Chapter Seventeen: Stalling for Time

At the shout from the six-winged angel, the remaining lesser angels beat their wings and, despite their dread, swarmed forward. Dozens of angels charged, and among the cultivators, one who had lost an arm spoke to the others: “The rest is up to you.” Without another word, he plunged into the midst of the angels, detonating his nascent soul even as their weapons pierced his body.

Li Chengzhu, watching from below, was dumbstruck by the sheer recklessness of these men. Counting quickly, including Xiaoying and the two brothers, there were only a dozen or so left of the original hundred. The angels, once several hundred strong, were also reduced to a few dozen—thanks largely to those who had sacrificed themselves by detonating their nascent souls.

Without this desperate, self-destructive tactic, the hundred cultivators might have long since been buried beneath the red sands.

Xiaoying’s fists clenched tight. The man who had just self-detonated was the one who had traded his ten-thousand-year fire crystal for a flying sword in the city. To think such a simple, honest soul could be driven to this end—her chest heaved with rage.

The angels, stunned and reeling from the explosion, stood uncertainly before the cultivators, who now numbered barely a fifth of their own ranks. That devastating energy was not something they could withstand, yet they dared not disobey the six-winged angel’s command.

Exchanging nervous glances, the angels decided to probe once more. One man might not fear death, but surely not all of them would be so reckless? A few weaker angels flew toward Yuanmu, only to be dismembered mid-air by the cultivators’ controlled flying swords.

The angels’ fury boiled over. These cultivators were intolerable—when outnumbered, they self-destructed; when in the minority, they killed. Was angelic dignity to be so trampled? With indignant shouts, they surged forward, vowing to tear their foes limb from limb. But before the words left their lips, another cultivator leapt from the ranks, a flash of white light erupting before them.

The surviving angels cursed inwardly—what kind of fight was this?

When the light faded, half the angels had vanished. The self-detonating cultivator was already at the Ascendant stage, one of the six who had accompanied them.

“Brother, go well!” Qiu Feng, tears in his eyes but resolve firm, stood before Yuanmu and the others, his bloodied sword in hand.

“Perhaps this is the only way to save everyone,” he prayed silently. Seeing the Thousand-Crane Talisman in Yuanmu’s hand, he understood what was about to happen. The others surely saw it too—after all, the talisman’s fame was legend throughout the immortal realms.

There was only one chance, one bargaining chip left. The surviving cultivators formed a human wall before Yuanmu, their expressions unwavering as they faced the angelic army.

On their faces was a look that said, “Come if you dare; come and we’ll self-destruct.”

This shameless tactic left the angels bewildered. Attack? Too few and they were outmatched; too many and they’d be wiped out in an instant. Yet if they didn’t attack, the six-winged angel would see them punished.

This was, indeed, a miserable battle.

Li Chengzhu, hidden behind a hill, kept his eyes fixed on Gu Linglong and the six-winged angel, not daring even to blink lest he miss the moment. Although there was a great gap in their strength, the six-winged angel found himself at a loss against Gu Linglong’s death-defying tactics. He dared not press too hard, wary of the power she still held, so the battle entered a stalemate.

Time crawled by. Li Chengzhu, struggling to contain the overwhelming energy of the God-Slaying Bow, grew ever more uneasy. Sweat beaded on Xiaoying’s brow as the angels made two tentative attacks—each ended by a companion’s self-detonation.

Her heart bled. In three centuries of life, she had never seen so much death, never so tragic and unbearable.

Suddenly, a violent wind howled. The already raging red dust storm intensified, flaying all in its path with stinging sand.

Li Chengzhu squinted through the gale, tracking the six-winged angel’s every move.

Not far off, countless spiritual pressures rushed toward them.

Sensing the chaotic energies, the remaining cultivators’ faces fell—the angels’ reinforcements had arrived.

Qiu Feng’s hand shook on his sword hilt as he prayed silently for Yuanmu to act faster.

At last, just before the angelic reinforcements reached the battlefield, Yuanmu took a deep breath. “It’s ready. Take the lord and go, quickly—leave the rest to me.”

The others turned, and to their shock, Yuanmu—once only at the Tribulation stage—now unleashed a spiritual pressure greater even than Gu Linglong’s. Furious and uncontrollable, it swirled around him, driving the storm’s red sands back from a ten-yard radius.

Qiu Feng sighed, wanting to lay a hand on Yuanmu’s shoulder, but the wild force kept him at bay. He managed a bleak smile. “Brother, thank you. I’ll take good care of Yuansen.”

Yuanmu clasped his hands in gratitude. “Thank you!” Then, with a gaze that seemed to sweep the world, he commanded, “Go fetch the lord and retreat at once!”

Fewer than ten cultivators remained. They bowed deeply to Yuanmu, then mounted their flying swords and sped toward the battlefield where Gu Linglong and the six-winged angel fought.

The six-winged angel, hard-pressed by Gu Linglong, was caught off guard as one of the cultivators burst into the fray. “My lord, go now!” he shouted, then lunged at the six-winged angel, seizing him and dragging him off into the distance.

Before Gu Linglong could speak, Qiu Feng and the others reached her side. “My lady, we must go!” Without waiting for her reply, they lifted her and sped away.

With another cultivator’s help, Xiaoying carried Yuansen close behind, cursing her boss all the while and vowing to castrate him and throw him to the angels for their sport.

It was said the angels were quite... enthusiastic.

Thinking of her boss’s handsome face, Xiaoying grinned wickedly.

After carrying the six-winged angel away for some distance, the cultivator checked to see that Gu Linglong was safely clear of the battlefield. He then looked up at his enemy with a faint smile and began the incantation for self-detonation.

But he found himself powerless. Glancing down at his shrunken body, he realized his nascent soul had already been seized.

The six-winged angel, seething with rage at having been carried so far by one so weak, looked at the dazed nascent soul, summoned a ball of flame, and tossed the tiny figure into it, savoring the sight of the soul’s torment in the fire.