Chapter 1020: Wang Jian’s Fight Against The Demonic Entity
Chapter 1020: Wang Jian’s Fight Against The Demonic Entity
The heavy, suffocating silence inside the iron burial chamber was entirely broken by the steady, unhurried sound of heavy boots stepping across the rusted metal floorboards.
Wang Jian moved forward. He stepped entirely past the voluptuous, azure-clad form of Mu Lianhua. The master alchemist immediately lowered her head, stepping backward to stand beside the other beautiful, trembling women. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground, her large breasts heaving against her tight silk robes.
Wang Jian walked toward the center of the ruined, molten room. He did not adopt a defensive stance. He let his arms hang loosely by his sides.
He dropped the harmless, terrified facade entirely.
The suppression placed upon his internal meridians vanished. The Steller Demonic Core resting deep within his dantian spun with a violent, aggressive velocity. The terrifying, abyssal density of his true cultivation base exploded outward.
A shockwave of incredibly heavy, oppressive dark energy slammed into the walls of the chamber. The sheer thermal heat dispersion radiating from his skin caused the ambient, floating iron dust in the air to instantly vaporize, leaving behind a sharp smell of burned metal.
The ancient spirit possessing the corpse of Daoist Xue Ren halted its advance. The pitch-black eyes of the stolen vessel widened in sheer, unadulterated surprise. The entity stood perfectly still amidst the swirling, corrosive Black-Blood Miasma. It focused its ancient perception entirely upon the man walking toward it.
"You hid your strength," the spirit stated. The stolen vocal cords scraped heavily against the hot air. "You project the aura of the Core Formation realm, yet the sheer physical weight of your Qi defies the strict boundaries of this era."
The entity observed the dark energy swirling around Wang Jian’s limbs. It sensed the heavy, consuming void, but it also sensed the pure, refined essence of righteous spiritual arts perfectly braided into the darkness.
"Spiritual Energy completely fused with Demonic Qi," the spirit continued, its black eyes tracking the volatile heat. "A highly unstable combination. Such forced integration usually tears the flesh from the bones and shatters the mind."
"My flesh is far more durable than your fragile understanding of cultivation allows," Wang Jian replied, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook the loose iron fragments on the floor.
Wang Jian did not draw a weapon immediately. He allowed the heavy, Steller Demonic Yang Qi to bleed outward, directly challenging the oppressive presence of the ancient spirit.
"I will sever your limbs and drain that unique essence from your marrow," the spirit promised.
The entity lashed out. It swung its right arm in a wide, horizontal arc. A massive, ten-foot-tall wave of highly concentrated Black-Blood Miasma erupted from the floor, rushing forward like a physical wall of boiling acid. The heavy liquid displaced the air, creating a loud, hissing vacuum as it sought to melt Wang Jian down to the bone.
Wang Jian did not step backward. He did not attempt to dodge.
He channeled his dark energy deeply into his own muscular tissues, his bone marrow, and his epidermis.
"Steller Flesh Reinforcement," Wang Jian commanded quietly.
His very fair skin instantly shifted, taking on a dark, abyssal luster. His flesh and bones hardened to an incredible degree, elevating his physical resilience massively for a short period. The density of his body multiplied, reducing any incoming physical damage by forty percent.
He stepped directly into the rushing wave of corrosive blood.
The heavy, boiling miasma slammed into his chest and legs. The acidic liquid clung to his pristine white scholarly robes, instantly melting the fine silk into smoking, ruined rags. The dark liquid washed over his bare, reinforced skin. It hissed loudly, emitting foul-smelling steam, but the corrosive properties completely failed to penetrate his hardened epidermis.
Wang Jian walked straight through the lethal mist, completely unbothered by the sheer heat and acidity.
From the rear of the chamber, Shen Mengqi watched him emerge from the boiling blood. The Fairy of the Silver Gale clutched her torn white dress tightly, her massive, soft breasts pressing against her forearms. Her sapphire eyes were wide with trembling awe. She had only experienced his overwhelming physical dominance while pinned naked to a bed; seeing him effortlessly shrug off a demonic art that had melted the bronze skin of Daoist Luo Cheng sent a violent, heavy jolt of raw arousal straight to her lower abdomen. Her pussy wept a thick drop of moisture against her thighs.
"Yesss..." Shen Mengqi breathed softly, entirely unable to stop the sound from escaping her lips.
Wang Jian raised his right hand. He reached into his spatial ring and drew his weapon. Glacial Bite materialized in his grip. The longsword, forged with traces of frost iron, hummed loudly, the dark Steller Qi coating the blade and suppressing its natural icy glow.
"Steller Severing Slash," Wang Jian stated.
He swung the sword downward. A heavy, crescent-shaped arc of dense, black starlight tore across the room. It carried immense physical weight, carving a deep, jagged trench directly through the solid iron floorboards.
The spirit recognized the lethal, crushing momentum of the strike. It stomped its boot against the floor, channeling its stolen Qi into the ancient runic arrays buried beneath the metal.
A massive, thick pillar of rusted iron violently erupted from the floorboards, directly in the path of the incoming dark slash.
The Steller Severing Slash collided with the iron pillar. The heavy impact created a deafening acoustic shockwave. The dense starlight effortlessly sheared the thick iron pillar completely in half, the top section crashing heavily to the floor, but the brief obstruction absorbed the absolute brunt of the momentum, allowing the spirit to sidestep the remaining energy.
The entity did not remain on the defensive. It reached out, grabbing the massive, deeply curved scythe that lay abandoned on the floor.
"Blood-Boiling Scythe Art: Crimson Crescent!" the spirit roared.
It swung the heavy weapon in a devastating, horizontal sweep. The scythe blade glowed with thick, viscous red energy, tearing the heavy air apart, aiming directly for Wang Jian’s ribs.
Wang Jian planted his feet firmly, shifting his stance to root himself entirely to the iron floor. He brought Glacial Bite up in a rigid, vertical parry.
CLANG!
The heavy scythe slammed into the frost iron longsword. The physical collision was monumental. A shockwave of displaced air and sparks exploded outward, forcing the observing women to shield their faces.
Wang Jian’s reinforced arms held the heavy block perfectly. The raw physical weight of the scythe pressed down, the corrosive blood-qi sizzling against the dark energy coating his blade. His boots ground deeply into the iron floor, the metal buckling beneath his heels, but he did not yield a single inch of ground.
"Your physical strength is commendable," the spirit noted, pushing its entire stolen body weight against the scythe shaft. "But you lack speed."
"You are gravely mistaken," Wang Jian replied.
He initiated the second phase of his martial assault. He forcefully expelled a small, highly concentrated amount of his Steller Demonic Qi directly from his dantian, channeling it into his spiritual pathways.
"Ether Pulse Surge," Wang Jian commanded.
For the span of ten heavy breaths, his spiritual energy flow supercharged. The ambient air around him warped visibly. His casting speed and the raw power of his elemental spells increased by thirty percent. The sudden rush of accelerated blood pounded heavily in his ears.
He twisted his wrists, violently throwing the heavy scythe off his blade.
With his newly amplified casting speed, Wang Jian brought his left hand up, his fingers forming a rapid seal. He gathered the ambient thermal heat dispersion in the room, mixing it with his dense Qi.
"Scorching Palm," Wang Jian stated, thrusting his open hand forward.
A massive, roaring sphere of highly compressed, dark red fire erupted from his palm. The sheer heat of the projectile instantly turned the nearby iron debris into glowing slag. It crossed the short distance between them in a fraction of a second.
The spirit recognized the amplified threat. It abandoned the scythe, dropping the heavy weapon. The entity plunged its hand into its own spatial ring, pulling out an artifact it had looted from the true depths of the tomb centuries ago.
It hoisted a massive, rectangular slab of pitch-black metal.
"Heavy Iron Barricade Shield," the spirit declared, planting the heavy artifact into the floor.
The Scorching Palm slammed directly into the barricade.
BOOM!
The thermal explosion washed over the black metal, the flames curling around the edges. The heavy shield absorbed the impact perfectly, the dense material completely immune to the fiery assault.
Wang Jian did not wait for the flames to dissipate. He utilized the momentary visual obstruction. He dashed forward, crossing the remaining distance. He launched a heavy, devastating front kick directly into the center of the Heavy Iron Barricade Shield.
The raw physical momentum of his reinforced leg collided with the solid metal. The heavy impact bent the shield slightly inward. The transferred kinetic force traveled straight through the artifact, violently breaking the spirit’s solid footing. The possessed corpse staggered backward, its boots sliding across the slick, melted iron.
The spirit quickly stabilized its shifting stance. It slammed its palm flat against the floor, forcefully manipulating the ancient arrays of the burial chamber once more.
The iron floorboards beneath Wang Jian’s feet violently shifted. The heavy metal plates slid apart rapidly, revealing a dark, jagged pit directly below him.
Wang Jian did not fall. He utilized his heavy Qi to firmly adhere his boots to the shifting metal, riding the sliding plate backward.
He needed to overwhelm the entity’s ability to focus on the environment.
"Steller Demonic Clones," Wang Jian commanded.
The dark, heavy shadows cast by his body against the iron walls suddenly writhed. They detached from the ground, peeling upward, instantly gaining physical mass, color, and three-dimensionality. Three perfect, identical copies of Wang Jian materialized around the perimeter of the sliding floor plates. Their eyes were solid black, radiating the exact same cold, heavy Steller energy.
The spirit turned its head, assessing the sudden numerical disadvantage.
The three clones attacked simultaneously.
The first clone lunged forward, executing a rapid, upward sword thrust aimed directly at the spirit’s exposed neck. The second clone darted to the right flank, swinging its blade in a heavy, horizontal slash designed to sever the knee tendons.
The spirit reacted with the combat experience of a seasoned warlord. It grabbed the discarded scythe from the floor with its foot, kicking the heavy weapon upward into its hand. It spun the massive scythe in a complete, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sweep, creating a lethal circle of corrosive blood-qi that forced the first and second clones to leap backward to avoid being cut in half.
The third clone utilized the momentary opening, leaping high into the air. It brought its sword down in a devastating, overhead strike, aiming to cleave the entity’s skull.
The spirit did not raise its weapon. It opened its mouth, forcefully expelling a massive barrage of highly condensed, heavy black-blood needles directly upward.
The thick needles tore through the air, aimed squarely at the descending clone’s chest.
Wang Jian, standing firmly twenty yards away on a stable iron plate, narrowed his real eyes. He focused entirely upon the first clone, which had retreated to the left flank, securely behind the spirit’s line of sight.
Displacement.
The air warped severely for a microsecond.
Wang Jian swapped his spatial coordinates instantly. He now stood precisely where the first clone had been, entirely bypassing the heavy physical distance. The first clone appeared on the distant iron plate.
Wang Jian stepped smoothly inside the spirit’s unguarded left flank. He abandoned his sword entirely, opting for raw physical trauma. He drove his reinforced right elbow directly into the entity’s exposed ribs.
CRACK.
The heavy impact shattered three ribs instantly. The spirit stumbled violently to the side, black blood leaking from the corner of its stolen mouth. The physical pain meant nothing to the entity, but the structural damage to the vessel severely limited its mobility.
"Your martial forms are adequate," the spirit rasped, turning its black eyes toward Wang Jian. "But you leave your rear exposed."
The entity raised its left hand. The ambient blood pooled on the floor rapidly gathered, condensing into a massive, highly volatile sphere of corrosive blood-qi. The heavy orb pulsated with a sickening, wet sound, radiating a thermal heat dispersion that threatened to melt the surrounding air.
The spirit hurled the heavy blood-orb directly at Wang Jian’s chest.
Wang Jian evaluated the exact trajectory, the raw physical weight of the projectile, and the limited recovery time he had before impact. He could easily dodge. He could easily swap coordinates with another clone.
Instead, his dark, calculating eyes flicked briefly toward the far corner of the massive chamber.
Lying there, heavily wounded and entirely incapable of movement, were City Lord Hai Kuo and Daoist Luo Cheng. Their bodies were battered, their defensive artifacts shattered, their breathing shallow and ragged.
Wang Jian raised Glacial Bite. He turned his wrists, angling the flat of the heavy blade to intercept the incoming projectile.
He struck the massive blood-orb. He did not attempt to sever it. He applied immense physical leverage, torqueing his hips to forcefully redirect the heavy mass of the attack.
The blood-orb ricocheted off the flat of the sword. The heavy impact sent a violent tremor straight up Wang Jian’s forearms, his reinforced muscles straining against the sheer momentum.
The redirected, highly volatile sphere of corrosive blood-qi sailed across the burial chamber.
It slammed directly into the prone bodies of City Lord Hai Kuo and Daoist Luo Cheng.
The explosion was devastating.
The heavy, boiling acid instantly melted through their remaining, fractured defenses. The thermal heat dispersion incinerated their flesh. The smell of burning hair, scorched meat, and boiling blood filled the chamber. Neither man had the breath in their lungs to scream. Their bodies were reduced to a bubbling, blackened slag of ash and melted bone in the span of three short breaths.
Standing near the back wall, safely positioned behind the heavy water barriers erected by Shangguan Wan’er, Lin Wanyue watched the absolute destruction of her husband.
The City Lord’s wife gripped the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white. Her massive, heavy breasts heaved violently beneath her elegant purple silk robes. She had distinctly, clearly seen Wang Jian adjust his stance. She had seen him deliberately, intentionally angle his blade to send the lethal attack directly toward her husband.
He had murdered Hai Kuo using the spirit’s weapon.
A heavy, crushing wave of profound grief washed over her mind. Hai Kuo had been her partner for a century. They had built Abyssal Pearl City together.
But as she stared at the back of the demonic overlord who had just orchestrated her husband’s death, a terrifying, physiological betrayal completely overrode her sorrow.
The deep, throbbing soreness between her thick thighs flared with intense heat. The lingering traces of Wang Jian’s Steller Demonic Yang Qi inside her womb pulsed violently. Her tight pussy wept a steady stream of slick, hot moisture that soaked the silk panties beneath her robes.
She remembered the feeling of his massive, rock-hard dick pounding her relentlessly against the profound-iron door. She remembered the absolute, terrifying dominance he wielded over her flesh. Her body was completely, irreversibly addicted to his power.
She forced her mind to construct a desperate rationalization to resolve the agonizing cognitive dissonance tearing at her Dao Heart.
’The spirit threw the attack,’ Lin Wanyue told herself, her legs trembling so severely she had to lean against the cold iron wall for support. ’Daoist Wang was merely defending himself. He deflected it blindly. He didn’t mean to strike my husband. It was the ancient entity. The spirit killed Hai Kuo.’
"Ahhh... the spirit killed him..." Lin Wanyue whispered softly to herself, a tear leaking from her eye as she completely surrendered her final shred of loyalty to the man who owned her pussy.
In the center of the room, the spirit did not care about the collateral damage. It plunged its hand into its spatial ring, withdrawing a second stolen artifact.
It held a bundle of thick, rusted iron links.
"Chain of the Iron Warden," the spirit declared.
It hurled the heavy chains outward. The links extended endlessly, whipping through the air like massive, iron serpents. They tore through the rusted iron pillars supporting the ceiling, bringing heavy chunks of debris raining down upon the floor. The chains surrounded Wang Jian, seeking to bind his limbs and crush his reinforced flesh.
Wang Jian stepped backward, raising Glacial Bite to block the incoming strikes.
CLANG! CLANG!
The heavy chains struck the sword. The sheer, overwhelming physical weight of the artifact was immense. Wang Jian’s boots slid backward. A faint, jagged crack appeared along the spine of the frost iron blade. The weapon was reaching its structural limit.
Wang Jian dropped the sword. He let the cracked blade fall to the floor.
He raised his left hand, opening his palm. He did not summon dark energy. He tapped into the stolen, purified essence resting deep within his core.
A roaring, magnificent stream of Golden Phoenix Flame erupted from his hand. The holy fire possessed a domineering heat that instantly superheated the heavy air in the chamber.
He swept the golden fire across the incoming chains.
The intense thermal heat dispersion struck the iron links. The metal glowed bright orange, then white-hot, before rapidly melting into dripping, useless slag, losing all structural integrity.
The spirit did not retreat. It manipulated the ambient, corrosive blood mist lingering in the air. It forced the heavy, freezing mist to envelop the dripping, melted iron, instantly cooling and hardening the metal into dozens of sharp, jagged spikes.
The entity thrust its arms forward.
The hardened iron spikes shot forward like heavy javelins, aimed directly at Wang Jian’s chest and face.
Wang Jian did not attempt to dodge. The ten breaths of his Ether Pulse Surge were fading, but his Steller Flesh Reinforcement remained fully active.
He threw his fists forward, engaging in brutal, close-quarters physical deflection.
He punched the heavy iron spikes out of the air. His dark, metallic knuckles collided with the jagged metal. The impacts sounded like heavy hammers striking an anvil. The spikes shattered into heavy shrapnel. A few sharp edges managed to graze his knuckles, drawing thin lines of red blood that immediately began to heal, but his overall defense held perfectly.
Wang Jian abandoned all distance. He dashed forward, stepping entirely inside the reach of the massive scythe.
The combat devolved into a raw, brutal brawl.
The spirit swung the heavy shaft of the scythe, aiming to crush Wang Jian’s ribs. Wang Jian ducked the blow, stepping inside the entity’s guard. He drove a heavy, devastating knee strike directly into the spirit’s abdomen.
The raw physical weight of the blow ruptured the internal organs of the stolen vessel. Black blood spilled heavily from the corpse’s lips.
The entity retaliated, dropping the scythe entirely. It lunged forward, its jaw unhinging unnaturally, attempting to bite directly into Wang Jian’s exposed neck to tear out his throat.
Wang Jian did not flinch. He snapped his head forward, delivering a brutal, bone-crushing headbutt directly to the spirit’s face.
CRACK.
The bridge of Xue Ren’s stolen nose shattered completely. The skull fractured, the forehead caving inward under the immense physical momentum of the strike. The entity staggered backward, its spatial balance severely compromised.
Wang Jian grabbed the entity’s right arm. He twisted his hips, applying immense physical leverage, and forcefully bent the arm backward over his own shoulder.
SNAP.
The elbow joint broke with a loud, sickening sound. The bones tore completely through the pale skin, exposing the dark, corrupted marrow beneath.
The spirit thrashed, kicking out with its left leg.
Wang Jian caught the heavy boot with his bare hand. He twisted violently, shattering the knee joint entirely, destroying the ligaments and rendering the leg useless.
The possessed corpse collapsed heavily onto the iron floor, completely immobilized, its limbs broken and bent at horrific angles. The physical vessel was entirely ruined, incapable of supporting further combat.
The black eyes of the spirit glared up at Wang Jian with ancient, unyielding malice.
"You destroy the vessel, but you cannot kill the soul," the entity rasped, its jaw hanging loosely from the shattered skull.
The ambient air pressure around the broken corpse began to swell violently. The entity was pulling all of its remaining, dense Demonic Qi inward, preparing to forcibly detonate its own spiritual sea in a massive, suicidal explosion intended to level the entire burial chamber.
"I have no intention of killing you," Wang Jian stated coldly, his breathing heavy from the prolonged physical exertion.
He stepped forward, placing his heavy boot directly onto the center of the corpse’s chest, pinning it firmly to the floor.
He forced his right hand down, pressing his palm flat against the shattered forehead of the entity.
Wang Jian invaded the spiritual sea.
His immensely dense, terrifyingly vast Divine Sense violently breached the mental defenses of the ancient spirit. He entered the dark, chaotic mindscape of the entity.
The spirit roared within the mental realm, throwing waves of corrosive, ancient malice against the invading presence, fighting desperately to maintain control of the detonating core.
Wang Jian’s soul manifested as a towering, starlit titan within the void. He did not engage in a prolonged mental duel.
He unleashed the ancient Steller Demonic Slave Seal.
A complex, pitch-black runic matrix, dripping with absolute, tyrannical authority, formed in the mental space. Wang Jian forced the heavy, inescapable brand directly onto the very core of the ancient spirit’s soul.
The pain inflicted upon the entity was absolute, transcending mere physical agony. It was the agonizing, searing burn of total subjugation, a forceful rewriting of its foundational existence.
The spirit shrieked, a soundless wail of pure, unadulterated despair that echoed across the spiritual sea. The swelling, suicidal energy within the corpse’s dantian instantly dissipated, entirely suffocated by the heavy, binding chains of the Slave Seal.
The entity stopped resisting. The black eyes of the corpse blinked, the ancient malice completely replaced by a hollow, forced obedience.
Wang Jian pulled his hand away from the shattered forehead. He stepped back, wiping a smear of black blood from his knuckles.
"You belong to me now," Wang Jian ordered, his voice echoing loudly in the silent, ruined chamber.
Behind the heavy water barriers, the women watched the conclusion of the battle in absolute, trembling awe.
Shen Mengqi leaned heavily against the iron wall, her beautiful face flushed, her sapphire eyes wide. She had watched him systematically, brutally dismantle an ancient entity that had effortlessly slaughtered her peers. The sheer, overwhelming display of martial supremacy completely shattered the last, lingering remnants of her aristocratic pride.
’I never thought he is so powerful,’ Shen Mengqi thought, her heavy breasts heaving violently. Her body ached deeply, her womb weeping heavy, slick fluids, completely and utterly addicted to his overwhelming power. ’I am so incredibly lucky to be his slut.’
Lin Wanyue stood beside her, her legs shaking so severely she slowly slid down the wall until she was kneeling on the rusted floorboards. She stared at the dominant, muscular back of the man who had just orchestrated her husband’s death and conquered an ancient terror.
’I am the woman of such a powerful man,’ Lin Wanyue whispered softly to herself, submitting entirely to her new reality, her mind broken, her body burning with heavy, desperate lust. ’I am his property.’
Wang Jian stood amidst the devastation, surrounded by melted iron and ash. He looked down at the broken, subdued vessel at his feet, ready to claim the ultimate legacy of the Profound Iron True Monarch.