From a Martial Arts Sect to an Immortal Cultivation Sect Chapter 59
Yang Jueding noticed that Li Yang was already at the end of his strength.
Calculating the time, he reckoned that with that disciple’s speed, the messenger should have reached the sect by now.
At once, he twisted his body and charged toward Li Yang. Guang Lantian and Zhang Songjing, both already injured, lunged again, prompting a murderous gleam to flash in his eyes.
“You’re truly seeking death!”
Yang Jueding struck with full force—his Nine Heavens Divine Palm erupted, inner energy surging like a flood.
With a single palm, he blasted Guang Lantian and Zhang Songjing into the air, both spitting blood as they flew backward.
Stepping with intricate footwork, he quickly reached Li Yang’s side, grabbed him by the collar, and ran toward the direction of the Clear Sky Sect. Along the way, his free hand continuously swept out, sending each attacker flying.
Guang Lantian crashed into the snow and coughed up another mouthful of blood. He turned his head to look, his eyes filled with horror as he gazed at Yang Jueding.
“This fellow…”
He could not comprehend Yang Jueding’s power.
Years ago, when Yang Jueding had joined the Seven Peaks Alliance, his strength had been merely average—yet now he could easily inflict heavy injuries upon him.
Was the Martial Legend’s divine technique truly so powerful?
Carrying Li Yang, Yang Jueding broke through the encirclement, but masters from the three factions immediately pursued.
The other sects who had been watching hesitated only briefly before also joining the chase.
After a fierce battle, Yang Jueding’s vital energy was completely depleted.
That one palm which had severely injured Guang Lantian and Zhang Songjing had consumed the last of his strength—otherwise, it would have been impossible to wound them so gravely.
However, the experts of the Azure Sect, Iron Mountain Peak, Seven Peaks Alliance, and others—all first-rate masters—rushed to his sides and continued launching attacks.
While running, Yang Jueding bent his body to dodge a fierce whip kick, then leapt over a horizontally slashing broadsword.
Taking advantage of the motion, he raised his palm and struck the chest of the blade wielder, sending the man spitting blood and sliding backward on his knees.
Being carried, Li Yang did not feel relief—instead, he was filled with humiliation, his whole body tense.
Bang!
Yang Jueding was kicked heavily in the back.
The force made him stumble and lose balance, tumbling forward, causing Li Yang to crash painfully to the ground.
After rolling several times, Yang Jueding pressed his palm to the ground and spun to face his attacker.
It was none other than the Azure Sect’s helmsman, Duan Tu.
Though Duan Tu was short, his presence now exuded a dominating aura—like a god of slaughter standing amidst the snow, malice radiating from him.
Many years ago, Yang Jueding had once crossed hands with Duan Tu and had suffered a loss.
Seeing Duan Tu blocking his path now, he narrowed his eyes, killing intent flaring.
Duan Tu lunged again—and not only him, but more than a dozen great sect masters rushed together.
If it were one-on-one, Yang Jueding could easily crush them, but with his vital energy exhausted, he could only dodge passively.
Li Yang’s vision cleared just in time to see a blade drawn across his chest-level. Looking up, he saw a middle-aged man with a scarred face, dressed in a filthy black robe and wearing a bamboo hat.
Their eyes met, and Li Yang was instantly frozen in place.
Those were eyes colder than anything he had ever seen—eyes that had slaughtered countless lives, polished until all emotion had vanished.
“You—” Li Yang began to ask instinctively, but the middle-aged man turned his head. Li Yang followed his gaze—and his eyes widened.
Someone was galloping toward them on horseback—it was his cousin, Zhao Linglong.
A few tried to block her, but a fierce surge of energy burst from her, sending them flying back.
Duan Tu turned as well and rushed forward, intending to stop Zhao Linglong just as he had stopped Li Yang earlier. Yet the moment he struck, he was sent flying by an overwhelming wave of force, blood spraying from his body.
Li Yang stared, dumbfounded, doubting his own eyes.
With Zhao Linglong’s forceful arrival, the experts besieging Yang Jueding stopped their attacks.
They surrounded him cautiously, but their gazes were now fixed warily on Zhao Linglong.
Zhao Linglong rode up before Li Yang and Yang Jueding.
She pulled the reins with one hand, her horse rearing high and neighing. Her green robes fluttered as she sat atop the steed, exuding the aura of a powerful master—entirely unlike her usually frail self.
Her eyes were cold as ice, carrying an oppressive might similar to that of the scar-faced man.
As the horse landed, she fixed her gaze upon the middle-aged man and spoke coldly: “Blood Severing Blade, Dian Ming—you’ve been retired from the martial world for over ten years. Why are you interfering in Guzhou’s affairs now?”
Her voice was soft and melodious, yet carried killing intent that spread far and wide, reaching even Yang Jueding’s ears.
“‘Blood Severing Blade’ Dian Ming… the number one martial expert of Weizhou ten years ago…”
A martial master from Iron Mountain Peak murmured to himself, eyes filled with disbelief.
The experts of the Seven Peaks Alliance and Azure Sect also sensed something wrong—they had not invited anyone from Weizhou.
Looking around, they exchanged glances and realized none of them recognized Dian Ming.
Dian Ming held his blade single-handedly. His Blood Severing Blade resembled a willow leaf, the edges etched with blood-red grooves.
Snowflakes that touched the blade instantly turned to wisps of vapor.
His face was weathered, the scar on his right cheek stretching ten inches long—hideous and terrifying.
A few white hairs in his beard made him look like an aged, feral wolf.
“At such a young age, to wield such power—no talent alone could grant this. What is your surname?” Dian Ming asked coldly.
The various sects halted in the distance, watching the confrontation. Any discerning eye could tell that Dian Ming was no ordinary man.
Zhao Linglong remained on horseback, looking down at him. “Zhao.”
A glint of icy light flashed across Dian Ming’s eyes. He sneered. “I see… so you’re the current inheritor of the Mystic Yin Art. You must carry at least two hundred years of accumulated power. Seems that old one has finally breathed his last.”
Two hundred years of cultivation!
The surrounding martial experts were shocked, and even Li Yang was stunned—he had never imagined his cousin was so formidable.
No wonder his father had insisted Zhao Linglong accompany him. It wasn’t for her to gain experience—it was for her to protect him.
Throughout their journey, they had escaped death time and again. He had often wondered why—never realizing that his savior had been by his side all along.
Zhao Linglong did not even glance at the fallen Li Yang. Her gaze stayed locked on Dian Ming. “So, you’ve set your sights on the Martial Legend’s divine technique as well?”
Dian Ming bared his teeth in a twisted grin. “That technique surpasses even your Mystic Yin Art.”
Suddenly, he slashed toward her—the blade moved as swift as thunder. Even Li Yang, who prided himself on rivaling first-rate masters, could not follow the motion.
Zhao Linglong’s reaction was equally swift.
Like a ghostly shadow, she leapt over her horse’s head, landing before it, palm thrusting forward.
Inner energy erupted, forming a visible aura barrier shielding both her and her steed.
Boom!
Dian Ming’s strike unleashed three arcs of blade energy, slicing through Zhao Linglong’s barrier and sweeping backward.
The tyrannical energy tore through the snowfield—four martial experts who failed to dodge were instantly shredded into flesh, splattering the snow crimson.
The rest retreated in terror.
Zhao Linglong glanced back briefly, then pressed forward to engage Dian Ming.
Their figures blurred, movements so fast even Yang Jueding found them inconceivable. To onlookers, they seemed to multiply into overlapping shadows—fierce, untouchable.
Blade energy and inner force exploded in all directions, melting the snow beneath their feet.
From above, the once-white field darkened to bare earth, spreading rapidly.
Shaking, Guang Lantian forced himself upright. Staring at Zhao Linglong and Dian Ming, his eyes were filled with dread.
Were there truly people in this world with such martial prowess?
Even the mysterious intruder who had broken into the Seven Peaks Alliance that night paled in comparison to these two.
Bai He, the Azure Sect’s deputy leader, pushed through the crowd like a ghost. His bloodstained face was twisted in fear—he dared not advance.
“Senior Yang, please take my cousin up the mountain.”
Zhao Linglong’s soft voice carried across the battlefield.
Yang Jueding snapped back to his senses, circled past the dueling pair, lifted Li Yang, and hurried toward the Clear Sky Sect.
The experts of the Azure Sect, Seven Peaks Alliance, and Iron Mountain Peak moved to chase, but Zhao Linglong turned and struck a palm toward the ground.
The sweeping energy tore across the snow before them, forcing them to halt in fright.
Such terrifying power!
Dian Ming did not pursue Li Yang.
He was wholly focused on Zhao Linglong—the two were evenly matched, neither gaining the upper hand.
Yang Jueding ran while carrying Li Yang and sighed in admiration. “Scholar, your cousin is truly formidable. What’s the origin of this Mystic Yin Art? To carry two hundred years of cultivation—it’s unheard of.”
Li Yang forced a bitter smile. “I didn’t know she was this powerful either. As for the Mystic Yin Art, I’ve heard of it—it’s the supreme art of the Li Yin Sect, one of the three founding sects of the Great Dynasty. It’s said to have a history of a thousand years, capable of passing one’s cultivation to another. But once passed, the practitioner dies. I never imagined someone could inherit two hundred years of power…”
Yang Jueding questioned as they moved, but his pace slowed—fatigue was taking over.
After running for several miles, they finally saw figures ahead—Zhang Yuchun leading a group of disciples rushing toward them.
Relief spread across Yang Jueding’s face.
After cultivating the Primordial Unity Scripture, he understood how strong Zhang Yuchun was—at the Second Layer of the Nourishing Vital Energy Realm. If Zhang Yuchun was here, Xu Ning likely wasn’t far behind.
Seeing Yang Jueding and Li Yang, Zhang Yuchun immediately used the Wind Sprint Technique to close the distance.
The disciples following him were those training midway down the mountain—others were still on their way.
He reached Yang Jueding’s side, took Li Yang from him, and retreated while asking, “What happened?”
“Li Yang’s cousin is holding them off. An accident occurred—an ancient top expert from Weizhou has appeared,” Yang Jueding said quickly.
Zhang Yuchun frowned, then suddenly sensed danger. He shoved Yang Jueding and Li Yang aside just as a flying dagger whistled past them.
The dagger shot straight toward the disciples of the Clear Sky Sect.
From behind the group, a graceful figure leapt into the air and landed like a startled swan.
With a single sword strike, she cleaved the dagger in two—it was Xu Ning.
She sheathed her sword fluidly, carrying the same poise as Li Qingqiu himself.
Seeing Xu Ning arrive, Yang Jueding finally relaxed completely. But when he turned back, his brows furrowed deeply.
Through the swirling snow, seven shadowy figures were approaching. Though he had never seen them before, each emanated a sense of danger—none weaker than Dian Ming.
By this point, Yang Jueding realized something was terribly wrong.
No matter how powerful the Azure Sect was, they couldn’t possibly invite so many supreme experts.
Could there be an even greater power behind all this?