Dragon Canon

The battle between Zhao Fusheng and Mahamayuri was like thunder striking the earth and fire igniting the sky—it had reached its climax in an instant.

A great axe appeared in Zhao Fusheng’s hand, and his Avatar was, surprisingly, a scroll painting. However, the image within was blurry and impossible to discern.

With his left fist and right axe, he unleashed a barrage of attacks accompanied by light, wind, and thunder. He constantly shifted his tactics as he repeatedly probed Mahamayuri for a weak spot. However, whether it was molten lava, flowing fire, wind, sand or thunder, they were all merely supporting elements. His formidable physical body and his own mystic energy were the core of his strength.

Meanwhile, the monk—Mahamayuri—shifted and transformed in uncanny ways. He almost always managed to dodge an attack the instant they struck. If evasion was truly impossible, he would leave behind a phantom image of a golden Bodhisattva behind. The golden figure was both real and illusory; Zhao Fusheng had to strike with all his might to shatter it.

From time to time, Mahamayuri would extend a single fingertip that radiated a multicolored halo. Whatever it was, Zhao Fusheng was clearly deeply wary of it. He dodged every time it was used, unwilling to take the blow head-on.

Every movement of both combatants carried immense power, causing chunks of rock and ground in the surrounding area to suddenly vanish from time to time. Just the spillover of their attacks was powerful enough to cause mountains and rocks to disintegrate upon contact.

But overall, the power of their attacks were extremely focused. They remained within a chi of each other’s bodies at all times, wasting not a single iota of mystic energy.

Just then, the dozen or so cultivators whom Mahamayuri had converted received an order and began moving toward the captured ferret. Zhao Fusheng was enraged by this, but he had no spare hands to deal with them. He could only keep his eyes fixed on the monk as he launched a full-force assault.

The cultivator atop the rocky hill, who had been trembling with fear just moments before, suddenly leaped backward into the pre-prepared fortifications. There, several flying-sword cannons had already been set up and aimed straight at the enemies. The muzzles started rotating, and countless flying swords rained down on the cultivators below!

Although a single flying sword wasn’t particularly powerful, their sheer number and density made them overwhelming. Moreover, they were guided by a cultivator’s perception, and no matter how quickly one dodged, they could not possibly outmaneuver a continuous stream of tiny flying swords. In the blink of an eye, blood spurted from the cultivators’ bodies. The injuries might be superficial at the moment, but they could quickly accumulate into severe injuries over time.

The cultivators had never seen a weapon like this before. Momentarily at a loss, they hurriedly raised their defensive mystic treasures to shield themselves. Only then did they begin to slowly climb the mountain while braving the rain of flying swords.

Zhao Fusheng saw this from afar and, his eyes lighting up with delight, he burst into loud laughter. At the same time, he upped the intensity of his attack, turning himself into a storm that firmly blocked Mahamayuri’s way.

Mahamayuri’s expression remained calm, though a hint of violence flickered in his eyes. He suddenly let out a bark—a hoarse, eerie cry like a giant bird’s cry echoing in the sky—and a massive peacock appeared above his head. Its two eyes locked onto Zhao Fusheng as it unleashed a burst of five-colored radiance!

“I’ve been waiting for this!” Zhao Fusheng let out a long laugh as a strange beast suddenly rushed out of his scroll painting. It had a human head, a serpent’s body, six arms and four legs. Each hand was clutching a different mystic artifact.

At first, it attempted to use four hands to block the five-colored radiance. However, the mystic artifacts it wielded immediately showed signs of melting, so it had no choice but to use all six. Only then was it able to withstand the peacock’s energy blast.

On the other side of the battlefield, at the rocky hill, another cultivator stepped out into view. He was also wielding a rotary flying-sword cannon. In an instant, a sky-filling, earth-shattering rain of flying swords rained down!

The two streams of swords crossed paths, leaving the cultivators with almost nowhere to hide. They had no choice but to charge head-on through the onslaught.

At that moment, a deep, rumbling boom echoed out, and the cultivator at the very forefront suddenly came to a halt. One of his thighs had been severed!

Despite suffering such severe injuries, the smile on his face remained unchanged as he continued to charge forward, braving the torrent of flying swords. However, his protective cultivation method had already been breached, so the barrage of swords shattered his mystic body in the blink of an eye.

Another deafening boom rang out, and a large hole suddenly appeared in the center of a lone cultivator’s body in the middle of the group, nearly splitting him in two. The crisscrossing barrage of flying swords instantly converged on him and ripped his mystic body to shreds!

Under the three-pronged gunfire, there were virtually no blind spots across the entire battlefield. Wei Yuan’s gunshots were so powerful that one hit was all it took to breach an Avatar’s defenses. The attack was immediately followed by two torrents of flying swords that delivered the finishing blow. In the blink of an eye, seven cultivators had perished on the spot, while the others were so overwhelmed they couldn’t mount a proper charge at all. They were forced to crawl upward through the death zone of flying swords.

Each individual flying sword was only equivalent to a single Human-tier Dao Foundation strike and usually caused no more than a tickle when it struck. The average Avatar could withstand dozens of such hits without issue. But one hundred? Two hundred? That was a different story. Coupled with Wei Yuan’s targeted strikes, the Avatars immediately suffered heavy casualties.

In the distance, Mahamayuri was busy fighting against Zhao Fusheng. It wasn’t until one-third of his cultivators had been wiped out that he noticed that something was amiss, including two from Qiongshan Immortal Island. Both men were taken aback: in the span of less than half a teatime, the ambusher had already fired at least two or three thousand flying swords. What kind of mystic treasure could be so formidable?

Mahamayuri suddenly murmured a Buddhist chant, and the enormous peacock appeared above his head once more. This time, instead of spewing its five-colored radiance, it spread its tail feathers!

A dazzling feathered screen dozens of zhang wide manifested into view. Instantly, patches of five-colored radiance flickered throughout the underground chamber. Everyone felt as if their bodies were rusting, and their movements became abnormally sluggish, including Zhao Fusheng.

But Zhao Fusheng remained unflustered. The scroll painting above his head spun faster and faster, emitting waves of desolate roars as if some ancient colossal beast were about to burst forth. With each roar, vast swathes of the five-colored radiance disappeared.

Zhao Fusheng was seasoned and experienced. He knew that the monk’s mystic ability, while powerful, had to consume an enormous amount of mystic energy. There was no way it could be sustained for long. The more fiercely he struggled, the sooner he could break free from his restraints.

Mahamayuri let out another Buddhist chant and prepared to seize the ferret. Just then, a deafening boom erupted from the side, and a powerful bullet hurtled straight toward the monk!

The monk sidestepped, dodging the shot. However, he immediately noticed that something was amiss. When he traced the bullet’s trajectory with his gaze, he saw it striking Zhao Fusheng squarely in the back of the head!

There was a loud bang as the bullet became utterly deformed as it fell to the ground. At the same time, Zhao Fusheng lost a tuft of hair and suffered a minor scrape on his scalp.

The sheer force of the shot left the man dizzy and seeing stars, though. He shook his head vigorously, his anger surging. Unfortunately, he was still bound by Mahamayuri’s mystic ability. Even the mere act of turning his body felt like it would take an entire year to finish.

The monk looked thoughtful as his figure disappeared and reappeared at the foot of the mountain. Immediately, two torrents of flying swords shot toward him from either side. The monk flickered back to his original spot, and a faint trace of alarm finally crossed his face. It was because he discovered that the three cultivators lying in ambush were immune to his innate mystic ability!

The monk was mistaken, though. Wei Yuan and the two Dragon Guards were moving just as sluggishly as Zhao Fusheng. It was just that aiming didn’t require much physical movement at all. Even the slightest shift of the muzzle could cause the point of impact to deviate by dozens of zhang. Furthermore, the flying swords could be guided by one’s perception, so precise aiming wasn’t strictly necessary.

Mahamayuri was still frowning when another deafening boom rocked his ears.

The sound of the mystic treasure was distinctly different from that of a rotary flying-sword cannon. It fired only once per shot, but each blast shook the heavens and earth like a thunderclap. The bullets it fired were also immensely powerful—equivalent to a full-power strike from an Avatar—and were in no way comparable to a mere flying sword.

The shot once again struck Zhao Fusheng. Since he was struggling to turn his head, the bullet hit him at the junction of his temple and eyesocket. Instantly, the impact snapped his head back, and the impact site swelled up dramatically!

Enraged, Zhao Fusheng spun around again, only to see a flash of fire in the distance. He instinctively ducked his head, but this caused the shot to strike the brow bone above his left eye, blowing away half his eyebrow and causing his entire eye to swell shot.

All three shots had hit Zhao Fusheng, stunning even Mahamayuri. The monk could not help but think to himself: Did Zhao Fusheng steal the ambusher’s wife or something? It was the only plausible reason why they had attacked with such vicious cruelty, specifically targeting the face!

Unbeknownst to Zhao Fusheng and Mahamayuri, Wei Yuan was quite stunned himself. He had landed two shots on the guy’s face, and yet they didn’t even break the skin? The resilience of the man’s mystic body rivaled that of his own!

He urgently issued an order to increase the lethality of his weapon, but this time, his crouching dragons and phoenix chicks were nowhere to be found. There were only dog-faced advisors[1] offering hundreds of useless strategies.

By the third shot, Zhao Fusheng was already in a frenzy. Narrowing his slit-wide left eye, he let out an earth-shaking roar. Suddenly, a massive dragon’s head emerged from the scroll painting and opened its mouth to spew a torrent of pure white flame.

The peacock Dharma, still spreading its tail, let out a mournful cry as white flames ignited on its tail feathers, charring many of them in an instant.

Mahamayuri’s face turned pale, and he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. When the blood hit the ground, it too burst into pure white flames and was consumed in the blink of an eye.

The monk’s expression finally changed, and he withdrew his Dharma and turned to leave. All the cultivators he had converted followed suit.

Zhao Fusheng wasn’t faring well either; his aura had plummeted sharply after unleashing the devastating counterattack. But as soon as he regained his freedom, instead of pursuing the monk, he charged straight toward the ambusher.

1. Meaning an inept person. ☜