Chapter Forty-Seven: The Great Escape

A surge of wild energy instantly filled the entire world, and wherever the white light touched, even the air itself seemed frozen. Yet there was one place left unscathed: directly behind Skywalker. With his own strength alone, Skywalker blocked the energy that would have exploded toward the cultivators, holding back the raging power like a torrential river crashing against an invisible barrier he had raised.

Three yards in front of him, there was not a hint of light; all the white energy was kept at bay, unable to penetrate the space before him. The wild energy seemed to be absorbed by something as soon as it reached Skywalker, vanishing without a trace. Yet the holy beast itself was a creature born of energy, and the force unleashed in its self-destruction was vast and boundless.

Gradually, Skywalker’s arms began to bend slightly, and though his feet remained unmoved, it was as if an invisible force pushed him backward, dragging two long tracks in the snow beneath him. A bead of sweat trickled from his hair, steaming in the cold, and solidified into ice as it fell to the snowy ground.

“Ha!” Skywalker shouted, thrusting his hands forward with all his strength. His feet seemed rooted, utterly still, and imperceptibly, his already round and corpulent body began to swell even larger. A fine layer of white frost slowly coated him.

Skywalker was absorbing the raging energy! Yet even a young holy beast contained an ocean’s worth of power within its body; powerful as Skywalker was, he could absorb only a small portion, and he was already nearing his limit.

At this moment, Zhou Yu snapped out of the bizarre stillness that had overtaken him, a state brought about by the sudden, intense shift in nearby energy. Run! Zhou Yu had no other thought. Though he had not felt the wild energy up close, he sensed extreme danger, especially as Baidu’s voice echoed in his mind.

“The energy at the center is about to break through level B and reach level A! It’s almost there! It’s breaking through!” Baidu shrieked excitedly.

Level A—that was the power of a lesser deity! For a young holy beast, in the throes of desperation, to unleash level A energy meant that an adult holy beast would certainly reach such heights.

All along, Baidu had spoken of Heaven sending deities to hunt down the travelers like himself—a persistent thorn in Zhou Yu’s mind. He lived with the constant anxiety that a godlike being might suddenly appear and annihilate him effortlessly, robbing him of any sense of peace.

This was why Zhou Yu trained obsessively, tried every method, pursued strength with mad determination—enduring agony that ordinary people could never bear, tricking Hua Queyue out of her energy, risking his life to enter the Great Lake in pursuit of the holy beast. All of it was for one purpose: to become strong enough to survive and return to Earth alive.

Now, proof existed that A-level beings—gods in all but name—were real in this world. Zhou Yu felt a glimmer of hope. If such powerful beings existed, why couldn’t he become one himself?

His greatest fear had been that no godlike beings existed here; if that were true, not only would no one be able to stop the divine pursuers sent by Heaven, but it would also prove that becoming a deity in this world was impossible. After all, if countless years had passed without anyone or any demon achieving such power, Zhou Yu, though confident, would never arrogantly believe himself to be the most talented, the one to break all records.

At least for now, among those of his age he knew—though there weren’t many—there was first Liu Mingyue, then Morrison, both stronger than Zhou Yu. If not for the opened meridians in his arms, facing Morrison would have been a death sentence.

Originally, he’d come here seeking fortune amid peril, knowing that it was nearly impossible to carve out a share among so many experts, but still clinging to hope and curiosity. Now, all those thoughts were cast aside. Any hope or ambition depended on survival; Zhou Yu longed for strength, but not at the cost of his life.

If risking his life offered a chance at tremendous power, Zhou Yu might take the gamble. But now, with no hope at all, when else would he flee if not now?

His muscles tensed with sudden exertion. Humans often unleash extraordinary strength when their lives are threatened—a rare phenomenon, but Zhou Yu, having faced death before, had begun to grasp some patterns and techniques. On the peak of the snowy mountain, he’d encountered the demon king Sirius, nearly exhausting all his strength; later, in the Spirit Realm, his fury at the Japanese had triggered another burst of power. With these experiences, he’d gained a faint understanding.

He stamped heavily into the snow, his ankle nearly buried. His sole met the hard, thick layer of ice, then pushed off; the ice cracked, sending shards and snow flying. The thick ice covering the Great Lake groaned under his feet with continuous crunching, and though his bones and toes ached from the force—fractured by overexertion—he pushed through, propelled by tremendous backlash and aided by South Wind’s swift wind talisman. In a single breath, Zhou Yu covered dozens of meters.

Perhaps, after surviving several brushes with death, or after years of struggling in a complicated society, Zhou Yu had developed an uncanny instinct for danger. His reaction was even faster than South Wind’s, a seasoned expert.

After a brief shock, South Wind followed Zhou Yu’s silhouette, flying swiftly away. She too unleashed all her remaining strength, her speed surpassing Zhou Yu’s.

Everyone began to flee, save for Skywalker, who still struggled to hold on. In truth, Skywalker’s efforts were not only to protect others; absorbing the energy of the holy qilin for himself was also a vital reason. His internal energy was already immense, so much so that after a year of cultivation, any increase was negligible compared to what he already possessed. Such a rare opportunity, combined with his mastery of the art of absorption, was not to be missed. Without his unique skill, even a powerhouse like Skywalker would hesitate to face the devastation of a holy beast’s self-destruction directly—this was why Liu Wujian had departed.

Everyone was running for their lives, except for Jin Buhuan and Hua Queyue. The two trailed behind the crowd, covering each other, rapidly circulating their internal energy. They knew that even Skywalker could not possibly block all the energy, so they waited for the moment when Skywalker could no longer hold on.

When that moment came, only they would be able to somewhat mitigate the aftermath of the holy qilin’s self-destruction.

The wind howled, the snow swirled, people ran. Across the vast Great Lake, dozens of figures fled from the center as a white sphere, swelling almost at the speed of light and radiating cold white rays that seemed poised to freeze the entire world.

A hundred meters in a breath; a thousand in ten. In just ten breaths, Zhou Yu felt his strength draining away. He had never fully recovered, and though his arm meridians were open, the rest of his body was only slightly stronger than average; the bones in his legs were riddled with fractures, barely able to support him and the old man on his back.

Suddenly, a fierce wind blew from behind, tossing Zhou Yu’s long black hair forward. His heavy breaths stretched into infinity, and his heartbeat seemed to stop.

Skywalker, his hands nearly bent to his chest, face as pale as paper, let out a long sigh, a hint of relief and release in his voice: “I’ve done all I can.”

That stout yet resolute figure vanished into the air as the surrounding atmosphere trembled.

The wild energy, no longer blocked, seemed to cry out in delight, shrieking as it pierced the air, rushing straight toward the cultivators who had not managed to flee far.