Chapter 167: Death of an Old Friend

Yan Jing lowered his eyes as he watched the shockwaves radiating from Fei Yu and the Old Man's battle in the distance.

He had to finish his battle before the Old Man and Fei Yu finished theirs.

Only then could he guarantee absolute success.

And so, under Mei Changfeng's shocked gaze, a shape materialized in Yan Jing's palm...

An apple.

Yes, a Black Apple. From its bottom hung a writhing, thrashing worm.

Its bizarre appearance made Mei Changfeng initially think Yan Jing had drawn it with his Paintbrush.

But a second later, Yan Jing swallowed the apple at lightning speed.

Hum—

Billowing thick fog poured from his body, completely engulfing Yan Jing.

A pair of scarlet eyes opened within the dense mist.

Like a figure from a boundless abyss, he strode forth through the blood, wielding a massive Paintbrush.

Immediately after, the Power of the White Stone surged in Yan Jing's hands.

On his right arm, a Thorn Bracer materialized.

The originally pitch-black Paintbrush in his grip instantly gained another color.

This was the first time this body had activated the Fear Stance and the Power of the White Stone. Right from the start, Yan Jing unleashed almost his peak combat strength, seeking only a quick and decisive battle.

Next, he raised his hand and slashed the Paintbrush toward Mei Changfeng in the distance.

Beside the original black circle, a ring of white appeared.

Mei Changfeng sensed the anomaly in a split second. His eyes went wide as he manipulated the threads inside his body, trying to dodge the circle.

But it wasn't a physical attack, making evasion impossible.

An instant later, Mei Changfeng felt a crushing exhaustion crash over him. It was as if his body had flattened out, transforming from a flesh-and-blood human into a lightly sketched Line Drawing.

In this state, let alone a Third Tier, even a Second Tier might be able to take him down.

How could this be?!

In a panic, he hurriedly mobilized the family heirloom inside him. Thousands of eerie, tapeworm-like threads surged from his body, piercing, stitching, and reconnecting every inch of his muscles.

Those threads coiled over his skin like earthworms.

At that moment, his body had lost all capacity for independent movement, relying entirely on his manipulation of the threads.

This way, even though his physical strength was weakened, the eerie threads inside him remained unaffected.

Moreover, wrapped in those thousands of squirming "nematodes," his imposing aura actually grew a fraction stronger.

In a flash, he shattered the ground underfoot and charged toward Yan Jing like a roaring thunderbolt, intent on seizing back the initiative.

Yan Jing's fingers twitched slightly.

In truth, the proper combat style of a Painting Cultivator was to prepare several excellent paintings in advance.

But when he had practiced back home in Mud Alley, his lack of formal training meant he couldn't capture the spirit of most objects. Only by relying on the muscle memory of Eldest Young Master Luo's body to draw Young Master Luo's favorite Little Birds could he produce something both fast and flawless.

However, aside from the Little Birds, there was one stronger thing he could draw quite well.

Swish—

The Paintbrush trembled frantically in the air. The black and white lines connected, weaving together into a dense swarm.

Then, snot-bubble-like creatures flew out of the air one after another, baring their fangs and claws as they lunged at Mei Changfeng.

Startled, Mei Changfeng swung all four of his fists. But there were simply too many of the eerie creatures. Thanks to their simple body structure, they were far easier to draw than the Little Birds. With a flick of Yan Jing's wrist, another massive horde surged forth.

Squish, squelch—

One Lesser Wandering Ghost after another slipped through the defensive line formed by Mei Changfeng's four hands, biting all over his body.

Then, like a crashing ocean, they drowned him.

"Argh!!"

Mei Changfeng roared. Streaks of dark light erupted around him as the "threadworms" burst from his skin, drawing out sprays of blood and instantly obliterating the surrounding Lesser Wandering Ghosts.

It was as if a black rain had begun to fall from the sky, tearing and piercing every plant and tree in the vicinity.

Dense Rain Needles, one of the abilities of an Eighth Trade Tailor Cultivator.

Bolstered by the family heirloom inside him, this strike clearly exceeded the level of a Seventh Trade.

Endless killing intent surged within Mei Changfeng's heart.

He never expected to be put at a disadvantage twice the moment the battle began.

For a Second Tier Painting Cultivator, the Luo Sheng across from him had already exhausted his autonomous offensive methods.

With no paintings around, it was impossible for him to use the Second Tier technique Dotting the Eyes again. For the rest of the battle, Mei Changfeng still held the absolute advantage!

But a second later, Mei Changfeng shuddered again. To his horror, he found that everything around him was growing infinitely taller, while he seemed to be shrinking, plummeting into the dust, completely immobilized.

What kind of move is this?!

Fear spread through Mei Changfeng's heart. Every technique the Luo Sheng before him displayed was entirely different from what he had anticipated.

Before he could recover his wits, a sharp pain struck his neck.

A hideous bloody gash split open across his throat.

Blood spurted out like a fountain, hissing as it sprayed.

A wave of dizziness instantly hit him. The world spun, and his vision went black.

Fortunately, at the very last moment, those worm-like threads inside him automatically poured from the wound. Curling together, they stitched the gash on his neck shut needle by needle, forcibly reconnecting his head to his neck.

This was also an Eighth Trade Tailor Cultivator technique, named Garment Mending.

Right after, he flicked both hands, sending a row of fine needles shooting fiercely toward Yan Jing.

A technique of a Ninth Trade Tailor Cultivator, Needle Flicking, also known as throwing seams.

Having done this, he scrambled up and ran back the way he came.

There was something truly wrong with the Luo Sheng in front of him; he needed to avoid the brunt of his attacks for now.

But even as he plotted his escape, Yan Jing behind him was already considering how to end the battle.

Though only four or five minutes had passed since it began, Yan Jing still felt it had dragged on too long.

Those eerie, seemingly alive threads inside his opponent were truly a rare treasure. That was the only reason Mei Changfeng had managed to last this long.

He still hadn't used his Fear Thorn yet. Paired with Freeze Frame Moment, ending the fight shouldn't be much of a problem.

But he found it too slow.

So...

The next second.

Fissures surfaced all over his body, spreading from his limbs all the way to his face.

Tentacles tainted with a tyrannical aura surged out from those cracks.

Mei Changfeng, fleeing wildly forward, sensed the qualitatively changed aura behind him. His eyes bulged as his heart began to pound frantically.

This was absolutely not a Second Tier aura!

Even if the threads inside him were unleashed to their absolute limits, it would be hard to achieve such an effect.

He never expected the "Luo Sheng" behind him to have such a terrifying trump card hidden away!

That aura made him feel the immediate approach of death, yet he was completely powerless to stop it.

In the next instant, he saw Yan Jing, wrapped in thrashing tentacles, Blink right in front of him.

Only at this moment did he finally get a clear look at those tentacles.

They were indescribable things. Unlike the slimy appendages one might imagine, pitch-black feathers grew from them—yet they had absolutely nothing to do with wings. They danced wildly through the air.

What in the world is this?!!

He had no more time to think, because Yan Jing thrust forward the Paintbrush in his hand.

At the same time, the tentacles surrounding him extended in unison, mimicking the grip on a brush.

Then, Yan Jing sketched lightly, and a blood-dripping blade materialized in the air.

The tentacles traced the same strokes. Unspeakable power seemed to wrap around the blade as it constantly morphed and stretched, pointing straight at the center of Mei Changfeng's brow.

Hum—

In the final fraction of a second, those eerie threads once again surged out from Mei Changfeng's body entirely. They morphed into a small patch of writhing rag, blocking his forehead.

But... it only held out for a few seconds.

Without the threads controlling his body, Mei Changfeng's extra two arms immediately lost control.

They were the products of the creek!

By their very nature, they were uncontrollable entities!

Now, no longer suppressed by the threads, they seemed to finally seize their chance. The two muscular arms reached up in unison, clamping tightly around Mei Changfeng's neck and squeezing ever harder.

Not only that, grotesquely deformed arms and legs began erupting from inside Mei Changfeng, frantically tearing into and kicking his own body.

Blood splattered endlessly. Very quickly, Mei Changfeng's body was reduced to an indescribable, grotesque lump of meat.

Those hands and feet constantly tore at one another, fighting to decide who was the true master.

Meanwhile, the eerie threads dropped to the ground, falling completely still.

At this moment, Mei Changfeng could only control one of his eyes and his mouth, struggling to move them through the gaps between the thrashing limbs.

"You... aren't... Yue Qing..."

Mei Changfeng's mouth opened and closed. That single long-lashed eye revealed utter disbelief, as well as confusion and shock.

"It's absolutely impossible... for Yue Qing... to have this kind of... strength..."

His voice gradually faded, because those hands had already ripped open his chest and hoisted his heart high.

That heart, which had beaten solely for revenge, was now dripping dark blood.

He hadn't had a body of his own for a long time.

From the moment he entered the river, he was merely a person kept alive by those threads.

Yan Jing retracted Mantou's "gift" and reverted to his normal appearance.

He walked over to Mei Changfeng and whispered softly, "I am Yue Qing, Changfeng."

"There will be a time when the wind breaks the waves, straight hanging the cloud sail to reach the vast sea. This was our agreed secret code."

"See, how could I not be Yue Qing?"

He smiled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

This scene fell into Mei Changfeng's final remaining eye, seemingly triggering some memory. A flash of realization crossed his previously dimming gaze.

"Right... right, right... you are... Yue Qing..."

"Yue Qing..."

"I'm sorry..."

His eye darkened completely.

The lump of flesh stopped moving altogether.

Faced with Mei Changfeng's apology, the smile on Yan Jing's face slowly faded, his expression returning to a calm stillness. He reached out, used Weird Energy to wrap up the bundle of threads on the ground, and tucked them into a pocket he had prepared.

That apology wasn't meant for him.

He had no right to reject it, nor to accept it.

The person who did have that right could no longer hear it.

The only reason he had pretended to be Luo Sheng was that he didn't want Mei Changfeng to die burdened with the thought that it wasn't Luo Sheng who had defeated him.

After casually searching Mei Changfeng's belongings, he hurried off in the direction of Fei Yu and the Old Man.

Before long, he spotted Fei Yu.

By now, the girl was seeing red. Whirlwinds constantly gathered and swirled around her, moving with her body as she ruthlessly beat the singing woman opposite her until she was nearly on her last breath, entirely unable to fight back.

However, Fei Yu's own condition didn't look very optimistic either.

Her mouth and nose were full of blood—the consequence of her completely abandoning all defense.

The song the woman sang had drifted into her ears, stirring her mind and injuring her internal organs.

But to end the battle as quickly as possible, she had completely ignored the toll.

Just as her final strike aimed straight for the woman's throat, the woman suddenly cracked a wide grin and let out a piercing shriek that sounded like a lament.

Realizing something was wrong, Fei Yu immediately tried to pull back, but she was far too close to the woman.

"When all is said and done, none can escape that day. To have enjoyed a morning—mmph—"

The sorrowful melody abruptly ceased, and the illusions it conjured in the surroundings dissipated with it.

Because a Little Bird had stuffed itself into the woman's mouth.

"That sounds awful!"

Young Master Yan jumped out. "No singing!"