Martial King's Retired Life

Luo Ming, who couldn’t see himself competing against Sima Huai in a qinggong contest, applauded, “Splendid ‘I Alone Am Free’. Your Shifu’s qinggong discipline chooses specific routes for moulding qi. The chances of anyone having the attributes to learn it is less than one in ten thousand. It is an honour to see a successor.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” replied Sima Huai.

Black Cleric saw the need to intervene since his superior was hurt, but the scramble wasn’t one he had any place in. “Your Eminence, we can still leave.”

Death Spirit Shaman blocked off Black Cleric’s advice. “Baidizi, eat the young one and devour the old one!”

The Yanhui accelerated its coiling speed.

Sima Huai, who had been buying time for his side, leapt back over sixty metres to get out of the beast’s range. “Everyone, your lives take priority. Take care of yourselves. Nobody is to die!”

“Roger that!”

“Motley misfits! How… How dare… Kill them all!” thundered Death Spirit Shaman.

No more coiling. The Yanhui made a beeline for the group, sparing not a second thought for environment it would inexorably decimate. Luckily for all, there was a gatekeeper - Luo Ming. Alas, he was only one man; he could stall the Yanhui at his new level and with his sword, but he couldn’t stop the army of juiced-up, ravenous wild beasts.

The beasts that were two to three times their usual size weren’t driven by hunger but commands that Death Spirit Shaman issued, adhering until they were incapacitated. This proved a struggle for martial artists who were used to fighting humans who had functioning pain systems, not to mention the overwhelming numbers that swarmed them ceaselessly.

The dozens of bloodthirsty beasts ganging up on Luo Ming as he held off the Yanhui eventually became rocks in his shoes despite him severing their limbs. If he went down, then the others could only hope running was still an option. With the passage of time, more and more beasts turned their attention to Luo Ming under Death Spirit Shaman’s orders. Luo Ming could only shave off the Yanhui’s scales because his sword hadn’t been sharpened. Though he couldn’t draw much blood from it, he did gradually wear it down.

To deal with the Yanhui’s head jabs and tail sweeps, Luo Ming had to respond with 80% of his maximum power. That alone was a daunting task, let alone simultaneously fending off the beasts. Soon enough, a mutated wolf spotted an exposed right arm. Luo Ming had to bisect the wolf with his left fingers, thereby slowing down his right arm. The Yanhui struck as soon as Luo Ming’s right arm showed a delay.

A grey shadow zoomed into the clash to plant his fist flush on the Yanhui’s head, sliding it backwards. His return shed hope on the hopeless predicament.

“Brother Bodhi, I shall leave the freak to you.”

Emperor Yuansheng looked over in the direction of the voice to see Shen Yiren weaving through their group. “Yiren? What are you doing here?”

Shen Yiren dimpled. “It is a long story, Uncle. Let us get rid of the enemy first. Ready?!”

“Ready. Just a tad to go,” Xia’er responded.

Nobody heard what the beginning of what Lian Zhuiyue muttered was. As he recited whatever it was he was reciting, though, he accordingly raised his voice until they heard, “… Troops. Form. Formation. At. The. Front. Dragon-Confinement Formation.”

Luo Ming whipped his sword in a horizontal arc across the Yanhui’s body. The reaction of the beast army validated the perceived weakening of the Yanhui, especially the snakes. Once a beast is scared and hurt, it’s just a beast.

Death Spirit Shaman clearly didn’t account for his army fleeing helter skelter. Abels unexpected power was a trifling issue if compared to the formation Lian Zhuiyue just erected. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason the formation sent a dragon-type evil into madness and stole its power.

“Fengqi shenmu?! What?!”

Black Cleric explained, “His Eminence gave it to him. He must have delivered it to them.”

“Bloody Heisinas are all brain dead!” Death Spirit Shaman thundered.

“Elder, do you still want to continue? To tell you the truth, you are not a match for our army of adepts,” Sima Huai asserted.

While it was possible to create another batch of mutated beasts, they wouldn’t remedy the situation. The Yanhui alone would lose if Abels and Luo Ming fought it together.

Cornered, Death Spirit Shaman pulled out a flute from his shirt, pupils dilated and teeth jammed together.

“Pull back.”

Death Spirit Shaman whipped his head over his shoulder. “Y-y-you…”