Chapter 991: Terrifying Mo Qianli
Ye Mo bit his lip, silent but acutely aware of the golden core peak cultivator's formidable power. He’d managed to deceive him once, but a second time? That remained uncertain.
The cultivator's recognition of his trap formation held little concern. Even Tong Zhong and Ao Qilong had spotted it; to them, it was inconsequential. Only Ye Mo understood its potential. Though a mere level three base, he was confident that a completed formation would ensnare even a golden core peak cultivator.
The cultivator addressed Ye Mo, "Given your evident wealth, I'll let your companions die first." The words seemed disingenuous to Ye Mo, though he couldn't pinpoint the deception.
Ao Qilong, disturbed by the cultivator's unnoticed arrival, was about to retaliate, but Tong Zhong intervened. "Friend, this upstart has a personal conflict with us. This doesn't concern you. The Ao Cheng Merchant Association isn't to be trifled with."
The cultivator sneered. "Save the Ao Cheng Merchant Association posturing. It's insignificant. Even if a Heavenly Monarch demanded tribute, I'd fight them for it.”
"Then you seek a fight?" Tong Zhong asked, gripping his octagonal mace.
The cultivator contemptuously eyed the mace. "That tattered weapon might suffice against a level five golden core cultivator, but not me."
A female cultivator scoffed. "Shameless! You're just a golden core cultivator, yet you boast like a Nascent Soul. Brother Long, kill this arrogant bastard!"
Ye Mo alone understood the cultivator's delay; it stemmed from his reluctance to relinquish the ring, thus incurring her ire.
The cultivator's amiable facade vanished. He flicked his wrist; before the female cultivator could react, a blood mist erupted from her body. Disbelief etched upon her face, she died without a word.
A level two golden core cultivator, instantly killed. Even Ye Mo was stunned; the cultivator's strength far exceeded his estimations. He'd witnessed a long, thin black line, seemingly sentient and impossibly fast, pierce the woman's dantian, instantly releasing enough power to shatter her chest.
Cold dread washed over Ye Mo. Had this man ambushed him first, survival would have been doubtful.
"You dare kill Fei Fei? I'll kill you!" Ao Qilong roared, unsheathing his broad silver sword.
Tong Zhong restrained him. "Wait, young master."
Ao Qilong, his eyes now frigid, held his broadsword poised, ready to strike.
"Friend, you're strong. We'll leave," Tong Zhong stated.
The golden core cultivator chuckled. "Leave? You recognize me, don't you? Do you think I'll let you go?"
Ye Mo felt a chill. The cultivator's face was unremarkable, easily forgotten. He wore a mask, far superior to his own – a magical artifact designed to obscure identity. The string was the key to Tong Zhong's recognition.
Tong Zhong’s face paled, but he bowed. "Yes, I recognize you, friend. North Far State Golden Core Hall of Fame, number three…"
Ao Qilong gasped. "You're Mo Qianli?"
Terror gripped them both. They were woefully outmatched. They never anticipated his presence.
Mo Qianli, a name synonymous with ruthlessness and death, left no survivors. The name itself served as a warning: avoid him at all costs. He was uniquely ranked without ever attending the Golden Core Hall of Fame. Rumors circulated of him slaying primary stage Nascent Soul cultivators, though unconfirmed.
His third-place ranking, decades old, suggested he might now be number one.
"Attack!" Tong Zhong's command was immediate. Escape was impossible.
Ao Qilong unleashed his broadsword and a level six rune, insufficient to harm Mo Qianli, but enough to buy them time. Tong Zhong's mace slammed down, amplified by a red lightning strike from a black bead.
Witnessing Mo Qianli's sneer, Ye Mo knew their combined efforts were futile. He abandoned all caution; he needed Shadowless. He used a spirit sense pike to rouse him from his slumber in the Golden Page World.
The pike awakened Shadowless, who, though initially resistant, ultimately obeyed Ye Mo's will. The golden dot on Shadowless's back had expanded considerably, fueling Ye Mo's anticipation.
Ao Qilong, chest bleeding, regarded Mo Qianli with a resigned acceptance of his impending death. Tong Zhong was bloodied, his mace ensnared by countless black strings, his red lightning similarly immobilized. Mo Qianli, almost untouched, remained calm and assured of victory.
A black string drifted toward Ye Mo's dantian. Tong Zhong, sweating profusely, could only slow its advance using all his cultivation essence. Mo Qianli wielded far more than a single string.
Ye Mo's decision was swift. Ambush now, or face certain death.