Zhi Xuan stepped through the silent crowd, his shadow lengthening across the marble as the sun began to slip toward the western horizon. Each footfall was a tolling bell for the hearts of the witnessing practitioners—a reminder that the order of power in the Holy City had been torn asunder by the presence of this figure from the South.

  "Gu Fengyan, you must die!" A voice roared from the sky. There, atop a red palanquin, Young Master Xue reappeared, launching a mountain seal that carried the weight of blood and destruction.

  Massive clouds of blood suddenly rolled across the clear horizon of the Holy City, bringing a fishy stench that choked the breath. Atop the hovering red palanquin, Young Master Xue stood with a face full of madness, both hands forming ancient seals that triggered the glow of the great relic above his head—the Corpse Mountain Seal.

  "Gu Fengyan! Did you think you could insult us, the geniuses of the North and East, without retribution?!" Young Master Xue shrieked, his voice cracking like glass scraped against stone. "Today, the Holy City shall be your grave!"

  It was not just Xue. From five different directions, five incredibly powerful flashes of essence shot forth to surround Zhi Xuan. They were the geniuses who felt their dignity trampled by Zhi Xuan’s existence: a youth in iron robes from the West Metal Clan, a woman with a lightning whip from the Thunder Sect, and three other mid-stage Soul Transformation practitioners harboring grudges against the Southern Devil’s arrogance.

  "Six-Directional Soul Sealing Formation!" shouted Yang Jin, who had apparently risen with his remaining strength, his eyes blood-red with rage. "Burn him to dust!"

  Zhi Xuan found himself trapped within an invisible web of energy. The air around him suddenly froze, then ignited, then filled with the tens of thousands of jin of weight from the Corpse Mountain Seal pressing down on his head. He tried to stir his Eternal Star essence, but the cracks in his Dao Heart began to throb painfully.

  "Ugh—!" Zhi Xuan staggered. The weight of the Corpse Mountain Seal was not merely physical; it was the karmic pressure of the thousands of lives slaughtered by that relic.

  BOOOOM!

  The pressure slammed into Zhi Xuan’s back with a force capable of crushing heaven's pillars. For the first time, Zhi Xuan’s legs buckled. He fell to one knee upon the jade altar, creating massive cracks in the sacred stone. From behind his tightly clenched lips, a thick liquid began to seep—blood of a silver-gold hue, the life essence of a pure, ancient bloodline, dripping and staining the snow-white jade altar.

  "Look! He bleeds!" a practitioner in the crowd cried out hysterically. "Silver-gold blood... that is no ordinary blood! He truly is a monster!"

  "Strike him again! Don’t let him breathe!" others shouted, their fear turning into mob ferocity upon seeing the predator wounded.

  "Hahahaha! Feel that!" Young Master Xue spat downward, his face distorted by triumph. "Where is your arrogance now, Gu Fengyan? Where is that slaughtering sword of yours? Under the pressure of the six of us, you are nothing but a dog waiting for the butcher!"

  Zhi Xuan supported his body with one hand on the altar, now soaked in his own golden blood. The sound of cracking bones echoed from his shoulder as the Corpse Mountain Seal continued to press down. The five other geniuses continued to pour their spiritual essence into the formation, their faces filled with sadistic joy.

  "Die, Devil!" the woman from the Thunder Sect screamed, lashing her lightning whip across Zhi Xuan’s back, tearing his black-and-white robe and leaving a deep, scorched wound.

  Zhi Xuan coughed; silver-gold blood splattered again from his mouth, staining the celestial marble floor. His vision began to blur under the immense mental pressure, but within his heart, a fire colder than ice began to ignite.

  "This Gu..." Zhi Xuan’s voice came out low, yet it carried a resonance that made the entire Holy City tremble. "You all... have truly made me sick."

  "Still daring to speak?!" Yang Jin roared, releasing a flash of solar fire from his mirror directly at Zhi Xuan’s unprotected chest.

  The fiery light struck Zhi Xuan, creating an explosion that swallowed his figure in a searing fireball. The crowd cheered, thinking the Southern Devil had met his end. However, amidst the flames, a dense grey aura suddenly exploded outward, extinguishing the solar fire instantly.

  "The limit..." Zhi Xuan whispered from behind the shroud of smoke. He slowly stood up again, though his body trembled and silver-gold blood continued to flow from his wounds. "You speak of limits... as if you hold the keys to heaven."

  Zhi Xuan reached for the hilt of the Heavenly Sword on his back. This time, his hand did not shake. The white cloth wrapping the sword began to burn away from the black aura seeping out—an aura so evil that the Elders atop the altar stood up simultaneously, their faces filled with horror.

  "Stop them!" the female Elder with the high bun screamed. "If that sword is fully unsheathed, this Holy City will become a sea of corpses!"

  But the warning came too late. Zhi Xuan stared at Young Master Xue and the five other geniuses with sapphire eyes that had now turned completely ruby-red, as if the events of the Southern Territory were truly about to repeat for these geniuses pressing him.

  "This Gu promised not to bring chaos..." Zhi Xuan hissed, his voice like a deathly whisper in their ears. "But you... you have forced this Devil to collect on a promise I had not yet made."

  The air around Zhi Xuan suddenly went still. The cheers of the crowd were instantly choked in their throats. The pressure of the Corpse Mountain Seal, once as heavy as a mountain, now vibrated violently in the air, as if the weight of those thousands of blood karmas themselves felt dread toward something more primal crawling out from within Zhi Xuan's frame.

  SRAAAK—!

  The white cloth wrapping the Heavenly Sword did not merely burn; it crumbled into grey ash that was then sucked into the pores of the blade. Inch by inch, the cold, pitch-black metal with blood-red streaks began to reveal itself. Even before the sword was fully drawn, a shrill scream—unheard by mortal ears but tearing through the Divine Soul of every practitioner—reverberated through the city.

  The blood seeping from Zhi Xuan’s mouth churned as if it had a life of its own, then began to dance in the air following the rhythm of his draw. Every inch of the blade leaving the scabbard brought an aura of extinction that sucked all color from the marble plaza, turning the bright world into a haunting grey.

  "You are always the same," Zhi Xuan hissed, his slaughter patterns flickering sharply. "Someone from the Southern Territory acted just like you, oblivious to their own death. Interfering with me time and again... if I do not kill you, then I am not Gu Fengyan."

  Zhi Xuan drew the Heavenly Sword completely. As the blade cleared the scabbard, a pillar of pitch-black energy shot into the sky, cleaving Young Master Xue’s blood clouds like a piece of fragile silk. The world seemed to stop spinning; sunlight was devoured, and a cold chill carrying the scent of the grave spread for ten miles.

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  "Die!" roared Young Master Xue, now overcome by overwhelming terror. He slammed the Corpse Mountain Seal down with all his life essence, hoping the weight of thousands of lives could bury Zhi Xuan forever.

  Zhi Xuan simply looked up. His ruby-red eyes emitted absolute emptiness. Without any complex movement, he swung the Heavenly Sword toward the sky in a single, plain vertical line.

  "First Slash: Karma Breaker."

  There was no massive explosion. Instead, the grand Corpse Mountain Seal suddenly stopped in mid-air. A thin red line appeared in the middle of the mountain of corpses, and in an instant, the high-level relic was split in two. Thousands of shrieking souls imprisoned within exploded outward.

  Zhi Xuan floated upward, his dark purple hair fluttering as the silhouette of a Divine Soul with twin wings of darkness appeared behind him before shrinking back into the storm. With a subtle flick, the souls seemed to be drawn into Zhi Xuan's body, finding their place within the Soul Lantern he carried.

  The sight was no longer just a battle between practitioners, but a terrifying harvest of lives. The spirits exploding from the Corpse Mountain Seal, which should have devastated the Holy City in a frenzy of resentment, instead cowered and trembled as they felt the gravitational pull of Zhi Xuan’s soul. They were sucked into the grey vortex in the Southern Devil’s chest, filling the Soul Lantern that thirsted for spirits.

  Zhi Xuan landed on the cracked jade altar, but this time he did not kneel. He stood tall with the naked Heavenly Sword in his right hand. The silver-gold blood staining his face gave him the appearance of a war god who had just crawled out of the deepest hell.

  "One..." Zhi Xuan murmured.

  Young Master Xue, having just lost his life relic, vomited black blood. His body was thrown from the red palanquin, falling onto the marble with eyes wide in horror. "Impossible... My Corpse Mountain Seal... it was an Earth-Grade Treasure!"

  Zhi Xuan gave him no time to mourn. With a movement like a flickering shadow, Zhi Xuan was already in front of the woman from the Thunder Sect. The lightning whip that had earlier torn his back now trembled in her hand.

  "Earlier, you asked where my arrogance was?" Zhi Xuan whispered directly into her ear.

  The woman tried to scream, but her voice was choked as the black blade of the Heavenly Sword touched her neck. In a single breath, it was not her head that was detached, but her entire Divine Soul essence that was sucked into the blade. Her body instantly withered, drying up like a mummy buried for thousands of years, before finally crumbling into dust as the wind blew.

  "Two," Zhi Xuan said coldly.

  Pure terror now struck the four remaining geniuses. The Six-Directional Soul Sealing Formation they were so proud of had shattered into pieces when Young Master Xue’s seal was split. Yang Jin, holding the Eternal Sun Mirror, backed away with unsteady steps. The solar fire in his mirror dimmed, as if the light itself was ashamed to shine in the presence of the darkness Zhi Xuan brought.

  "Gu Fengyan! You can't do this! We are the heirs of great sects!" Yang Jin screamed, his voice pitching high with hysteria. "Sacred Pavilion! Elders! Why do you stay silent?! He is slaughtering us!"

  The Elders atop the altar remained frozen. Not because they didn't want to act, but because the slaughter aura released by the unwrapped Heavenly Sword had created a death zone that suppressed every inch of their inner beings. Moving one step meant challenging a killing intent that had already claimed thousands in the South.

  "Zhi Xuan, enough!" The voice of the Eternal Snow Fairy echoed from afar, carrying waves of ice energy trying to dampen the heat of the boiling blood. "You have taught them a sufficient lesson. Do not let your hands be completely submerged in sin in this holy land!"

  Zhi Xuan stopped for a moment, but he did not turn. The Heavenly Sword in his hand vibrated, emitting a low, bloodthirsty hum. His ruby-red eyes stared at Yang Jin and the three other practitioners who were now kneeling, begging for mercy.

  "Sin?" Zhi Xuan chuckled softly, a sound that was lonely yet sharp. "This world knows no sin for those who win. You let them surround me; you let them force me to my knees. And now, as I stand to take their heads, you talk of 'enough'?"

  Zhi Xuan raised the Heavenly Sword high. The blood-red patterns on the blade pulsed fiercely, emitting a lethal light.

  "Three, four, five, six," Zhi Xuan counted in a hollow whisper. "You all... are fertilizer for my Dao path."

  Zhi Xuan stomped his foot, and instantly the ground beneath the geniuses exploded in pillars of grey light. He streaked forward like a storm, no longer using complex techniques, but pure speed and the sharpness of the Heavenly Sword that had severed the chains of karma.

  Blood began to rain upon the marble plaza of the Holy City. One by one, the geniuses who were once so arrogant fell in a haunting silence. There were no long screams, only the sound of metal cleaving flesh and soul essence being forcibly sucked away.

  Zhi Xuan stood in the middle of the plaza, now filled with withered corpses. He wiped the remaining silver-gold blood from his lips with the back of his jet-black left hand. His ruby-red eyes slowly faded back to sapphire, though remnants of darkness still danced within his pupils.

  He turned toward the high pavilion, toward where he knew Ye Xishui was watching with a broken heart. "This is my limit, Snow Fairy," Zhi Xuan said in an incredibly calm voice. "And my limit... is the end of the life of anyone who dares touch my pride."

  Zhi Xuan reversed the Heavenly Sword, sheathing it on his back even though its white sealing cloth was gone. He walked past the body of Young Master Xue, who was still trembling on the brink of death, stepping toward the exit gate of the altar with a staggered gait.

  "I keep my promise not to harm the residents of the Western Region," Zhi Xuan called out from the distance, his voice echoing with every step. "For those who have business regarding the 'fertilizer' I have harvested, feel free to find me to seek revenge. This Gu respects the neutral Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf and honors the great Grand Elder Qing He. The kindness of this Heavenly Jade shall be remembered by this Gu."

  Zhi Xuan’s staggering footsteps left a trail of silver-gold blood on the marble, creating a sight that the history of the Holy City would never forget. Every drop of life essence falling to the earth seemed to become a curse seal for those who witnessed it. The silence enveloping the plaza was so thick that the sound of the remaining practitioners' breathing felt like a raging storm.

  The Elders of the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf still stood frozen atop the altar. Zhi Xuan’s final words mentioning Grand Elder Qing He made them flinch as if struck by lightning. Qing He was the founding ancestor whose last appearance was two hundred years ago; how could a Devil from the South know of her?

  "Stop, youth of the Heavenly Devil," a voice said. It did not come from the Eternal Snow Fairy, but from the sky itself, which split open to reveal a greenish glow that swept away the remaining blood mist, radiating an authority equal to nature itself.

  From the rift in the sky, an old woman in a simple green robe descended slowly. Her presence brought no crushing pressure, but rather a harmony so pure it made every blade of grass in the Holy City that had wilted stand tall again. In her hand, she held a sandalwood staff with a tip that still sprouted fresh green leaves.

  Zhi Xuan stopped in his tracks. His body, drenched in golden blood, remained upright even though every inch of his meridians screamed in pain. He turned slowly, staring at the figure who had just descended from the depths of the hidden dimension.

  "Elder... Grand Elder Qing He!" the remaining practitioners exclaimed, this time prostrating with their foreheads touching the marble—not out of fear, but out of sincere devotion.

  Zhi Xuan stood motionless, watching the figure descending from the sky with a gaze that was difficult to decipher. Amidst the puddles of silver-gold blood starting to cool and the thick scent of death, Grand Elder Qing He's presence felt like morning dew trying to wash the crater of hell.

  Grand Elder Qing He stepped onto the cracked marble, but strangely, every time her sandalwood staff touched the surface of the altar, the cracks seemed to seal back together, and the blood stains soaking the jade were slowly absorbed into the ground, replaced by the growth of fine green moss. She stopped exactly three paces in front of Zhi Xuan.

  "Young man," Grand Elder Qing He said, her voice as calm as a lake undisturbed by wind. "Hundreds of years ago at the Altar of Holy Light, I saw you as a crack in the laws of nature. Today, I see you as a storm that has finally broken. You have fulfilled that prophecy; you have become the sword that sweeps the order."

  Zhi Xuan coughed softly, silver blood seeping from the corner of his lips, yet he kept his wounded back straight. "Elder Qing He... this Gu did not intend to disturb the peace of your sacred tree. However, these dogs... they tried to chain a wounded dragon."

  Grand Elder Qing He looked at the heaps of withered corpses around Zhi Xuan, then turned to the Heavenly Sword no longer wrapped in cloth. "The karma you carry has changed color, Zhi Xuan."

  Suddenly, the explosion of the name spoken by Grand Elder Qing He made the previously terrified geniuses widen their eyes in a much longer memory, as if seeing the man who once made history now standing directly before them in a different form.

  "Zhi Xuan? That name... he was the youth from the Xing Luo Plains hundreds of years ago," a choked voice came from an old man. "The winner of the Three Plains Competition, recognized by the Holy Woman Yao Gu and Sage Qing Xuan, the one who struck the Heavenly Bell of the Rainy Night sixteen times... he... he is real?"