Chapter Forty-Six: The Soul-Devouring Black Sorcery

“Master of the Nine Nether Peaks, your true body is sealed. You’re merely controlling a puppet avatar and still dare to unleash the Devouring Black Hole. Are you not afraid of the backlash?” Chen Feng taunted, unafraid of death, as an aura matching that of the man in the black robe erupted from him.

“To think I’d encounter an old acquaintance in such a remote backwater,” the black-robed man remarked in surprise. His own aura surged in response, so overwhelming that it felt as if a beast capable of consuming the heavens and earth stood there instead of a man. The oppressive threat made the blood of all present churn; those with lesser strength struggled even to remain standing.

With a single release of his aura, most people found themselves immobilized, as if only one in ten might survive. Yu Youwei, however, not only stood unfazed, but her blood boiled with battle lust, her eyes ablaze with fighting spirit. Just a puppet avatar, and yet he dominates the entire hall—how arrogant! Of course, she did not rush out recklessly to challenge him; like a venomous serpent lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike, she hid, biding her time for a fatal blow.

Ning Guodong was unaware of Yu Youwei’s mad thoughts; he simply gathered his strength and waited for the black-robed man’s assault. He didn’t have to wait long. A swirling vortex of black sword energy suddenly swept toward them. The defense barrier of the VIP suite flared to life, only to shatter in an instant. The entire wall vanished into dust within the black maelstrom without a sound.

“Crimson Flames for a Thousand Miles!”

With both palms thrust forward, a wave of scarlet fire surged out, colliding with the black sword vortex. For a moment, a deathly silence reigned, then a thunderous explosion erupted, and shockwaves blasted in all directions. The entire row of VIP rooms was obliterated. Ning Guodong, bathed in blood, was hurled backward, caught by his attendant Changsheng, who retreated with him into the hallway.

Such was the result of his full-force strike—Ning Guodong found it hard to believe. After coughing up blood, his eyes grew wild with madness. Shaking off Changsheng, he roared, “Take Mofei and get out!”

“Crimson Flames Pierce the Sun!”

Bloodied, Ning Guodong hurled himself through the air toward the auction hall.

“Father!” Ning Mofei finally realized that his father’s charge was a death sentence. He cried out in panic, only to have his mouth clamped shut by Changsheng, who dragged him forcibly downstairs.

Yu Youwei also retreated to a corner on the first floor, her deep eyes calm as an ancient well. She watched as Ning Guodong landed on the auction platform; a strange sword shadow flashed, tracing dazzling patterns that formed a sword formation, enclosing a twenty-meter radius around the center of the stage.

Soon, all was still once more. Within the sword formation, only the black-robed man, Chen Feng, and two purple-eyed ape-men remained standing. Ning Guodong and the other ape-men had either sunk to their knees or slumped to the ground. About a dozen others slowly rose, badly wounded but forcing themselves upright.

Crimson beads of blood rolled down from the center of Ning Guodong’s brow—first a single drop, then a string of them. From a distance, Yu Youwei’s keen eyes caught a tiny wound on his forehead, and she noticed those blood beads did not shatter upon falling. Not bothering to ponder the cause of this strange phenomenon, a thought flashed through her mind—one she could scarcely accept: Father is dead?

Two lifetimes she had known little fatherly love. Only with Ning Guodong had she finally tasted its warmth, and now he was slain! The thought ignited a blaze of hatred within her heart.

Qing Shuang flashed out like a bolt of blue lightning, severing the black-robed man’s legs with a single stroke. It was a sudden, unexpected move that caught both sides off guard. As his legs were cut, the black-robed man was pierced through the heart by the returning Qing Shuang sword, which also sliced off his sword-wielding wrist. Just as he raised the Soul Devourer Sword, Qing Shuang flicked it aside, sending it flying toward Yu Youwei’s corner.

The hall fell into dead silence—even the black-robed man made not a sound.

No one expected that, upon seeing the Soul Devourer Sword flying toward Yu Youwei, Ning Mofei would leap up and shield her with his body. Changsheng was caught off guard, but even more so was Yu Youwei herself until the broken blade plunged into Ning Mofei’s right chest.

“Mofei, you fool!” Yu Youwei’s eyes filled with tears as she rushed forward to drag him into the darkest corner of the hall.

“You’re my wife. I have to protect you,” Ning Mofei whispered. The icy chill radiating from the Soul Devourer Sword froze his blood, his body succumbing as if to a deadly poison, leaving him numb to pain.

She did not mention that it was she who had wrested the Soul Devourer Sword away and that it could not have harmed her at all. Through her tears, Yu Youwei said, “Don’t speak, Mofei. Bear with it, I’ll pull the sword out for you.”

“Will I die?” Ning Mofei asked softly, his eyes full of complex emotions rarely seen in his usual innocence.

“I won’t let you die.” Yu Youwei replied firmly, feeding him a secret blood-stanching pill, then gripping the broken sword and yanking it out. Blood spurted out, splattering onto her clothes in a dazzling crimson bloom, but most of it was absorbed by the broken blade. Faint runes shimmered and danced across its dark surface.

“There’s a seal on the sword?” The thought flashed through Yu Youwei’s mind. Without hesitating, she grabbed Ning Mofei’s bloodied fingers and tapped them against the runes.

The shifting runes vanished, and black flames erupted from the broken sword—so pure a black that one could still perceive the flicker of fire within, eerily beautiful, as though it were burning a rift in space. The black flames surged forth, the rift widening steadily.

When the black flames had seared a half-foot crack in space, the expansion ceased. The broken sword wrenched itself free from Yu Youwei’s grasp and floated before Ning Mofei.

Everyone stared in stunned silence at the strange, broken sword, wondering what was happening. Then, from the black flames enveloping the sword, a blurred human face emerged. Instantly, a powerful and mysterious aura enveloped Ning Mofei.

The body of the black-robed man suddenly split apart, but his voice echoed in Ning Mofei’s ear: “So the Soul Devourer has accepted a new master—boy, your fortune is great. You have inherited my legacy. Do not disgrace the Soul Devourer.”

The Soul Devourer Sword landed in Ning Mofei’s hand. He gazed at it blankly, unresponsive, while his wounds quietly healed.

The black-robed man’s remains on the auction stage vanished, as though he had never existed.

Auctioneer Lan Mei, when the black-robed man’s legs were severed by Qing Shuang’s blade, had quietly slipped backstage and fled through a hidden passage beneath the platform. The exit was in the woodshed of the Dragon Gate Tavern on the west side of the auction house. Emerging from the woodshed, she had changed into a plain dress and wrapped her hair in a blue-printed kerchief, now appearing as a rustic village wife, entirely unlike the beautiful auctioneer she had been moments before.

Picking up a bamboo basket, Lan Mei headed into the tavern’s main hall. She spoke in a low voice to the old innkeeper at the counter, “Circumstances have changed. The plan is delayed.”

The old innkeeper acted as if he hadn’t heard, still clicking his abacus beads. As Lan Mei turned to leave, a vicious gleam flashed in his clouded eyes. He muttered venomously, “I can’t wait any longer! Even if it costs me everything, I’ll make sure that old dog of the Ning family pays!”