And it worked. Every single time. With each retort, Wusheng became less of a man and more of an enraged beast.

A strategy this blatant wouldn’t have worked on a composed fighter. But in Wusheng’s corrupted, unstable state of mind, it worked exceptionally well.

Spurt.

For the first time since entering his berserk state, Wusheng sustained an injury. It wasn’t much—just a shallow cut on the shoulder, the kind that didn’t impair combat ability.

But it was a sign.

…A sign that the end had begun.

And then—

The rhythm of the battle shifted completely.

Until now, Wusheng had dominated the tempo, launching himself at Mikael with the fury of a wild beast. His attacks were devoid of technique—pure physical might, thrown out in a savage attempt to rip his opponent apart.

That might have worked against a lesser fighter.

But not against Mikael.

He read every move Wusheng made, capitalizing on the frenzied state that made his attacks increasingly predictable.

Slowly but surely he began to carve him apart, slash after slash Wusheng began to accumulate injuries. But these injuries that would have deterred a normal fighter only served to enrage him further and further increase his physical stats while diminishing his intelligence even further.

Little by little, Mikael began carving him apart. Slash by slash, the injuries piled on. But instead of retreating, Wusheng only grew more frenzied. His strength rose with rage… while his intelligence dwindled even further.

And against Mikael, that imbalance was fatal.

With each wound, the fight grew easier. The stronger Wusheng became, the more obvious his movements became in turn.

And there only so much raw power can do when it’s not backed by technique.

There are moments when overwhelming strength can crush all technique—but this wasn’t one of them. Not today.

Mikael anticipated Wusheng’s every move and punished him accordingly. A slash here, a cut there, a precise thrust to an exposed gap. He attacked with Sangrelia using the Moonpiercer Sword Art—not with brute force, but with unerring precision.

Every strike was calculated. Every motion purposeful. Each blade edge carved a little deeper into Wusheng’s flesh. No matter how hard the latter retaliated, or how much his fury boiled over, it was never enough.

Mikael kept slicing into him—like a butcher tenderizing meat, methodical and relentless, piece by piece.

Normally if this were some action-oriented anime, this would be the moment where Wusheng reversed the tide with a dramatic twist—some hidden trump card or sudden awakening that changed everything.

But…reality wasn’t a movie. Or an anime. Or even a novel. It was colder, harsher—and often, the loser was clear from the very beginning. Miraculous reversals were rare.

And here, there was no surprise.

Moonpiercer Sword Art – Fifth Movement: Celestial Moon's Embrace

A silver flash burst across the air. In an instant, the already critically injured Wusheng was cleanly decapitated by the powerful sword strike.

Moonpiercer Sword Art – First Movement: Lunar Shadow Slash

Even with Wusheng now headless, Mikael didn’t lower his guard. Just to be sure, he unleashed an avalanche of Lunar Shadow Slash, stopping only when Wusheng had been reduced to pieces.

Mikael breathing was fast and tired as he wiped sweat from his brow. ‘There, now I’m sure he won’t pull some demonic cultivator bullshit to survive. I cut him into small cubes after all…’

Below, the city slowly began to stir.

It had remained eerily silent throughout the battle—ten of thousands of mortals and a scattering of Body Forging Realm cultivators, men who once acted like small overlords in the region, were rendered just as powerless as the common folk. All of them paralyzed, barely daring to breathe. But now, with the blood fog dissipating and the final demonic cultivator slain, sound returned.

A young girl, no older than six, suddenly cried out from somewhere near the southern plaza.

“Mommy, the monster’s gone…”

Her mother collapsed to her knees, clutching the child tightly to her chest as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her sobs were raw, broken—yet filled with overwhelming relief. Not far away, a man dropped his trembling sword and fell backward, staring up at the sky with a disbelieving laugh. Another wept silently, hands covering his face. Dozens of others simply looked upward, as if still unsure whether they were truly safe.

Mikael remained floating above it all, indifferent to the emotional tide surging beneath him.

He drifted downward with calm, measured steps, eyes locked on the remnants of his foes. Without hesitation, he reached toward their corpses and began collecting their storage rings.

One.

Two.

He paused in front of the spot where Shoulie had died—only to find nothing. No ring. No trace. Just a faint shimmer of lingering Lunar Qi in the air.

‘Pity. That one was vaporized…’ He shook his head. ‘But it was worth it. This small sacrifice let me end him before he could react. Which is certainly better than letting him recklessly absorb life force like his older brother.’

‘If I had faced two, maybe even three of them at once, things could've gone differently. If I had let them go into the same berserk state as the older brother I could've faced three cultivators at the 7th layer…Even with my combat experience and technique mastery, there’s only so much I can do against sheer overwhelming strength.’

‘The older brother was manageable. I provoked him first, used his fury against him, then cut him down with precision. But three opponents like that? Yeah… I don’t think I could’ve won without cheating.”’

He gave the city one final glance.

From this distance, he could hear some people calling out in thanks, their voices carried weakly by the wind.

“Thank you, Senior!”

“Hero!”

“Who was he…?”

But Mikael didn’t respond. He had no reason to.

He turned and flew away, the city growing smaller beneath him.

No dramatic farewell. No grand declarations. Just the steady hum of wind behind him as the people—ignorant of his name or origin—cheered the fading figure of their savior.

Not long after, Mikael crossed a few dozen kilometers and stopped atop a tall tree, now far enough from the city for peace and silence. He exhaled softly, then turned his focus toward the storage rings he had taken.

‘Let’s start with the one from the weaker Demonic Cultivator. Better to save the best for last.

Without wasting time, he pressed his Divine Sense into Fengmu’s storage ring, beginning the refinement process.

The previous owner’s imprint dissolved with little resistance, and within moments, Mikael etched his own mark onto it, allowing him to delve into its contents.

“Oh?”

He exclaimed with interest escaped his lips as he explored.

Inside, there were a large number of low-grade spirit stones, along with a fair amount of mid-grade ones.

Normally, this would have been a great find for a loose cultivator. These stones could speed up cultivation significantly. But to Mikael, they held little value. The cultivation environment he had access to within the Wandering Sword Sect was leagues above what spirit stones alone could offer.

Even if he used them, it would be no better than cultivating in one of his cave abodes back in the Cultivation Manor—except it would cost him. And Mikael wasn’t dumb enough to pay for something he already had for free.

Still, he wasn’t disappointed.

‘Money is never a bad thing. Especially considering I was nearly penniless just a while ago…’

At that though, the spirit stones suddenly looked a lot more appealing. He couldn’t explain why, but they seemed to shine a bit brighter…

Letting that amusement fade, he resumed his exploration of the ring.

There were artifacts—most of them radiating a sinister aura, practically screaming “I am evil. I will corrupt you. Use me, please!”

He skipped over those without hesitation.

The rest were more “normal,” lacking any overt malice, but still failed to pique his interest.

Until something caught his eye.

‘Rich in life force herbs?’

His gaze locked onto a small collection nestled in the corner of the ring. Most were a deep blood red, though not all—but what they shared was a strong aura of life force, one his Divine Sense picked up instantly.

His eyes lit up. ‘They could be useful for my body tempering!’ But just as quickly, the spark dimmed. ‘Yeah, but some of these herbs are clearly demonic in nature. I don’t know what effects they could have on me…’

‘Should I use them? No, too risky.’ He shook his head, regret flickering across his face. ‘At least not until I know their exact effects. I’ll need Lyra’s help to identify them… which means returning to the sect.’

“Ahh.” He sighed. “Seems these herbs will need to stay in my storage ring for a while longer…”

‘Once I’m back in the sect, I need to study herbs properly. Not knowing what I’m carrying around is unacceptable. For now it isn’t that grave but if in the future I miss some kind of heaven-defying herb because of my lack of knowledge…Yeah I need to fill this gap in knowledge fast!’ That thought settled quickly, locking itself in as a quiet resolve.

‘Still, that’ll be later. I intend to keep training outside for a while longer. The results are already great, and I’m not stopping anytime soon.’

Refocusing, he sent his Divine Sense back through the storage ring. The rest held only scattered miscellaneous items—nothing particularly special.

Still, Mikael didn’t complain. He transferred everything into his personal storage ring—a relatively high-grade one granted to him as a Core Disciple of the Wandering Sword Sect. It was far larger than what a typical 2nd layer Spiritual Foundation Realm demonic cultivator could dream of possessing.

Flick.

He gave the now-empty storage ring a casual toss, letting it fall through the foliage below—leaving behind a small opportunity for someone else to stumble upon.

Normally, Mikael wasn’t the kind of person to throw away his belongings just so someone else could find them. But in this case, there wasn’t much choice. Even an empty storage ring couldn’t be placed inside another due to the spatial interference—it would cause both to reject each other.

The only way to carry a second storage ring was to wear it. And if they started piling up?

‘Am I supposed to go around with five rings on each fingers?’

He didn’t feel like dealing with that, so he simply dropped the excess here.

With that out of the way, he turned his focus to Wusheng’s storage ring. After a few moments of refinement, the restriction mark collapsed—and Mikael’s Divine Sense entered the space.

His eyes widened instantly.

The storage ring was far more spacious than he’d anticipated—larger even than Fengmu’s. At first glance, it held much of the expected fare: Spirit Stones, cultivation herbs, a few artifacts with dark auras, and the usual assortment of items one might expect from a demonic cultivator at the 4th layer. Mikael couldn’t identify everything precisely, but even with his limited knowledge, the overall value was obvious.

Then his Divine Sense brushed against something else—an inner compartment, subtly partitioned from the rest.

No defensive formations. No locks. Just a faint, almost careless boundary, as if whoever created it had never imagined an intruder would look inside.

When Mikael’s sense passed through, his breath hitched.

Inside lay a different trove entirely—one that radiated quality and danger. The Qi was heavier, older, far more refined than anything a loose cultivator at the 4th layer of the Spiritual Foundation Realm should have access to. Jet-black ores pulsed with demonic energy. Blood-tinged herbs gave off strange, vibrant vitality. Several high-tier jade slips gleamed faintly from within.

He didn’t need to recognize the items individually. The oppressive pressure they emitted was enough.

‘This… is definitely not something a loose demonic cultivator at the 4th layer of the Spiritual Foundation Realm should possess.’

His expression turned grim as a chill ran down his spine.

‘Did someone give him these? Is there a backer? A sect? A higher realm cultivator…?’

He didn’t know. And the longer he stared at the contents, the more uneasy he felt.

Mikael withdrew his Divine Sense and slipped the ring onto one of his fingers.

Then, without hesitation, he shot into the sky.

Better to examine everything later—somewhere safer, far from the city where the Demonic Cultivators had died.

He didn’t know when or if someone would come looking, but considering what he’d just uncovered, it was likely there was more to these cultivators than met the eye—and he had no intention of waiting to find out.

Swish.

He exploded forward using Cloudbreaking Stride and the Weightless Wind-Explosive Style, the two techniques combining to hurl him across the sky at truly astonishing speed.

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— End of Chapter —