Overdraw the future and become a peerless martial god

Chapter 153 Soul Sound Attack
He suddenly turned around and looked at the end of the bone pillar, where a wisp of ghostly spirit faintly appeared beneath the last unlit pillar of blood.

That was the lingering flame of the Ghost Throat, drawn back to the pillar by some kind of sacrificial array instinct.

"We can't put it back in its place."

Chu Ning reached out with his left hand, lightning flashing like a blade, instantly severing the soul threads that were flowing back.

The lingering flames trembled, the blood-red patterns on the bone pillars remained unlit, and the sacrificial array abruptly ceased.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

But when I glanced at the depths of the ice, I seemed to see a scarlet crack slowly opening.

“…Blood eyes,” he murmured.

Although he prevented the opening of the Blood Gate, he knew in his heart that this was just one link in the entire sacrificial chain of the Blood Refining Hall.

"They're still making their moves..."

He clenched his fist, his gaze fixed on the far northern snowfield, where the wind and snow raged, as if concealing the gaze of a millennia-old nemesis.

Qing Li's clansmen, his obsession... all point to the same source—the true "Altar of Immortality" of the Blood Refining Hall.

The eerie sounds from the altar ceased, and the blood lines around it trembled slightly.

As the bloodline trembled, the snow suddenly sank.

"rustle……"

Dozens of blood-red figures slowly crawled out from the bone crevice beneath the altar.

They were barefoot and red-eyed, draped in tattered sacrificial robes, their limbs bent backwards, their faces sewn together, their eye sockets hollow as abyss, with only their tongues hanging down, inscribed with incantations.

Chu Ning looked up and saw that the leading blood puppet was wearing a fox fur robe. The tattered fox fur was mottled, but it still exuded an ominous and eerie aura.

His steps were unsteady yet rhythmic, his limbs seemingly broken yet connected, dancing in an arc across the snow, as if he were performing some ancient and eerie "soul-summoning ritual dance."

Suddenly, its mouth, which had been sewn shut, slowly split open.

"Click—click-click!"

The tearing sound was like dry wood splitting apart. From deep inside the mouth, a piece of bone flute, covered in blood and rust, slowly emerged, as if it had grown out of the body.

The next moment, a piercingly mournful flute whistle shattered the snowfield.

—It is not a sound, but the shriek of a soul.

The flute's mournful, distorted melody sounded like a woman's lament before death, or like countless wronged souls pouring out all their grievances and hatred from their lives with blood as their throat.

The heavens and earth seemed to pause.

Chu Ning's eardrums vibrated violently, and his vision blurred for a moment. Lei Xin emitted a low "humming" from the depths of his Soul Platform, as if in self-defense.

"Soul-stirring sound attacks the mind..."

He gave a low hum, his gaze growing increasingly cold.

The wind and snow swept through the hall, carrying a chilling aura of blood. He suddenly stomped his left foot, cracking the snow and unleashing a surge of thunderous intent from beneath his feet, forcefully stabilizing his surging blood and qi in his soul platform.

With a flick of his left arm, the Snow-Breaking Blade shot out with a whoosh.

At that moment, there was no dazzling lightning, nor any unusual celestial phenomena.

But the knife in his hand seemed to have drunk the essence of cold snow and the intent of deep anger, its sound preceding its movement.

"Snapped!"

The snow was blasted apart by the shockwave, and he slashed across the ground like a bolt of lightning.

Before the blood puppet could even open its mouth, the bone flute rang out, but it was cleaved in two from the front by a single blade, extinguishing the sonic boom before it could even explode.

The second strike followed immediately without pause, slashing down from above, cutting straight between the blood puppet's shoulder and neck.

"boom!"

The blood talisman exploded, red energy soared into the sky, limbs flew everywhere, and the puppet's body cracked into dust.

A moment of peace.

Next breath——

"Hiss."

The remaining blood puppets all raised their heads and roared, spewing out billowing black smoke and cursed fire, their roars like a tidal wave, and an aura of blood sacrifice lingered in the air.

Chu Ning's gaze remained unchanged; instead, he took a half-inch step forward, and the blade spun out a cold light in his left palm.

He whispered a rebuke:
"cut."

The third strike, against the grain, rose diagonally from the waist, its light as cold as the moon, its thunderous intent concealed in the back of the blade. A resounding boom, like iron shattering a heavenly drum, followed.

Dozens of blood puppets were cleaved in two by this strike, blood raining down and soul fire scattering like falling snow.

The severed limbs rolled and thrashed on the snow, the air current carrying electric shocks that traced patterns of lightning along the snow, rapidly spreading to the edge of the entire altar.

Chu Ning slowly sheathed his sword, standing amidst the lightning, his heart unmoved.

But he knew that the core hidden beneath his sea of ​​consciousness had begun to swirl gently, like a tiger crouching before the forest.

He doesn't need to use Thunder Heart.

Because at this moment, the blade represents his heart.

But at this moment.

"Chuck...cluck..."

A soft laugh, like the rustling of bones, quietly rose between heaven and earth, like the croaking of insects, penetrating the wind and snow, the ice, and even the deepest part of one's consciousness from all directions.

……

Chu Ning's sea of ​​consciousness was as cold and deep as an abyss, his heart of thunder was still and silent, and his light flames were like the gentle ripples of a starry sea.

Deeper still, the remnant soul, grievously wounded by the Five Thunderbolts, was hiding in a dark corner untouched by the thunderous surge, slowly taking form.

Tun Yuan floated in the void like a wisp of blood mist, his soul shadow tattered, his black robe torn apart, as if it were a remnant of evil intent after being torn apart by a thousand bolts of lightning.

At this moment, he was kneeling on the edge of his sea of ​​consciousness, his divine sense trembling slightly as he tried to repair the soul body shattered by the thunder heart. The thunder and fire had not completely subsided, and there were still unclosed cracks on his soul body, constantly sending waves of searing pain through him.

And just then.

That familiar voice, separated by reality and illusion, quietly entered Chu Ning's soul through his sea of ​​consciousness.

"Chuck...cluck..."

Tun Yuan suddenly opened his eyes.

His soul-like eyes glowed deep red, and blood-red spiritual threads trembled silently behind him.

He knew that voice all too well.

"……It's you?"

He murmured, a sinister smile spreading across his lips.

He had once heard her voice guiding souls.

It was from that moment that he realized that sound could kill.

He slowly raised his finger, and a wisp of soul fire appeared at his fingertip, illuminating the distorted soul shadow in the remnants of lightning and mist before him.

"It seems... even the Blood Refining Hall has made a move." His tone was low and somber, like a pebble falling into a swamp.

Devouring Abyss's soul shrank back slightly, as if trying to hide behind a deeper shadow of souls. But a strange glint flashed in his eyes.

“Ghost Throat, Ghost Throat...you’ve come at just the right time.”

"If you can pull him into the illusion, I won't need to take action; I can simply divide his consciousness and seize his lightning breath..."

But he didn't move.

Intervening rashly will only result in being devoured and reduced to ashes once again.

So he slowly closed his eyes, his soul fading into the mist, leaving only a soliloquy in the darkness:
"I'll hold."

"Wait until the moment when you are at your weakest... in the most pain... and most wavering."

“Back then, your Thunder Heart was the kindling that helped me reshape my consciousness.”

The depths of his consciousness fell into deathly silence, with only flashes of lightning illuminating the fangs lurking in the darkness.

……

Around the altar, the shattered blood puppet's corpse slowly swelled, and strands of blood from its body floated out, intertwining and entwining in mid-air, eventually converging into a semi-transparent female ghost figure.

Her long hair was loose, her figure was thin, her whole body was wrapped with bone threads, her chest was empty, and a bloody mouth torn to the earlobe appeared at her throat, opening and closing as if she was swallowing her own voice.

She has no eyes, no face, only that bloody mouth that cannot close, gently chewing.

“Ghost…throat…”

Her voice was dry and hoarse, as if each syllable she uttered required pulling a dead soul from the depths of a sea of ​​blood.

Suddenly, she clasped her hands together, her ten fingers like a zither, and gently touched the center of the soul fire.

(End of this chapter)