Chapter Forty-Eight: Shattered Mirror, Innate Transformation

The great mountain emerged and no longer faded away, tightly enclosing Zhou Yi within it. At that very moment, the golden staff, fully charged, struck downward.

Bang!

A thunderous crash shook the heavens and earth as the golden staff slammed into the mountain, followed by a long, resonant hum that lingered in the air.

Crack!

The golden staff shattered inch by inch, breaking apart like glass at a speed visible to the naked eye, fragmenting into pieces, then dissolving into streams of golden energy.

“Pfft!”
“Splurt!”
“Thud!”
“Crack!”

At the very instant the staff broke apart, the Arhats all threw back their heads and spat out blood. As the blood left their lips, it scattered into countless tiny droplets, soaring upward before being pulled down by an overwhelming gravity, falling in a bloody rain upon the ground where the Arhats stood.

As the Arhats spat blood, the golden energy in the air, already shattered into a gaseous form, rapidly changed color—dimming from dark gold to pale gold, to yellow, to light yellow, then to near transparency, until it vanished altogether.

In tandem, after coughing up blood, the Arhats' faces turned deathly pale; they collapsed to the ground, their bodies slack, the spirit in their eyes fading, their eyelids heavy as if weighed by a thousand pounds, soon closing, never to open again.

“Hm?”
“What’s happening?”

The turn of events was so abrupt and convoluted that it left everyone at a loss. The Arhats, having failed at first, had come together for a final grand attack, seemingly on the verge of victory. Yet Zhou Yi, in a desperate twist, summoned waves, a vast sea, and an unyielding mountain in succession—each move imbued with immense power. Through sheer instinct, he managed to make the Arhats vomit blood.

With a stride, Daoist Qiufeng appeared before the fallen Arhats, placing his fingers on their pulses, remaining silent for a long time.

“Are they dead?” Seeing Qiufeng’s silence, Huang Yue’s face changed, her voice trembling.

“Yes.” Daoist Qiufeng nodded, sighed, then cast a deep, meaningful glance at Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi’s counterattack was simply extraordinary. He had barely lifted a hand, yet wiped out the entire group of Arhats. Such strength left one speechless—how foolish they’d been to worry about him before.

Now it was clear—they had been concerned about the wrong person all along!

Just moments before, they had despised the Arhats for their sneak attack and underhandedness, cursing them in anger. In the blink of an eye, those same Arhats lay dead; even their contempt was rendered meaningless. All such thoughts vanished like smoke with the deaths of the Arhats.

“Congratulations.” After a moment’s silence, Daoist Qiufeng was first to approach Zhou Yi, bowing with cupped fists.

The waves, sea, and mountain that had appeared around Zhou Yi earlier were no mystery to him. In fact, he knew them all too well.

It was clear: they were manifestations of True Intent, the innate True Intent!

The emergence of True Intent signified that Zhou Yi’s cultivation had already shifted from the acquired to the innate realm, his strength rising dramatically.

Thus, neither Qiufeng nor Huang Yue were surprised that Zhou Yi had so effortlessly slain the eighteen Arhats.

After all, each of the eighteen Arhats was a formidable figure among the innate, perhaps not even inferior to them. When joined in the Eighteen Arhats Formation, their power would rise to another level—equal to a Heaven-ranked master!

Yet even so, they had been crushed as easily as ants beneath Zhou Yi’s mountain.

This left Huang Yue and Qiufeng feeling deeply conflicted. That was the power of a Heaven-ranked master—gone, just like that?

To this day, they themselves were only at the innate stage, and not even among its elites.

The Heaven-ranked realm had always been a distant dream—a goal they hoped to reach by the age of thirty. Even if they could not attain the realm itself, they would have been content to match its strength.

But now, before their very eyes, a being of Heaven-ranked might had perished. Their lifelong dream had manifest itself so starkly—accomplished by a youth of only fifteen or sixteen years. Fifteen or sixteen!

How could they help but worry?

Moreover, there was another issue: though Zhou Yi now possessed the strength of a Heaven-ranked master, until recently he had only been a martial artist of the acquired realm!

Now, what left the two in utter despair was the realization that Zhou Yi had become innate.

If, as an acquired martial artist, he already had Heaven-ranked strength, how much stronger would he become after this breakthrough?

They were acutely aware of the immense increase in power that came with advancing from acquired to innate. If Zhou Yi’s strength rose according to that scale, could he perhaps reach the level of a Grandmaster?

At the thought, the two were plunged into even deeper despair.

Furthermore, Zhou Yi’s breakthrough to the innate had come at the cost of slaying a Heaven-ranked master!

The taste in their hearts defied description.

“Congratulations.” With mixed feelings swirling in her mind, Huang Yue stepped forward to offer her congratulations, her gaze complex as she looked at Zhou Yi.

“Thank you.” Having just entered the innate realm, Zhou Yi had much to process. He noticed the conflicted emotions of the two, but had no time to dwell on them, responding politely.

Though his strength had advanced, Zhou Yi still needed time to understand the changes within himself, to familiarize himself with the methods of combat in the innate realm, to grow into his new power.

Were it not for the bounty order issued by Peerless Island, he could have taken his time to adapt, to explore his own fighting style.

But with the bounty in effect, that was no longer possible.

According to what Descending Dragon had said, the entire martial world had received the bounty, and from the tone of it, it seemed few, if any, would refuse. To these people, the heads of Zhou Yi and his companion had become priceless treasures—keys that could shield them from the coming century’s demonic disaster.

Zhou Yi had never experienced the Demonic Calamity, but he could well imagine its terror: if the combined might of the martial world doubted its own survival, how dreadful must it be!

Now, with their heads able to buy respite from the calamity, a hundred years’ peace—what a tempting bargain!

If he were in their place, he would not refuse either.

Putting himself in their shoes, Zhou Yi understood the gravity of the situation. From now on, the entire martial world was their enemy. Even his own sect, where he’d grown up, might be tempted—might they not, for the sake of averting disaster, turn on him and his companion?

Zhou Yi could not be certain, nor did he dare dwell on it. Unless absolutely necessary, he truly did not wish to face his fellow disciples in combat. Although he had spent far more time in the secret realm than in the sect, the bonds forged over the years were no less deep.

It was that kindly senior brother who had given them their secret manuals, the sect that had given them a place to cultivate—it was home.

If things really came to such a pass, he knew not what he would do.

Now, the only way forward was speed.

He must increase his strength as quickly as possible, strike back at the martial world until all were cowed, so that before his own sect could be forced to choose sides, he could sweep through the world with blood and steel, proving that he and his companion were powerful enough to stand against all. Perhaps then, no one would dare harbor such thoughts.