Shi Nian smiled, laughing heartily. "You think that's enough to resist my Martial Soul? Young man, you're far too naive. If my Illusory Dreams were that easy to resist, I wouldn't deserve the title of Soul Saint. Just wait. You will perish in excruciating pain — and every last ounce of that pain will be inflicted by your own hand."
Shi Nian's voice gradually grew faint. Everything around him became hazy once more, as though he had already withdrawn into the distance — or vanished entirely.
Tang San sat cross-legged in place without moving, quietly condensing his Soul Power. Because the Blue Silver Grass continued to spin around his body, it was nearly impossible for anyone outside to make out the expression on his face.
The world around him began to shift. Tang San was startled to discover that the Blue Silver Grass he had been controlling to swirl around him had seemingly disappeared. In his senses he could still feel them, yet visually they had vanished without a trace.
The scenery had changed. It was no longer the small grove from before — it was a cliff. A cliff Tang San knew with agonizing intimacy.
Gui Jian Chou — why am I at Gui Jian Chou? Tang San's normally calm eyes flew wide open.
This place held memories carved too deeply into his soul. Just a few meters ahead lay the mist-shrouded abyss, and behind him, more than a dozen white-robed figures were growing clearer.
He lowered his head. Tang San could see clearly that the clothes on his body had changed — and the enormous character "Tang" emblazoned on them told him everything he needed to know.
A dream — could it be that everything in Soul Land had been nothing more than a dream? Was he still, in the end, a disciple of the Tang Sect who had violated its rules?
Tang San stared blankly ahead, his entire being sinking into confusion. Those gradually materializing figures cut off every path of retreat. One by one, familiar faces — twisted with fury — emerged before him.
"Tang San, you dare steal our sect's Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record? Your crimes are unforgivable!"
"Tang San — the Tang Sect raised you, taught you its arts, and yet you committed such a reviling, heaven-spurning deed…"
The voices multiplied, each one thundering louder in Tang San's mind. The faces kept spreading, and in moments the dozen or so Tang Sect elders had closed in, surrounding him completely.
"Esteemed Elders, please hear me out!" Tang San cried out desperately.
"There is nothing left to say. Tang San, your crimes are grievous beyond measure. You will face the highest punishment our sect can impose."
Tang San's limbs could no longer move. Four elders gripped him simultaneously. One of them raised a hand, internal energy surging from his palm, and struck Tang San's arm. Tang San screamed. His entire left arm shattered inch by inch in an instant. Pain amplified tenfold exploded through his mind. His whole body convulsed violently.
Then came the right arm, then both legs. Under the elders' internal energy, the bones throughout Tang San's body kept breaking apart — until not a single intact bone remained.
And yet he would not die. He writhed there ceaselessly, his body seizing over and over. No matter how overwhelming the agony radiating from every corner of his flesh, his mind remained fiercely, terribly alert — and that alertness meant he had to endure every last sensation the pain had to offer.
The elders' faces gradually faded. They left Tang San — every bone in his body ground to fragments — on the cliff at Gui Jian Chou, telling him he would wail there for seven days and seven nights before dying at the beaks of eagles and hawks.
Tang San's eyes had grown unfocused now. Agonizing pain surged upward in relentless waves, making his body twitch and convulse in spasm after spasm.
The scene before him was still Gui Jian Chou — but another figure had begun to appear in front of him.
Slender, graceful, a long scorpion braid cascading down, a sweet and delicate face — it was Xiao Wu.
Alongside Xiao Wu came another person: a man in his forties, a leering, wretched fellow whose bones Xiao Wu had shattered in multiple places with her Soft Technique — Bu Le.
"Xiao… Xiao Wu…" Tang San tried to call out, but no sound would come. He could not understand why Xiao Wu was with Bu Le.
Bu Le had one hand clamped tight around Xiao Wu's neck, and he was leering at Tang San with a filthy grin. On Xiao Wu's face, grief and fury blazed alongside helpless defiance.
"Ge — Ge, save me, please save me…" Xiao Wu struggled with all her might, but she could not break free from that monstrous old man Bu Le's grip.
Blood began to drip from the corners of Tang San's eyes. Yet with every bone in his body shattered, all he could do was watch helplessly as Xiao Wu was humiliated before him.
Xiao Wu's gaze was filled with despair and hatred — and that despair and hatred were directed entirely at Tang San.
No — no! Tang San wanted to scream, wanted to rise, but his body would not obey even the slightest command.
"Little beauty, since you can't resist, why don't you just enjoy it? Uncle will treat you nicely. Ha ha ha ha…" Bu Le's voice was as grating as a night owl's screech, each word piercing like an awl driven deep into Tang San's heart.