The Effect Remains After Unequipping - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Blade Shattered! Seals Broken! Ripped Apart!
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Translation by: Weebsread👹
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Shared Heart, Traded Fate—a forbidden Demon Blood Art, so rare that even among the Fox Demons of the Malevolent Heart bloodline, it was whispered of only in legend.
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Only those Fox Demons with the purest lineage and the most extraordinary fortune could ever awaken this art. Upon breakthrough, it allowed them to grow an extra heart—not an organ that could cheat death on its own, but one that, if exchanged with the heart of a thoroughly enthralled victim—a puppet forged by the Malevolent Heart’s bewitchments—would become linked. From that moment, any wound or death meant for the demon would be borne by the surrogate instead. The Fox Demon would walk away unscathed.
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But there was more. When Shared Heart, Traded Fate was woven together with the Malevolent Heart technique, the enthralled victim could be remade into a puppet—one who retained every shred of their original strength, yet would obey any command without hesitation.
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Now, Hu Xin, standing at the pinnacle of the Third Rank, possessed not just one or two, but three extra hearts—three such puppets, each the equal of a Third Rank master at the height of their cultivation.
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This meant that Mu Yang’s strike just now had not merely cost her a life; it had destroyed one of her most dependable Third Rank puppets. A permanent loss—one quarter of her total strength, gone.
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No wonder Hu Xin’s eyes blazed with murderous fury, her heart consumed by the urge to devour Mu Yang alive, grind his bones, and scatter his ashes.
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“So she even had a way to cheat death?”
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Mu Yang glanced at the unfamiliar man’s head now resting on the table, muttering to himself.
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Demon Beasts—always scheming, always hiding some secret card.
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But how many of my strikes, he wondered, could this Demon Blood Art withstand?
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“Hu Wanshan! Kill him for me!!”
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Lost in thought, Mu Yang was jolted by Hu Xin’s shriek, her voice teetering on the edge of madness.
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At her command, Hu Wanshan—who had sat, motionless and waxen, in the seat of honor—suddenly stirred.
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His eyes, nearly lost in the folds of his fat, glimmered with a blood-red light. His mountainous body surged upright, sending tremors through his ornate silk robes.
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“Kill! Kill! Kill!!!”
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It was a guttural growl, more beast than man.
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To Mu Yang’s astonishment, the grotesquely obese Hu Wanshan exploded into motion with terrifying speed. He barreled forward like a battering ram, his arm—thicker than Mu Yang’s thigh—swinging down with hurricane force, palm spread wide to crush Mu Yang’s skull.
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Mu Yang’s eyes narrowed. He slashed diagonally with the Yu Ling Broadblade.
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Thwack!
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The blade struck Hu Wanshan’s arm squarely. But the expected result—an arm cleaved and sent flying—never came.
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Instead, the layers of fat absorbed the force, denting inward a full three inches, as if Mu Yang’s blade had struck the world’s finest rubber, bleeding away most of its power.
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A Superior Martial Art—the legendary Swine-Elephant Body!
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The Hu Family’s most prized inheritance, taught only to the head of the family and their chosen successor. Practitioners had to gorge themselves daily, consuming monstrous amounts of meat, transforming it into layers of fat stored throughout their bodies.
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At first, it was just ordinary blubber—heavy and clumsy. But, refined over time with Qi and Blood, it became denser and tougher, until it formed an astonishingly resilient, springy armor.
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They called it: Swine Hide.
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“Now that’s something,” Mu Yang thought, his eyes shining with a hint of admiration. He didn’t know the name of Hu Wanshan’s art, but he couldn’t help but respect the bizarre effectiveness of that mountain of fat.
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Even the Yu Ling Broadblade, a Third Rank treasure, couldn’t cut through it.
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“Kill!!!”
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Hu Wanshan roared again, swinging his other massive arm in a savage arc.
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At the same moment, Hu Xin joined the fray. Her delicate red lips stretched into a grotesque smile, and suddenly, a piercing, brain-rending shriek erupted from her mouth.
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SCREEEEEE—!
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The sound stabbed into Mu Yang’s ears like a barrage of steel needles.
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He frowned, shifting his stance to evade Hu Wanshan’s blow, channeling his Qi and Blood into the meridians around his ears. It wasn’t a true martial technique—just an improvised defense, mimicking the Keen Sense of Smell Attribute to shield his hearing for a moment.
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In that instant, a shadow darted from the courtyard wall like a thrown dagger, hurtling straight at Mu Yang.
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A gaunt, middle-aged man, his hands glinting with a dark metallic sheen.
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His fingers curled like eagle talons, nails gleaming as he lunged for Mu Yang’s Yu Ling Broadblade.
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This was Hu Xin’s last remaining puppet—Zhao Kui, a master at the Blood and Marrow Stage, Perfection of the Third Rank.
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He had trained in both the Body-Refinement art “Iron Body” and the finger technique “Eagle Claw”—two Superior Martial Arts. With both at Perfection, his iron talons could shatter stone, tear through steel, and rip apart ordinary Third Rank weapons like paper.
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If Hu Wanshan was Hu Xin’s sturdiest shield, Zhao Kui was her sharpest spear.
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CLANG!
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Steel rang like thunder through the courtyard.
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Mu Yang, wielding his blade one-handed, blocked Zhao Kui’s talons.
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CRACK!
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To Mu Yang’s shock, the Yu Ling Broadblade—his trusted weapon for slaying Third Rank demon beasts—splintered, a crack running down its length.
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Zhao Kui’s hand bore only a deep white mark.
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With a savage twist, Zhao Kui widened the fissure. Several sharp snaps later, the blade’s tip broke off, shattering across the floor.
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“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
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Hu Xin’s laughter rang out—frenzied, exultant.
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“Mu Yang, you destroyed my heart, so I’ve shattered your blade! Now you’re unarmed—let’s see what you can do with your bare hands!”
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“Zhao Kui, tear his limbs off—NOW!”
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Zhao Kui’s crimson eyes blazed. His razor claws—emboldened by the destruction of Mu Yang’s blade—swept down in a storm, aiming to rend Mu Yang’s arms and legs.
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But Mu Yang merely raised his hand.
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CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG—!
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It sounded like a blacksmith hammering steel. Zhao Kui’s attacks—strong enough to rend iron—landed on Mu Yang’s palms to absolutely no effect.
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Not even a scratch, let alone torn flesh.
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Hu Xin: ???
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Zhao Kui, now a puppet, wore no expression. But Hu Xin, the puppeteer, cycled through a whole spectrum—rage, manic glee, and now utter, stupefied confusion.
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She changed faces faster than an opera performer.
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“I am weaponless, it’s true…”
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Mu Yang ignored Hu Xin’s disbelief. He seized Zhao Kui’s wrists, locking them in an iron grip.
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“But so what?”
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A cold grin flickered across his lips. Over sixty thousand jin of brute force surged from his arms into Zhao Kui’s.
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The Yu Ling Broadblade had served him well, but it had never been able to bear his full strength.
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After all, he was simply too powerful.
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CRUNCH—!!
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Before Hu Xin’s bulging eyes, Zhao Kui’s talon hands—capable of shredding Third Rank weapons—snapped like brittle twigs, pulverized into bloody pulp.
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No tricks. No flowery techniques. Just pure, overwhelming strength.
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Mu Yang’s face lit up with savage delight. He spread his arms wider, pouring even more power into Zhao Kui’s.
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Like a dragon or an elephant, his titanic strength stretched Zhao Kui’s arms taut.
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RIIIP—!!
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The “Iron Body” Zhao Kui had painstakingly forged was as fragile as paper. His body tore apart, guts bursting, flesh and blood splattering everywhere.
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A jet of blood sprayed across Hu Xin’s face.
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The warmth should have comforted her, but instead it made her skin crawl, her hair stand on end, cold sweat breaking out along her spine.
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A wild, impossible thought flashed through her mind:
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Just what is this monster before me—man or demon?