Chapter 342: Bloodstained White Robes

Immortal Realm. Wasteland.

After Qin Qingchao left, the Extraterrestrial Demons outside the city seemed to sense the shift.

They began to surge wildly, recklessly, like a tidal wave, suddenly swelling.

They flooded in from all directions, crawled out from cracks in the ground, fell from the sky, and condensed from the void itself.

Wave after wave, layer upon layer, endless and ceaseless. Wu Zhaohua’s expression changed.

Her cold, clear eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise deep within her pupils.

She hadn’t expected these Extraterrestrial Demons to possess awareness—let alone the ability to read the situation.

It was as if they had sensed that Qin Qingyue couldn’t fight while her soul was away, and they surged up with reckless abandon, aiming to take her out first and cripple her.

“No, I have to stall.”

Facing the tide of Extraterrestrial Demons, Wu Zhaohua guarded Qin Qingyue while struggling to hold on.

Her white robes were soaked through with blood. Her breathing was heavy, her chest heaving violently. Each swing of her sword was no longer as fluid.

The sword light was still sharp, still dazzling, but the blade’s radiance had grown sluggish.

Her spiritual power and body were gradually giving out.

The Demons she once could slay with a single strike now required two, three, four blows.

She swung her sword, the light flashed, and the black shadows dispersed, but more surged from behind to fill the gaps.

She cut them down again and again, and again, until a small mound of Demon corpses piled up at her feet.

The ashes and residue left by the dissolving shadows accumulated around her like a hill.

She stood atop that hill, like a statue forged in blood, amid a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

But still more came.

She was about to break. She glanced back at Qin Qingyue.

That Black Dragon remained seated with eyes closed, her aura steady, her divine sense no longer within her body.

The spear lay across her knees, her battle armor still on, bloodstains still wet. She hadn’t returned.

Wu Zhaohua gritted her teeth, turned back, and tightened her grip on her sword.

‘Damn Black Dragon!’

She cursed in her heart, the voice laced with hatred.

‘I never imagined I would one day guard you! And risk my life doing it! Didn’t you say you’d be back in a moment? Why aren’t you back yet? If you don’t come back soon, I’ll feed your dragon body to them! I’ll run myself!’

That said, she still stayed by Qin Qingyue’s side, not leaving, enduring with gritted teeth.

‘If I die protecting you, this Black Dragon…’

She thought bitterly, but her sword never stopped.

‘Then what about my life? All the things I’ve been through? What do they mean?! You bastard took Jiang Huai from me, and now what? You steal my man, and now I have to guard you while you go meet him!’

Wu Zhaohua turned her head and shot a glare like a blade, slicing into Qin Qingyue.

But the Black Dragon’s eyes were closed and saw nothing.

Wu Zhaohua kicked Qin Qingyue without mercy, then delivered a few more kicks to vent her frustration.

Qin Qingyue’s body swayed slightly, but she still didn’t wake.

Wu Zhaohua turned and shoved big handfuls of pills into her mouth.

The pills dissolved instantly, bitter medicine sliding down her throat into her stomach, turning into a warm force that spread through her limbs.

She didn’t bother refining them. She brutally and wildly converted them into spiritual power, then formed hand seals, her entire aura exploding.

Like gunpowder touched by flame, it detonated!

Her body erupted with blinding sword light—fierce and violent, enveloping her like a white sun!

But her face grew paler, her lips turning an unhealthy blue-purple, her eyes slightly sunken.

She was burning herself.

The sword light rose again.

Her white robes flapped loudly in the wind.

The robes, soaked through with blood, were indistinguishable from their original color, yet they still billowed like an indomitable banner.

The sword light arched like a rainbow.

No longer cold and moonlike, it was now as fierce as the sun, as wild as fire, carrying a desperate determination to shatter jade along with stone.

Blood stained the sky.

One swing, and the sword energy surged through the Nine Heavens, cutting down all the surging Demons!

Black debris fell like a rainstorm from the sky, scattering on the ground, falling on her shoulders, and on the Black Dragon behind her.

Wu Zhaohua’s strength exploded, as if she had become a war goddess.

Her figure darted through the enemy ranks, white robes like lightning, sword light like a rainbow.

Each swing turned hordes of Demons to ash; each step sent countless black shadows dissolving beneath her feet.

She even charged into the enemy formation.

Not passively defending, but actively attacking.

She plunged deep into the enemy, her sword sweeping horizontally, her sword energy crisscrossing, cutting down every Demon trying to bypass her and attack Qin Qingyue.

Her speed left only afterimages, her blade unmatched in sharpness.

But her face paler and paler.

The pallor deepened, heavier and heavier, like paper crumpled and smoothed out again—so fragile it seemed ready to tear at a touch.

Her breathing grew quicker, her heartbeat faster. Each swing drained her life.

She didn’t care.

A while later.

Qin Qingyue finally opened her eyes.

Those crimson Dragon Eyes took in the scene before her the moment they opened.

She was stunned.

She hadn’t been gone long.

With Wu Zhaohua’s strength, she should have been able to hold out.

She had calculated, estimated, confirmed that Wu Zhaohua would be fine.

But when she saw the surroundings…

The Extraterrestrial Demons had thinned out drastically.

What once was a sky-darkening, dense sea of black shadows now only had a few stragglers roaming at a distance, not daring to come closer.

She looked around.

Then she saw it.

A figure stood like a blood-drenched statue, one knee on the ground.

That figure was covered in blood. The white robes were unrecognizable, soaked through and clinging to the skin.

Long hair was disheveled, stuck to her face and neck, the ends dripping blood. She knelt with her sword planted in the ground before her, supporting her trembling body.

Even so,

a few remaining Extraterrestrial Demons lingered nearby, not daring to approach.

They kept howling at the blood-drenched figure—fear, anger, and wariness in their cries—but still held back.

That alone spoke of the ferocity and brutality of her earlier attacks.

Qin Qingyue quickly got to her feet.

She rushed over to Wu Zhaohua, her voice urgent and trembling:

“Are you all right?!”

Something must have happened here. Otherwise, Wu Zhaohua wouldn’t have fought so desperately.

How long had she been gone? Before she left, there had been countless Extraterrestrial Demons.

Wu Zhaohua should have been able to hold on for a while, right?

But now, most of the Demons were dead by her hand, yet she had become like this?

Wu Zhaohua collapsed into her arms.

Her body was light, soft, trembling slightly, like a leaf in the wind.