Lord Yang's smile vanished. "Born free? You belong to the Emperor alive, to the Underworld dead. Such words deserve ten thousand deaths."
He lunged. For a giant, he moved with terrifying grace. His incense-blade danced—thrust, slice, parry, cleave—each strike a master's work.
Su Yan met the blade with his bare hand. Behind him, the elephant-headed god raised its palm. The sword scraped against dense baleful qi, sparking like iron on stone. It barely broke skin.
Lord Yang's arm shook. "Strong, rebel!"
But Su Yan's body couldn't match his hands. The giant's blade-work multiplied, forcing Su Yan to dodge and weave.
Su Yan caught a moment of recovery and slammed his palm against the sword's spine. Elephant force erupted. The blade shattered.
He pressed forward, fist blazing. The god behind him mirrored the blow. Wind howled. A vacuum formed behind the punch, sucking pebbles and dust into the strike's wake.
Lord Yang grinned and met the blow with his own fist. Azure light swirled around it. Flesh turned to stone.
The collision shook the earth. Su Yan staggered back one step. Lord Yang stumbled three.
Su Yan's heart sank. His greatest strength was raw power, yet it held no overwhelming advantage. Worse, his qi kept draining away—stolen by the cursed bell inside his skull. Since leaving Mount Jian, he had lost half his reserves.
"Not bad," Lord Yang admitted. "You rival the Stone Mountain God in strength. I shall use my full power."
Incense surged. A second sword formed—shorter, seven feet. Then a third and fourth, each smaller, floating in the air.
"Flying swords!" Yuan Qi cried from the ground. "Gods can forge incense into blades that take heads from miles away!"
Su Yan's palms grew slick with cold sweat. The floating swords meant infinite angles of attack.
"They're not long-range," Yuan Qi warned, "but without a hand guiding them, their variations multiply a hundredfold!"
Lord Yang flicked more arrows into Yuan Qi's body. The snake yao spat blood but kept shouting advice.
Su Yan's mind raced. Close the distance. Shatter the body before the swords could strike.
He stomped. The ground cratered. Stones rose around him—hundreds of them, from pebbles to boulders. He punched. The stones howled through the air in a four-foot-wide fist-print.
A second stomp. A second wave of stones. A third.
Lord Yang laughed, whirling his twin swords, shattering rock after rock. The two flying swords danced beside him, intercepting what he missed. He broke all three waves with energy to spare.
Dust filled the air. Through it, Su Yan charged. His fourth punch—his true strike—blazed toward the giant's chest.
He heard the flying swords whistle behind him.
Su Yan roared and poured everything into the blow. One sword streaked for his face. The other sliced past his flank.
He raised his left hand. The elephant god's palm of baleful qi rose to meet the blade.
The qi-hand tore open. Su Yan's palm split. The sword drove through his left shoulder, pinning him to a tree six zhang away.
At the same instant, his right fist crashed into Lord Yang's ribs.
They flew apart.
Su Yan slid down the trunk, his left arm dead weight. His shoulder blade was shattered. His chest bled freely.
Dust slowly settled.
A floating sword hummed. A towering shadow emerged.
Lord Yang's sashes hung in tatters. His sacred wheel was cracked. A fist-sized hole gaped in his ribs where Su Yan had punched clean through.
Yet he lived.
"Flesh and blood would have died," the shadow rumbled. "But I am a god."
Su Yan gripped his wound. His qi was nearly gone. He couldn't run.
A voice rang in his skull. "Boy, do you know how to shed corruption and return to origin?"
Su Yan's eyes lit up. "Senior, what does that mean?"
Lord Yang paused, scanning the surroundings. "You have help?"
In Su Yan's mind, the bell explained: "You gathered the five qi, fused them into primal qi. But without shedding corruption, you remain weak. The baleful qi in your body is impure, stained. Your martial path built a corruption body first. You must shed it to advance."
Su Yan understood instantly. He laughed through the pain.
Lord Yang sneered. "No helpers. Just bluffing."
Su Yan forced his qi to circulate, again and again, driving the Titan-Ox Demon Fist. An elephant's bellow shook the hills. From every pore, filthy blood-qi hissed out like exhaust. His rags turned crimson.
The elephant-headed god behind him shed its bloody haze. Purity blazed forth—the true Elephant King Body.
His aura towered. Any great yao would kneel before him.
Yuan Qi stared, stunned. "He broke through to yao king... in two days?"
Then he brightened. "If he breaks through, so will I."
The snake yao lay pinned, content. "Sometimes lying flat feels good."
Lord Yang's face twisted. He charged anyway.
"I am a god of two hundred thirty-four years! What is one boy's breakthrough to me?"
His flying sword shot at Su Yan's face.
Su Yan raised his right fist. The elephant god behind him grew taller, mirroring the blow.
The sword struck his fist and exploded into incense smoke.
Su Yan's fist never slowed. It crashed through Lord Yang's twin swords, through his protective incense, and through his chest.
Lord Yang looked down at the hole in his torso. "Your power... so pure... You dare slay a god? The Underworld will have no place for you..."
Su Yan withdrew his fist. "Gods gave me no path to live. Why should I worship them?"
He walked toward Yuan Qi. "After the first god died, they became no different than straw dogs on an altar. Next time, I'll be more efficient."
The giant crumbled to dust.
* * *