Chapter 774: A World Transformed in the Reach of a Hand
Amid the sky full of sparks, the Demon Lord raised his head. The night and landscape that veiled his face became extraordinarily vivid.
The broken stele had arrived before him.
He cast a glance at the broken stele.
Just one glance.
The broken stele suddenly shrank more than tenfold.
This scene was extremely miraculous, or rather, eerie.
Then he reached out his hand.
With a single reach, he caught the broken stele.
The broken stele could no longer advance even an inch.
To put it more precisely, the moment his gaze fell and his palm made contact, this legendary broken stele refused to move forward any further.
Because the broken stele recognized who he was.
The Demon Lord looked at Haidi and said, "Wretch, you dare to strike at me with my own weapon. I don't know whether to call you brave or foolish."
Infinite terror surged from Haidi's eyes, and at the same time, countless streams of dust and smoke erupted from the gaps in his armor.
The eruption of this dust and smoke was not because his demonic body was radiating aura to heaven and earth, but because it was shaken out by a force.
While the Demon Lord spoke, the hand gripping the broken stele vibrated twenty-four thousand eight hundred times.
As one of the strongest among the demon race, Haidi's demonic body was as tough as metal and stone, yet it still could not withstand such high-frequency vibrations.
When the word "foolish" entered his consciousness, the wrist bone of Haidi's hand holding the broken stele shattered into gravel. Then his arm bone shattered as well, and countless cracks appeared on his shoulder blade.
Like ox bones or tortoise shells roasted for a long time, the direction of those cracks was so mysterious, so terrifying.
The demon bones shattered, yet the flesh remained perfectly intact. Only Haidi himself could see the gravel, fragments, and fissures inside his arm.
He knew he could not endure this any longer and had to find a way to escape.
More than a dozen streams of strangely colored demon blood sprayed from his shoulder, and his arm, thick as a tree trunk, flew into the sky.
Haidi severed his own arm without hesitation, turned around, and fled.
The Demon Lord waved his sleeve, seemingly casual and carefree, like a scholar who had just composed a new poem after drinking.
Inside the sleeve was the broken stele, gripped in his hand.
With a light flick of the sleeve, the broken stele struck Haidi's back—effortless, yet utterly unavoidable.
With a crackling sound, like a towering tree that had been eaten away by insects for countless years finally collapsing from within, Haidi's chest bulged outward in an exaggerated protrusion, as if a mountain peak had risen overnight on a fertile plain.
An unimaginably vast force rampaged through his demonic body, instantly displacing and splitting his internal organs, even cracking his demon core.
Unable to withstand this immense power, Haidi turned into a paper kite, drifting miserably toward the distant snowy peak.
As the snow peak drew nearer, gravely wounded, his vision blurred and his mind in chaos, he still did not forget an important question.
Why was this happening? Where was the Strategist's man?
Tonight, he had come bearing orders, knowing in advance that finding and killing the owner of the Cinnabar Pill was not the whole plan. So when he saw Chen Changsheng, he was not overly surprised. Even when the Emperor, who should have died long ago, reappeared before him, he was shocked but still held onto hope.
Over countless years, the demon race had developed a certain psychological inertia: Lord Black Robe's calculations were always flawless.
Haidi believed that since the Strategist had sent him here, he must have anticipated this and naturally made arrangements.
That was why he had dared to strike at the Emperor earlier.
He kept expecting some other change to occur.
Yet... there was none.
The truth was as cold and hard as the snow peak drawing ever closer.
In his final moments, Haidi suddenly recalled that night two years ago.
On that night, he had met an old acquaintance he had not seen for centuries—more precisely, his former master.
Haidi understood. He closed his eyes and sighed inwardly.
...
...
On the distant side of the night sky, Haidi's mountain-like demonic body had shrunk to a tiny black dot.
Compared to the truly majestic snowy mountains, whether human or demon, all seemed so insignificant.
That black dot plunged into the middle section of the snow peak, deep into the thick snow.
A tremor traveled back along the ground from afar to the snow valley, followed by a dull, thunderous rumble. Countless millennia of accumulated snow collapsed from that mountain.
Before long, the shape of that snowy mountain had changed drastically, completely different from before.
The black hole Haidi had created also vanished, leaving no trace.
Thus, the frontline commander of the demon military disappeared.
This event, which should have shaken the entire continent, seemed utterly trivial on this deep night.
Whether spectacular or tragic, no one saw it, no one cared.
The Demon Lord did not look, because he did not care.
After his gaze left the zither strings, his first glance fell on the broken stele, his second on the sky full of sparks.
Then he reached out his hand again.
This time, his hand passed directly through the sparks to the highest point of the night sky.
A dragon's roar, filled with fury and unwillingness, came from high above, then abruptly ceased.
The bone-chilling dragon breath, laden with frost and killing intent, vanished completely.
The Mystic Frost Dragon that had obscured the night sky shrank rapidly into a tiny black dot, then, under the wave of that invisible giant hand, flew toward the distant horizon.
That black dot rubbed against the air, leaving a blinding streak of light, like a shooting star, its final destination unknown.
The bone-chilling dragon breath disappeared, and the rain of swords also faltered. Two streaks of green light suddenly converged and vanished. Nanke appeared behind the Demon Lord.
Her petite body was covered in wounds, blood blending into her clothes, obscuring their original color.
With a mere gesture, the Demon Lord had shaken Haidi to death, driven away Zhi Zhi, and broken this situation.
The gap between the two sides was too great. The Demon Lord did not need to exert his full strength; with just his vision, technique, and realm, he could easily crush them.
Attacking Nanke any further was meaningless. Chen Changsheng recalled all his swords.
The sound of air splitting rang out above the snow valley. Amid the whistling, thousands of famous swords returned, hovering in the air around him, vibrating slightly and humming continuously.
He looked ahead, his expression solemn, silent.
Whether it was the dying embers in the lake garden, the flying ashes, or the residual light drifting down from the night sky, all were cut into fragments by the stern sword intent.
Seeing this scene, a hint of appreciation appeared in the Demon Lord's eyes. He said, "Whether in terms of sword cultivation, spiritual sense strength, or true essence quantity, you are quite remarkable. Not just the current younger generation—even Chen Xuanba, Zhou Du|fu, and I at your age were not necessarily stronger than you."
Clearly, in the Demon Lord's eyes, he, Zhou Du|fu, and Chen Xuanba were the strongest of the past millennium.
Unlike common perception, he did not include Emperor Taizong in that rank.
Chen Changsheng inclined his body slightly, expressing gratitude for this appreciation.
The dying flames in the lake garden illuminated his face. Though his expression was solemn, it was still so calm, showing no trace of panic or fear.