The human language was an art form. After countless years of conflict, the
Certain habits of daily life, for instance. And certain turns of phrase.
This Ink Clan King Master had once heard an Eighth-Order Ink Disciple recite a line from the humans—"When the path ends in a mountain's depth, and you despair of any way forward, the willows will part and the flowers reveal another village." At the time, he had dismissed it as nothing more than the whining of a failure, unworthy of polite company.
But now, he understood the meaning of those words with every fiber of his being.
From the depths of despair, several Domain Lords had led tens of thousands of troops to his rescue—and the phrase could not have been more fitting.
Behind him, the human Ancestor's assault was growing ever more ferocious. She had clearly spotted the Ink Clan reinforcements and was intent on finishing the King Master before the two forces could converge. But for the moment, she had not succeeded.
Yet in her current state of dominance, it was unrealistic for the Ink Clan to rely on this modest relief force to hold her back.
Even with several Domain Lords and seven or eight Eighth-Order Ink Disciples leading tens of thousands of troops, they would be hard-pressed to stop a human Ancestor who was determined to break through.
After only a brief moment of hesitation, the King Master surged his divine sense and secretly issued a command to the Domain Lords rushing to his aid.
The Domain Lords stiffened, and then one by one, resolute expressions appeared on their faces.
Dense Ink Force poured out from the bodies of the Domain Lords. But the tens of thousands of Ink Clan soldiers acted even faster—they had already begun doing so before the Domain Lords made their move.
Boundless Ink Force coalesced into a vast, thick ink cloud. As the Ink Force within their bodies was frantically drained, the life force of every being—Domain Lords and all those below them alike—began to wither with terrifying speed.
Ink Force was to the Ink Clan what the might of Heaven and Earth was to Open Heaven Realm cultivators: the very foundation of their existence.
To expend it so recklessly was equivalent to an Open Heaven cultivator destroying their own Small Universe—at best, their cultivation would plummet; at worst, they would perish on the spot.
Under normal circumstances, no Ink Clan member would ever willingly do this. But this was the King Master's command, and even the Domain Lords had no choice but to obey.
The Ink Clan soldiers below the Domain Lord rank needed no persuading. The instant the King Master's command went out, they had begun channeling their own Ink Force, even more obedient than the Domain Lords—hence why they had acted first.
Only those seven or eight Eighth-Order Ink Disciples shot through the massive ink cloud and charged straight toward the King Master.
Though they had been corrupted by the Ink and their Small Universes tainted with Ink Force, the Ink Force within their bodies was too impure to fuel the secret technique the King Master intended to deploy. They did not need to mimic what the Domain Lords were doing.
The King Master was counting on them to delay the human Ancestor, even if only for a moment.
In the blink of an eye, led by several Domain Lords, the Ink Force within tens of thousands of Ink Clan soldiers surged wildly and merged into one. Within the ink cloud, life after life was extinguished in waves.
At that very moment, the seven or eight Eighth-Order Ink Disciples had already passed the King Master and now stood face to face with the Ancestor's overwhelming might.
Against a normal Eighth-Order Open Heaven cultivator, seven or eight of them working together would have been enough to hold their own against any human Ancestor for a time.
But these Eighth-Order cultivators were merely Ink Disciples. They possessed Eighth-Order cultivation bases but were actually weaker than the Domain Lords in true combat ability, let alone comparable to normal Eighth-Order Open Heaven cultivators.
They were, without exaggeration, the weakest Eighth-Order cultivators in all of existence.
Such beings—even banding together—how could they possibly stand against a human Ancestor?
The Eighth-Order Ink Disciple at the front managed to launch a single sword strike before the Ancestor reached out and plucked his head from his shoulders. Blood sprayed from the severed neck, and the headless body swayed on its feet.
That single sword strike had done nothing more than leave a shallow scratch on the Ancestor's body.
To break through the Eighth-Order Ink Disciples' interception as quickly as possible, the Ancestor was attacking without bothering to defend. She knew that any delay would give the King Master room to maneuver, and all of their previous efforts could be wasted.
With a casual palm strike pressed downward, another Eighth-Order Ink Disciple's body shuddered violently as the might of Heaven and Earth within him turned chaotic—a clear sign that his Small Universe had been struck.
The Ancestor did not even glance at him. As she brushed past, the Eighth-Order Ink Disciple erupted into a mist of blood for no discernible reason.
The remaining Ink Disciples' faces changed at the sight. In their earlier clashes with the East and West Army Eighth-Order cultivators, they had already sensed the gap between them—but that awareness, while significant, had not yet crossed into despair. Only now did they truly understand that the might of an Ancestor was simply beyond anything they could face.
Yet as Ink Disciples, how could they dare disobey the King Master's command? If even the Domain Lords were willing to pay with their lives to help the King Master escape, what excuse did they have?
So after two Ink Disciples had fallen in succession, the rest did not hesitate for even a heartbeat. One by one, they activated their Small Universes and unfurled them across the void.
Every Small Universe was a prison. If the human Ancestor wanted to break free, she would have to destroy these Small Universes.
It was the only way they could think of to slow the Ancestor's advance.
As the Eighth-Order Ink Disciples dropped their respective Small Universes, the Ancestor—who had maintained a composed expression throughout—could not help but reveal a flicker of sorrow and grief.
If it were possible, she would have preferred to bring these Ink Disciples back and use the Purifying Light to purge the corruption within them, rather than cut them down.
But even if they were brought back, they could not be saved. Without the support of Ink Force, their Small Universes would be unable to contain their powerful cultivation, and their bodies would explode and perish in an instant.