Evil and heretical paths

Li Zhong was furious, swinging his twin hammers at Wang Lun with all his might, unleashing the full force of his Nascent Soul cultivation—a power both vast and overwhelming.

Wang Lun stood unmoving, waiting for Li Zhong's attack. At the same time, he quietly circulated his cultivation technique, channeling his spiritual energy to protect himself. He had no need to dodge, nor did he bother. His spiritual power was several times denser than that of an early Core Formation cultivator; he had absolutely nothing to fear.

“Hmph, courting death!” Li Zhong saw Wang Lun standing still and assumed he was underestimating the force of his attack. With a cruel grin, he activated his magic weapon, bringing it down hard upon Wang Lun.

Wang Lun remained unmoved.

Boom!

The iron hammer struck his shoulder. Spiritual energy surged through the weapon, which burst forth with a dazzling golden light, as if a small mountain had crashed down. Li Zhong's lips curled into a malicious smile. This top-grade magic weapon from the “Stronghold” could shatter ordinary steel plates; even if Wang Lun was a late Foundation Establishment expert, he would not withstand it—he would suffer broken bones and spit blood.

Yet Li Zhong’s smile froze.

Wang Lun remained standing as steady as a boulder, completely unharmed. In fact, Li Zhong noticed a surge of immense blood energy pulsing from Wang Lun’s left shoulder, instantly crushing his own spiritual power. In the next moment, Wang Lun raised his hand and grabbed at him, seizing the iron hammer with a firm grip.

“You… you’re at mid Core Formation!” Li Zhong was flustered.

Wang Lun’s aura was terrifying. Though only late Foundation Establishment in cultivation, the power he unleashed rivaled mid Core Formation.

Wang Lun ignored him.

Li Zhong, now at mid Core Formation, naturally felt fearless. He adjusted his breathing, and his twin hammers shone even brighter as he attacked Wang Lun from both sides, more ferocious than before.

Seeing this, Wang Lun’s expression grew grave. He dared not be careless and once again wielded his black iron rod, meeting the earth-shattering blow head-on.

“Boom!” Standing not far away, Yan Po-xi was driven back by the shockwave, dust and sand rising from the mountaintop, blotting out the sun.

At the epicenter of the collision, both men’s bodies trembled. Separated, they each fell to the ground, spitting blood.

“So strong,” Wang Lun thought to himself. No wonder he was the master of Erlong Mountain; his spiritual power was so dense it b