Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Begging the Immortal on My Knees!
Among them, quite a few were people close to Martial Artist Shen Yu, or at least well-known to him and his companions.
From time to time, Shen Yu would hear sighs laced with inexplicable feelings from those around him.
"That looks like Young Hero Shi Shan—even he’s turned into such a state."
"That was Golden Fist Xu Jin, who once bested every martial hall in Nanxi City. Now he’s died here, just like that."
"Unbreakable Vajra Hao Long, who fought the West Sea Giant Monster barehanded—judging by his condition, he can’t last much longer."
"All of these are famed figures from the Earth Martial Sect."
"In the face of this Heavenly Calamity, what difference is there between us so-called top experts and ordinary folk?"
"..."
It was painfully clear: to see these once-renowned masters now in tattered clothes, haggard and withered, shivering from the cold, near death’s door, inevitably brought with it a crushing sense of oppression.
The great disaster capable of wiping out everyone was no longer just words in the mouths of Immortals—it had become a grim reality for these Martial Arts Masters!
So, what about the Sect Leader of the Earth Martial Sect?
He’s the very peak of Body Refining Martial Dao!
In this world, there are no ranking lists to measure all the experts, but still, there are a few universally acknowledged as the greatest.
Even if their titles only represent the peaks of their own forms of Martial Arts, they are recognized by all.
They stand as mountains in the eyes of every Cultivator.
Xu Yuan, Sect Leader of Earth Martial Sect, is one such individual.
Many believe he has surpassed all previous Earth Martial Sect leaders, and is in the process of creating his own Legendary Technique. If he succeeds, he’ll become a new Martial Arts Myth.
He is far too domineering, and too confident; there’s no one in the world he doesn’t dare fight or challenge. Even if defeated, he’ll challenge again—a second time, a third—relentlessly drawing closer to victory.
He seems to never accept defeat!
In truth, there are likely fewer than five in the world who could decisively beat him.
What of someone like this now?
Not only did others want to know, Martial Artist Shen Yu wanted to know as well.
He sped up once more, letting the probe silently slip past one figure after another.
The deeper he went, the more masters there were—yet, they looked even more worn and depleted, busy hauling rubble and broken earth at the forefront. And when the very front edge finally appeared on the screen, everyone was stunned.
A towering figure, bare-chested with steel-like muscles, was striking the frozen earth ahead, palm after palm.
Each strike was infused with Soft Strength.
Fine cracks spread across the permafrost with each blow, causing it to collapse. Elderly figures rushed to clear away the debris.
Was this ten-kilometer tunnel all dug out in this manner?
"Sect Leader, it’s time for you to take the Replenishing Qi Pill." An even older elder spoke quietly, very carefully tipping an elixir into the Sect Leader’s mouth.
And in the moment when he relaxed, drenched sweat erupted from him like a waterfall.
Even his bulging muscles sagged rapidly; vast wrinkles spread across his skin.
Even the color in his face faded quickly, leaving him as pale as paper.
"Sign of True Qi exhaustion." Sword Return One muttered quietly.
The Body Refining Martial Dao’s greatest master, this top-tier figure not even a century old, had reached such a state?
"Next one, step up!" The elderly man, eyes full of pain, turned and glared fiercely at another, "The Sect Leader has already dug for half a moment more. How dare you slack off?"
The man gritted his teeth, roused his True Qi again, but after just two strikes, he violently spat blood and collapsed.
"Don’t play dead! You call yourself Dragon Fist? How could you die so easily? Get up!" The old man rushed over, punching and kicking; his shrill voice echoed down the tunnel.
"That should be Elder Han Ling." Sword Return Three explained quietly to Martial Artist Shen Yu, "He was Xu Yuan’s first master after joining the Sect, and is about one hundred sixty years old; his power barely counts as first-rate."
Shen Yu raised an eyebrow, recalling the rumors.
It was said that Earth Martial Sect’s Han Ling only did one thing right in his life: treating Xu Yuan as if he were his own son. That alone brought him lifelong benefit.
"Enough." Xu Yuan motioned, voice low but still firm, "Elder Wang is at his limit as well. Help him rest. I’ll take the next turn."
"Sect Leader!"
Han Ling’s voice rose, but was directly cut off by Xu Yuan.
"We are Martial Artists. Enough whining—what do we look like!"
Again he summoned his True Qi; muscles bulged, color returned to his face, then he struck the permafrost, one palm after another.
Only Han Ling showed sorrow on his face; the others showed neither delight nor emotion.
All that remained was numbness beneath the weight of despair.
"Cough, cough." Dragon Fist, still collapsed, coughed up blood, eyes empty—his voice just a hoarse murmur, "All my life, I’ve killed and battled—never thought I’d die, not in combat, but beneath a Heavenly Calamity... what a cruel irony."
If it were an enemy, no matter how strong, he’d dare lash out with a fist.
But this calamity—right from the start, there was only endless despair.
No hope of victory; even the Sect Leader is doomed to defeat.
No one else spoke.
In truth, they all knew this tunnel could never be excavated as a route of escape.
The distance ahead was unknowable, but all were already at the limits of endurance.
The unimaginable cold had seeped underground, turning everything to frozen earth. Once the difficulty of digging increased tenfold, a hundredfold, they understood Earth Martial Sect was finished.
All they did now was for the sake that, perhaps centuries or millennia later, if someone found them, they wouldn’t disgrace the name of Earth Martial Sect.
At least, they all fought until they perished from exhaustion.
But in that moment, a voice, strikingly different from all the others’ weakness, suddenly sounded in the gloom of the underground tunnel.
"Is this all that remains of Earth Martial Sect?"
"——!"
Just as Xu Yuan was about to swing another palm, he jerked his head around, staring fiercely toward where the voice had come from.
It wasn’t just him; the others, even in their numbness, did the same.
What voice? Were they hallucinating?
Yet in the next instant, a pitch-black sphere emerged in the faint firelight.
Martial Artist Shen Yu’s voice sounded once again.
"Earth Martial Sect, there are less than a thousand of you left?"
This time, everyone heard it clearly.
Even Dragon Fist, previously collapsed awaiting death, suddenly snapped upright, staring intently at the source of the voice.
Han Ling’s sharp cry shattered the silence.
"What sort of thing are you?!"
Clearly, he’d already reached his limit—even his mind was failing.
Yet he still stood protectively before Xu Yuan.
However, Shen Yu then discovered this probe device even had 3D projection.
And so, in the dark cave, a figure glowing with fluorescence appeared before the assembled crowd.
"I am a Reincarnated Immortal..."
Martial Artist Shen Yu steadied his voice, preparing to explain.
But before he could finish, he saw Xu Yuan—the very peak of Body Refining Martial Dao, famed for his domineering, resilient spirit, never admitting defeat—collapse with a heavy crash, kneeling hard on the icy ground, his forehead slamming onto the frozen floor.
"Xu Yuan begs the Immortal—save my Earth Martial Sect!"