Martial God Asura Chapters 56-60: Tomb of the Imperial Sky Sage and a Deadly Showdown

The desert sun was a fading ember on the horizon when Chu Feng and his companions from the Wings Alliance finally laid eyes on their goal. The tomb, a gaping maw in the endless sands, was already open. A steady stream of cultivators poured inside, a clear sign that the vanguard of Origin realm experts had long since disappeared into the depths. A wave of discouragement washed over the group—arriving late meant scavenging for scraps.

Chu Feng, however, wore an indifferent smile. “If we don’t quickly enter, I’m afraid that we won’t even see a single grain of rice,” he said, his voice calm. Taking the lead, he was the first to rush into the shadowy entrance, with Su Mei, Bai Tong, and the Dragon and Tiger brothers close behind.

The scale of the underground complex immediately shattered their expectations. The main tunnel was wide enough for ten men to walk abreast, illuminated by countless luminous rocks embedded in the walls, casting an eerie, daylight-like glow. The path led them to a vast, circular hall, breathtaking in its opulence. Glowing lamps adorned walls of polished stone, a display of wealth that left Chu Feng, who had grown up in a simple village, momentarily awestruck.

This hall was not an end, but a nexus. Dozens of identical tunnels branched off from it, each one plunging into a darkness that even Chu Feng’s Spirit power could not fully penetrate. It was a maze designed to confound.

“Chu Feng, which one should we go into?” Su Mei asked, her gaze, along with everyone else’s, settling on him. In this subterranean labyrinth, his unique spiritual perception had become their compass.

“We can only wish for luck,” Chu Feng replied with a helpless shake of his head. Yet, he did not hesitate. Choosing a tunnel at random, he charged in, the others following the sound of his footsteps.

The Harvest and the Blood Price

They hadn’t gone far when doors began to appear along the tunnel walls. Many were already forced open, revealing glimpses of rooms glittering with spiritual medicines—Ground Spirit Grass, Sky Spirit Grass, Saint Spirit Grass. Within these rooms, fierce skirmishes erupted as cultivators battled for the precious resources. The air was thick with the clash of metal and angry shouts.

Chu Feng ignored the open doors. His Spirit power swept ahead, probing, testing. He stopped before a particularly sturdy iron door, its surface unblemished. Without a word, he gathered his energy. “Second Thunder Style!” A bolt of condensed lightning shot from his palm, striking the door’s mechanism with a deafening bang. The reinforced iron groaned and swung inward.

A wave of dense spiritual energy, fragrant and invigorating, washed over them. The room beyond was a treasure trove. Thousands of spiritual herbs were neatly arranged, their collective glow illuminating the eager faces of the group. “How is this a tomb? It’s just like a treasure storehouse!” someone exclaimed, joy evident in their voice.

Chu Feng quickly organized them. “Bai Long, Bai Hu, Ye Taozi, Zhang Tingzi. The four of you guard the door. Bai Tong, Su Mei, us three will collect.” The three of them rushed in, Cosmos Sacks in hand, sweeping the spiritual medicines into their dimensional storage without discrimination. Low quality, high quality—all of it was valuable fuel for cultivation.

Their efficiency, however, had drawn attention. A group of cultivators had been loitering in the tunnel, watching, waiting. As soon as Chu Feng’s group breached the door, they moved.

“Move. If you don’t move I’ll slaughter you!” one of them yelled, confronting the brothers at the entrance. “This room was opened by us so the spiritual medicines in here belong to us!” Bai Long retorted, stepping forward. “Ha! The things in here have no owner. You think it’s yours just because you said it is?” the leader sneered.

There were several of them, and their auras were strong—five had reached the 7th level of the Spirit realm, putting significant pressure on the guards. Anger flared in Su Mei and Bai Tong as they heard the commotion. These vultures were trying to steal the fruit of their labor.

“You guys continue collecting, I’ll go block them,” Chu Feng said, his voice cold. He tossed his Cosmos Sack to Su Mei and strode toward the entrance, his demeanor shifting from focused collector to something far more dangerous.

To the guards, he was a blur. A rush like lightning entered the fray. There was no grand technique, just brutal, precise efficiency. A flash, a spray of blood, a choked cry. In the blink of an eye, five figures—three at the 6th level, two at the 7th—collapsed into growing pools of crimson, their lives extinguished.

The remaining raiders stumbled back, terror replacing avarice. One pointed a shaking finger at Chu Feng. “Boy, you dare to kill! Do you know who we are?”

His words were his last. Chu Feng’s form seemed to teleport. A palm, edged like a blade, swept in a cold arc. The man’s head parted from his shoulders before his body hit the ground. Standing amidst the carnage, his clothes stained with the blood of six men, Chu Feng fixed the remaining group with eyes that held the chill of a deep winter. His voice, when it came, was flat and final, carrying a killing intent so tangible it felt like a physical wind. “Those who dare approach, die.”

The threat was absolute. The survivors, their courage shattered by the swift and merciless slaughter, could only glare with impotent fury before their leader gritted his teeth. “Leave!” he barked, and they scattered, seeking easier prey elsewhere.

Inside the room, the Dragon and Tiger brothers, Ye Taozi, and Zhang Tingzi stared at Chu Feng with complex, unsettled gazes. They had seen conflict, but this was different. The killing intent radiating from Chu Feng was authentic, bone-piercing, born of a resolve to end lives without hesitation. A silent understanding passed between them: they were profoundly grateful this young man was their ally and not their enemy.

Chu Feng’s leadership was now unquestioned. They continued their methodical plunder, room after room, the hauls growing richer. And each time greedy eyes turned their way, Chu Feng’s escalating aura of balefulness—a scent of blood and iron—was enough to make most groups think twice and veer away. He had become a landmark of danger in the tunnel, a figure to be avoided.

The Hall of Corpses and a Grisly Solution

The tunnel eventually opened into a vast, cavernous hall. Before they even stepped fully inside, a thick, coppery smell of blood assaulted their senses. The scene that greeted them was one of grotesque horror.

The floor was littered with fresh corpses, cultivators who had entered the tomb after them. Moving among the dead were monsters. They stood on two legs like humans, but that was where the resemblance ended. They were skinless, their bodies a horrifying tapestry of exposed muscle and glistening blood vessels. Their faces were featureless slabs of raw flesh, and they fed with bestial fervor on the fallen, their bloody maws tearing into limbs and torsos.

“They are Blood Corpses,” Su Mei gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her beautiful eyes wide with shock and revulsion. “There are actually so many!”

She explained in a hushed, horrified tone about the Blood Poison, a vile concoction that could strip a person of awareness and humanity, turning them into an immortal, rotting killing machine. “The master of this tomb is a bit too cruel…” she whispered, looking at the hundreds of monsters milling about. The weakest emanated the aura of the 6th level of the Spirit realm, while several strong ones pulsed with the power of the 9th level. It was a dead end.

Yet, Chu Feng observed a curious detail. The Blood Corpses, though clearly aware of their presence at the hall’s entrance, did not attack. They only seemed to react to those who entered their domain. “You said they use smell to distinguish between foe and ally?” he asked Su Mei, an idea forming.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

A faint smile touched Chu Feng’s lips. “Then I have a method to go through.” Ignoring their confused looks, he instructed them to wait and stepped into the hall. He targeted a lone Blood Corpse at the 6th level. As he came within ten meters, it let out a guttural roar and lunged. Chu Feng’s arms became blurs, and with shocking precision, his palm-edges sliced the creature into several clean pieces. It bled no liquid, its desiccated body simply coming apart.

What he did next made Zhang Tingzi gag. Using strips of cloth from the dead cultivators, he began tying the dismembered limbs of the Blood Corpses to his own waist and legs. “What is Chu Feng doing? He used the Blood Corpse, disgusting…” she murmured, turning slightly away.

“Continue watching,” Su Mei said, her eyes fixed on Chu Feng with dawning comprehension.

Then, Chu Feng did the unthinkable. He sprinted not around, but directly into the densest pack of Blood Corpses in the center of the hall, where the 9th-level monsters lurked. Su Mei’s heart seized. But the expected swarm of attacks never came. The Blood Corpses ignored him completely, as if he were invisible, or rather, as if he smelled like one of them.

“He is using the scent of the Blood Corpse to conceal his own!” Su Mei exclaimed, admiration cutting through her fear. It was a macabre but brilliant solution.

Following his grisly example, the rest of the group disguised themselves with Blood Corpse parts and, hearts pounding, walked through the nightmarish hall. The monsters paid them no mind, and they reached the far side safely, leaving the feasting horrors behind.

The Cliff and the Imperial Sky Sage

The new tunnel sloped downward before terminating at a heavy stone door. Pushing it open, they entered a breathtaking cavern. It was a world of stone, vast and echoing, over three hundred feet tall. The walls themselves glowed with an ethereal green light from embedded luminous rocks, creating a dreamlike, subterranean sky.

They stood on a ledge at the top of a sheer cliff. At the cliff’s edge stood a stone tablet ten meters tall, covered in bold, flamboyant script. Chu Feng read the words aloud, each line resonating with a lifetime of power and, ultimately, regret:

“I started martial cultivation at the age of 10, entered the Origin realm at the age of 16, entered the Profound realm at the age of 25, and I was already at the 9th level of the Profound realm at the age of 40. No matter what, after 100 years, I was unable to understand the mysteriousness of the Heaven realm… I painstakingly researched for dozens of years. Finally, I created a skill, ‘Imperial Sky Technique’… Although I did not enter the Heaven realm, I could still walk in the air…”

“It’s him!” Su Mei breathed, her shock from the Blood Corpses replaced by awe.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Bai Tong said, his voice hushed with reverence, “this person is the #1 expert that dominated the Azure Province 100 years ago, the Imperial Sky Sage.”

The name sent a ripple through the group. The Imperial Sky Sage was a legend, a peerless loner whose ultimate technique, the Imperial Sky Technique, was said to be a rank 7 skill—a treasure beyond anything possessed by the great schools of the Azure Province. “If someone could successfully get it…” Su Mei murmured, her eyes drifting to the thick, rolling mist that obscured the bottom of the cliff below them. “…we really would earn big.” But her expression turned regretful. “Our strength isn’t enough. This good luck can only pass by our shoulders.”

Chu Feng, however, stared into the mist, his gaze sharp. He could feel dense killing intents lurking below, but the promise of a legendary technique stirred a reckless ambition in his heart. He was pulled from his thoughts by Zhang Tingzi’s excited cry. She had found a wooden box at the base of the tablet. Inside, glittering like captured sunlight, were over a hundred Spiritual Beads. The group quickly and happily divided the windfall.

The Roads of Enemies Narrow

Their celebration was short-lived. A thunderous bang echoed from the stone door they had entered through. It burst open, and six figures strode in, their blue robes marking them as core disciples of the Azure Dragon School. Their auras, solid and imposing, were all at the 8th level of the Spirit realm. And among them, wearing a familiar, malicious smirk, was Zhou Zhiyuan.

“Oh? I never would have thought that someone already arrived here first,” one core disciple said, his tone dismissive as he looked over Chu Feng’s younger group. “Looking at them, they seem like babies that haven’t grown up yet.”

Zhou Zhiyuan’s eyes locked onto Su Mei, then shifted to Chu Feng with undisguised venom. “The roads of enemies are quite narrow. Su Mei, we meet again.”

The dynamic shifted instantly. The core disciples’ casual arrogance crystallized into targeted hostility. “That boy over there. His nerves are so big that it covers the world,” Zhou Zhiyuan said, pointing at Chu Feng.

“Zhiyuan, how do you want to handle that boy? We’ll help you,” another offered, their collective gaze turning dark.

Zhou Zhiyuan’s smile turned wicked. “We are under the orders of Senior Leng to collect the Spiritual Beads at the cliffs. Those who obstruct us die without exception.” He then looked Su Mei up and down, his intent clear and vile. “But, Su Mei, no need to be afraid. How can I, Zhou Zhiyuan, bear to kill you? I will enjoy myself with you, hehe…”

Su Mei’s face paled with rage and disgust. “You…”

Zhou Zhiyuan only grinned wider, inciting his comrades. “Her sister Su Mei… No matter if it’s her looks or body, she is no worse than Su Rou… Today, with such a good chance, do you not want to have a taste of this little beauty?”

The threat became horrifyingly explicit. As the six core disciples began to advance, the pressure was immense. The Dragon and Tiger brothers broke first, their bodies trembling. “Seniors, you just want the Spiritual Beads right? Is it fine if we give all the Spiritual Beads we have to you?” Bai Long pleaded, even pulling out his Cosmos Sack.

“Kneel on the ground and bump your heads 100 times, then we’ll consider forgiving your two dog lives!” Zhou Zhiyuan taunted, enjoying their fear.

“Bai Long, Bai Hu, do not embarrass the Wings Alliance!” Su Mei shouted, but despair was creeping in.

Unleashing the Third Thunder

It was Chu Feng who shattered the moment of submission. He stepped in front of the cowering brothers, his gaze sweeping over the six arrogant core disciples. His voice was low, but it carried a weight that silenced the hall. “Do you know that you all already violated a crime worthy of death?!”

The core disciples paused, stunned by his audacity. “Boy, what do you mean?”

Chu Feng’s eyes narrowed to slits, a cold smile on his face. “I am saying that you dare to have evil thoughts towards Su Mei. That is the crime!”

He moved before the words finished echoing. Like a sudden gale, he took the initiative, charging the six of them alone. “Illusionary Palm!” Dozens of palm images filled the air, a confusing, overwhelming assault. The core disciples, though shocked, recovered quickly. They were experienced fighters. Mysterious Techniques activated, rank 3 skills flared to life, and they met Chu Feng’s assault.

But they were stunned to find that this inner court disciple, a mere 6th-level cultivator, was holding his own against all six of them. His movements were preternaturally fluid; attacks aimed at his back were dodged without a glance, as if he had eyes everywhere. “This boy has cultivated in the Mysterious Techniques. I cannot be careless!” Zhou Zhiyuan yelled, recognizing the danger. He erupted with his full power, unleashing a rank 4 skill—a fist that shot forward like a lightning bolt, too fast to dodge, powerful enough to shatter stone.

Chu Feng didn’t dodge. “Don’t think that you’re the only one who knows a rank 4 skill.” His own fist clenched, lightning flickering around it. “Three Thunder Styles!” The two fists collided with a boom that shook the cavern, creating a visible ripple of force that knocked both combatants back and forced the others to stagger.

“The Three Thunder Styles! Join hands and finish him!” The core disciples, now deadly serious, all unleashed their strongest rank 4 skills. Six powerful attacks converged on Chu Feng. Even with his speed and perception, he was forced onto the defensive, weaving and dodging with the First Thunder Style, but the pressure was immense.

“Chu Feng, I’ll come and help you!” Su Mei cried, leaping into the fray. Her body glowed with a jade-like light as she executed a graceful but powerful rank 4 skill. “I will come as well!” Bai Tong joined, adding his own strength. With their support, Chu Feng found an opening. He focused his assault on Zhou Zhiyuan, a relentless barrage of lightning-imbued strikes that drove the core disciple back step by step. Finally, a thunderous punch landed squarely on Zhou Zhiyuan’s chest. There was a sickening crunch, and Zhou Zhiyuan was launched fifty feet through the air, landing in a heap, unable to rise.

But the victory was momentary. A pained cry sounded. Bai Tong had been struck by a combined attack from two disciples, blood spraying from his mouth as he fell. In that instant of distraction, the remaining five core disciples saw their chance with Su Mei. They moved as one, their hands reaching not to kill, but to defile, aiming for the forbidden areas of her body as she stood momentarily isolated.

A cold, murderous fury, deeper and darker than anything he had felt before, erupted within Chu Feng. His face transformed into a mask of glacial rage. “DIE!” The roar was not just sound; it was a physical force. From his body, rays of brilliant, serpentine lightning exploded outward. This was not the focused bolt of the Second Style. This was a storm given form. The lightning coiled and materialized into five roaring dragons of pure energy that crossed the distance in the space between heartbeats.

Su Mei was blinded by the flash, feeling only a powerful shockwave that threw her to the ground. When the blinding light faded and she looked up, her breath caught in her throat. The five core disciples who had surrounded her were now scattered on the ground like broken dolls. Their blue robes were ash, their bodies charred black, emitting a sickening smell of burnt flesh. They were dead, killed in a single, cataclysmic moment.

From the ground, Zhou Zhiyuan stared, his face a mask of pure terror. His mouth worked soundlessly before a strangled whisper escaped. “Was that the legendary 3rd style of the Three Thunder Styles?!!”

The words hung in the air. Su Mei covered her mouth, her eyes wide with incomprehensible shock. The Third Thunder Style—a technique lost to time, known only to the founder of the Azure Dragon School. And Chu Feng had just used it. The Dragon and Tiger brothers, Ye Taozi, Zhang Tingzi, and the injured Bai Tong could only stare, their understanding of Chu Feng’s talent and power being rewritten yet again, this time on a scale that bordered on myth.

Chu Feng himself showed no pride, only a cold resolution. He turned and walked slowly toward the crippled Zhou Zhiyuan. “You…You dared to kill core disciples! You..You’re dead!” Zhou Zhiyuan spat, knowing mercy was impossible.

Chu Feng responded with action, not words. He raised a palm. Bzzzt! A bolt of lightning seared into Zhou Zhiyuan’s left leg, charring it instantly. A scream ripped from the man’s throat. Another bolt took his right leg. Then his arms. Chu Feng was methodical, merciless. He was not granting a quick death; he was delivering punishment. When Zhou Zhiyuan, a broken, weeping wreck, finally cursed him, Chu Feng let out a loud, humorless laugh that chilled the blood of everyone present.

“Remember. The weak do not even have the right to die!” A final, precise bolt of lightning shot into Zhou Zhiyuan’s mouth, silencing his tongue and his screams forever as he fell into unconsciousness.

The brutality was sobering. It was a stark lesson in the consequences of making an enemy of Chu Feng. After a moment of heavy silence, Chu Feng turned to them, his face shifting back to its usual calm, even offering a brilliant, sun-like smile that was jarring after the violence. “The Spiritual Beads on their bodies are still there,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “There should be roughly 1200 beads. Everyone go and split them.”

They did, finding exactly 1380 beads, just as he had estimated. They insisted Chu Feng take the largest share, 680, in gratitude. He accepted 600, then took 80 and firmly pressed them into Su Mei’s hand. “These are for the things that I’ve owed you. It’s called knowing favours and returning them.”

Su Mei was initially displeased at the transactional gesture, but under his unwavering gaze, she reluctantly accepted, a complex emotion in her eyes. The group, laden with an immense haul of spiritual resources, began to make their way back, the atmosphere a mix of exhilaration and lingering shock.

Chu Feng lingered at the rear. As the others passed through the stone door back into the tunnel, he paused on the cliffside ledge, looking once more into the mist-shrouded abyss below. The Imperial Sky Technique was down there. The thought was a fire in his mind.

As Su Mei turned, she saw him still standing there. “Chu Feng, what are you doing?” A terrible understanding dawned on her. She rushed back, but she was too late.

With a calm, determined expression, Chu Feng gave her a light smile. “Wait for me at the Ancient City, I will return and search for you.”

Bang! He shoved the massive stone door shut with finality. The heavy thud echoed through the rock. From the other side, Su Mei could only pound on the unyielding stone, her calls unanswered. Chu Feng was alone, sealed in the tomb of the Imperial Sky Sage, with only the mist, the unknown horrors below, and a legendary technique as his companions. His solo descent into the abyss had begun.