Cultivation of immortality begins with an eighty-year-old eunuch.

Chapter 702 Getting Out? A One-Armed Cultivator! Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul Stage!

The culvert that comes into view is an ancient waterway that has been dry for countless years. The stone walls on both sides are covered with star patterns similar to those on the banks of the riverbed, only more dilapidated.

The bottom of the canal was covered with a thick layer of dark golden sand, which was soft and made a soft rustling sound when stepped on.

The spatial rifts in the underground channel were far fewer than those in the outside world, but a faint, putrid stench permeated the air.

Chen Fan walked north along the underground canal for about half an hour, following the markings on Yuan Lingzi's map to bypass the remnants of the teleportation array in the center of the ruins, and then passed through a group of stone palaces that had mostly collapsed. The journey was quite smooth.

However, just as he was about to reach the second dangerous spot marked on the map, the culvert in front of him suddenly widened, forming an underground cavern several tens of feet in diameter.

Upon closer inspection, several broken stone pillars were piled up in the center of the cavity, and the pillars were densely engraved with some kind of ancient sealing runes.

These runes are similar in style to the star charts and patterns on the stone pillars on both sides of the riverbed, but are more obscure. Each stroke looks as if it were carved with a knife and axe, penetrating deep into the stone, and the strokes faintly reveal a sense of solemnity.

Just as Chen Fan was about to bypass the cave and continue forward, a dark figure suddenly emerged from behind a stone pillar.

He was a middle-aged monk whose body was as thin as a skeleton.

His body was covered with dense spatial rifts and wounds. His left arm was severed at the elbow, and faint spatial power still remained at the wound, indicating that it was an old injury sustained when he passed through the spatial rift.

He wore a tattered robe whose original color was no longer discernible, his hair was disheveled like withered grass, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light, a kind of mad gleam forged after countless years of struggling to survive in dire straits.

An aura of a Nascent Soul Grand Perfection cultivator quietly emanated from him!

Chen Fan's pupils contracted slightly.

He remembers this person!

When the Golden Bowl absorbed the innate water source, he scanned the ruins with his divine sense and saw this one-armed cultivator straighten up from under the collapsed stone pillar!

At the time, this person was quite far from the riverbed, but unexpectedly, he found his way here so quickly.

The one-armed cultivator stared at Chen Fan, licked his chapped lips, and his face was full of excitement, as well as a kind of madness that had been completely twisted by long loneliness.

His gaze swept over Chen Fan from head to toe and back again, as if he were looking at a piece of fat meat that had fallen from the sky.

"A newcomer?" His voice was hoarse and dry, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other. "Another newcomer? Hahaha, how many years, how many years since I've seen a new face!"

His laughter echoed in the void, shrill and mournful, then abruptly stopped. He tilted his head and stared at Chen Fan, "Where did you come from? How did you get in? Didn't the spatial rift tear you apart? How did you get through that turbulent area?"

Chen Fan did not answer; his hand was already on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

Seeing that he didn't speak, the one-armed monk's smile became even more sinister.

He slowly walked towards Chen Fan, saying to himself as he went, "No matter how you got in, now that you're here, don't even think about leaving. I've been trapped in this godforsaken place for who knows how many years, eating everything edible, even gnawing half of my own left arm. Later, when I was starving, I started eating people. Every few hundred years, new people are swept into this place, and I've eaten at least eight or ten Nascent Soul cultivators. You look delicate and tender, and although your cultivation is a bit weak, you're still a Nascent Soul cultivator, so you should taste better than those rotten flesh."

When he spoke of "cannibalism," the one-armed monk spoke as calmly as if he were talking about having a meal that day, while the madness in his eyes grew stronger.

The overwhelming pressure of his perfected Nascent Soul stage was released without reservation, making the air in the void as heavy and solid as iron.

Without the slightest hesitation, Chen Fan, with a cold expression, raised his hand and drew Eleven.

The gray-white sword light on the blade shone in the hollow, and the three realms of cause and effect, life and death, and stillness flowed and merged.

Without wasting words, a flash of spiritual light appeared beneath his feet, and he charged towards the one-armed cultivator like a streak of gray-blue lightning.

With a flick of his wrist, Eleven drew a gray-white arc in front of him, the tip of his sword aimed straight for his opponent's throat.

The one-armed monk grinned, a hint of amusement in his smile.

He didn't make any move, but simply raised his only remaining right hand, spread his five fingers slightly, and a jet-black demonic energy gushed out from his palm, condensing into an incredibly thick demonic shield in front of him.

The surface of the magic shield was covered with twisted magic patterns. These patterns were not static, but were constantly writhing and changing, like a layer of living black flesh.

The eleventh sword struck the magic shield, producing a piercing metallic clang. Chen Fan felt a surge of violent demonic energy flow into his body through the sword. This demonic energy was unlike any he had ever seen in the Boundless Sea; it was more ancient, more refined, and more domineering.

The three gates of intent only left a shallow white mark on the magic shield before they could no longer penetrate it, while the force of the backlash had already reached them.

He immediately withdrew his sword and returned to defense. Eleven drew an arc in front of him, using his sword intent to neutralize most of the recoil. He then quickly retreated several feet before regaining his footing.

A hint of surprise flashed in the one-armed cultivator's eyes: "Intent? Three gates? You're quite talented. Of all the Nascent Soul cultivators I've devoured, you're the first to comprehend three gates of intent. Not bad, not bad at all. The more talented you are, the more satisfying you are to devour!"

Before he finished speaking, he had already launched an attack.

With his remaining right hand, he flicked his five fingers repeatedly, and more than a dozen streams of dark demonic energy transformed into sharp claws that swept towards Chen Fan.

Each claw contained terrifying demonic power at the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage. Wherever it passed, the air was torn apart with a piercing shriek, and the ancient sealing runes on the stone pillars trembled slightly under the impact of this demonic power.

Upon seeing this, Chen Fan immediately used the Fixed Word Technique to lock onto the trajectories of the dozen or so sharp claws in his mind!

At the same time, he thrust eleven times in succession, each strike precisely hitting the weakest point of the claws.

The three gates of intent were also operating at full power. The power of cause and effect disintegrated the demonic energy structure of the claws, the power of life and death extracted the life force from the claws, and the power of stillness slightly deflected the trajectory of the claws.

With more than a dozen clanging sounds of metal striking metal almost simultaneously, the dozen or so sharp claws were shattered one by one, turning into countless black fragments of light that scattered across the sky.

But just as Chen Fan shattered the last claw, the one-armed cultivator appeared beside him like a ghost.

His remaining right hand had somehow materialized into a jet-black demonic blade, its blade burning with eerie green demonic flames, which slashed fiercely down at his left shoulder.

This strike was devoid of any fancy techniques, possessing only pure, extreme speed and power. The cultivation gap between the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage and the mid-stage of the Nascent Soul stage was magnified to its extreme in this strike.

Chen Fan parried with his sword, and the moment Eleven collided with the demonic blade, he felt an overwhelming force emanating from the sword.

The strength of this force far surpasses that of any opponent he has faced on Tiannanxing!

As expected, Chen Fan's old wound on his left shoulder reopened on the spot, and blood gushed out. He was sent flying backward by the blow and crashed hard into a broken stone pillar.

The ancient sealing runes on the stone pillars lit up for a moment under the impact, then dimmed again.

He felt a sweet taste in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood.