Chapter 1549: Save Me, Fellow Daoist

In the midst of the discussions, Zhiyang Dao Ren fled into a mountain range.

Ye Chen wielded his blood sword and charged in after him, swinging it to strike.

Mountains collapsed one after another, reduced to flat ground, unable to withstand the pressure of the Quasi-Emperor weapon and the Great Saint bone.

Zhiyang Dao Ren burned his primordial spirit power and sacrificed his lifespan through blood offering.

He was solely focused on escaping, showing none of the dignity of a Great Saint.

Ye Chen pursued relentlessly, slashing with his sword repeatedly. Zhiyang Dao Ren's body was cleaved apart time and again, only to heal and be cleaved once more, turning him into a bloody figure that made hearts tremble.

One fled, the other chased, like divine light and immortal radiance.

Every mountain they encountered crumbled; every vast sea they passed dried up; every ancient plain they crossed shattered in an instant.

Who would have thought that this pursuit would last three days and three nights, spanning millions of li without resolution?

With the aid of the Saint bone, Ye Chen's speed was indeed as swift as divine light.

However, although his combat power far surpassed Zhiyang Dao Ren's, if Zhiyang Dao Ren fled with all his might, even Ye Chen could not catch up easily.

He had fused with the Saint bone, but controlling such overbearing power was difficult, and this drawback could not be ignored.

They reached another vast sea, boundless and majestic with waves.

Zhiyang Dao Ren desperately fled into it and then roared,"Cang Hai Dao You, save me! Cang Hai Dao You, save me!"

It seemed he had long known that a powerful cultivator resided in this sea, and he had come here seeking help to evade Ye Chen's pursuit.

And indeed, there was someone in the sea, with cultivation not to be underestimated.

It was a white-clothed old man, slowly emerging from the sea depths. His realm was that of a Great Saint, though slightly below Zhiyang Dao Ren's.

He had been in secluded cultivation here, not expecting to be disturbed.

But upon seeing the blood-soaked Zhiyang Dao Ren, he was stunned.

"Zhiyang Dao You, how did you end up like this?"

"Save me! Save me!"

Zhiyang Dao Ren lunged toward him madly.

The white-clothed old man was even more bewildered and instinctively looked toward the opposite side.

There he saw Ye Chen, gripping a dripping blood sword, radiating murderous aura and killing intent, like a demon god.

"Quasi-Emperor?" the white-clothed old man exclaimed in surprise, but quickly shook his head. "No, it's borrowed power."

Having seen through this, he stepped forward, cupped his hands, and smiled slightly.

"I wonder which Dao You this is. Could you do this old man a favor and show mercy where it's due?"

Ye Chen said nothing and swung his sword directly, decapitating the white-clothed old man in a gruesome scene.

It was a lethal strike, not only severing his head but also extinguishing his primordial spirit.

The head rolled away, the white-clothed old man's eyes wide with shock.

He felt aggrieved and frustrated. As a Great Saint, he had been killed in a single encounter, caught completely off guard.

In the final moment before his consciousness faded, he realized his regret—regretting stepping out to play the peacemaker and inviting his own doom.

After slaying the white-clothed old man, Ye Chen stepped into the sky and continued the chase.

Zhiyang Dao Ren stumbled ahead, having used the white-clothed old man as a shield, but he fled as fast as he could, not daring to look back.

The spectators followed, and upon seeing the headless body of the white-clothed old man, they couldn't help but sigh.

"He was fine just cultivating in seclusion. Why did he have to come out?"

"Now look, his attempt to show off backfired spectacularly."

"That's what you get for meddling. It's just asking for trouble."

Some old experts shook their heads quietly.

"They don't even know what grudge Ye Chen has with Zhiyang Dao Ren, yet they jump in to interfere. They deserve their fate."

"You have to say, Ye Chen is ruthless," sighs of astonishment rose one after another. "He strikes without hesitation—truly fearless."

"This serves as a lesson: never provoke the Saint Body. The consequences are severe."

No one refuted this; it was indeed a hard truth.

Looking back, ever since Ye Chen arrived in Xuan Huang, anyone who had crossed him met a bloody end.

There were no exceptions—from the divine children of Tai Qing Palace to Zhiyang Dao Ren now—all grim examples.

The chase and slaughter continued, with spectators trailing in a vast crowd.

It drew even more people. Hearing that Zhiyang Dao Ren was being pursued and learning of the day's events, they were all shocked, their eyes wide.

Those who gathered joined the ranks of onlookers, including many Great Saints, yet none dared to plead on his behalf.

However, there were always a few who refused to believe it and tried to step in, like the one at that moment.

It was a purple-haired old man, a genuine Great Saint.

He was not a native of Zhongzhou but had come from the distant Donghuang, happening upon this incident during his visit.

"Dao You, save me!"

Seeing the purple-robed old man approach, Zhiyang Dao Ren rushed toward him desperately, his form in utter disarray.

"Dao You, don't panic. I'll plead for you; it should be fine."

The purple-robed old man smiled, his demeanor elegant.

As he spoke, he turned to Ye Chen and raised his arm to cup his hands.

But before he could say a word, Ye Chen's sword was already slashing toward him, the Saint bone amplifying the Quasi-Emperor sword's might in a devastating assault.

The purple-robed old man's expression changed as he tried to dodge, but it was too late.

Blood splattered as his head rolled away, though his primordial spirit escaped, crying out in terror,"I won't interfere! I won't interfere anymore!"

Ye Chen made no response and swung another domineering sword.

On the spot, the purple-robed old man fell to his knees, his primordial spirit extinguished.

Like the white-clothed old man, in his final instant, he was filled with regret—having traveled thousands of li from Donghuang only to act self-righteous and end up on the road to the underworld, choosing his own grave.

The spectators passed by, their sighs unending, offering silent condolences.

The pursuit and killing went on, with thunderous booms and bloody calamities along the way.

Ahead, an ancient city appeared, grand and imposing. Zhiyang Dao Ren flew into it, his roars echoing through the heavens,"Save me!"

The ancient city trembled, a Great Saint's aura overflowing, followed by a cold snort,"Young one, show mercy where it's due."

Ye Chen said nothing and chased Zhiyang Dao Ren straight into the ancient city.

A blood-haired old man was already on guard, his vital energy surging, on the verge of breaking through to Quasi-Emperor, his cultivation on par with Zhiyang Dao Ren.

"Hua Yang City will not tolerate your rampage."

The blood-robed old man snorted coldly, suspending a precious vase above his head as his icy voice resounded through the nine heavens.

Ye Chen, still gripping his blood sword, did not slow his pace and swung it directly.

The blood-haired old man raged and controlled the precious vase to counter.

In the next instant, the vase shattered under Ye Chen's sword, its falling fragments turning to ash.

The destruction of his natal artifact backfired on him, causing him to spit blood and stagger back, his face paling instantly.

"This matter is no longer my concern."

The blood-haired old man turned and fled, his expression ashen, his heart quaking with fear.

He wanted to escape, but Ye Chen had no intention of letting him go.

The second sword arrived, obliterating the blood-haired old man's physical body.

Then came the third sword, extinguishing his primordial spirit.

"Another Great Saint down," the spectators sighed. "Jumping in without knowing anything—just courting disaster."

"This makes three Great Saints fallen because of Zhiyang Dao Ren. He's practically a jinx, bringing ruin to others."

"Save me! Save me!"

Ahead, Zhiyang Dao Ren was still roaring, fleeing and bellowing for help all the way.

But with the bloody lessons of those before him, who would be foolish enough to step forward and plead for him—unless they had lost their minds?

Ye Chen was too powerful, or rather, the Great Saint bone's residual might was overwhelmingly dominant; no one below Quasi-Emperor dared to fight him.

The crowd of onlookers grew larger, with Great Saints aplenty, but they all chose to watch from the sidelines, avoiding any trouble.

Zhiyang Dao Ren's face was deathly pale, his blood drained away, his heart utterly chilled.

In times of crisis, true feelings are revealed, and he finally understood that.

Those who called each other brothers in daily life, whose friendships were as close as sharing a wife, were now completely silent in his hour of need.

"Senior, save me!"

As he spoke, he dashed into a secluded barren forest and immediately began shouting.

"Senior?"

The spectators raised their eyebrows. For Zhiyang Dao Ren to call someone senior, could it be a Quasi-Emperor?

At that thought, everyone surged forward to follow.

Deep in the barren forest was a lake, and by its edge sat an old man in a rain cape and hood, leisurely fishing.

"It's really a Quasi-Emperor," the spectators exclaimed in surprise.

"This is going to be interesting," many rubbed their hands, their eyes gleaming. "He wouldn't take on a Quasi-Emperor too, would he?"

"A battle with a Quasi-Emperor—who's stronger?"