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第两千六百八十八章 幻阴神雷

Lin Xuan's brows knitted as he clasped his hands lightly. As he moved, silver sword threads surged around him like tidal waves.

Layer upon layer, they never ceased, enveloping Lin Xuan from all sides and protecting him with the tenacity of a storm.

Those fiery red immortal swords seemed to be drawn to their doom, yet they remained utterly ineffective. However, the sword gourd wielded by his opponent was no trifling matter; it seemed almost indestructible, like a demon race with an unbreakable body that could recover effortlessly after being severed.

Lin Xuan's expression turned serious. Although the Nine Palaces Momentary Sword had not been fully refined, it already possessed three secret techniques: ice, fire, and lightning. This was no small feat; he hadn't encountered anyone for so many years who could counter him with their own divine treasures.

The little渡劫期 wasn't just boasting; there was indeed a subtle magic to it.

Lin Xuan remained vigilant on one side while the old monster, Zhong Laozui, was equally furious and alarmed. Ten thousand years ago, he had almost been an invincible existence in his peer group. If not for his indifference towards empty fame, the head of Tianjue Sect would never have dared to be so arrogant.

Apart from this, just this set of divine treasures alone could sweep away all peers. The sword gourd was a masterpiece crafted with countless rare materials over ten millennia of effort. Its power was unparalleled!

Now that he had advanced his cultivation further and become a senior cultivator in the little渡劫期, even though the sword gourd hadn't added any new materials, its power naturally increased as his own cultivation improved.

He saw some potential in Lin Xuan's Nine Palaces Momentary Sword. Thus, he broke with tradition by immediately summoning this divine treasure to cut off Lin Xuan's wings and then play the cat-and-mouse game.

Although cultivators were often cold-hearted, this was a matter of revenge for his son; he wouldn't allow Lin Xuan to die easily but would prepare dozens of vicious tricks to torment him until he could neither live nor die…

His plan sounded good in theory, but Zhong Laozui was overestimating himself.

Lin Xuan wasn’t an ordinary cultivator. How could he be someone who could be manipulated? While the sword gourd was indeed a rare treasure, Lin Xuan's Nine Palaces Momentary Sword was no less of a divine artifact.

The former Heavenly Witch Immortal had even used it to battle two scattered immortals. Scattered immortals were top-tier cultivators in the spirit realm, just one step away from true immortals. Their treasures were beyond description; that battle even involved legendary先天灵宝.

And not just one result—both were helpless against the Nine Palaces Momentary Sword.

Of course, this sword was different from the original. While both were called the Nine Palaces Momentary Sword, the one in the Heavenly Witch Immortal's hands was far superior to Lin Xuan’s current possession.

But even without being a complete divine artifact, it still posed no problem against Zhong Laozui's sword gourd. Its power and sharpness were significantly greater.

However, what troubled Lin Xuan was that his opponent could regenerate after severing the sword.

Zhong Laozui suddenly clutched his hands, casting a sinister spell. A sizzling sound echoed as countless electric arcs, about the size of an arm, leaped from the surface of those fiery red immortal swords.

"Here it comes…"

Lin Xuan's pupils constricted; he vaguely felt these electric arcs were familiar but couldn't recall them immediately.

A chill ran down his spine.

"Not good!"

Lin Xuan inwardly cursed. Although he hadn’t figured out their origin, they weren’t ordinary things. By the time he realized this, it was too late to dodge with the Nine Palaces Momentary Sword. The entire sky was soon filled with those dark black electric arcs.

The silver sword threads dimmed in comparison under their illumination.

Worse still, Lin Xuan felt a sudden lag in his mental connection with the sword threads. It was as if the flow of energy had been disrupted.

How could this be?

Lin Xuan's expression turned pale. The Nine Palaces Momentary Sword was his divine treasure, newly refined but imbued with the essence of the Nine Heaven Bright Moon Ring’s spirit. Its connection to him remained intact and even deeper than that with old monsters' divine treasures.

So why had their connection been disrupted?

Could it be…?

Lin Xuan's mind raced.

Ghostly Black Ink!

No, Ghostly Black Ink could indeed pollute a cultivator's treasure but couldn’t form lightning shapes. After searching through all his known techniques and divine treasures, only the legendary Illusory Yin Divine Thunder fit this description.

Illusory Yin Divine Thunder was a great technique wielded by ghostly demons renowned across the three realms. Its power was immense; it could corrupt cultivators or ancient devils' treasures once unleashed.

Fortunately, while there were countless experts in the Netherworld Realm, only a few powerful ghosts and demons could cast Illusory Yin Divine Thunder.

This wasn't just a technique one could learn by reading; it required some tools. According to legend, only divine treasures made from the "Illusory Yin Demon Flower," one of the three treasures of the Netherworld Realm, would possess such power.

The Illusory Yin Demon Flower was so precious that even the Arhats had searched for it across the Netherworld for ten thousand years, spending countless efforts to gather just 9,999 flowers. After refining them, they were incorporated into their divine boxes, and the resulting Illusory Yin Divine Thunder could corrupt even true immortals' divine treasures.

Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine seemed like a lot, but only the most exceptional Netherworld Arhat had such resources.

For other Netherworld ghosts, finding just one or two would be cause for celebration.

The subtlety of this divine thunder wasn't something Lin Xuan read about in a single book; he witnessed its power firsthand. His extensive knowledge left him greatly alarmed.

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