Rebirth of the Peak Young Master
Chapter 269: The Altar

Chapter 269: Chapter 269: The Altar

The Enchanting Demon frowned deeply upon hearing Yang Tian’s words and glancing at the shrine before them. She earnestly tried to dissuade him: "Master, since they’ve gathered here, could it be part of a well-laid trap? If that’s the case, showing up here would play right into their hands. I think it’s better for us to retreat for now..."

"No need! In this time, in this place, where can I not tread?"

Yang Tian waved dismissively, his face etched with proud aloofness.

With the strength he now possessed, his confidence was warranted!

This was the clarity and spirit that only the strong could possess!

If one stood above any other, then there was nothing to fear from anyone!

This unwavering confidence, this sheer resolve, instantly struck a chord with the Enchanting Demon beside him, leaving her without any further words to persuade him.

Yet, after waiting a moment longer and seeing no sign of Yang Tian making a move to enter the Jinggou Shrine, the Enchanting Demon couldn’t help but ask curiously, "Master, what are you waiting for?"

"Naturally, I’m waiting for them to be fully prepared! Otherwise, wouldn’t it be too dull?" Yang Tian replied, a faint smile playing on his lips.

...

Inside the Jinggou Shrine.

Unaware that Yang Tian had already arrived at the entrance, the Japanese cultivators inside were all wearing feverish expressions, some verging on breaking into cheers.

For at that moment, Miyamoto Sword Saint was taking his blade, Gui Wan, and slicing directly into his left chest. Blood splattered everywhere in an instant!

Miyamoto Sword Saint was performing seppuku... No, wait—wasn’t he committing suicide by cutting his chest open?

Of course not!

Even as his chest wound ought to have been fatal, Miyamoto Sword Saint’s expression remained unchanged.

Instead, he reached into the wound and pulled out his still-pounding heart, only to place it reverently on the shrine’s altar.

In that instant, a brilliant light flashed across the altar, and the faint figure of someone holding a long blade appeared there. The heart, meanwhile, merged into the figure in a single moment.

At that very moment, the once-intangible figure seemed to gain a new vitality, gradually becoming more solid and lifelike.

Moments later, as they beheld this bizarre scene, the Japanese cultivators collectively drew in sharp breaths, their gazes fixed on the figure’s face.

"That... that’s Lord Miyamoto Musashi!"

A Samurai Way disciple suddenly cried out in shock.

Miyamoto Musashi?

The first, and supposedly the strongest, sword saint in the history of Japan?

Miyamoto Sword Saint burst into wild laughter. "That’s right! None other than the ancestral founder of our Miyamoto Family, the greatest Sword Saint, Miyamoto Musashi!"

"Although Ancestor Musashi is now a departed soul with no consciousness, I can still control his movements in battle after offering my heart as a blood sacrifice!"

Upon hearing Miyamoto Sword Saint’s words, the Japanese cultivators were overcome with excitement, shouting and yelling, "Long live our glorious Japan!" as they plunged their weapons into their own chests.

One by one, the famous souls of historically renowned Japanese warriors began to appear in succession.

The strongest ninja, Hanzo; the Sixth Heaven Demon King, Oda Nobunaga; the Great Yin Yang Master, Makura Yoh...

Rough calculations put the total number of demigod-level souls summoned to this place at a staggering 1,300!

As he stared at these powerful spirits, each exuding demigod auras, Miyamoto Sword Saint’s expression turned increasingly cold as he said, "With this many demigod-level warriors, what chance does Yang Tian have? His doom is inevitable!"

"Oh? So many demigod-level warriors... What a gift you’ve prepared!"

Just then, a mocking voice resonated from the shrine’s entrance, interrupting the summoning as Miyamoto Sword Saint and his peers managed to complete the calling of all 1,300 demigod-level spirits.

Yang Tian, who had been waiting at the doorway, finally stepped through with a broad smile on his face.

He couldn’t suppress the laughter, couldn’t resist even mentally applauding Miyamoto Sword Saint.

While Yang Tian had absorbed all of Orochi’s energy atop Mount Fuji,

Orochi was, at its core, still a Demon Beast. Even after it had seized Uekizawa Shou’s body and taken human form, its internal demon essence remained unchanged.

The energy Yang Tian had devoured from Orochi was vast, yet not quite enough to push him to the next tier.

And now, what was in front of him? The souls of demigod-level warriors!

To put it bluntly, these were spiritual bodies with the strength of demigods!

To Yang Tian, who possessed the Devouring Spirit Technique, this was nothing short of a grand feast, both in quality and quantity—an opulent banquet of the highest order!

If not for this, why would Yang Tian have patiently waited outside for Miyamoto Sword Saint and his people to finish summoning these souls?

Seeing Yang Tian walk into the Jinggou Shrine so nonchalantly sent shockwaves through Miyamoto Sword Saint and his companions!

"It’s you! Mr. Yang, what brings you to our Jinggou Shrine?" Miyamoto Sword Saint gritted his teeth as he growled through clenched jaws.

"Why else..."

Yang Tian, his words trailing off, swept his icy gaze across every Japanese cultivator present and then said indifferently, "...but to exterminate you all!"

"How dare you!"

"That’s insolent!"

Despite the fear and reverence they felt for Yang Tian, the Japanese cultivators erupted into rage upon hearing his words.

Present here were nearly eighty percent of Japan’s cultivation elite, along with 1,300 demigod-level warrior souls.

And yet, Yang Tian had the gall to declare he would annihilate them all?

Was he intending to challenge Japan’s entire cultivation world single-handedly?

Clap. Clap. Clap!

While the Japanese cultivators were stunned by Yang Tian’s blatant challenge,

Miyamoto Sword Saint began clapping slowly, one hand meeting the other with sharp intent.

"Mr. Yang, truly worthy of your reputation!"

Miyamoto Sword Saint sneered coldly, "You think you can wipe us out? It seems that the battle on Mount Fuji made you underestimate the strength of Japan’s cultivation world!"

"To be precise," Yang Tian replied with a smirk, "you’ve never been worth my attention."

"Annihilating you is merely a trivial task for me."

"Arrogance!"

Miyamoto Sword Saint’s gaze turned icy, no longer bothering to hide his murderous intent as he snarled in a sinister tone, "Even in the face of so many demigods, you can remain this calm?"

"No matter. We were planning to find you anyway, and now that you’ve come to us, you’ve saved us a great deal of trouble! Today, you will not leave this Jinggou Shrine alive!"

With that, Miyamoto Sword Saint stepped back, his face contorted with fervor as he roared toward the spectral figure of Miyamoto Musashi, "Please, Ancestor, strike him down and suppress this man!"

"Please, Ancestor, strike him down and suppress this man!"

As Miyamoto Sword Saint’s shout rang out, every Japanese cultivator present mirrored his fervent expression, shouting out in unison.

Whoosh!

In response to their calls, the previously lifeless demigod-level spirits suddenly lit up with piercing gray light in their eyes. Their auras flared violently, as though they’d been brought back to life, releasing waves of blistering energy.

The surge of power shook the Jinggou Shrine to its very foundations, forcing even Yang Tian to feel the weight of their oppression.

"Mr. Yang, can you still say with such confidence that you’ll annihilate us now?"

Miyamoto Sword Saint sneered, his gaze filled with venom as he looked upon the charged spirits of the demigod warriors surrounding Yang Tian.

He had not forgotten the humiliating words Yang Tian had spoken on Mount Fuji after killing Makura Daisuke.

"Are you even qualified to pass judgment on me?"

Those words, spoken in the presence of cultivators from around the world, were an unbearable affront. Yang Tian had stepped on his pride, publicly crushing him underfoot. How could he possibly endure this?

At the time, rushing forward would have been tantamount to suicide. But now, with 1,300 demigods backing him, Miyamoto Sword Saint was more than ready to unleash his long-repressed hatred.