Chapter Eighty-Six: The Demonic Moon Illuminates Heaven and Earth

“Who is he, and how did he offend the Wu clan to the point that two of their greatest shamans are jointly pursuing him? Surely he’s doomed now.”

At the outermost edge of the crowd watching the battle between Nanluo and Xingtian, three people stood side by side atop a mountain peak, shrouded in a veil of obscure aura that hid their presence by means unknown.

Two men and a woman made up the trio, and it was the woman in the middle who had spoken. After a pause, she realized neither of her companions responded, their silence odd but not enough to draw her concern. She continued, “That man seems quite formidable. Perhaps he has some hidden trump card. If he and Xingtian wound each other grievously, we might seize an advantage…” As she looked around, she sighed in disappointment. “There are so many watching now, so there’s little to gain. That sword of his must be a treasure, but there are too many people.”

It was only then she noticed something was amiss with her companions. Frowning delicately, she tugged at the sleeve of the man on her right, whose simple linen robe bespoke quiet strength. “Tianyou, what’s wrong?”

Tianyou, the young man she addressed, patted her hand, his lips moving as if to speak, but he said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the fierce aerial struggle between Nanluo and Xingtian.

Annoyed, she turned to question the other man, but stopped abruptly. His strangely captivating face rendered her speechless, and she knew, given his reticent nature—rarely uttering more than a few words—it would be pointless to ask.

“Tianyou…” She turned back, shaking his arm insistently.

Tianyou finally forced a smile and said, “I overheard those atop the next mountain saying the sword-wielding man in the sky is one of our own—of the human race.”

“A human? How is that possible? How could one of us be so powerful, and how could we not know of him?” she exclaimed in disbelief. In her mind, outside of the famed Fuxi, there could not be another such formidable human.

She had always considered their little group among the pinnacle of humanity.

“Nanluo,” the man on her left suddenly spoke, his voice cold and emotionless.

“Xiyu heard it too. Yes, that man is called Nanluo. It reminds me of someone,” Tianyou’s tone carried a strange emotion.

The woman frowned in thought, then suddenly raised her head and cried out, “I remember! The Celestial Court’s First Star Lord, the Star Lord who observes the heavens—Nanluo. He’s one of us… He’s actually human.” Shock overwhelmed her, unable to believe the most dominant Star Lord of the Celestial Court was of their own kind.

“Then… then… he…” she stammered, pointing at Nanluo locked in brutal combat above, unable to finish her sentence.

Tianyou seemed to know what she meant, nodding heavily. “Very dangerous. If only one Wu shaman were here, he could escape easily. But with two—one still, one moving—they’ve sealed this space. Unless he has some extraordinary means, he’ll be torn apart by them.”

A heavy silence fell over the three.

The woman’s name was Yaoji. To her right stood the mature and steady Yang Tianyou, while to her left, slightly apart, was Xiyu. They had grown up together, and after eating an unknown fruit in the mountains, they had stumbled onto the path of cultivation. Everything they knew, they had learned themselves or slyly borrowed from mountain spirits. Over the years, they grew capable, but compared to the Wu shamans or those born with innate powers, they were still lacking.

“Can he escape the hands of those two Wu shamans?” Yaoji asked, but no one could answer.

“It will be difficult. The group up on the mountain ahead seems to have grudges with him, and there are others who bear enmity toward him,” Tianyou said after listening intently.

“How… how could he have so many enemies? Isn’t he doomed? He doesn’t look like the sort to offend everyone,” Yaoji frowned.

A thunderous boom shook the sky. The three quickly focused their attention, seeing Xingtian unleash the Wu clan’s famed Divine Manifestation of Form and Heaven technique.

His monstrous axe no longer moved as swiftly, but each strike was as if cleaving a mountain, shaking the void. Nanluo, darting beneath the giant axe, seemed increasingly hard-pressed.

Xingtian’s power was worlds apart from years ago outside the Yangping clan. Even Nanluo’s improved movement techniques seemed unable to escape the confusion of the disrupted void.

Most crucially, Houyi stood below, ever vigilant against Nanluo’s escape, his arrows deadly.

Nanluo’s mind raced; his sword light suddenly surged, and a vast mist spread from him, enveloping Xingtian. Those outside could only hear the clash of weapons—the scene inside was obscured.

Unbeknownst to all, day had faded into night, the sky now ablaze with stars, yet the battlefield remained as bright as day.

Suddenly, a dim, yellow moon appeared overhead, not hanging high as usual but lower in the sky. The crowd, absorbed in the battle above, barely noticed its arrival.

Those who used secret arts to peer closer found the moon shrouded in a yellow haze that blocked their spiritual senses; its true nature hidden, though they guessed it must be a treasure.

When Nanluo summoned the Demon Moon Mirror, a sense of clarity washed over him, as if the world were laid bare in his mind. Under its light, his mastery of the Five Elements felt effortless, and he sensed dominion over the space around him.

He had always felt the Demon Moon Mirror was useless in combat, seldom employing it in battle. But now, as he sought to distract Houyi and prepare his escape, he discovered that under its luminous aura, his abilities were greatly enhanced.

The multicolored clouds swiftly gathered beneath Nanluo’s feet, and his sword’s force grew heavier and more imposing.

From afar, the spectators noticed a change in Nanluo—he who had been pressed down now fought with renewed vigor.

Suddenly, Nanluo’s laughter rang out from the sky: “Xingtian, take this strike!”