Nightwatcher-Chapter 464: Hurts, doesn’t it?

# 464. Hurts, doesn't it?

“Crack!”

A sound like bones being crushed came from Irbu’s neck. In that same instant, he broke off his own finger, letting the severed digit, slick with blood, transform into a twisted crimson glyph.

Glyph after crimson glyph engulfed Wei Yuan, seeping into his body. freēwēbnovel.com

This wasn’t a physical attack; Bronze Skin and Iron Bones couldn’t defend against it. It was a warlock’s curse of death.

A curse of death came in two forms. The first involved obtaining the target’s blood, hair, or even clothing or personal belongings to use as a medium for the curse.

At Third Rank, a warlock could curse at a distance without any medium, but the effect was greatly reduced.

The second form required the warlock to use their own flesh and blood to launch a curse.

The prerequisite for this was that the enemy must have inflicted harm on the warlock.

The blood-coloured charms corroded Wei Yuan’s primordial spirit and sapped his vitality, causing a brief moment of stillness, but in the next second, all the negative effects were shattered by the martial artist’s powerful qi.

But that single second was enough for Irbu.

He crushed a compass-shaped magical tool, and his figure abruptly vanished, reappearing several hundred yards away in mid-air. There, he summoned the shadow of a bird, its talons clamping onto his shoulders as it carried him swiftly towards Mount Jing.

Wounded and in serious condition, Irbu chose to summon the soul of an avian yao beast to escape.

Blood-red light flared over his body, healing injuries that would be fatal to those of lower ranks.

A Ninth Rank Blood Spirit’s ability to rouse one’s qi and blood improved drastically at higher ranks, nearly on par with a martial artist’s limb regeneration, though it came at the cost of far greater spiritual energy.

Martial artists, by contrast, paid almost no price for regenerating limbs, as such regeneration was a “gift” of the undying body.

A Third Rank master was never easy to kill, regardless of system, those at Third Rank had already transcended the mortal realm.

On the shoreline and aboard the warships, those who witnessed this scene, both from the Church of the Warlock God and the Great Feng forces, were dumbfounded.

Gold Gongs like Zhang Kaitai were moved to tears. Aside from a few close confidants, most had never known how terrifyingly powerful Wei Yuan once was. Those secret assassinations on the yao, the barbarians, and the Church of the Warlock God those years ago, were all planned and lead by him, with Buddhist masters at his side.

On open battlefields, he’d always strategised from the rear, rarely engaging directly.

After the Battle of Shanhai Pass, Wei Yuan had mysteriously crippled his own cultivation, like a tiger willingly tearing out its own claws. He chose to remain at court, living as a mortal.