Chapter 118: Infiltrating Spirit City

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By now, I was furious. I took two steps forward and reached out to grab Ling Xinyue’s chest.

Ling Xinyue dodged swiftly, but I was relentless.

“Are you crazy?” Ling Xinyue hissed, anger flashing in her eyes.

“You’re the crazy one. If you’re so eager to call me your husband, then fine, I’ll give you what you want,” I sneered coldly, my figure turning into a shadow as I lunged at Ling Xinyue once more.

At that moment, Ling Xinyue leapt into the air, releasing a forbidden control sword that spread out, isolating an area hundreds of meters around us.

Ling Xinyue no longer held back; her speed rivaled mine.

My movements and spells were strange and unpredictable, but Ling Xinyue’s were graceful and ethereal.

In an instant, we exchanged dozens of blows; a storm of magical energy swept the surroundings, shattering trees and gouging the earth several centimeters deep.

“Boom!”

Ling Xinyue and I passed each other, both a little shocked. She should be a Level Six Yin-Yang Master like me, but her reserves far exceeded my expectations.

I had thought that at the Level Six realm, no one could match me—yet here she was.

Ling Xinyue was equally surprised. She came from the Supreme Lingyan Sect and had reached Level Six at eighteen, accumulating five years at this level. She could have formed a magical avatar long ago if she wished.

“Had enough venting?” Ling Xinyue asked.

“Of course not,” I replied, my figure darting forward like a hawk, forming a spell seal with my hand aimed at her.

Ling Xinyue lifted her hand, flicking her fingers dozens of times like a meteor shower.

But then, I withdrew my attack, exposing myself to her strike.

Ling Xinyue was startled; she had no intent to harm me and quickly retracted her attack as well.

My body collided with hers, and she pressed her palm against my chest.

At that moment, our eyes met.

In an instant, our minds exploded with a thunderous crack.

Within a white, boundless void, Ling Xinyue and I tangled, our spiritual energies fiercely clashing.

This was the outcome I desired—to drag her into a battle on the spiritual plane.

Raising my hand, my spirit transformed into a talisman. The spell talisman I had long struggled to complete suddenly came together seamlessly, pressing down on Ling Xinyue’s soul.

Her spirit flickered with soul light, barely holding on.

She gazed at my soul, clearly seeing the white jade Taoist crown atop it.

She closed her eyes with a soft sigh, as if resigned.

At that moment, my soul returned to my body, finding myself pinned atop Ling Xinyue.

I raised my hand and cast a binding formation to restrain her.

Ling Xinyue opened her eyes quietly, looking at me calmly.

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“I hate that look on your face,” I growled, feeling as if punching cotton—no satisfaction in victory.

Suddenly, I bent down and pressed my lips to Ling Xinyue’s.

Her expression stiffened briefly, then she closed her eyes.

My lips tasted a moist, salty flavor. Raising my head, I saw tears slip from the corner of her eyes.

It was like a bucket of cold water doused me. I cursed under my breath, rolled off her, and sat aside.

The violent emotions gradually subsided. I shook my head with a self-mocking smile, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and then lifted my hand to break the bindings on Ling Xinyue.

She sat up, straightened her Taoist robe, glanced at my profile but said nothing.

“I don’t care what the Supreme Lingyan Sect is, or what that old Taoist did to me. Fate is a joke. I control my destiny, not heaven. No one will rule my fate,” I said, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and walking away.

Ling Xinyue raised her hand, summoning the forbidden control sword to her palm. She watched my roaring sports car speed off, then entered the house.

Warm water sprayed from the showerhead. Ling Xinyue pushed her hair back.

She lowered her head, staring at the two pale blue-purple handprints—both painful and numb.

She reached out to touch her lips, swollen and red. His violent sucking was like an angry beast, as if trying to devour her whole.

“Senior Uncle, is this fate?” Ling Xinyue murmured.

...

That night, I wanted to explain to Chi Yun, but she silenced all my words with her lips.

At dawn, the five of us from the covert team quietly set out for Xiliang.

Before leaving, I went to see Old Li again, but was told he was still in seclusion. I wasn’t sure if he was deliberately avoiding me.

Xiliang, a military base deep in the desert.

No one knew of our arrival except Nangong Haoran.

That day, Nangong Haoran solemnly toasted us one by one in a secret chamber beneath the pass.

“Qin Feng, good luck. We’ve tried sending several teams in before, but none lasted beyond ten days. They were all wiped out. Those Netherworld cultivators aren’t easy to fool,” Nangong Haoran said.

“Time’s almost up. Let’s go in,” I said, downing the bottle and smashing it aside.

Yeying, Ghost, Gao Pingping, and Yu Hai followed suit, smashing their bottles after drinking.

Outside the pass, hundreds of scattered Netherworld cultivators watched cautiously—new arrivals familiarizing themselves with the terrain.

Suddenly, a group of Yin-Yang Masters charged out of the pass, attacking the cultivators.

As soon as hands clashed, chaos erupted.

These cultivators were merely probing; they didn’t fight desperately and soon scattered.

No one realized that five of those cultivators had joined us.

My skin had turned blue, and several Netherworld tattoos gave my face an eerie aura.

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I wore a suit made from Nether Beast hide, my upper body mostly exposed, wielding a bone knife disguised as a Blood Fiend Blade.

From appearance, I looked like a typical Netherworld cultivator, without any flaws.

Yeying and the others didn’t walk with me; they each needed to establish their own identities in Spirit City.

As I moved with a group of cultivators toward Spirit City, I observed the surroundings.

My pupils contracted sharply.

On a strange tree, I saw it hung with the severed heads of Yin-Yang Masters.

Damn!

I lowered my gaze, suppressing the murderous intent within, reminding myself constantly: I was now a Netherworld cultivator, and had to completely conceal my former self.

At least while undercover, I had to self-hypnotize.

“Hahaha, one day, I, Breton, will string human heads on ten such trees,” I laughed wildly.

A cultivator nearby, with bone rings piercing his nose and ears, carrying a wolf tooth club, strode up to me.

“With your puny frame, you dare speak arrogantly? I, Noah, will test whether you have the strength to back up your arrogance,” he sneered, swinging the club at me.

I dodged deftly and kicked him in the abdomen.

“Hahaha, too weak! I didn’t feel a thing,” he laughed.

But suddenly, his face turned pale, and he spat out blue blood, clutching his belly as he convulsed on the ground.

“Who else dares doubt my strength, Breton?” I boasted, pounding my chest arrogantly.

The cultivators around avoided my gaze. In this world where strength ruled, I had earned their respect.

Spirit City wasn’t far. The newly built city was constructed entirely from black stone, grand and imposing.

I saw cultivators riding Netherworld hawks soaring overhead, others mounted on towering armored Nether Beasts, flying swiftly.

“Damn, so cool. When can I get a flying mount to show off?” I thought.

Inside Spirit City, I saw all kinds of Nether Servants and cultivators—some towering six or seven meters, grotesque in shape.

I reviewed what I knew: Spirit City was formed by merging dozens of small cities. The city lord was a Nether Lord, roughly equivalent to a Grandmaster-level Yin-Yang Master.

Fortunately, the true Netherworld army here numbered only several hundred.

Spirit City was recruiting Nether soldiers, having enlisted over five thousand so far, among them more than three thousand Nether Servants.

But this was the limit. Most Netherworld cultivators disliked joining formal armies; they preferred forming random squads or acting alone.

Luckily, otherwise, if all Nether cultivators formed a regular army, the pass would be almost impossible to defend—remember, even the most ordinary Nether cultivators possessed the strength of Level One to Three Yin-Yang Masters.