Chapter Fifty-Four: The Secret Arts of the Celestial Shaman

With Youshin's words spoken, the warriors of the Youqiong tribe immediately looked upon the members of Qingxu's group with pity, as if they were already a band of the doomed.

Taiyi’s face was pale, his heart pounding with anxiety. He was all too aware of the terror that was Youshin—this man was the second patriarch of the Youqiong tribe, his cultivation had long since reached the early stage of Earthly Immortal, and he possessed several secret arts of the Witch clan. Many a demon king had perished by his hand. Although Taiyi knew well that the Celestial Immortal’s power was unfathomable, unease still gnawed at his heart.

Qingxu, meeting Taiyi’s gaze, merely smiled. Lose? What a joke. Were it not for possessing the avatar of an early-stage Taiyi True Immortal, there might be some uncertainty, but now, with such an overwhelming gap in strength, Youshin was only courting humiliation. Unless his Witch clan secret arts were on par with the Bloodbane Miasma, but such a thing was surely impossible.

Secret arts of the Witch clan rivaling the might of the Bloodbane Miasma belonged to the highest mysteries, difficult even for a Grand Witch to master, let alone one not of the Witch clan.

“My cultivation is shallow, but for the sake of the unity of the human race, I am willing to try. Please, my friend, proceed,” Qingxu said, bowing with a clear and resonant voice.

Hearing this, Youshin wasted no words. He strode forward in two great steps, seeming to shrink the distance between them in an instant. His fists shot straight for Qingxu’s face and chest, unrestrained and brutally fierce, every move meant to kill.

“Too crude. For all his formidable cultivation, he wields it like an unruly brute, ignorant of true technique. What a pity,” Qingxu thought to himself. He sealed and pushed with both hands, naturally flowing into the movements of the Taiji Fist. Immortal force surged around him, forming a three-zhang sphere of azure yin-yang light, within which deep mysteries coiled.

Bang!

At the moment of contact, Youshin’s entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. He staggered back, powerless to resist, only stabilizing himself after being forced back more than a dozen steps.

“How could this be?” Youshin stared at Qingxu in disbelief, his mind in turmoil. He had always been confident in his strength, second only to his elder brother among the Youqiong, and rarely met his match. Yet now, with a single exchange, he had been repelled—this shattered his very understanding of reality, leaving him feeling as if he were in a dream.

Nor was Youshin alone; the people of the Youqiong tribe and those from Wanqu were equally dumbfounded.

“So powerful, unbelievably so! To defeat Youshin in a single move—this immortal truly has boundless powers!” Taiyi and his companions thought in awe.

“Is this fellow even human? Since when did the Wanqu people have such a figure among them?”

The people of Youqiong could not accept what they saw, plagued by deep confusion. They assumed Qingxu was from Wanqu—if so, why did Wanqu, with such a mighty protector, still suffer at the hands of the Four Dire Beasts? Why tolerate the division among the human clans?

“Wait! ‘Poor Daoist’—that’s what the Daoists call themselves. Judging by his robes, he is certainly a cultivator, which likely means he is not of the human race,” Youshin mused. Then, bowing, he called out, “Since you are a cultivator seeking enlightenment and transcendence, why do you meddle in the affairs of the human race?”

“The human race was created by Sage Nuwa. My master, the Primordial Heavenly Lord, is by seniority the second elder brother of Nuwa herself. As the chief disciple of the Jade Void, I cannot stand idly by while the human race is divided. I have come to resolve your disputes. The unity of the human race is the tide of destiny—do not bring ruin upon yourselves!” Qingxu replied, righteous and dignified, invoking the names of the great.

Sure enough, Qingxu’s words left the people of Youqiong deeply unsettled.

The Primordial Heavenly Lord?

Nuwa’s second senior brother? Such a lofty status!

Before them stood the chief disciple of the Primordial Heavenly Lord, a figure they could only look up to in awe. Would someone of such stature speak falsehoods? Many of the Youqiong tribe wavered, beginning to feel a desire to submit to Wanqu’s rule.

“You, Daoist! Do not seek to beguile us. The Jade Purity Sage of Pangu is the master of the Hunyuan Sect. What cultivation would his chief disciple possess? You are but a mere Earthly Immortal—how dare you impersonate him? Are you not afraid of the Heavenly Lord’s wrath?” Youshin, seeing the effect on his tribesmen, roared in alarm.

“That’s right! For the Primordial Heavenly Lord’s chief disciple to be only an Earthly Immortal? Who are you trying to fool?” The Youqiong people hesitated, and their nascent thoughts of surrender faded away.

“Your honeyed words will not deceive us. I advise you to leave at once, or you will regret it!” Youshin sneered coldly.

“My lord, what about the Xuanjin war blades?” the captain of the Youqiong guards stepped forward to remind him.

“That’s right! Leave all the war blades, or all of you will die.”

The tens of thousands of Wanqu humans felt a strange sense of irony. Qingxu had just defeated Youshin with a single move, and yet now Youshin acted as though he held the upper hand, as if their lives were at his mercy. Was Youshin mad, unable to recognize the reality before him?

“You want the war blades? Come and take them yourself! I would like to see how you will make me regret,” Qingxu replied, his own anger rising.

“Hmph! Since you court death, don’t blame me for not warning you!” Youshin grinned viciously, swinging his fists as he launched into a set of martial techniques, directly assailing Qingxu. As his fists flew, a ferocious killing intent swept forth, saturating the valley.

“This is Witch clan boxing, but far too crude,” Qingxu thought, shaking his head. He responded with a series of palm strikes, each one more forceful and domineering than Youshin’s fists.

Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms!

“The Dragon Repents!” Qingxu shouted. From his twin palms, an azure dragon sprang forth, claws extended, lashing at Youshin.

Startled, Youshin managed a desperate defense, barely withstanding the onslaught. Yet before he could steady himself, two more azure dragons swept in.

“Twin Dragons Entering the Sea!”

The Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms was but a legendary martial art of the mortal world, yet in Qingxu’s hands, with the power of an Earthly Immortal, it was wielded with effortless mastery.

He surpassed Youshin by an entire realm; even the makeshift Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms he had devised were more profound than Youshin’s clumsy Witch clan boxing. Instantly, Qingxu seized the advantage, leaving Youshin able only to defend, with no chance to counterattack. The stifling frustration nearly choked him.

“Intolerable! You Daoist—you court death!” Youshin’s eyes burned with rage and hatred. Suddenly, a strange, sinister aura rose from his body, and atop his head, a warlike intent shot skyward.

“Let me show you the might of the Celestial Witch’s secret arts! To perish beneath the Soul of the Celestial Witch is glory enough!”

“Celestial Witch’s secret arts? Soul of the Celestial Witch? What are these?” The terms were new to Qingxu; among the Witch clan, he knew only of the Lesser Witch, the Grand Witch, and the Ancestral Witch, never had he heard of a Celestial Witch, let alone a battle soul.

The strange aura around Youshin intensified. The warlike intent above his head grew so dense it was visible to the naked eye—inky and radiant, dyeing the sky with clouds so heavy they pressed down upon the valley, filling the air with suffocating oppression.