Chapter 862 Passing on the Torch…
—Chongli.
That blind general who guided Chen Huai'an on the floating peak in the lower realm told him that "Gods cannot be seen".
"That's..."
Mo Liqing's sinister smile froze, and an incredulous look of horror appeared in his eyes.
"That madman?! That Chongli, the one who defied the heavens in the ninth reincarnation?!"
"Wasn't he already annihilated on the execution platform?! Why is he still appearing?!"
The phantom slowly turned its head.
On that blurry face, there were no facial features, only a pair of empty eye sockets.
But looking at Chen Huai'an, it was as if she were looking at a hope that had transcended countless reincarnations.
"So... are you choosing this path?"
A thought entered Chen Huai'an's mind.
"very good."
"Then... let's keep going."
Click.
The broken gun shattered.
Under the immense pressure of the guillotine, the heroic spirit of Chong Li transformed into countless golden specks of light, merging into Chen Huai'an's body.
The first strike, blocked.
"Bastard! Bastard!!"
Mo Lihong was furious. "What's going on with this Execution Platform?! There's even a remnant soul haunting it?!"
"Slay again! Slay again!!"
Rumble—
The switch was raised again.
This time, the aura of blood above was even stronger, and the oppressive force was even greater.
"Die! They must die!!"
The four Heavenly Kings joined forces to activate their magic, vowing to completely eliminate this variable.
The switch fell.
It was like the sky collapsing.
when--! ! !
Another loud bang.
Another figure appeared.
This time, it's a monkey.
A monkey with all its golden fur gone, blood streaming from its six ears, yet still wielding an iron rod, pointing at the sky and cursing 눓놅.
—Six Ears.
It used that long-broken iron bar to jam the guillotine's throat.
"I, Old Sun, lost once."
"But I know... I haven't lost!"
The monkey laughed wildly, its body disintegrating and transforming into an unruly fighting spirit that surged into Chen Huai'an's brow.
The second strike, blocked.
"Crazy... They're all crazy..."
The pipa in Mo Lihai's hand fell to the ground.
What do you see?
I saw countless wronged souls who had been slain awakening amidst the layers of blood and grime surrounding the execution platform.
They are not vengeful.
They are protecting the way.
"Again! I refuse to believe I can't kill you!!"
Mo Liqing's eyes were bloodshot, and he had fallen into a state of madness.
The switch fell for the third time.
This time.
A scholar, biting his pen to break characters, turned his body into ink.
An emperor, with his back to the people, uses his bones as a shield.
A couple threw themselves into the furnace, forging a sword with their souls.
...
Each time it falls.
Surely a heroic soul will emerge from the long river of history.
They may have different names, different backgrounds, and may all be losers in their own cycles of reincarnation.
But at this moment.
They all share the same name—伐天껣그.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sounds of impact continued incessantly.
That demon-head guillotine, representing the will of Heaven and said to be able to cut through anything, actually... gradually became dull in these repeated collisions.
Several notches appeared on the blade, like teeth that had been broken by countless hard bones.
The dark red chains binding Chen Huai'an began to tremble violently with each impact, groaning as if they were overwhelmed.
His muscular physique left me speechless.
It lay beside it, watching the figures that kept appearing and disappearing, and watching Chen Huai'an lying in the center, surrounded by countless points of light.
It suddenly felt...
This execution platform is no longer an execution ground.
A monument...
"The last time..."
Mo Liqing slumped down, his face ashen.
The power of the Execution Platform had been exhausted to its limit, and the guillotine was already broken and tattered.
"If this strike still can't kill him..."
“Then die…just die with us.”
Boom—
The switch was raised for the last time.
Gathering all the remaining power of the Execution Platform, it transformed into a pitch-black curtain of death light, which fell silently.
This was a decisive blow.
There is no way to avoid it.
No more heroic spirits have appeared.
It seems that all the embers of life have just burned out.
Chen Huai'an looked at the descending darkness.
놛 did not close his eyes.
Because I saw a figure.
That one... looks exactly like me, but is countless times older.
The old man was wearing a faded blue shirt, with a tattered wine gourd hanging from his waist, and his white hair was as messy as weeds.
He stood under the guillotine.
No weapons were used, nor were any supernatural powers employed.
Only one withered hand reached out and gently, as if plucking a fallen leaf, grasped the falling guillotine.
Squeak—
That unstoppable death came to a halt.
It lingered on the old, withered fingertips.
The old man lowered his head and looked at the young Chen Huai'an.
In those cloudy old eyes, there was relief, relief, and a hint of... mischievousness that transcended time and space.
"In this life, you've gone further than me."
The old man smiled.
That smile was exactly the same as Chen Huai'an's carefree and unrestrained manner.
"I'll help you overcome this last hurdle, old man."
"Go."
"Go and... tear this sky to shreds."
Old Ji's wrist twitched.
Twist it hard.
Bang!
A sharp crack shattered the wind at the South Heavenly Gate.
The demon-headed guillotine, stained with the blood of immortals and gods, crumbled into countless iron filings under the fingertips of that old, illusory figure, falling like black snow.
Click.
The chains on Chen Huai'an's body shattered.
He slowly stood up.
As his spine straightened, the two raging torrents within his body—the dazzling immortal gold and the tyrannical demonic black—collided violently.
Annihilation and fusion.
Silently.
The golden light faded, and the black energy settled.
A hazy, grayish color, like the primordial chaos before the sky was opened, began to settle in Chen Huai'an's muscles, bones, and blood.
call--
A foul wind blew by.
Her long, jet-black hair danced wildly in the wind.
A breath, half an autumn white.
Two breaths later, the ground was covered in frost and snow.
His full head of white hair hung like an inverted Milky Way, spreading out on the gray execution platform.
The hideous demonic patterns disappeared, and the sacred dragon scales also faded away.
He stood there, but he didn't look like a woman.
She doesn't seem like a fairy either.
Baji lay prone in the ruins, trying to open his eyes to look at Chen Huai'an, but only felt a stinging pain in his eyes, as if he were staring directly at a peerless blade that had just been forged and was radiating a cold light.
그 means 놆 sword.
The sword is also 놆그.
Chen Huai'an raised his right hand and casually grabbed at the air.
Buzz.
Shavings of metal from the guillotine scatter everywhere, crimson chains snap, and even the rules and resentment that have been solidified for millennia on the execution platform.
At this moment, they all rushed towards the palm of the hand like a hundred birds returning to the sea.
Condensation.
A sword takes shape in the hand of the man.
It has no hilt, no patterns, and is entirely grayish-white. It was born from a divine sword formed during a tribulation of lightning, and it still bears a resemblance to the original.
But at this moment, it's as rough as an unpolished stone slab.
But in Chen Huai'an's hands, it became the most powerful weapon in the world.
Chen Huai'an lowered his head and gently brushed his fingertips across the blade of the sword.
A drop of divine blood seeped into the sword after the fingertip was cut.
놛Laugh깊.
Her smile was faint, yet it revealed a clarity that comes from having washed away all artifice.
"Sharpen the sword."
He murmured softly.
Then he looked up.
He looked at the four Heavenly Kings, their faces pale and unable to even hold their magical weapons steady.
There was a blank indifference in those eyes.
There was no murderous intent, no anger.
There is only one way to deal with inanimate objects: 놅놂静 (Ning).
"I am very satisfied with this Execution Platform."
Carrying the sword, he walked step by step through the ruins.
His long, white hair danced wildly behind him, tearing apart the surrounding void.
“In return…”
Chen Huai'an turned his wrist slightly.
Zheng—
The words were cut short by the sound of swords clashing.
The sea of clouds outside Nantianmen was instantly split in two.
…
…
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