Chapter Twenty-Five: Serpents and Scorpions Wrestle, Jackals Follow in Their Wake (Part One)

Serpents and scorpions wrestled, wolves lurking in their wake.

The middle-aged man, scraping the stubble from his cheeks, chuckled coldly and said, “So you dare to make trouble in Shaxian City without even asking around about who I am? You hit the son of Nanyang Qiu? Hmph, enjoy the slaughter brought by the Snake and the Scorpion. Ahahaha…” He reveled in the thought of Bai Qi suffering, not merely dying by his hand, but caught in a state where neither life nor death would grant him release. He would make sure Bai Qi was properly entertained.

The two attackers launched their assault swiftly, like twin flying swords. The whistling sound of their weapons filled the air. Bai Qi stepped back with his left foot, raised his right hand to chest level, and his left hand had already gathered spiritual energy, forming two spheres, spinning rapidly like walnuts being toyed with.

In the blink of an eye, the pair coordinated their attack, swinging their strange whips towards Bai Qi. Though their movements seemed casual, the whip’s surface glimmered with a sinister black-red light. That glow carried deadly poison—touching spiritual energy, it would devour it. If one was careless, the light would burrow into the energy like a leech, infiltrating the target’s channels, and with every use of spiritual energy, the poison would be absorbed, leading ultimately to agonizing death. The whip’s tail was set with three-inch-long barbed hooks—should it touch flesh, the barbs would sink in, tightening with every tug, and if pulled too far, could tear away flesh or even bone, inflicting indescribable pain.

Bai Qi recited a mantra in his mind, invoking his familiar techniques. At his lips, a soft command: “Destroy… Palm.” Instantly, a sturdy shield enveloped his surroundings, impenetrable. Meanwhile, the two spheres in his hand grew denser, humming, ready to be unleashed.

Five meters… three meters… one meter. Bai Qi shouted, “Go!” The spheres shot forth, quicker than the Snake and Scorpion, locking onto their targets. In a blink, only the sound of thunderous impacts could be heard.

Bai Qi frowned, pushing off the ground with both feet and retreating rapidly. At that moment, two sharp cracks rang out—whips struck where Bai Qi had just stood, attacking from both sides. Forced to retreat, Bai Qi avoided the blows, but the intensity of their attack left a corrosive, fetid odor in the air. The site of Bai Qi’s own attack, after the smoke cleared from the explosion, revealed two pits, each half a meter wide. It was obvious the pair had managed to dodge at the very last second, a feat that surprised Bai Qi. Yet the Snake and Scorpion were even more shocked—they realized, with unspoken understanding, that this young man before them was mysterious and formidable. To evade their attack at such close quarters and counterattack while retreating was beyond their expectations. Had they not trained specifically for combat, they would have been battered by the residual force of Bai Qi’s assault.

Despite their shock, the two adversaries stared at Bai Qi like venomous snakes eyeing prey. They exchanged glances—clearly, they would need special tactics to defeat this enemy in one blow, or risk unforeseen trouble.

The Snake, on the left, closed his eyes then opened them, muttering a strange mantra. He raised his left hand, index and middle fingers together, and swung his whip with his right. Grabbing the tail, he pinched it deftly, as though practiced and unafraid of his own weapon. Holding the tail in his right, he spread his left hand, then abruptly sliced his own fingers. Blood dripped onto the whip’s tail, each drop landing with a soft sound. The whip seemed pleased, pulsing with a flickering light. Bai Qi was unfazed by the ritual, but the Snake’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

To Bai Qi, this weapon was a magical artifact—a tool nurtured with the owner’s blood and soul, developing a faint sentience, enough to resonate with its master’s will. This was the lowest tier of magical artifacts, called inferior-grade. By combining one’s attributes, cultivation, and special techniques, these tools could be activated. Magical artifacts were divided into upper, middle, and lower grades, then advanced to treasures, then to rare spiritual artifacts, and finally to the legendary divine implements. Bai Qi had only heard from Kun about such rankings; their existence was uncertain.

Watching the Snake’s ritual, Bai Qi felt excitement—a chance to truly test his abilities in the Heavenly Gate realm, to savor the thrill of battle. This excitement sprang not only from his cultivation, but from inner confidence, the mindset of a true warrior.

This time, Bai Qi acted without hesitation, wasting not a moment. He sensed clearly his power to invoke the mantra, experiencing the decisive, ruthless force—a sense of sanctity that came with slaying all obstacles.

He chanted calmly, “All things perish, all things thrive. One thought shatters, one thought binds. Destruction births all laws, laws nurture all things. Heaven and earth are untamed. Therefore, all must… break.” The last word, “break,” was not stiff or forced as before. No longer obsessed with form or posture, it was not a shallow command, but infused with spirit—a realm.

As “break” left his lips, the atmosphere around Bai Qi seemed subdued by his aura, oppressive and breathless. The clouds above thickened, darkening. On the other side, as the Snake prepared to merge with his artifact, the Scorpion acted differently—he impaled the whip’s tail into his own chest, forming a complicated ring of arcane symbols. His clothes exploded, muscles swelling with unnatural vigor, his form doubling in size. His face flushed, black shapes scuttled beneath his skin—living scorpions, it seemed, crawling under his flesh.

Bai Qi and his adversaries stood in two different worlds. One side, winds surged, clouds roiled, thunder flickered with monstrous force. The other, dark red and black, vomited clouds of poisonous mist, within which something huge squirmed. From inside came faint roars, and two red spheres glared, as if ready to ensnare any careless soul.

This time, Bai Qi did not feel exhausted as before—his technique consumed only forty percent of his spiritual energy. As he cast the spell, the crystalline energy within him melted, replenishing what he spent. Despite this melting, the crystals remained solid, hinting at their terrifying density. He wondered if this would change when facing opponents of the Profound rank.

Bai Qi roared, and with the sound, the “break” mantra transformed into a singular blade in the world—not sharpened, just a massive blade, towering as if to cleave the sky. It seemed slow, but like a falling object, it gained speed, its force becoming clearer, its oppressive power naked and unstoppable. The two giant beings hidden in the black mist sensed the crushing pressure and howled in fear. On the ground, the two attackers saw Bai Qi unleash such a formidable technique and felt a surge of retreat in their hearts. Yet, the die was cast—they must either fight Bai Qi or force themselves out of this empowered state, though the cost would be dire. Of course, compared to their lives, that mattered little.