I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

Sheathing his weapon, Ye Yong produced the Star-Moon Ring Flute. Such an opportunity was rare; he yearned to experiment with various offensive techniques, such as using melody to command the foe.

Opening the system shop, he purchased a third-tier combat score titled “Prologue of the Battle Spirit,” and immediately began to play.

As the flute’s notes filled the air, the atmosphere trembled, conjuring two armored skeleton warriors, each wielding a long sword, from nothingness.

Their cultivation was perilously close to the Golden Core stage, clearly limited by the prowess of their summoner, yet the spiritual energy radiating from them was dense and formidable.

Though their realm fell short of the pseudo-Qiongqi, they were both energy entities. In terms of energy consumption, even if they couldn’t achieve a one-for-one exchange, a hundred-for-one would suffice. The pseudo-Qiongqi felt it could be drained dry, and the flute’s melody gnawed at its essence. Despite lacking ears, it could still perceive the external sounds; the flute’s notes bore a certain enchantment, seemingly shackling a portion of its power.

The battle spirits swiftly launched their assault, akin to valiant soldiers, encircling and striking with precision. Their massive swords, heavy and unwieldy, did not hinder their speed in the slightest.

The pseudo-Qiongqi had no intention of standing idle, absorbing blows. After all, it was a late-stage Golden Core entity; dealing with two energy forms that hadn’t yet reached that level was a trivial task—provided they wouldn’t regenerate.

With a swift claw, it swatted one spirit aside, but the moment it scattered, it reformed instantly. The pseudo-Qiongqi grasped just how repulsive energy entities like itself were in the eyes of cultivators.

The spirits continued to coalesce, whether they attacked or were attacked, draining the dark energy. The flute’s melody only added to its discomfort. The pseudo-Qiongqi could no longer afford to ponder the automatic rebound of the Buddha’s light; it simply wished for the music to cease. Thus, it charged toward Ye Yong.

Alas, Ye Yong was no ordinary sound cultivator. His top-tier Earth-level movement technique, “Drifting Dragon Steps,” had reached a minor mastery. He glided effortlessly, evading the pseudo-Qiongqi’s advances, leaving it utterly vexed as the flute’s notes echoed in its ears, growing increasingly maddening.

In desperation, it split into several parts, sending a small fraction to contend with the battle spirits while the rest surged toward Ye Yong.

Ye Yong tucked away his flute, pulling out a brush and a painting board. With a flick of his wrist, he sketched a few beastly silhouettes, and they leapt from the canvas, their essence akin to that of battle spirits, though their spiritual power was not as robust.

The flute’s melody ceased, signaling the end of the spiritual energy supplied to the two battle spirits. Of course, the pseudo-Qiongqi, having split, had also diminished in strength; that small remnant was perhaps at the second level of the Golden Core. The two battle spirits could still hold their ground for a while before their energy was entirely spent.

The beastly silhouettes were no match for the “majority” that the pseudo-Qiongqi had manifested, for this “majority” possessed the strength of the fifth level of the Golden Core. Yet Ye Yong continued to draw, the silhouettes multiplying, a swarm of ants overwhelming an elephant, leaving the pseudo-Qiongqi in a state of helplessness.

After more than ten minutes, the pseudo-Qiongqi began to wilt. This energy entity, which should not tire, now felt a hint of exhaustion, completely devoid of the will to oppose Ye Yong.

“Refreshing.” The discomfort of the pseudo-Qiongqi mirrored the comfort that enveloped Ye Yong.

Against a typical foe, Ye Yong would struggle to unleash so many techniques. Usually, there were only two outcomes.

Before he could finish his moves, the opponent would be done for; or he would be too late, and the enemy would be upon him.

Enemies were either too weak or too strong, making it exceedingly difficult to find a worthy opponent. A target like the pseudo-Qiongqi, with its moderate cultivation and inability to be killed, was indeed a rare find.

“Come, absorb a bit more; I have one last move I want to try.” Ye Yong tossed out some dark energy stones.

The pseudo-Qiongqi hesitated for a moment. In the brief two hours of their encounter, its intelligence had grown more than in the months since its birth; it had even learned to hesitate.

Yet absorbing the energy and continuing to take hits meant survival; refusing to absorb would anger Ye Yong, leading to purification and the loss of everything. Thus, the pseudo-Qiongqi ultimately compromised and absorbed.

When it saw Ye Yong draw his sword again, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes, the pseudo-Qiongqi felt a surge of unease.

He wouldn’t be trying to purify me, would he?

As Ye Yong raised his sword, ready to strike, he suddenly had a thought. He stepped outside the formation, gesturing for Qin Shidream to sit behind him, and set up a protective array.

Qin Shidream was filled with curiosity, but she held her tongue, sensing that something significant was about to unfold.

Ye Yong returned to the array, holding the dark iron sword, his white robes billowing. He gazed at the pseudo-Qiongqi, his handsome face betraying an excitement that was hard to conceal.

The pseudo-Qiongqi swayed left and right, filled with trepidation.

Ye Yong slowly raised his sword; a seemingly ordinary motion, yet it left behind afterimages. Threads of visible sword energy began to flow from the dark iron sword, emitting sharp, piercing sounds.

Previously, Ye Yong’s attacks had not truly harmed the pseudo-Qiongqi’s essence; they had only caused annoyance and frustration. Yet now, before the technique was unleashed, it felt a deep-seated fear, a fear born of annihilation.

The pseudo-Qiongqi attempted to drift behind Ye Yong, positioning itself between him and Qin Shidream. It noted how much Ye Yong cared for her safety, believing that with her behind him, he would not strike too harshly.

Unfortunately, Ye Yong sensed its intentions, shrinking the formation behind him, preventing the pseudo-Qiongqi from weaving its way into the center. A flurry of anxious movements ensued, swaying left and right.

The sword energy flowing from the Xuan Tie sword began to morph into strange phenomena, shifting shapes that Qin Shidream could scarcely recognize.

Suddenly, wisps of sword energy surged forth in abundance, the manifestations multiplying as if to fill the very space around them. The air grew heavy, the Xuan Tie sword radiated a blinding light, and the enclosed cavern stirred with currents. Ye Yong’s hair danced in the wind, his flawless features and deep-set eyes making him appear like an unparalleled sword immortal in that moment.

“Ten Thousand Manifestations Heavenly Sword!” Ye Yong had always thought it foolish when others shouted the names of their techniques, but now, faced with his own surge of emotions, he found it hard to contain himself without a shout.

As he uttered the name of his sword technique, the phenomena born of the sword energy launched an assault toward the pseudo-Qiongqi.

In a moment of peril, the pseudo-Qiongqi’s instincts kicked in, rising high and splitting off its essence, hastily retreating to a corner.

“Boom!” Like a sun in the night, the entire cavern was illuminated, and the last thing Qin Shidream saw was Ye Yong’s upright silhouette.

Moments passed, and the sword light gradually dimmed. Qin Shidream opened her eyes to find the cavern in ruins, covered in dust, as if it had weathered a great battle. The space, once merely a hundred square meters, had expanded several times over, with stones occasionally tumbling down.

Qin Shidream took out a magical artifact, dispersing the dust. Ye Yong still stood in place, but the Xuan Tie sword in his hand had vanished without a trace. Undoubtedly, only a weapon of the Xuan level could not withstand such a powerful technique.

“Are you alright?” Qin Shidream hurried to Ye Yong’s side, checking his condition.

No external injuries, not even a speck of dust on him, but his complexion and lips were somewhat pale, signs of excessive spiritual energy depletion. Qin Shidream breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine.” Aside from a slight dizziness and the feeling of being drained, as if his body had been hollowed out, Ye Yong felt no discomfort.

He had merely approached this with a trial-and-error mindset, never expecting to succeed.

The “Ten Thousand Manifestations Heavenly Sword” was a heavenly-level sword technique. Just days prior, while in seclusion, the system had notified him that he had reached the entry level in its cultivation.

According to the novel’s lore, one needed to be at least in the late Golden Core stage, with a solid foundation of spiritual energy, to master such heavenly techniques. Yet here he was, merely at the first layer of the Foundation Establishment stage, having successfully unleashed it, leaving him both astonished and exhilarated.