Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Longevity Like Nanshan

Under the eyes of countless people on Shang Jing City’s walls, the insect sea turned and poured after them.

On the centipede’s back, Chong Ruo Ruo bounced and raged, shrieking curses as the sky darkened with wings.

Wang Jie glanced back, jaw tight.

Mosquitoes flooded in first—each the size of a palm, their proboscises like blades. With that many, size didn’t matter. They could strip you to bone.

“Move,” Wen Zhao barked. “Clear the mosquitoes first!”

She turned and slashed. Her sword light widened as it flew, a sweeping arc that carved through the swarm.

Zuo Tian lifted both hands and struck again and again with a pushing palm technique. Each palm burst a patch of insects into pulp.

Wen Zhao’s eyes flashed. “Void-Grasping Hand?”

Wang Jie planted a palm toward the earth, fingers curling.

Dust and grit surged up as if the ground itself answered him.

He struck.

A storm of sand and stone exploded outward, swallowing the air behind them. Countless grains and pebbles punched through the swarm, shredding faster than Wen Zhao and Zuo Tian combined.

It was another technique Wang Jie had stolen from the sky projection.

He’d seen more techniques than anyone should—rows and rows, dense as stars—while most people saw only one or two.

Most people couldn’t even see the sky projection at all.

The dust blotted out the sun.

Wang Jie, Wen Zhao, and Zuo Tian used the moment to sprint.

Even while fleeing, Wang Jie and Zuo Tian watched each other from the corners of their eyes, hands ready.

In a sane world, they would’ve united against the insect sea first.

But they weren’t sane men.

They’d rather kill each other.

From underground, gray-brown insects erupted in clusters. They weren’t lethal—just sticky, clinging to legs and clothes, marking them.

In the sky, a rainbow arced toward them.

Not a rainbow.

Butterflies.

Countless mutated butterflies, seven-colored wings linked into a ribbon that pointed like an arrow.

Marks above. Marks below.

Shang Jing City’s wall looked out at a horror even bigger than they’d imagined. The insect sea wasn’t a single tide—it was layers. Underground. Sky. Horizon. Everywhere.

Strictly speaking, Blue Star itself was full of insects.

Chong Ruo Ruo truly was a nightmare.

Zuo Tian clapped his palms together—sharp as a gunshot—then pulled them apart.

A transparent ripple expanded outward like a wave.

Wang Jie stabbed the air with a finger. Spiral Qi Force pierced through the ribbon of butterflies, cutting a path—only for it to stitch itself together again in an instant.

From another direction came the thunder of movement.

Spiders.

An ocean of spiders.

Above them, ladybugs swarmed.

Below, ants boiled up from cracks.

They were boxed in.

Chong Ruo Ruo wasn’t even close—yet she controlled insects across an absurd range.

“What’s the limit?” Zuo Tian demanded. “How far can she control them?”

“At least a hundred li in every direction,” Wen Zhao said.

Zuo Tian’s eyes widened. “That wide?”

Wen Zhao didn’t blink. “In the universe, wars span stars. A hundred li is nothing.”

Wang Jie’s gaze snapped. “Find a lake.”

Zuo Tian pointed. “That way.”

“Go.”

Behind them, Chong Ruo Ruo shrieked in triumph, directing the tide. “Little Zhao Er! You can’t escape! Die!”

No matter how fast they ran, insects always found them. They couldn’t break out of the hundred-li radius in a single burst. The moment Chong Ruo Ruo laid eyes on them, the fight to the death was set.

In the apocalypse, everyone clawed at life between two breaths.

Wang Jie was no different.

But compared to that basement two years ago, all of this felt almost merciful.

He would never forget it—over a hundred orphans thrown inside and burned. The screams. The heat. And outside, Zuo Tian sipping a drink like he was watching a show.

Wang Jie tore a hornet in half.

Zuo Tian glanced at him at the same time.

Their eyes met—sharp, cautious, ready.

They killed until their arms went numb. Insects clogged the air so thick they couldn’t see the road.

Time vanished.

The ground became a carpet of corpses.

Wen Zhao’s breathing turned ragged. Her sword trembled in her hand. She was running out.

The insects weren’t.

“Leave me,” she rasped. “You can live.”

Wang Jie grabbed her and swung her onto his back.

Wen Zhao struggled. “I didn’t mean it like that—I still have strength.”

“Save it,” Wang Jie said.

Zuo Tian watched them, his gaze sliding to Wang Jie’s wrist.

Wang Jie was still fighting with raw physical power, not Imprint Power.

How was that possible?

“Hold on,” Wang Jie said. “We’re almost at the lake.”

The ground rustled.

Insects burst up in waves.

The sky darkened again—moths, flies, things with too many wings, blotting out the light.

Then the lake appeared.

Water couldn’t stop insects, but it forced them into visible lines. They had to cross the surface.

Wang Jie leaped onto a small island in the center. A viewing pavilion sat there, long abandoned.

Zuo Tian’s voice stayed steady. “Mutated fish live in this lake. They can slow the insects. We rest. Just watch the air.”

Wang Jie set Wen Zhao down.

She lifted her head and stared upward.

The insect sea fell like a black-red canopy. Farther out, the ribbon of butterflies formed an arrow, pointing straight at them.

“White Sword Edge Descends,” Wen Zhao said.

She raised her blade.

A beam of sword light speared the clouds, splitting the canopy wide open.

It also revealed their position to Shang Jing City—close enough to see, far too dangerous to reach.

Wang Jie and Zuo Tian took opposite sides.

The insect tide hit the shore and spilled onto the water.

The lake answered.

Mutated fish surged up and swallowed insects by the mouthful.

A brutal, majestic war unfolded—fish versus insects, water churning, bodies tearing.

The surface turned black-red and stank of rot.

Disaster materials floated in the churn, but most were ordinary.

Wang Jie and Wen Zhao absorbed Imprint Power to recover.

Wen Zhao kept absorbing too.

Wang Jie glanced at her. “You said we cultivate lockforce. Yet you can still cultivate?”

“We can purge lockforce when we return to the sect,” Wen Zhao said. “You can’t. You started with lockforce from the beginning.”

Zuo Tian’s gaze fixed on the far shore. “Talk to her,” he said. “Buy time.”

Wen Zhao’s eyes narrowed as she spotted the centipede moving closer—Chong Ruo Ruo standing on its back.

Wen Zhao lifted her chin and called out, “Little bug. You’re scared.”

Chong Ruo Ruo exploded. “Dead woman! You dare call me little bug? I’m not done with you!”

“So you are scared,” Wen Zhao called again.

Chong Ruo Ruo ground her teeth. “Scared of what? You’re the one who’s scared now!

“Beg. Say Brother Xiao will always belong to Chong Ruo Ruo, and I’ll let you go!”

“Brother Xiao will always belong to Chong Ruo Ruo,” Wen Zhao shouted.

Silence hit like a wall.

Wang Jie and Zuo Tian stared at her.

This was supposed to be a jealous rivalry, wasn’t it?

Why was she surrendering so easily?

Even Chong Ruo Ruo froze. “Say it again!”

Wen Zhao didn’t hesitate. “Brother Xiao will always belong to Chong Ruo Ruo.”

The insect sea… stopped.

Only the fish kept rising to feed.

“You surrendered?” Chong Ruo Ruo demanded.

“Yes,” Wen Zhao said. “From now on, if I see your Brother Xiao, I won’t speak to him. I won’t even show my face.”

She sounded sincere. Almost too sincere.

Chong Ruo Ruo looked lost, robbed of her victory. She’d brought a world-ending tide… and Wen Zhao folded without a fight.

It felt wrong.

“Little Zhao Er,” Chong Ruo Ruo said suspiciously, “you’re stalling for time, aren’t you?”

“This is the trial refining grounds,” Wen Zhao replied. “The sect can see everything. If I’m lying, your Brother Xiao will know.”

Chong Ruo Ruo hesitated.

Then her scowl deepened. “But you insulted my chest!”

“Mine isn’t big either,” Wen Zhao said.

“You called me little bug!”

“You’ve been calling me Little Zhao Er.”

Chong Ruo Ruo opened her mouth, then shut it again, unable to argue.

Wang Jie exhaled slowly.

The whole scene was surreal.

After a long, tortured pause, Chong Ruo Ruo’s eyes lit with sudden glee. “Fine. If you want me to believe you, do something simple.

“Kiss the man who carried you.”

Wen Zhao froze and looked at Wang Jie.

Wang Jie froze right back.

That was her condition?

“Chong Ruo Ruo,” Wen Zhao snapped, “don’t go too far.”

“You started it,” Chong Ruo Ruo said smugly. “You tried to steal Brother Xiao from me.”

“I have nothing to do with him,” Wen Zhao said sharply. “I already surrendered.”

“Then kiss him once. Or let him kiss you once. Then I’ll believe it.”

Wen Zhao’s jaw tightened.

If she did that, what would happen when she returned to the sect?

Her elders would lose face.

And Wang Jie would almost certainly die—Wen Family would never let a war slave live after humiliating them.

“You’ll get him killed,” Wen Zhao warned.

Chong Ruo Ruo sniffed. “Not my problem.”

The centipede rose, baring claws and fangs.

Wang Jie let out a long breath. “Enough. Stop wasting time.”

He looked toward the far shore. “We’ve rested.”

Then he lifted his voice. “Chong Ruo Ruo.”

Chong Ruo Ruo raised her chin, pleased.

“Your chest is small, your butt is small, and your face is full of pockmarks. I wish you a long life to eighty—longevity like Nanshan.”

And he ran.

He grabbed Wen Zhao and sprinted off the island.

Zuo Tian stared for half a heartbeat, then cursed under his breath and followed.

Chong Ruo Ruo’s face went green, then white.

“Native!” she shrieked. “You dare insult me? I’ll kill you!”

The insect sea surged after them, madness returning in a roar.

Wen Zhao fought to keep up as Wang Jie dragged her. “You’re asking to die. She won’t kill me—she can kill you!”

Wang Jie glanced back at Zuo Tian. “I’m not that easy to kill.

“If someone’s chasing you, you curse back. That’s only fair.”

His eyes narrowed. “Shame she’s too far, and that centipede’s too strong. Otherwise I’d kill her with one finger.”

“You can’t,” Wen Zhao said sharply. “Heaven-Insect People hold grudges. They have ten thousand ways to make you suffer worse than death.”

Wang Jie’s gaze went heavy.

He didn’t answer.