Chapter 8: All Are Mere Clowns!

Night Nine-Demon watched as several assaults thundered toward him; his strange and otherworldly expression remained full of disdain. The monstrous wind emanating from the great fiend behind him grew even more terrifying, and in an instant, Night Nine-Demon’s power surged once more.

"For mere cultivators in the Qi Fusion Realm to act so brazenly... Then let me plunge you into utter despair. Any who killed my father-in-law—none shall be spared!"

His voice was hoarse and cold, laced with murderous intent. In that instant, a storm erupted, and he stepped into the void above. Upon seeing this, Emperor Wuji and the others followed in a flash.

Light gleamed from Night Nine-Demon’s demonic pupils. His hands, still somewhat youthful in appearance, now radiated a dazzling brilliance that illuminated heaven and earth.

"Fall!"

Emperor Wuji and the others’ pupils contracted, shock flickering in their eyes, but they quickly regained composure. Their fists became palms, unleashing a vast force that erupted upward in a torrent.

A deafening boom shook the air. The collision between the two sides unleashed a terrifying might, with overwhelming winds surging forth in an instant.

Thunderous detonations resounded between them, their force shaking the world and transforming into bolts of lightning that crashed down in a single breath. Yet even then, it was not over.

Night Nine-Demon seemed to embody the will of heaven and earth. With a flick of his finger, he pierced the void, hurling a force able to shatter the firmament straight at Emperor Wuji.

"Hmph!" Emperor Wuji snorted coldly, his aura flaring once more as he struck out with a fist, seeking to obliterate the force of Night Nine-Demon’s finger.

But no matter how great his strength, he was not Night Nine-Demon’s match. The finger force pierced through his fist, blood spraying forth as Emperor Wuji staggered back in pain.

Yet still, it was not over. After merging with the great fiend, Night Nine-Demon had been utterly transformed, especially in speed and physical might.

Luo Qingyu and Night Hanzhou gazed at Night Nine-Demon in the sky, astonished that a single finger could send Emperor Wuji reeling. The others were even more astounded.

"We’re still standing. Night Nine-Demon is nothing like the rumors—if anything, he’s even stronger!"

In that moment, everyone forgot the peril they were in, exclaiming in wonder as they watched the battle between Night Nine-Demon and Emperor Wuji.

Vital energy surged in the heavens as Emperor Wuji was relentlessly pressed by Night Nine-Demon’s blows, forced to defend again and again, his face contorted with frustration.

"Why aren’t you helping?!" Emperor Wuji roared, his expression grim. Only then did the black-cloaked figures seem to awaken from a dream, charging at Night Nine-Demon to intercept his assault.

"There’s a legend," Night Nine-Demon intoned as he withdrew to one side, murmuring as if reciting history, "of a monkey once discontent with the injustice of heaven and earth, wielding a thirteen-thousand-five-hundred-jin iron staff, who battled the gods and the Buddhas, subduing countless deities. And the spirit of that very monkey now dwells within me!"

His words left Emperor Wuji and the rest uneasy, none daring to move closer, compelled to listen in silence. Night Nine-Demon’s power was simply too bizarre; though he was only at the early stage of the Qi Fusion Realm, his might was peerless. With each swing of his fist, the barrier forged from Emperor Wuji’s vital energy shattered inch by inch, unable to withstand the onslaught.

That was why Emperor Wuji and his followers hesitated, unwilling to rush forward. Yet in the next moment, they realized in horror they had gravely underestimated Night Nine-Demon’s strength.

"Staff, come!"

His voice rang out like a mighty bell, or like the resounding call from the depths of the underworld. A golden iron staff shattered the void, descending with a thunderous crash from beyond the myriad star rivers.

"That... that’s the Divine Needle of the Sea!"

With a furious roar, Night Nine-Demon surged forward. The iron staff seemed to obey his will, streaking through the sky to meet his outstretched hand, its power erupting instantly.

"Die!"

Night Nine-Demon’s eyes were blood-red as he swung the colossal staff down. Terror flashed across the faces of Emperor Wuji and the others—they realized this blow was far beyond what they could endure.

But there was nowhere to run.

"Together! Block it!"

Emperor Wuji and the black-cloaked men shouted in unison, knowing only by combining their strength could they hope to withstand the earth-shattering strike.

Yet Night Nine-Demon’s staff was not empowered by his vital energy alone—it carried the might of the divine monkey and the resilience forged from thirteen years of relentless suffering. This blow transcended all limits.

It seemed poised to smash the very stars from the sky and annihilate everything.

Starlight swirled as Night Nine-Demon’s expression grew solemn, his eyes shot through with blood. He looked utterly demonic, the staff in his hand radiant with blinding light.

In an instant, it fell.

The combined force of Emperor Wuji and his allies crashed against the immense staff, unleashing a savage storm of power. The air between them detonated with thunderous booms.

But Night Nine-Demon was not done. As he raised the staff once more, an even greater force exploded forth. Across the sky, countless shadows of the staff radiated outward, all centered on Night Nine-Demon.

Throughout the heavens, there was nothing but Night Nine-Demon’s staff. Emperor Wuji and his followers were truly terrified now, for they sensed within the staff the essence of the Dao itself—a truth they yearned for but could never touch.

The endless staff shadows rained down, unleashing power that shattered the void, splitting the sky like falling stars.

A cataclysmic roar erupted as the wild force slammed into Emperor Wuji and the others, reverberating from their chests, leaving them breathless and in agony. Sweet blood welled in their mouths and spilled out.

"Still hiding your strength? Are you waiting to die?"

Emperor Wuji glared at the members of the Yellow Springs Hall, furious that they were feigning effort. Nearly ninety percent of Night Nine-Demon’s power had been borne by him alone. His face darkened as he thundered in rage.

"Netherworld Cleave!"

"Hundred Ghosts Procession!"

One after another, powerful techniques were unleashed. Night Nine-Demon watched their desperate efforts, the mockery on his face deepening. In a flash, his staff became a pillar supporting the sky, as if to anchor the surging tides.

"Break!"

With his thunderous shout, everyone below watched, eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle.

The staff churned the power of the stars, shattering their techniques in an instant and smashing down upon them without pretense—just pure, unbridled force. Emperor Wuji and the rest were blasted away.

Coughing blood, their figures were flung through the air, unable to suppress the surging energy in their chests. It reversed and flooded upward, spilling from their lips in torrents. Their auras rapidly faded, and in a heartbeat, their faces turned deathly pale.

"I told you—you’re nothing but ants."

The demonic aura faded from Night Nine-Demon’s body, but his overwhelming strength remained. He strode to where Emperor Wuji and the others lay, his oppressive presence pinning them in place. Looking down at them, his expression was full of contempt, his eyes brimming with scorn, as if watching a troupe of clowns perform.

"Night Nine-Demon, please spare us—we won’t dare again..."

"Be merciful, overlook our offenses, just let us live..."

Cries for mercy arose one after another.

But Night Nine-Demon wasted no words. With a single palm, he reduced them all to dust.

"You may be strong, but in my eyes you’re nothing but jesters," Night Nine-Demon murmured, returning to the city wall to gaze upon the few battered, defeated survivors.

"Do you wish for death?"

His voice crashed like thunder. Not one dared utter a word; all stared at him in terror, afraid that a single wrong move would bring his wrath—and their annihilation.

After all, if even the mighty Emperor Wuji and his ilk could be wiped out at his word, what hope had such insignificant rabble?