Chapter 829: This Is a Painful Matter

"Why is this happening? For nearly a hundred years, I have practiced day and night, yet I still cannot slay such a malignant tumor. What use is all this cultivation?"

Zhao Wuji looked up to the heavens and let out a long roar, filled with grief and indignation. The sticky substance on his body completely covered his celestial pride, giving him an indescribable sense of sorrow.

"He escaped again. Every time we make thorough preparations, that demon always gets away. My god, my heart aches."

"To make the Demon King pay, I wasted my prime years. Now I am a hundred years old, yet I have never had a partner. Now I am defiled by this vile thing, staining my pure, snow-lotus-like body. How am I to go on?"

"I don't want to live anymore."

"Who will dare come near me in the future?"

Pfft! Pfft!

In an instant, countless prodigies spat blood, their minds trembling, their cultivation foundations crumbling, as if they were about to dissolve at any moment, falling into reincarnation, never to rise again.

Having reached such a realm, each prodigy had a heart as firm as rock, indestructible. Yet now, because of Wang Xiaoming's sabotage, these prodigies were in turmoil, their qi and blood surging, their realms unstable.

For such powerful beings, this situation should have been absolutely impossible.

Every prodigy, though seemingly blessed by heaven, had faced countless dangers in life, even surviving near-death experiences, honing their minds to an indestructible state.

But now, being sabotaged by Wang Xiaoming to such an extent was due to the hatred accumulated over decades, even a century.

To harbor such resentment toward a person, yet for decades not only fail to slay him but also suffer setbacks each time—what a tragedy for these prodigies.

Especially this time, this so-called ultimate excrement had shattered the last line of defense in their hearts.

"Demon King, Wang Xiaoming, I hate you!"

"What use is this cultivation? If I cannot slay Wang Xiaoming, what face do I have?"

"This time, I will likely become the laughingstock of the entire Xuanhuang Realm. I would rather die than be mocked."

"Death and dissolution of the Dao—no regrets!"

"Fellow disciples, I will go first. I have had enough of these thirty years of failure."

"Junior brother, go ahead. We will follow closely."

…

Lin Fan watched this scene, completely dumbfounded. Was it really necessary to go this far? Just a few failures—did they have to be so devastated?

If they all committed suicide, wouldn't all their efforts be in vain?

"Ah, it seems it's still because of me. Wang Xiaoming is connected to me, and with luck on his side, even if these prodigies are children of destiny, they can't overcome him."

Originally, Lin Fan thought that with so many prodigies united, even with his luck boost, Wang Xiaoming would be beaten badly. But unexpectedly, each time, besides escaping, he also inflicted psychological wounds on these prodigies.

And these wounds were extraordinary, directly fatal.

At this moment, Lin Fan felt it was time to show himself. If he didn't, these prodigies might really be finished.

Just as the prodigies, in utter despair, were about to raise their blades and strike themselves, a voice rang out.

"Ahem!"

This voice resounded through heaven and earth like a great bell, shaking the minds of the prodigies. The gray clouds in their hearts suddenly dissipated, and a ray of light broke through the endless abyss, illuminating their hearts.

"You are all prodigies of the Sacred Sect, with unmatched minds. How can a small setback drive you to thoughts of death?"

Lin Fan slowly emerged from the void, a radiant light behind him, an aura of vastness enveloping heaven and earth, making everyone feel like prostrating.

"Who are you?"

The prodigies looked up, staring at Lin Fan with suspicion, not knowing who he was.

Just as Lin Fan was about to make up an identity, suddenly, among the prodigies, someone prostrated on the ground.

"This is Patriarch Lin."

Lin Fan was startled, not expecting that a disciple would recognize him, but thinking of the statue in the Holy Sect, he was relieved.

That sacrificial celestial statue was identical to him; with just a few glances, one could basically remember it, let alone these prodigies who had seen it for decades.

And the other prodigy disciples were all shocked.

"What? Didn't Patriarch Lin ascend to the upper realm? How is he in the Xuanhuang Realm?"

"It can't be wrong, this is Patriarch Lin."

"This aura, this appearance, this presence—absolutely, no mistake."

Swish!

Then, a vast sound rang out, and all the prodigies knelt in worship.

"Greetings, Patriarch Lin."

They were very familiar with Lin Fan; after entering the Holy Sect, whether busy or idle, they could hear stories told by the older generation.

And once, all the disciples of the Holy Sect had grown robust under Lin Fan's guidance; among the nine peaks, the Danding Peak was especially tormented by Lin Fan's training.

Some of these prodigy disciples needed elixirs for cultivation, so they naturally had to go to Danding Peak to seek them, thus hearing more.

But they knew that a hundred years ago, Patriarch Lin had broken through the barrier and ascended to the Ancient Saint Realm.

Thus, he firmly held the position of the number one person in the Xuanhuang Realm.

"All rise."

Since he had been exposed, Lin Fan naturally changed his demeanor, exuding an air of seniority.

"Tell me, why are you all like this? Just a small setback, and you're so desperate? How can you pursue the higher eternal path in the future?"

Lin Fan said.

"Wuwu... Please, Patriarch, do us justice! That demon king Wang Xiaoming is truly detestable. He has oppressed us for a hundred years. We thought that with our martial arts achievements, we could wipe out the shame, but we never expected to fail every time. Now we've even been stained with this thing that makes us lose face."

"With this stench, who will dare to approach us in the future? What hope do we have left to contend with that demon king?"

...

Seeing these prodigy disciples looking so miserable, Lin Fan felt distressed.

It was also his fault for setting the difficulty too high.

For these favored sons of heaven, Wang Xiaoming was a hellish difficulty.

Although they were constantly being hunted, in the process, without any effort, these prodigies were nearly wiped out—how tragic.

"Please, Patriarch, take action and suppress this demon king, restoring a clear and bright world to the Xuanhuang Realm."

At this moment, many prodigy disciples pleaded. For them, Wang Xiaoming was truly unbeatable, and they were almost driven mad by him.

If Patriarch Lin took action, it would naturally be extremely simple.

"I already know of this demon king. Suppressing him would be as easy as turning my hand. But precisely for that reason, I, as your patriarch, cannot act. He is an obstacle on your martial path. Only by slaying him with your own hands can you prove the eternal path, soar to the skies, and become unstoppable."

Lin Fan said.

"But we have fought him for a hundred years and never gained an advantage. What certainty do we have in the future?"

The crowd felt bitter, gradually growing helpless toward Wang Xiaoming.

Lin Fan looked at these prodigy disciples, each one utterly dejected. For a moment, he too felt disheartened. If this continued, how could things go on?

He had nurtured the Xuanhuang Realm, hoping to cultivate top-tier experts, so that when they confronted the will of the Ancient Saint Realm, they would have a greater chance.

Success was nearly within reach, but now they had all lost their fighting spirit—this was not good.