthrough by the endless runes seemed inevitable.

Across the horizon, a hundred miles away, where the green mountains met the sky, a streak of light pierced the heavens. It was brilliant and resplendent, trailing a white glow that stretched for over a hundred miles.

In an instant, it arrived above Luoling Mountain and struck down at Da Feng without hesitation.

Da Feng had only enough time to wrap himself in his banner before he was cleaved in two. A shrill scream echoed through the void, accompanied by a rain of blood, though no body fell from the sky, and the severed banner vanished into thin air.

Peng Meng was struck with horror, gasping, "The Qingyan Sword..."

He knew Da Feng’s strength well and was stunned that he had been dispatched without a chance to flee. As he began to weave a seal to retract his cloak and escape, the streak of light descended upon him.

Peng Meng felt a searing pain, only to realize his head had been separated from his body. As a Great Witch, his flesh was as tough as steel, yet before this light, it was no more than tofu. Still, the Witch race possessed secret arts to reattach and restore their bodies.

But the light seemed to harbor a deep-seated hatred. Just as Peng Meng’s body began to fade into the void, the light erupted in a blinding display, pulverizing his physical form into dust.

The radiance did not stop there; it tore into the black wind array, swirling with violent, murderous intent. In moments, the eerie array vanished, dissolved like smoke in the wind.

Peng Meng’s cloak, black on the outside and red on the inside, reverted to its original size as he was destroyed and drifted down toward the mountain. Qingqing caught it with excitement, waving her banana fan while looking at the small demons who watched from the mountain in awe.

The light swept through everything, unstoppable and absolute.

"Nan Luo..." the woman in purple whispered, her voice weak but filled with boundless joy.