The opening scene reveals the story of Yao Lao, alarming the Soul Emperor.

The carriage stopped.

It wasn't slowing down; it was being forcibly nailed to mid-air.

The three-headed black-horned beast's six hind legs remained in a running posture, but its hooves could not touch the wind path.

A thick, blood-red mist surged in from all directions, enveloping the entire convoy.

The mist settled on the animal hide, making a hissing, corrosive sound.

The lead black-horned beast shook its head wildly, and the black horn on its forehead unleashed a black arc of light, cleaving through the blood mist three zhang in front of it.

But as soon as the fog closed, the gap was instantly filled, becoming even thicker than before.

Soul Crow's pupils contracted slightly.

He recognized this formation.

A trapping formation. Moreover, it's a high-level trapping formation refined with living people as sacrifices, using blood as a catalyst and souls as locks, specifically designed for targets flying in the air.

Once triggered, the prey will be forcibly dragged into the preset terrain and unable to escape.

really.

As the fog churned, the surrounding scenery began to change.

The clouds dissipated, revealing two towering black cliffs that seemed to pierce the clouds.

The cliff face was as smooth as a mirror, barren of any vegetation, and the top of the cliff was so narrow that only a sliver of sky could be seen.

Valley of Despair.

At the border between Zhongzhou and the Northwest Continent, lies one of the most dangerous and perilous places on the Dou Qi Continent.

This canyon itself is a natural killing field—the cliffs on both sides contain a large number of cold iron ore veins that devour battle qi. Any cultivator who enters the valley will have their strength suppressed by 20% to 30%.

The carriage, along with the three black-horned beasts, plunged into the valley.

The wheel rim hit the gravel, and the car bounced violently.

The black-horned beast shrieked and steadied itself, its iron hooves carving deep grooves into the gravelly ground.

Soul Crow had already stood up.

He ripped off the gray outer robe with one hand, revealing the dark red Tiangang Palace-style long robe underneath.

The bandages on his right arm fluttered in the wind.

He loosened his grip on the reins with his left hand, his fingers spread out, and a black Soul Clan mark appeared in his palm.

The pressure of a six-star Dou Zong was unleashed without reservation.

The blood mist was blasted away thirty feet.

But it was only thirty zhang (approximately 130 meters).

The suppressive effect of the Cold Iron Cliff was stronger than he had anticipated.

His area of ​​influence was reduced by at least one-third.

Firelight shone on the cliff top.

Dozens of powerful auras locked onto the convoy at the bottom of the valley, like dozens of invisible nails being driven in simultaneously.

Three of them were particularly fierce, causing the gravel ground to crack.

Three figures leaped off the cliff.

Extremely fast.

It took them less than half a breath to descend from the hundred-foot-high cliff top to the valley floor.

Upon landing, there was no cushioning action; both feet slammed directly into the rubble, and the flying stone chips struck the Soul Crow's protective battle aura, making a series of clanging sounds.

All three were dressed in black.

He wore a ghost mask made of white bone, with exaggerated blood patterns painted on it, extending from his eye sockets all the way to his jaw.

The people stood in a triangular formation, surrounding the carriage in the center.

The person in the middle was the tallest, and there was a crack across his forehead on his mask.

He tilted his head and glanced at Hunwu, then let out a sneer.

"A Soul Clan caravan? Quite a grand display, but is there only one capable fighter among them?"

Hunwu didn't reply. He was quickly assessing his opponent.

All three of them possessed the aura of the Dou Zong level.

The strongest in the middle is at least a five-star Dou Zong.

The two on the left and right are slightly weaker, between three and four stars.

Three against one. And there's the pressure from the cliff face.

Soul Crow's Adam's apple bobbed.

The man in black on the left squatted down and flicked the pebbles on the ground with his finger.

"I smell it. The carriage is full of sixth-grade Soul Gathering Pills and seventh-tier array cores. The brothers have been hiding in this godforsaken place for three years, and finally we've got a lucrative deal."

"Stop talking nonsense."

The cracked mask raised its right hand, its five fingers spread.

A thick mass of blood-red battle aura condensed in his palm, and a stench instantly filled the air.

"Kill the driver, but keep him alive for interrogation. The person in the carriage is probably a big shot who can be exchanged for ransom."

Hunwu's eye twitched.

He is not afraid of death.

But the person sitting in the carriage—

If something happens to that person, the decree of the Soul Emperor will become a death warrant for his Soul Crow.

He gritted his teeth and took a step forward, raising his left hand, the black mark on his palm shining brightly.

Twelve jet-black Soul Clan chains burst forth from the void, each as thick as an arm, their surfaces covered with dense Soul Clan runes.

"Blood Fiend Exiles," Soul Crow's voice was hoarse. "You shouldn't have stopped this car."

The cracked mask laughed heartily.

"The word 'shouldn't' exist for exiles."

The three of them moved at the same time.

The crimson battle aura transformed into countless sharp blades, raining down on the Soul Crow.

The men in black on both sides circled around to his left and right, one attacking his waist and the other his knee, specifically targeting the blind spots where his arm was severed.

The chains of the Soul Crow danced wildly, weaving a dense net in front of it.

The clanging of metal echoed back and forth in the canyon, sending rocks flying everywhere.

He held off the first wave.

But the cracked mask's second palm followed immediately.

The blood-red palm print was twice the size of the first palm strike, tearing through the gap in the chains and landing on his left shoulder.

Hunwu groaned, his body being slapped back five steps, the soles of his boots carving two deep furrows in the gravel.

The fabric on his left shoulder was torn, revealing a charred handprint underneath.

"A six-star Dou Zong? In this valley, you can only muster the strength of a four-and-a-half-star at most." The Cracked Mask flicked the blood mist off his hands. "Save your energy."

The three surrounded them again.

This time, the offensive was even fiercer.

The cliffs on both sides of the canyon were shaken by the aftershocks of the chaotic fighting energy, causing rocks to fall and the valley floor to look like it was raining stones.

One by one, the chains of the Soul Crow broke.

The twelve paths became nine.

The nine paths became six.

His back slammed against the side of the carriage, leaving him nowhere to retreat.

Inside the train carriage.

The calming cauldron collapsed, spilling charcoal ash all over the bed.

The teapot was broken, the lid shattered, and tea spilled across half the table.

Hunyu sat amidst the chaos.

He pulled a second pot out of his suitcase.

This teapot is a size smaller, made of black pottery, and contains cold tea.

I poured myself a glass and took a sip.

It's cold.

improvise.

The commotion outside the carriage was outrageously loud.

The sounds of clashing chains, exploding battle aura, and the screams of the Inkhorn beast mingled together, so loud they could make your ears tingle even through the carriage walls.

The curtain was blown open twice by the blast wave.

He glanced outside—the Soul Crow was being beaten. And beaten pretty badly.

The curtain fell down.

He took another sip of tea.

When the third gust of air lifted the curtain, a blood-red throwing knife followed and poured in.

The blade was only the length of a palm, but the blood-red fighting spirit attached to it was so thick it was almost dripping.

It moved with incredible speed and took a daring angle, heading straight for Hunyu's brow.

It was less than half a foot from his eyes.

Hunyu didn't even put down the teacup in his hand.

The white feather fan moved on its own.

A golden feather detached from the fan ribs, moving without wind, and floated horizontally in front of the throwing knife.

The feathers were very light, so thin they were almost transparent.

The moment the throwing knife struck, golden patterns spread along the blade, like a fine net.

No sound.

The throwing knife shattered from its tip, inch by inch, turning into iron filings that fell to the floor. The crimson battle aura was completely devoured by the golden patterns.

The feathers flew back onto the fan and embedded themselves in their original positions.

The entire process took less than a breath.

Hunyu looked down at the pile of iron filings on the ground, picked up the cup, and drank the last sip of cold tea.

Outside the curtain, Soul Crow was slapped away by a palm strike, his entire body smashing through the front panel of the carriage shaft, tumbling and crashing into the hindquarters of the Ink Horned Beast.

He struggled to his feet, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and only three of the six chains remained functional.

The man with the cracked mask walked over, stepping on the gravel, his crimson battle aura gathering in his palm to form the shape of a long sword.

"This is your last chance. Step aside, hand over the person and the goods, and I'll spare your life."

Hunwu, supporting himself on the cart shaft, was panting like a bellows.

Just then, the side curtain of the carriage was lifted a crack from the inside.

A hand with distinct knuckles held an empty teacup and handed it out through the gap.

"The tea has gone cold."

Hunyu's voice came from behind the curtain, unhurried and unhurried.

"If we keep playing like this, I won't even have any herbal tea left."

He put down his teacup, his gaze passing through the curtain to fall on the blood-soaked Soul Crow.

His tone was so flat, as if he were just talking about today's weather.

"Move aside. It's my turn."