Ms. Diviner: The Prodigal Daughter's Return

Chapter 1007: Chapter 1007: The Deeply Sleeping Man in Splendid Robes

If their own strength was slightly stronger, they might have a chance to battle Zirong. But they rely solely on sword technique, which is completely incompatible with their cultivation. Facing an adversary like Zirong, how could they have any chance of survival?

Looking at Zirong’s pair of Devil Eyes, which had not yet completely returned to normal, even a few black-robed elders felt fear in their hearts.

Following his command, more than a dozen black-clothed swordsmen rushed toward Zirong.

The exquisitely crafted sword techniques unfurled, forming a dense sword net that trapped Zirong within it.

Han Yan and Huayue felt their hearts tighten. Although Zirong had a pair of Devil Eyes that could see through their sword techniques, his own strength was still lacking, and he might not be able to fully utilize the advantage of his Devil Eyes. Facing the joint siege of the Guiyu Clan’s dozen black-clothed swordsmen, it wouldn’t be as easy as before.

Unfortunately, although they divided into more than a dozen people to deal with Zirong, the others continued to restrain Han Yan and the rest, making it impossible for them to lend any assistance.

Huayue’s hand gripped the Demon-breaking Spear once more, determined to use the Blood Sacrifice Technique without hesitation if Zirong encountered danger, tapping into the hidden power within the spear.

They clearly underestimated Zirong’s Devil Eyes.

Two blood mists simultaneously sprayed forth, and a black-clothed swordsman fell to the ground, dying. Until his death, he clutched the wound in his Heart Meridian, unable to stop the spraying blood mist and the rapidly fading life force.

Another blood mist emanated from Zirong. Although he had slain the foremost Ninth-Order Swordsman, a deep wound that revealed bone remained on Zirong’s shoulder.

Surrounded from all sides, even with the Devil Eyes, he could no longer handle the situation as effortlessly as before.

Yet, his face still maintained the previous smile, as he stepped forward toward Han Yan with firm strides.

Blood blossomed continuously from his body, yet his sword pierced from various angles, seemingly ordinary but unstoppable.

The only words to describe his swordsmanship were: precise!

No matter how ordinary his swordsmanship appeared, nor how slow the speed seemed, each strike accurately targeted the opponent’s most fatal weakness.

Until the sword effortlessly pierced the opponent’s Heart Meridian, only then would others realize that perhaps his swordsmanship could have been faster, deliberately slowing down to seize the solitary flaw that appeared in that instant, delivering the opponent a fatal blow.

One black-clothed swordsman after another fell at his feet, dying with faces full of unwillingness: Why, why was his swordsmanship devoid of any intricacy, slow as if dancing randomly, yet impossible to evade?

Though it seemed long, all happened within mere moments. Zirong’s sword wasn’t fast, but highly efficient; each thrust caused a black-clothed swordsman to helplessly fall at his feet, forever losing their vitality.

Finally, after killing the last black-clothed swordsman attempting to intercept him, Zirong arrived before Han Yan. Jiang Yuzhe and Huayue smiled at Zirong, the feeling of one-step, one-kill, finally meeting made their hearts stir and calm. Zirong returned the smile and then looked toward Han Yan.

”Young Master, leave this to me,” Zirong said calmly.

At this moment, Zirong was already covered in wounds; although each wound was not fatal, the blood staining his body was alarming.

Yet his smile remained serene, still carrying a hint of nonchalance, offering a sense of peace to others.

His black and white eyes had become more enchanting.

Han Yan nodded, suddenly leaping up toward the shrine, the Cold Sky Sword in his hand unleashing ten thousand rays like the Ancient Divine Sword of legend that opened the heavens.

Just as a few black-clothed swordsmen were about to intervene, Zirong’s Longsword swiftly stabbed, causing them to fall powerless, losing their lives before their swords could even be fully extended.

”Stop him!” The faces of the black-robed elders changed dramatically as they flew to intercept Han Yan.

Ye Lanfeng, of course, wouldn’t let them succeed, seizing their moment of chaos, his Longsword unfolded, and a black-robed elder died under his blade.

The other two black-robed elders, though enraged, dared not act rashly, struggling to fend off Ye Lanfeng’s offensive while helplessly watching Han Yan slash toward the shrine with his sword.

”Creak!” A loud crack rang out as the shrine, already ancient and teetering, was split open by Han Yan’s sword, collapsing on both sides with a thunderous crash.

Under the immense sword power, even the blue stone-paved ground was torn up, revealing a long stone staircase.

Following the stairs downward with his gaze, a black-brown sacrificial altar appeared before him.

A man lay on the altar, surrounded by various sacrificial artifacts, clearly refined through Alchemy Techniques. The man was roughly twenty years old, dressed in a luxurious robe, seemingly in deep sleep, his complexion gray like a corpse, yet his lips bore a mocking smile, indescribably eerie.

”Where is Han Feng?” Han Yan’s gaze quickly moved from the man to scan the surroundings.

With a quick sweep of his eyes, Han Yan did not see Han Yan’s figure. Could the Cold Sky Sword have sensed incorrectly, mistakenly identifying one of the sacrificial artifacts as the Chi Xiao Sword? After all, no matter how spiritual a Divine Sword may be, it remains a sword and not a person, and sensing things relies entirely on aura, not eyes, so such an error is not surprising.

Regardless, not seeing his brother, Han Yan finally sighed in relief, his long-suspended heart landing back in place.

But soon, his heart tightened again.

A long row of prisons lined the altar, filled with white bones. If he wasn’t mistaken, these were all young girls’ remains. In the prison at the far end, Han Yan could still see the bodies of several recently deceased girls, with death-grey faces showing the last moments of life filled with fear and despair.

Boundless rage burned intensely within Han Yan’s heart.

Although she didn’t yet know what Evil Technique the Guiyu Clan used to enhance their sword technique, seeing these girls’ bones, she could imagine it must come at the cost of these young lives.

No wonder the Guiyu Clan didn’t need to consume Elixirs, sacrifice longevity, or worry about leaving any aftereffects to greatly enhance their combat power and exhibit sword techniques far surpassing their cultivation. It wasn’t without a cost; it was at the expense of these girls’ lives.