Chapter Forty-Six: The Ferocious Beast Taowu

Deep within Wanqu Hill, a sudden, resounding beast’s roar made Qingxu’s heart tighten, as if an invisible hand gripped it. An unexplainable terror seized him, as though he had been cast into the eighteen layers of hell, with countless vengeful spirits clinging to him. Before his eyes unfolded a vision of the Asura slaughterfields, corpses piled high as mountains—humans, beasts, and monsters of every kind, their sheer numbers astonishing. Blood surged and pooled into lakes.

“What a formidable illusion technique. Yet these phantoms are not mere fabrications; they are the true echoes of slaughtered lives.” In the past, with only the cultivation of a mid-stage Earth Immortal, he would have struggled to withstand such an assault. But now, with his True Immortal avatar, his mind remained unshaken. Even so, Qingxu was deeply alarmed. The number of corpses in these visions must reach hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions—all killed by the monstrous beast whose roar had just sounded. The beast’s murderous karma was indeed boundless.

Yet this realization left Qingxu puzzled. With so many lives taken, the beast’s karmic debt should be immeasurable, enough to bring divine retribution upon itself—destruction ten times over.

Divine retribution differed from heavenly tribulation. It was the killing force of the Way of Heaven, its power increasing with the target’s cultivation, relentless and unending, ceasing only when the soul was utterly annihilated, reduced to ashes.

Perplexed, Qingxu pushed his Earth Shrinking technique to its limit, covering dozens or hundreds of meters in a single stride toward the source of the roar. At the same time, he carefully suppressed his own aura, moving with utmost caution. Even with an avatar at the early stage of True Immortal, he dared not be careless. A lion uses all its strength to hunt a rabbit; how much more so should he, when he knew nothing of the famed four ancient fiends? Better to observe before acting.

“Still, the Four Seas are currently recuperating. They likely wouldn’t dare stir up trouble on land, especially given the struggle for supremacy among the aquatic clans.” The Lord of Primordials was not only a teacher of the Dao to his disciples, but also frequently commented on the myriad marvels, both great and small, of the Great Desolation. Since the defeat of the Dragon Clan, the former overlords of the seas, after their war with the three clans, their position had grown unstable. Heroes rose on all sides, and the bloodshed was so constant that the seas ran red for thousands of miles. Still, Primordial paid little heed, for the Four Seas were beneath the notice of a sage.

“Once I deal with these four fiends, I might as well visit the seas—both to broaden my experience and to search for rare heavenly treasures.” The ocean’s environment differed greatly from the land, and many treasures born there could never be found ashore.

As he pondered, Qingxu drew near his destination. The beast’s roars had not ceased, and now were mingled with the tumultuous cries, angry shouts, wails, and screams of countless voices. He realized these were human, and an indescribable feeling surged in his heart. His Dao mind shifted, as if on the verge of a breakthrough, yet the opportunity always slipped away, leaving him unable to seize it.

Suddenly, as he approached, Qingxu halted, invoked his concealment technique, and, with a grave expression, gazed from afar at the scene of conflict. He saw a vast horde of “savages” besieging a monstrous beast dozens of meters tall. At a glance, there were at least tens of thousands of them, but in strength—

They were far too weak!

The strongest among them barely reached the Golden Core stage, and their weapons were mere stones and branches. Their attacks were utterly uncoordinated.

Disheveled, their hair loose, bodies clad in animal skins and leaves, these primitive humans made Qingxu feel a vast gulf between them and his ideals—an immeasurable distance.

He turned his focus to the strange beast under attack by tens of thousands. It resembled a tiger, but its fur was long, its face human, its feet those of a tiger, its mouth and tusks like a boar’s, and its tail was long. This appearance matched perfectly with one of the four ancient fiends in his memory: Taowu.

“Taowu? According to ancient myth, Taowu was the sixth son of the ancient human king Zhuanxu, younger brother to Qionghan, elder to Gao Yao, great-grandson of the Yellow Emperor, grandson of Changyi, also called Proud and Fierce, Difficult to Discipline. Yet humanity has only existed for a little over a century—this does not match the myths at all. As expected, one cannot trust legends completely.” He had always anticipated such discrepancies. In his past life, every myth had several versions; they were at most references, never to be relied upon absolutely—doing so was courting death.

Of the four ancient fiends, Taowu ranked last, and was the weakest; Hundun was strongest, Taotie second, Qiongqi third.

“This is the perfect opportunity to gauge the power of the four fiends through Taowu.” Though there were differences among the four, the gap was not vast. Should they truly fight, it would take at least a thousand exchanges to determine victory. Facing a single fiend was a chance for Qingxu: subduing one would lighten his task, and he could also measure his own strength against theirs.

“Wretched ants, your resistance changes nothing. Surrender quietly, and perhaps I’ll show a trace of mercy and eat a few less of you,” rumbled the beast’s dreadful, echoing voice from Taowu’s gaping maw, audible for hundreds of miles.

“In your dreams! Even if we all die today, we will destroy you!” came the reply.

“That’s right! Kill him—avenge our devoured brothers!”

“As long as this beast lives, our people will never know peace!”

Tens of thousands of humans roared in righteous fury, attacking even more desperately. Yet the gap between them was vast; among them, only a few dozen were at the Golden Core stage, while Taowu’s cultivation had already reached the early stage of Profound Immortal. The gulf between mortals and immortals was as wide as the sky—how could mortals hope to prevail against a Profound Immortal?

“What’s going on? Taowu has reached the early Profound Immortal stage? Impossible! Previously, both my avatar and I were Earth Immortals, and the quest’s difficulty was only 80!” The revelation of Taowu’s strength left Qingxu visibly shaken. He checked the system’s quest difficulty again.

Forty-five!

Unlike before, when it was zero, it had suddenly jumped to forty-five—nearly half.

“There’s only one explanation: Taowu must have just broken through. But even so, this is too fast. And would the system set the difficulty at eighty for a peak Celestial opponent? Hardly.” What had seemed simple was now perilous. According to the Investiture of the Gods system, he was only slightly stronger than Taowu. Defeating the fiend might not be difficult, but to utterly destroy it would be troublesome. And if the snake was not killed, it would come back to bite him in the future.

“I’ll just have to take things as they come. At worst, I’ll use the Supreme Immortal Talisman—there’s always a way to get another from the Supreme Sage,” he thought, bracing for the worst.

“Roar! You wretched ants! Were it not for my lord’s orders, I would have swallowed your entire race in a few bites instead of wasting time. But today, all of you will become a feast in my belly. No one in heaven or earth can save you—ha ha ha!” With a cruel, mocking laugh, Taowu’s maw twisted into a sneer.

Hearing these words, despair swept across the faces of the tens of thousands of humans. They were no fools; they knew the gap between themselves and Taowu. Their struggle was futile, but they would not beg for mercy—it would do no good. Nor would they simply wait to die.

“Even if this beast devours us, we will fight to the last breath to try and kill it first!” they resolved, united as one in their hearts.