The Corruption Dragon God: Lust System Chapter 610 Gray Claw banner Gang (02)

The fight unfolded splendidly for the disciples of the Cosmic Dawn

Sect.

As the Divine Fist unleashed his power without restraint, they slaughtered over six thousand bandits in mere minutes, while four thousand more streamed out from the fortress into the savage melee.

A heap of corpses rapidly accumulated, with Qingyi perched upon it.

Those surpassing the fourth stage of the Astral Blood Realm posed some challenge to him, but foes at his level or below?

They fell like butter under a hot blade; their swords couldn't even dream of blocking the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword. He had to concede that his draconic eyes held absurd might, particularly the power to hasten his sight and thoughts, making the surrounding world crawl in slow motion.

Trajectories of ten simultaneous strikes registered in his mind, even prior to his enemies' muscles twitching to execute them.

He prepared to dive back into the chaos when abruptly, he halted.

His gaze snapped skyward as a formidable aura, rivaling Han Zhentian's in potency, crashed down over the entire battlefield.

It choked the air, compelling the outer disciples to fall back at once.

"The pigs' leader has shown up...!" Qingyi's face hardened, shifting into a guarded posture.

"Han Zhentian... the divine fist! What brings my old battle comrade here? Hahaha!" A deranged laugh boomed, accompanied by a potent, nauseating Qi unmistakably born from deviant techniques

and possibly human sacrifices.

"Don't call me brother, you bastard son of a bitch!" Zhentian bellowed, fists tightening. "Had I been at the sect then, I'd have castrated and crippled you myself for what you did to our junior sister!"

"Uh... still hung up on that ancient grudge?" A silhouette at last appeared.

Tall and obese, he sported a bald pate and sunken eyes.

"I didn't even manage to rape her..."

"But you tried." Zhentian snarled.

This fattie had once been an inner disciple of the Cosmic Dawn Sect, a former friend to him.

Dubbed Fatty Fan, he'd been renowned for his generosity and adored by all.

Yet after the love of his life spurned him and he attempted to seize her forcibly, he forfeited it all.

Expelled from the sect, he escaped castration and death solely because an uncle who taught there pleaded with an elder for clemency.

That leniency endured only until Fan squandered it

too.

Rather than leveraging his cultivation and noble heritage for a tranquil existence and his own destiny, he plunged into villainy and vice.

Today, Zhentian would cleanse that disgrace from his sect!

Fan simply shook his head, stretching out one hand to call forth his weapon—a lengthy, massive halberd.

Behind him materialized a tiger forged of steel and blood, its bloodline manifestation bellowing at Zhentian's own, a gleaming golden tiger.

"Stay sharp, continue the massacre!" Zhentian thundered before hurtling ahead, three vivid streams of Qi streaming from his right fist, shaping into godly serpents with fangs like

barbed thorns.

Fan's crimson Qi smashed against Zhentian's golden Qi, fist meeting halberd in a deafening blast.

The asteroid itself seemed on the verge of crumbling beneath their might, the arrays upholding the fragile atmosphere around the

fortress quaking.

"You've gotten stronger!" Fan howled, shoving Zhentian away and widening the gap between them.

"You haven't. Your cultivation advanced, but your power remains as pathetic as your integrity!" Zhentian refused the fattie any respite, surging forward anew, slamming a second strike into Fan's halberd and hurling him back like a shot from a cannon, demolishing a nearby hill into rubble.

Boosting cultivation via deviant arts didn't inherently weaken a cultivator.

Truthfully, deviant cultivators frequently outmatched orthodox ones of equal realm and aptitude.

Yet the issue lay in their reliance on such methods.

Once that reliance spiraled into obsession and loss of restraint,

weakness ensued.

"Brother Zhentian-" Fan rose, snarling in fury.

"Don't call me brother, you vile swine!" Zhentian materialized overhead,

delivering another punch.

This round, Fan failed to lift his halberd in defense, the blow crashing straight into his face.

The fat man's skull buried into the rock, his frame shuddering as fissures raced dozens of meters outward.

"You sullied the Cosmic Dawn Sect's reputation, sought to inflict atrocities on our cherished junior sister, and still presume to call me brother?" Zhentian hoisted his fist for the final strike.

"Never speak my name with that foul mouth again."

Qingyi averted his gaze just in time to witness a golden detonation swallow the horizon, a horrifying Qi bearing down on the surviving pirates.

Numerous ones scrambled to escape, dashing toward the vessels moored at the fortress's docks.

"Oh... you won't escape!" Qingyi invoked the fourth form of the Tempest Monarch's sword art, summoning over a thousand swords of thunderous Qi swirling about him.

One finger pointed at the ships hastily lifting off, their Qi barriers unactivated.

A grin lit his features as he unleashed the spectral blades

all at once.

Awe-struck murmurs rose nearby, all eyes locked on the swords that shattered the sound barrier instantly, shredding the ships' hulls and crippling their engines, Qi blasts consuming all. Moments later, ten ships plummeted to the earth, pirates shrieking in agony and hopelessness as they vanished amid detonations from the Qi reactors and drives.

'How many did I just take out? A thousand? Two thousand?' Qingyi pondered, clasping hands behind his back casually.

He wondered how Zhentian would tally the spoils, and even more how generous his share would be.

No less than several hundred spirit crystals seemed fitting, given the pirate horde he'd felled, didn't it?

Though Zhentian reigned as the mightiest, the observing disciples witnessed it plainly.

Solo, Qingyi had effortlessly dispatched thirty percent of the pirates

present.

With over ten thousand pirates slain and merely three disciples lost, this clash marked a resounding triumph.