I Was the Sun Before I Became an Immortal

Was there a seventh slash?

Like hell there was a seventh slash!

Fang Heng coughed up another mouthful of blood in fury. Forcing out the sixth slash had already pushed him to his absolute limit — his internal organs felt as though they had been wrenched out of place.

Just what kind of monster was this guy?!

That was the only thought left in Fang Heng's mind.

He had been a genius in everyone's eyes his entire life, and fighting above his cultivation stage had been as routine as eating a meal. Yet today, a Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator had driven him to this sorry state.

He had even, somehow… become the other party's sparring dummy.

He finally understood, now, what all those people he had once defeated across cultivation stages must have felt.

"Young Master!"

Old Mo, the grey-robed guardian, saw that Fang Heng's injuries were severe. His expression shifted, and he feinted to drive Chifeng back before flashing forward to place himself in front of Fang Heng.

He fixed a wary gaze on Si Chen and said in a low, measured voice, "Your abilities are formidable, and I admire them. Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding today — why not let the matter rest here?"

As a guardian, his foremost duty was to ensure Fang Heng's safety. Magical Artifacts and spirit materials could always be retrieved another day. Better to preserve the green mountains than to run out of firewood.

Si Chen heard him out. So they couldn't win and wanted to run.

But how could he possibly agree?

From Lü Yan to Lü Ci, he had come to understand one thing clearly: in this world, once blades were drawn and enmity was forged, the matter had to be resolved completely.

Let them go today, and tomorrow they might return with someone even more dangerous.

He had no desire to deal with an endless cycle of "beat the young one, here comes the old one."

"None of you are leaving today."

Si Chen's refusal was clean and absolute. The Spear of Thunder reforming in his hand made it clear he was not joking.

Old Mo's expression darkened instantly. "Young man, always leave yourself a way out. Do you truly intend to wage a war to the death with my Fang Clan?"

Si Chen frowned slightly at that. Why did people always like to put their hopes in the clan or faction standing behind them?

As if dropping a family name was supposed to make everyone tremble in fear.

"I don't care if you're the Fang Clan or the Round Clan."

Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, the Spear of Thunder in his hand had already been hurled forward like a bolt of lightning!

Old Mo's eyes sharpened. The full power of his Mid Nascent Soul Stage cultivation erupted as he struck out with a palm, his dense palm-force shattering the Spear of Thunder in midair, sending arcs of thunder scattering in all directions.

Even so, his heart sank. He knew there would be no peaceful resolution today.

His gaze swept quickly to the other side of the cavern. The two Core Formation Stage Elders from the Liuyun Sword Sect had been completely overwhelmed by the pack of Demon Beasts and were clearly not long for this world.

Meanwhile, after one direct clash with Heishan, Lü Ci had used the force of the impact to fly backward, regrouping with Old Mo and Fang Heng.

"Old scraggly hair! Don't you dare run! Come fight me, you coward! Ptui!"

Heishan roared relentlessly, but seeing the three regroup, he didn't charge in recklessly.

Lü Ci's breathing was slightly ragged, his Daoist robe bearing several fresh claw marks. The look he directed at Si Chen was filled with venomous hatred — yet laced with a trace of fear he could not quite conceal.

Fang Heng looked at the disheveled Lü Ci, then back at Si Chen's utterly unyielding expression — that look that said he would not stop until the roots were pulled out — and a surge of fierce humiliation and rage flooded his chest.

He knew it in his heart: if he retreated in such a wretched state today, this incident would become a heart-devil that would haunt him, and his path of cultivation might never advance another inch.

How could he, Fang Heng, endure such a humiliation?! Intense jealousy and unwillingness nearly stripped him of all reason.

"I admit you are strong — unexpectedly strong."

Fang Heng stared at Si Chen with burning eyes, his voice hoarse from injury and fury.

"But in the Cultivation World… strength of one's own cultivation has never been the only thing that matters!"

He reached abruptly into his Storage Ring and pulled something out.

It was a small banner, no larger than a palm, jet-black from end to end, radiating an ominous aura. Twisted runes were embroidered across its surface, and black mist seemed to swirl and writhe within it.

"The Yin Corpse Banner!"

Old Mo's pupils contracted the moment he saw it. He immediately understood what Fang Heng intended to do.

He wanted to speak up and stop him — this kind of sinister object carried an enormous backlash, and once used, the consequences would be endless.

But when he saw the resolute look in Fang Heng's eyes, the words died in his throat.

He understood. The Young Master's Dao Heart had already been thrown into chaos. If he couldn't reclaim his footing through this, it might truly be the end of him.

"Do you see this?" Fang Heng raised the black banner and spoke to Si Chen in a low, heavy voice.

"Clan backing. Magical Artifacts. Deep reserves. These are all part of one's strength! What do you have to fight me with?"

The words were aimed at Si Chen, but they sounded even more like he was rallying himself — trying to reclaim the sense of superiority that had been shattered.

Before his voice had faded, he bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, and a mouthful of blood essence sprayed onto the Yin Corpse Banner!

Hummm——!

The small banner shuddered violently, instantly swelling to over the height of a person. Yin winds howled miserably, and the wailing of ghosts poured out from within the banner as vast sheets of black mist surged forth!

In an instant, the temperature of the entire cavern seemed to drop.

"Wh-what the hell is that?!"

"This… what a sinister Magical Artifact!"

Every living being present — human and demon alike — stared at the scene in shock. What kind of evil thing was this?!

"What the fuck is that little bastard doing?!" Heishan cursed, then stomped off the ground and landed in front of Si Chen.

Chifeng did the same, both demons taking up defensive stances.

Si Chen frowned slightly as well. The aura emanating from the so-called Yin Corpse Banner was deeply unpleasant to him.

Yet the surging black mist did not rush toward Si Chen or the demons. Instead, it swept directly toward the massive Flood Dragon carcass coiled at the center of the cavern like a mountain!

The black mist rapidly enveloped the enormous dragon corpse, seeping in strand by strand through the flesh left exposed where scales had been stripped away, even worming its way in through the eye sockets and mouth.

"Hahahaha!"

Fang Heng burst into wild, almost deranged laughter, his complexion going deathly pale from the drain of his blood essence and the frenzy of his excitement.

"What does it matter how gifted you are? Before a treasure like this, you will not escape death! Rise!"

Beneath his mad laughter, the Flood Dragon carcass — dead for untold ages, every last trace of vitality long since extinguished — actually began to tremble.

Then, under the horrified gazes of everyone present, the colossal dragon corpse lurched violently.

And then its enormous head began to lift — slowly, stiffly.

Within those hollow, empty eye sockets, two flickering flames of black ghost-fire now burned.

A dragon might that belonged solely to the Flood Dragon swept through the entire cavern in an instant!

The corpse-dragon opened its eyes.

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