Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System-Chapter 139 : Master’s Sacrifice...

But his troubles did not end with just defeating a few strong individuals—there were always more attackers, relentless and eager to spill his blood. They came like vultures, circling closer with each step, their blades gleaming hungrily under the darkened sky. Among them, one was particularly cunning.

The fourth attacker—a thin man wielding a set of silver daggers—moved like a flicker of shadow, his presence barely noticeable as he crept through the chaos. His daggers glinted like fangs, their points aimed directly at Wen Ran's unguarded back. He believed Wen Ran too distracted to notice.

But Wen Ran didn't even turn.

Instead, the blood from the corpses strewn across the battlefield suddenly surged upward, twisting and coiling into the shape of a crimson serpent. It struck with unnatural speed, lunging at the assassin and winding tightly around his throat. The man's eyes bulged in shock as the blood-serpent constricted, bones crunching like dry twigs beneath the pressure. He twitched once before his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from his mouth and nose, staining the earth dark red.

"Four Spirit Core experts…" Wen Ran muttered, his chest heaving. His bloodied fingers trembled slightly as the tension in his muscles refused to ease. "And they still couldn't stop me..."

Power surged within him—wild and untamed. His meridians screamed under the strain, veins burning like molten fire as his dantian raged like a storm threatening to rip him apart. The eight crimson rivers inside him churned violently, their currents thick with turbulent spiritual energy, each pulse hammering against his organs like a war drum.

And then—it happened.

The ninth river erupted into existence, spiraling into his dantian like a flood bursting free from its dam. His entire body flared with power, energy flooding his limbs, bones, and muscles in an overwhelming wave. His blood boiled beneath his skin, feeling like molten iron racing through his veins, threatening to scald him from the inside out.

But it didn't stop there.

It hurts like hell... damn it... Wen Ran gritted his teeth, his vision blurring as searing pain lanced through his entire body. The stronger the opponent, the harder it is for my technique to absorb their violent aura... If I ever killed a Nascent Soul cultivator with my current cultivation base, I'd most likely explode from the overload... Even now... He staggered, blood dripping from his fingertips as the raw energy inside him threatened to tear him apart. I think I'm nearing the tenth circle so fast...

His lips curled into a savage smile, his crimson-stained teeth glinting under the crackling sky.

But... this might be good... Let this whole place shower in destruction... Let this whole world know my might...

The energy kept coming—rushing in like an unstoppable tidal wave. Wen Ran's dantian swelled as the tenth river began to take shape, a raging current so vast it seemed more like an ocean than a river. Power surged through his veins, searing hot and merciless, as if molten steel was being poured into his very soul. His chest tightened as the immense energy carved a new path through his body, each pulse of power hammering against his organs like a blacksmith's relentless strike.

This amount of power... I feel like I could take on anybody above my cultivation realm... Wen Ran's thoughts raced, yet his battle never ceased. One strike followed another, and with each fallen foe, more energy surged into his body, filling him to the brink of explosion. His breath turned ragged, yet he continued to hack down opponent after opponent, his blade flashing like a silver serpent in the storm of bodies. Blood splattered his face, and the sharp metallic scent clung to his senses, yet his mind remained cold and focused.

Many experts of the Violet Lotus Foundry had started to notice—Wen Ran was simply too strong. In their eyes, this mysterious Spirit Flow junior was no mere cultivator; he was a demon born of blood and vengeance, rising to punish them for the sins they had committed. Some even dropped to their knees, begging for mercy, their trembling hands clasped together in prayer. But Wen Ran was no saint. To him, a motionless target was merely easier to kill. Like death itself, he swept through them, his blade dancing, reaping lives with surgical precision. Blood rained down in sheets, painting the earth in crimson pools. Severed limbs littered the battlefield, the twisted faces of the dead frozen in agony. No matter how powerful his enemies were, no matter how many secret techniques they unleashed, without their top experts to rally them, they were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter.

Desperation clawed at their leaders. The top experts, locked in battle with Wen Ran's master, began to retreat, but the flames that encircled the battlefield trapped them like rats in a burning cage. Their hearts sank as dread washed over them, knowing they could no longer aid their doomed disciples. Some cursed Wen Ran and his master with their final breath, but their words fell on deaf ears. The battlefield belonged to Wen Ran now, and this blood-soaked chapter would forever be written in history—the tale of two warriors, master and disciple, who shook the heavens and made the gods and immortals weep for the divine sect experts lost that day.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Xiao Lingyun stole a glance at his disciple, watching him with a mixture of pride and alarm. Wen Ran's power was astounding—far beyond what any Spirit Flow cultivator should wield. Both master and disciple possessed secrets that allowed them to fight above their realms, but to witness Wen Ran unleashing power rivaling that of the Spirit Core realm made Xiao Lingyun's chest tighten.

I have to protect him... Even if it costs me my life... he thought grimly. He knew the Nascent Soul cultivators could not be allowed to escape, yet fortune smiled upon them today—there were no Spirit Sea experts present. The strongest of their enemies had likely been training far from the sect, seeking breakthroughs in solitude. Fate had given them a chance, and Xiao Lingyun intended to seize it.

With each swing of his blade, Wen Ran's power swelled. The tenth river within his dantian coiled and twisted, spinning like a furious whirlpool in the heart of his soul. Unlike the calm, steady flow of the other nine rivers, this one raged and thrashed, wild and uncontrollable. The crimson glow that radiated from it painted Wen Ran's insides with an eerie, vile light. It was unnatural, twisted—and for a moment, Wen Ran trembled, a shiver of fear slipping down his spine.

But his fear turned to satisfaction, his lips curling into a thin smile as he felt the strength surge within him, the power gained from blood sacrifice washing over him like an intoxicating drug.

This is it...

The air around him shifted. The scent of iron and smoke faded, replaced by the unmistakable tang of rain and electricity. The sky darkened, and the heavens themselves seemed to hold their breath. A crack of thunder split the silence, and powerful energy surged from above, descending upon Wen Ran like a vengeful spear. He knew at once—he had become the target. The heavens had marked him for annihilation. Even the Nascent Soul cultivators, masters of their craft, trembled as they felt the approaching wrath. Denial painted their faces, yet their instincts knew the truth. This was no ordinary tribulation. This was a death sentence for their sect.