Chapter 292 – Blue Blood and Clear Sky, A Pure Heart (Part Two)

“Hu Chai, you damn mutt! Though I still despise you from the bottom of my heart, hearing these words from you now proves you’re not just utterly shameless—you’re also a true man! Since I’m no coward either, I’ll contribute my humble strength!”

“Well said! Kunlun has no cowards! These bastards dare stir trouble in our Kunlun—any real man follow me through mountains of blades and seas of fire!”

“True wisdom lies in self-awareness. Only with a pure heart and sincere devotion can one unite knowledge and action. If we die before you, damn it, I’ll haunt you as a ghost!”

Instantly, the scene erupted with wolf-like howls and incessant curses, all channeling masculine fervor that gradually transformed into a shameless roast session targeting Hu Chai.

Dozens of Dao Inquiry experts shot forth one after another, their movement resembling wild geese migrating south—a dense swarm like hornets.

Even the severely wounded Blood Blade Guards struggled to rise, only to be restrained by others, leaving them no choice but to glare furiously!

Hu Chai: “Are you all idiots? As Senior Brother said earlier, true wisdom lies in self-awareness. Only with a pure heart and sincere devotion can one unite knowledge and action. Your intentions are enough—charging forward now is suicide!”

At this, Hu Chai unexpectedly showed a shamed expression for the first time, suddenly roaring: “I curse my past laziness in martial training, failing to break through to the Dao Inquiry Realm! Otherwise, why would I be forced to hide like a turtle!”

Meanwhile, at Buzhou Mountain.

With Kunlun’s Dao Inquiry experts joining the fray, Ye Kuang felt his spirits soar, his combat power instantly skyrocketing.

He thrust a cold starlight from his fingertip, blooming a crimson flower, casually wiped his blade, then spun toward another battlefield.

Roar after roar echoed.

Wherever Ye Kuang passed, not only were corpses strewn everywhere, but every enemy before him fell with slit throats!

To the Demon Sect observers, he appeared as Death wielding a scythe, gnawing at their mental defenses until they erupted into hysterical screams.

“Damn it! This brut is terrifying! Everyone be careful!”

“How is his power so immense? He’s merely at the Innate Realm yet bursts with Dao Inquiry strength—this defies all logic… Break!”

“If not for these vermin holding us back, we wouldn’t be in this state! How I regret…”

Swipe! Crash!

Blades and swords shattered in rapid succession. Each ring of steel meant another star had fallen.

Ye Kuang moved tirelessly with seamless control, his Sword Drawing Technique flowing like clouds—a single, unbroken motion.

It mirrored his fearless resolve: though life had taught him harsh lessons, dragged him through thorns, let him sing passionate hymns and miss countless shortcuts… never had he been seen cowering or groveling.

Uncertain what storms lay ahead, he’d still charge forward relentlessly.

Just as he envisioned: to slaughter all monsters blocking his path, and smooth every obstacle from his legacy’s road!

Now, sword glimmers flashed like fleeting moments—sharp and brilliant as his very soul.

With crimson blossoms blooming endlessly, he transformed into a hellish asura, meeting no match who could withstand a single exchange.

In a certain corner…Three Demon Sect experts were besieging two Kunlun disciples, but just as someone was about to deliver a fatal blow, a sword suddenly pierced through his chest. When the man turned his head, he couldn’t help but stare in terror.

Ye Kuang’s leg shot out like lightning, kicking straight at him!

Bang!

As the loud impact echoed, the man let out a miserable groan before being sent flying into the chaotic battlefield midair.

This immediately unsettled five or six others, each paling with shock.

Unbeknownst to them, Ye Kuang reappeared behind another Demon Sect member, his voice suddenly sighing like the whisper of death.

Under the morning sun, a crimson arc reflected brilliantly, staining half the sky.

“Ah, it’s that bastard again! Damn it, retreat, retreat!”

“Venerable One, save me!”

“Aaaah!”

For a moment, earth-shattering screams seemed endless. Wherever one looked, countless Demon Sect experts lay dead.

This thoroughly horrified all onlookers present.

Ye Kuang’s killing moves were shockingly explosive, his speed leaving no room for reaction—either a sword through the forehead or a blade through the chest.

Only at this moment did they understand the origin of Jianghu vendettas. Tracing their source seemed meaningless now. If only mutual slaughter remained, then killing to end killing became the sole outcome.

It could be said both sides clung to the notion of “better you die than me,” yet none could deny the dazzling swiftness of Ye Kuang’s sword, moving with lightning speed.

Witnessing this, all Kunlun disciples widened their eyes like furious tigers.

Clearly, had they not seen it with their own eyes, they’d never believe such a scene!

What must one experience to become this powerful?

Searching their hearts, they neither understood nor could comprehend. They could only stare fixedly at Ye Kuang’s ruthless “draw sheathe draw” repetition—how could it be merely a hundred strikes?

Ye Kuang was like a tiger among sheep, carving paths through the fray. Each projected image of his movements struck deeply at everyone’s core.

He had considered sparing them, but the gap between ideal and reality proved too vast. If he showed mercy, who would spare him in return?

With this thought, Ye Kuang’s strikes grew fiercer and more absolute.

Just as the youth had once declared: “Since Heaven seldom grants my wishes, don’t blame Ye for drawing his sword without mercy!”

As this inexplicable sentiment surged, his grip on the Mystic Weapon steadied further, followed by continuous drawing… drawing drawing drawing…

Seeing this, Hu Chai was utterly dumbstruck, never imagining madness could drive someone to such demonic possession.

Though unclear how Buzhou Mountain had fractured, the present scenes might mirror those phantom images from ages past.

Countless predecessors had irrigated this land of survival with their blood—how could they allow “a thousand-mile dike to collapse from ant holes”?

Ye Kuang: “Roar roar roar!”Amid his furious roars, he seemed to cleanse all roots of evil with his insignificant strength.”

Only when he leaned on his sword, panting heavily, did he finally feel weakness in his limbs.

In that moment, even the scattered remnants from both sides couldn’t help but change expressions.

For Ye Kuang stood like an iron-blooded warrior astride a river of blood!

None could conceal their terror, left only to silently watch the sole figure supporting himself with a sword upon the earth.One could also say that Ye Kuang, with his mortal frame, expressed the pure-hearted devotion of a loyal soul under the blue sky: without the presence of “love” in this world, all would be like soulless shells, toyed with by fate…