strictlysupreme Chapter 122 The Illusory Image of the Martial Emperor
Chapter 122 The Illusory Image of the Martial Emperor
The old man from the evil race coldly surveyed the entire scene. Seeing the human alliance's utter exhaustion, he finally ceased his meddling. He had waited far too long—waited for these human geniuses to kill each other, waited for them to run out of strength, waited for them to reveal their weaknesses. Now, the time had come.
He blurred into a wisp of black smoke and charged into the battle line. His speed was unbelievable; it wasn't footwork, but an evil technique—transforming into smoke, ignoring physical defenses and the obstruction of formations. With a wave of his withered hand, dense black evil energy transformed into several giant python phantoms, each as thick as a water bucket, its mouth wide open, fangs bared, sweeping across all directions.
Several freshmen, unable to dodge in time, were ensnared by the evil python, screaming in agony as their inner energy was rapidly devoured. Their faces turned deathly pale, their lips purple, their eyes glazed over, like withered trees drained of life. Zhao Tiejun roared, slamming his heavy sword into one of the evil pythons. The blade embedded itself in the snake's body, but it was as if it had been cut into glue, impossible to pull out. The evil python then coiled around his arm, black, malevolent energy piercing his skin like countless needles. He gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, but his grip on the sword loosened more and more.
"A bunch of ants, daring to stop a chariot with their bare hands!" The evil elder laughed maniacally, his voice hoarse and piercing, like the cawing of a crow. "This place will be your burial ground!"
Su Muyue's main formation was directly impacted by the evil force. Large areas of the formation dimmed, and the golden light barrier, like glass struck by a hammer, was riddled with cracks and on the verge of collapse. Her delicate body swayed, a sweet taste rising in her throat. She forced down the blood that surged up, barely managing to steady herself, but her legs were already beginning to weaken. Su Ling'er rushed over and placed a high-grade Qi-stabilizing pill into her mouth. The pill's warm medicinal power quickly spread, stabilizing her collapsing true energy.
Chu Fan frowned, setting up three defensive arrays in succession, layer upon layer, in an attempt to block the old man of the evil race's next wave of attacks. But under the erosion of the evil power, those array patterns crumbled one after another like paper. He gritted his teeth and set up a fourth and a fifth array, but each one could not last more than three breaths.
Leng Feng was tightly entangled by four high-level evil cultivators. The four worked in perfect coordination, taking turns to engage him, giving him no chance to breathe. He continued to swing his battle blade, but his speed had slowed, his strength had diminished, and the light on the blade had dimmed. He had already killed two and wounded three, but the enemy seemed endless. He heard the evil elder's maniacal laughter, the sound of Su Muyue's main formation shattering, and the screams of the new students behind him, but he was unable to spare any attention and could only grit his teeth and vent his anger on the enemies before him.
The gaps in the defenses were widening, and it seemed only a matter of time before the collapse occurred.
Qin Hao was overjoyed at the sight. Standing on the high ground, he waved his arms and shouted, "Attack with all your might! Break through the lines and seize the Star Essence Liquid! After this battle, my Qin family will control the entire Star Martial University, and everyone will be able to obtain opportunities!" His face was filled with a morbid excitement, and his eyes were flashing with a crazy light, like the madness of a gambler going all in on the last round.
Lin Chen forced back two barely breathing Qin family guards with a single sword strike and took a deep breath.
The Star Martial Core within his dantian rotated to its limit.
It wasn't high-speed rotation, but a stillness that transcended the limits of speed. The feeling was hard to describe—the Star Martial Core no longer hummed or vibrated, but instead, like a ignited star, it quietly floated in the center of the dantian, releasing endless light and heat. All twelve meridians opened simultaneously, and the star power no longer flowed from the dantian to the limbs, but instead flowed back from the limbs to the dantian, and then surged out again, forming a complete, infinitely looping energy cycle.
The star power around him had reached its peak.
He felt it. That dormant power deep within the core of the Star Martial, never to be awakened, was awakening. Like a colossal beast that had slumbered for millennia, it slowly opened its eyes.
He no longer hesitated.
"Since you are so stubborn, then let me show you the true power of the Martial Emperor Star Force."
Lin Chen unleashed all the stellar power, meridian potential, and available strength from his Star Martial Core. It wasn't burning; it was a sacrifice—he poured all his accumulated experience, sweat, and beliefs from the moment he embarked on the path of martial arts into this single instant.
His body shone with a brilliant silver light, not the faint, gentle silver light of before, but a silver pillar of light that shot into the sky, piercing through the thick gray mist in the secret realm and breaking through the layers of the mind-altering array, soaring straight into the heavens. Within the pillar of light, a phantom figure slowly emerged behind him—a middle-aged man dressed in a black robe, a long sword hanging at his waist, tall and imposing, with a dignified face and a sense of vicissitudes that seemed to have seen through a thousand years.
The first Emperor Wu.
It's not the real body, but a fragment of will. It's a guardian engraved deep within the core of the Star Martial, passed down for thousands of years, a final trump card that only reveals itself when forced into a desperate situation.
The appearance of that phantom was without any warning or ceremony; it simply appeared naturally behind Lin Chen, as if he had always been there, waiting for a thousand years, and finally the time had come for him to appear.
The aura carried by the phantom was vast, majestic, and irresistible. It was not the aura of a Transformation Realm cultivator, nor the aura of an Earth Martial Realm cultivator, nor even the aura that should exist in this world—it was the aura of an existence that had suppressed an entire era.
The entire mist was suddenly dispersed by the starlight disc. Within a hundred feet, the gray evil mist, the black evil power, the dark spiritual energy—all things sinister—melted, dissipated, and evaporated instantly under the light of the Martial Emperor's phantom, like snow meeting the blazing sun. The air became crisp and clear, the grayish-white soil on the ground regained its brown hue, and even the withered grass and trees slightly raised their heads.
The old man's maniacal laughter froze instantly.
His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints, and his body involuntarily took two steps back. The string of bone beads slipped from his fingers, scattering across the ground with a crackling sound.
"The...the phantom of the Martial Emperor?" His voice was dry and hoarse, as if someone was choking him. "Impossible! The first Martial Emperor has been dead for a thousand years, how could he possibly reappear!"
He stumbled back several steps, nearly falling. His body trembled, not from the cold, but from fear—a deep-seated, bone-chilling fear etched into the blood of the evil race, a fear of the Martial Emperor. For a thousand years, they had been shrouded in the shadow of the Martial Emperor, generation after generation trying to escape, generation after generation failing. Now, that shadow had reappeared, right before him, alive and well, carrying the same intimidating power as it had a thousand years ago.
The evil followers he brought were even worse off. Some collapsed to the ground, some turned and ran, and some knelt on the ground trembling, muttering incomprehensible evil prayers. The suppression of the Martial Emperor's phantom on them was stronger than on any other creature—it was a mark etched into their souls, a bloodline suppression spanning thousands of years, the instinctive fear of prey towards its natural enemy.
Qin Hao's face went from ecstatic to deathly pale. His mouth was still open, but he couldn't utter a sound. His hand was still raised, but slowly fell down. He stared at the silvery-white phantom behind Lin Chen, his lips trembling, his fingers trembling, his whole body trembling.
He suddenly realized something.
His loss to Lin Chen in that sparring match wasn't due to carelessness. The Evil Shadow Sword Qin Cang gave him being defeated by Lin Chen wasn't an accident. Their millennia-long scheme failing time and again against Lin Chen wasn't just bad luck.
Because the person standing behind Lin Chen was never himself.
The illusory image of the Martial Emperor slowly solidified in the starlight, his eyes, which had seen through a thousand years, overlooking all the demons and traitors on the battlefield. There was no anger, no judgment, only a calm and unshakable pressure—like a mountain, like the sky, like the absolute power that suppressed all evil when he was alive a thousand years ago.
The sounds of fighting on the battlefield vanished at that moment.