Chapter 11668 — Wei Zhao's Eyelid Twitched Slightly
By now, every inch of ground within a hundred meters of him was carpeted with a strange field of force.
Under the suppression of that field, no power of the rules could be mustered—and what that meant for a master of the Venerable Realm needed no spelling out.
Nor was that all: a bolt of lightning, there and yet not there, rode the field's cover, poised at any moment to spear into his body.
Wei Zhao's keen intuition told him that if it struck home, his bodily functions would collapse in an instant—even with the formidable defense of an intermediate divine body, sudden death was far from impossible.
Wei Zhao glanced at the master of this field.
A hideous-faced old man with black hair, gripping a half-sized thunder hammer.
At the same time, another old man—bare-chested and monstrously built—charged straight into the field, heedless of everything, and hurled himself at Wei Zhao.
Wei Zhao's eyes flickered.
At a glance, the man was all openings, every part of him a fatal weakness.
It was no exaggeration to say that even an ordinary man could punch him in that stance and land a ten-thousand-fold critical blow.
But if anyone actually tried it, that attacker would likely die on the spot, more miserably than anyone.
Every apparent opening on the other was in truth an opening of one's own.
Not one of these old monsters was to be trifled with.
These two were only peak Venerables of the early Heaven Tier. The strongest of the three who had struck—a mid-Heaven Tier Venerable—had not come straight at Wei Zhao at all.
"What is he doing?"
The same doubt arose in many hearts.
That white-haired old man in ragged clothes, like an old beggar, had actually rushed over, picked up the Son of Heaven's Jade Seal, and then, with the face of a madman, carried it to Wei Zhao as though presenting a treasure.
Through the whole of it, he ignored the invisible field around him entirely.
Staring at the Son of Heaven's Jade Seal, close enough to touch, Wei Zhao abruptly realized he was nailed fast to the Son of Heaven's throne—utterly unable to do anything.
Only now did he see clearly that the other's tattered garment was in fact a dragon robe!
Judging by its aura, it was no robe stolen from another—it had always been his own.
This mad old man was, then, an emperor—a Son of Heaven himself!
"A false emperor offering up the seal?"
Old Qin spoke the truth in one line, and at once began mourning for Wei Zhao: "Meeting someone like this, Wei Zhao is thoroughly finished today."
Beside him, Qin Siren caught on, and was shaken out of his wits: "With the gift of this Son of Heaven's Jade Seal, it's as though the entire Inner Royal Court has been pressed down upon Wei Zhao's head. He has just slain a Son of Heaven, so Wei Zhao was already to be spurned by the heavenly dao; and now, with this, whatever he does next will be checked at every turn, targeted at every turn."
Bai Shizu was struck dumb.
What those words meant was that, henceforth, to say nothing of standing against three old monsters, Wei Zhao might choke or strangle to death on the spot merely eating a meal or drinking water.
When fortune comes, heaven and earth lend their strength; when fortune departs, even a hero is not free.
Which meant Wei Zhao was now to be targeted by the entire world!
The legendary depths of ill luck could not compare to a fraction of Wei Zhao's ill luck in this moment.
If one could truly grasp Wei Zhao's predicament at this moment, then even the one who most overrated him would likely not harbor the slightest hope.
To run into three such old monsters—one could only say that Wei Zhao was fated to meet this calamity.
His odds were truly grim.
On the field.
With three old monsters attacking together, Wei Zhao still sat upon the Son of Heaven's throne without stirring in the least.
To be precise, he simply could not move at all.
Yet the next second, Wei Zhao suddenly tilted his head, and all three old monsters' killing blows fell wide!
Everyone froze at once.
There could still be a reversal?
The three old monsters were taken aback as well.
By any reasoning, in Wei Zhao's state whatever he did was bound to run straight into their guns, bound only for a faster death—how could he possibly evade?
But they soon spotted the clue.
Hidden upon Wei Zhao's person was a vast sea of personal fortune—and it was now draining away like mad.
In just that instant, the fortune he lost exceeded tens of millions!
Put plainly, Wei Zhao was burning through fortune at a frantic rate to forcibly shore up his own personal luck!
Whether counting the accumulation from his days at the Institute of Rule Design or his recent devouring of the entire Night Central Palace, if the question was who held the most personal fortune, Wei Zhao could claim second—and none in the Inner Royal Court could claim first.
It was no exaggeration to say Wei Zhao was now the richest man in fortune in the Inner Royal Court!
Truly wealthy enough to rival a nation.
To use this dumping of fortune, pitting personal fortune against the great tide of the entire Inner Royal Court's fortune—such a thing, in anyone else, would be sheer fantasy; but for Wei Zhao at this moment, it was not impossible.
Still, it was no long-term plan.
Burning tens of millions of fortune every second—even for the present Wei Zhao, such madness could never be sustained for long.
Once his personal fortune was spent, he would only die more miserably.
Many grasped this and promptly wore looks of gloating delight.
They dared not take the field themselves; at their level, they had not even the courage to speak loudly before Wei Zhao. But so long as they could watch Wei Zhao come to grief, they could be thrilled beyond the heavens.
Such is human nature.
"What is the point of dragging it out this little while longer?" the mad old man mocked after his attack fell wide once more.
Wei Zhao answered with great solemnity: "There is a point. More and more will grow restless and be unable to hold themselves back."
Hardly had the words fallen than four more mighty auras of old monsters joined the fray.
The whole hall erupted in uproar.
It had been three against one, and they had already pronounced Wei Zhao's death sentence; now it was seven against one outright. If Wei Zhao could still survive this, the entire Inner Royal Court might as well blow itself up on the spot.
But for the three old monsters who had struck first, this was plainly no good news.
Wei Zhao had been a gift package meant for three to split; now all at once it was for seven. Even if they prevailed in the end, the reward in their hands would be drastically reduced.
The crux was that if Wei Zhao were allowed to keep stalling, ever more old monsters were bound to join in.
By then, the variables would be enormous.
The seven old monsters at once reached a tacit understanding, and a formation for the kill took shape in an instant!
Yet at this moment, the corner of Wei Zhao's mouth curled up instead: "That's about enough."
A mass of incomparably dense purple qi abruptly welled from his palm, and any power of the rules that touched it—strong or weak—dissolved and melted away in an instant.
The killing formation wrought by the seven old monsters was, incredibly, pierced through with ease.
Watching this strange yet familiar sight, a horrifying thought abruptly burst into the minds of everyone in the Inner Royal Court.
Anti-rule power!
"How is that possible? How could he have anti-rule power? Is he one of the Heavenly Gate?"
Some of the elders recalled, after so long, the terror of being ruled by anti-rule power in those years.
At the same time, somewhere deep in the mountains, Xia Qiyuan watched this scene from afar and was likewise dumbstruck.
As the closed-door disciple of Xia Chao, he knew full well that he alone was the sole heir of anti-rule power.
Wei Zhao's eyelid twitched slightly.