Chapter 83: Master Sorcerer

"Grand Preceptor, the second son of the Ji family has already reached the first rank at such a young age. In a few years, he will surely become a Grandmaster. With the Imperial Sword in his possession, he will become a grave threat to our Great Liang! I beseech you, Grand Preceptor, to act! Slay this villain!"

The young man bowed respectfully to Aguta, Grand Preceptor of Liang.

"This..." Aguta hesitated, his expression uncertain. For a Grandmaster sorcerer to strike against a mere youth—such a deed was not without shame.

Five li away, Ji Huo was in the midst of slaughter. Thunder and the phantom of a giant bear flickered in and out of sight. Even those watching from afar were awed and terrified by the display of lightning.

Though his fists and power did not match the legendary Flying Bear General, with every casual movement he summoned the force of thunder, showing not a trace of fatigue.

If he was not a monster of stamina, then he must have cultivated the "Thunderous Fierce Bear Fist," an earth-level martial art, to an extraordinary degree!

"Grand Preceptor! Ji Huo now wields the 'Thunderous Fierce Bear Fist' with perfect ease—its power flows at his will. This martial art is the cornerstone of the Flying Bear Army. Should he one day command it, he would be a second Flying Bear General!"

The youth grew anxious. He had already dispatched many experts to confront Ji Huo, yet the reports he received were all of defeat, with Ji Huo overwhelming them.

If he delayed any longer, Ji Huo would surely escape!

He spoke immediately, "If we let him go now, there will be no second chance!"

Aguta glanced at the youth. All these words were, in truth, for the Imperial Sword—he understood this well.

The Imperial Sword held little allure for Aguta. He was here only to fulfill the old emperor’s command, to oversee the proceedings.

But... this young man must not be allowed to live!

His potential was simply too astonishing.

"If that is so, I shall be the villain this time. Second Prince, bring forth the sacrificial offerings," Aguta ordered.

If Ji Huo were a Grandmaster, Aguta would have watched from afar, retreated another few dozen li, and then acted—making escape easier. But Ji Huo was not, and five li was a safe distance for Aguta.

The youth was indeed the Second Prince of Liang, soon to become the Second Lord. The old emperor had prepared everything before his departure; the new emperor would soon ascend, ensuring a smooth transition.

The beauty of Great Liang lay in its princes’ utter lack of interest in the throne; the Crown Prince would inherit without strife, brothers in harmony. Unlike Great Zhou, where only two remained from the carnage—soon, perhaps, only one.

Soon, ten death-row prisoners were brought forth.

Aguta took out a slender tube and inserted it, one by one, into each prisoner’s heart.

Whatever power the tube possessed, it slid in effortlessly. The prisoners’ skin quickly shriveled and turned ashen, and a few drops of heart’s blood dripped from the tube.

From ten men, he gathered barely half a bowl.

Aguta solemnly placed the blood upon a prepared altar, then drew from his robes a black doll wrapped in cloth.

He picked up a vermillion brush and swirled it in the bowl. The tiny amount of heart’s blood was instantly absorbed, leaving not a drop.

The brush shone brilliantly, like a glowing wand.

Thunder rumbled from afar, growing only more frequent. The sound alone spoke of the battle’s ferocity.

Aguta grasped the brush, poised over the black doll.

He cast a glance toward the direction of the relentless thunder.

Ji Huo was locked in fierce combat, when suddenly he sensed something amiss—a brief stagnation in the surrounding space, restored in the blink of an eye.

In that instant, it seemed he had lost something, but no matter how he searched, he could not pinpoint it.

He was beset by six first-rank experts. Even he could not spare the focus to investigate.

Where had these first-rankers been hiding? Now, all appeared. Their teamwork was exquisite; when one or two could not withstand his assault, they all resisted together, barely holding their own.

Yet as the battle raged on, fear consumed the six. They were already exhausted, but Ji Huo remained lively, as if fatigue were foreign to him.

After kicking one expert aside, Ji Huo sheathed the Imperial Sword at his waist. Lightning crackled in his hands as he laughed wildly:

"Ha! Ha! Ha! All of you, come at me! I’ll take on ten at once!"

At that, both those present and those lurking in the shadows were awed by his domineering spirit, a chill of dread rising in their hearts.

Aguta withdrew his gaze. Without hesitation, he pressed the brush to the black doll and murmured softly,

"Ji Huo... Ji Huo..."

The brush danced swiftly, inscribing the name "Ji Huo" in bold, flowing script.

As soon as the name was finished, the brush’s red glow faded, the heart’s blood at its tip nearly exhausted, barely enough for another stroke.

Aguta raised the brush and carefully dotted the doll’s eyes with the last bit of blood.

Two dots, and the brush went utterly dim—the blood used up exactly.

As the eyes were completed, the black doll seemed suddenly endowed with intelligence. Its mere gaze sent a chill down one’s spine, a strange aura emanating.

Though the doll did not move, all who watched felt as though it stared directly at them.

Aguta set the black doll on the table, and it stood upright, leaning on its feet. The faint, mocking smile at its lips seemed to ridicule everyone.

From his robes, Aguta produced a small golden knife. He bowed four times to the doll, then plunged the knife into its chest without hesitation.

With the stab, the doll instantly lost its vitality, rendered useless.

A spurt of blood—

Ji Huo’s body convulsed violently. He looked down to find a hideous wound at his chest—someone had seemingly pierced him with a butcher’s cleaver, straight through.

Blood gushed from the wound, pouring from both front and back.

With the wound came a wave of exhaustion and cold, as though something had wrapped itself around him, draining his blood and vital essence.

"Who dares to strike at me from the shadows!" Ji Huo roared through gritted teeth, scanning the distance in fury. Without hesitation, he pulled out a jade pendant and crushed it on the spot.

A phantom of a middle-aged man appeared before him, hands clasped behind his back.

The experts, who had been ready to attack upon seeing Ji Huo wounded, saw the apparition and fled in terror.

The Sword Saint’s phantom eyes flashed, regaining life.

He first glanced at the six escaping first-rankers, then looked to Ji Huo, eyes settling on his chest wound.

With a single look, he found the source. His gaze shifted, locking onto the distant darkness. His right hand formed a sword gesture and swept forcefully:

"Heavenly Thunder, Strike Without Reproach!"

At first, the sword light was but a glimmer, but as it swept forth, it grew rapidly, infused with some strange power—surging and boiling, in an instant becoming a mighty river.

In a flash, the sword energy engulfed four fleeing first-rankers, vanishing into the distance.

All that could be seen was a silvery light stretching across the night sky, dazzling as the Milky Way.

"Damn!" Aguta’s heart froze, but before he could react, the world blazed white, his vision consumed by sword energy.

The sword’s force swept by in an instant, without resistance.

The sword energy, spanning five li, easily tore Aguta’s body to pieces.