Central Plains, northern frontier, the frontlines.
The iron plains that once stretched fertile and boundless had now been reduced to scorched earth.
The earth was cracked and split, beacon fires rising on all sides. Shattered battle banners and fragments of magical artifacts were scattered across the ground.
The air was thick with the stench of blood and burning flesh. In the distance, the Anti-Saint Alliance's final line of defense — Iron Wall Pass — stood beneath a blood-red sunset like a scar across the land, stubbornly spanning the horizon between heaven and earth.
Suddenly, heaven and earth fell silent.
The wind stopped, the clouds froze, and all creation held its breath.
An indescribable, terrifying pressure rolled in from the northern sky like the collapse of the nine heavens, like the descent of a demon god. Every cultivator on the battlefield, whether from the Holy Dynasty's grand army or the Anti-Saint Alliance's defenders, felt their souls tremble.
Those with weaker cultivation directly collapsed to the ground, struggling even to breathe.
In the northern sky, a figure stepped through the air.
His profound black imperial robes billowed without wind, the dark gold patterns shifting like living creatures. Qin Ao's face was hidden behind a pearl curtain, with only a pair of deep, abyss-like eyes visible.
Wherever his gaze fell, the void distorted and the laws of nature retreated. With each step he took, a dark lotus shadow bloomed beneath his feet, supporting him as he slowly advanced, like a demon god patrolling the mortal realm.
"Long live the Holy Emperor! May the Holy Dynasty endure forever!"
"Long live the Holy Emperor! May the Holy Dynasty endure forever!"
The Holy Dynasty's army knelt like a surging tide, their fanatic cries shaking the battlefield, their eyes filled with awe and worship. Even the captured Anti-Saint Alliance cultivators couldn't help but lower their heads, not daring to meet that palpable, crushing pressure.
There was only one exception.
On the high platform at the center of the battlefield, two figures stood proudly. Though their robes fluttered wildly under the Holy Emperor's pressure, not a single one of them bent their knees.
They were two of the Ten Great Divine Sons who shook the Spirit Realm.
Qin Ao's gaze swept over the two of them, a flicker of complexity in his eyes.
Ten years ago, when he had established these ten as Divine Sons, he had still harbored some intention of keeping them in check.
After all, the talent of these "disaster stars" was too terrifying. If they couldn't be completely controlled, they would surely become a grave threat.
Yet over these ten years, not only had the Ten Great Divine Sons advanced by leaps and bounds in cultivation — each reaching the Long Life realm — they had also campaigned south and north on his behalf, achieving glorious military exploits.
Most crucially, they seemed to possess an innate, inexplicable loyalty toward him, with never a trace of disloyalty.
Qin Ao had secretly tested them multiple times, even employing demonic arts to probe them, but he could never find any problems.
It was as if these ten were weapons specially sent by the heavens to help him unify the Spirit Realm.
Over time, he gradually let down his guard.
After all, blades this useful were truly hard to come by.
"Rise." Qin Ao spoke indifferently.
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached every cultivator's ears, like the low chant of a demonic abyss, striking straight at the soul.
Only then did the army dare to rise, but they still kept their heads bowed, not daring to look directly at the Holy Emperor's countenance.
Qin Ao's gaze fell upon the two Divine Sons, and he gave a slight nod. "The battle of Iron Plains — you two have rendered service. Once Iron Wall Pass is broken, this Emperor shall reward you handsomely."
The two bowed in unison. "We serve the Holy Emperor unto death!"
Their voices were perfectly synchronized, which greatly pleased Qin Ao's heart.
He offered a few more words of encouragement, outlined the strategy for the next assault, and then transformed into a streak of black rainbow light, piercing through the sky toward the central command tent.
Once the Holy Emperor departed, that terrifying pressure instantly dissipated. Only then did everyone on the battlefield exhale, many already soaked in cold sweat.
The two, however, remained expressionless, as if the pressure from moments ago had never existed.
Zhan Wuji grinned broadly, revealing a flash of white teeth. "The Holy Emperor himself has come — it seems he's determined to take the Central Plains. At this rate, we'll soon complete our mission and return to the Upper Realm."
He cracked his neck, his joints popping with sharp cracks. "Having ten of us Immortal Venerables descend upon this world to deal with these lower-realm ants — that one is still being a bit too cautious."
Beside him, Zhu Qingcheng was expressionless, her eyes like ancient ice, devoid of any ripple. "That one has that one's plans. We simply follow orders."
Her voice was clear and ethereal, yet carried a certain detachment.
Zhan Wuji chuckled and leaned closer, his gaze boldly roaming over Zhu Qingcheng's devastatingly beautiful profile. "How boring. What a waste of such a lovely face, cultivating the Path of Emotionlessness."
Zhu Qingcheng didn't even glance at him. She turned and walked away, her moon-white Daoist robes fluttering in the wind, as if untouched by a single speck of dust.
Zhan Wuji, having been snubbed, gave a dry laugh and didn't seem to mind. But as he watched Zhu Qingcheng's departing figure, a trace of barely perceptible wariness flickered in his eyes.
...
After Zhu Qingcheng had left, Zhan Wuji's crimson tongue licked across his lips, and a fanatical light erupted in his eyes.
He took a single step off the high platform, hovering before Iron Wall Pass, his voice thundering like a bolt of lightning. "Today, the pass falls! Follow me — kill!"
"Kill!!!"
The Holy Dynasty's army surged like a black tide, roaring toward that towering pass.
Arrows fell like rain, magical artifacts roared, and spiritual light intertwined with demonic flames, instantly transforming the battlefield into a meat grinder.
Zhan Wuji laughed wildly and transformed into a blood-colored meteor, crashing directly toward the most heavily fortified North Gate of Iron Wall Pass!
"Zhan Wuji! Zhan Wuji has come himself!" On the pass walls, the Anti-Saint Alliance cultivators turned pale with terror, cries of alarm ringing out constantly.
"Form the array! Quickly, form the array!" An old Daoist shouted himself hoarse as dozens of cultivators frantically channeled their spiritual power.
A golden barrier flared to life.
"Ants dare to block me?" Zhan Wuji sneered, neither dodging nor evading, and threw a single punch!
No flashy techniques, no profound laws — only the purest, most violent power!
The fist struck, and the void collapsed!
BOOM!!!
The golden barrier shattered like paper.
The cultivators who had formed the array all sprayed blood and were sent flying. Those with weaker cultivation had their physical bodies burst apart on the spot, body and soul utterly destroyed!
Zhan Wuji was like a tiger among sheep. Wherever he passed, flesh and blood flew. He hadn't even used his true power — instead, he suppressed his cultivation to the level of an ordinary cultivator, fighting purely with martial arts and physical prowess.
One punch shattered magical artifacts, one kick trampled mountains and rivers!
An Anti-Saint Alliance Long Life realm cultivator roared and summoned his life-bound flying sword. The sword light surged like a dragon, stabbing straight toward Zhan Wuji's brow.
Zhan Wuji didn't dodge or evade. He let the flying sword strike his forehead, producing the sound of metal on metal!
The flying sword whined and snapped. That cultivator stared in disbelief before being swatted into a bloody mist by Zhan Wuji's casual slap.
"Satisfying! Hahaha! Now this is what I call a fight!"
Zhan Wuji reveled in the bloodbath, his eyes brimming with excitement and nostalgia.
He couldn't remember how many years it had been since he'd had such a thrilling close-quarters battle.
In the Upper Realm, as an Immortal Venerable, his every action stirred the laws of heaven and earth.
Victory and defeat were often decided in a single thought — where was the satisfaction of fists meeting flesh, blood splashing within five steps?
The higher one's cultivation, the more restrained one became.
Instead, by suppressing his cultivation and fighting with technique for his life, he could recapture that ruthless fervor and hot blood from his early days on the path, when he had fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
"Die, demon!" An Anti-Saint Alliance Deity Transformation elder's hair and beard bristled wildly as he burned his essence blood and summoned an ancient seal, crushing down like a mountain!
Zhan Wuji's eyes lit up. "Good one coming!"
He didn't dodge or evade, his twin fists like dragons punching the heavens, directly meeting the ancient seal!
BOOM —!!!
The shockwaves rolled, the pass walls trembled! The elder was horrified to discover that his essence-blood-fueled strike had been blocked purely by his opponent's physical strength!
Zhan Wuji grinned, revealing those gleaming white teeth. "Interesting, but... not enough!"
His arm muscles bulged and knotted as he suddenly exerted force!
Crack!
The ancient seal was brutally torn apart! The elder was struck as if by a heavy blow, spurting blood as he was sent flying backward.
Zhan Wuji followed like a shadow, punching through his chest and crushing his beating heart.
"Elder!" The surrounding cultivators' eyes were bloodshot with rage, yet not a single one dared to step forward.
Zhan Wuji shook the blood from his hand and swept his gaze around, arrogant and domineering. "Who else?!"
The pass wall fell dead silent, save for the mournful wail of the wind.
In this moment, he seemed no longer the lofty Immortal Venerable, but had returned to countless years ago — that youth who had crawled and fought his way from the bottom, earning his place in the world with a pair of iron fists.
Fighting truly was more satisfying when one's cultivation was lower.
He took a deep breath. The thick scent of blood flooded his nostrils, making him even more excited.
"Today, I'll kill to my heart's content!"
The blood-colored figure plunged into the crowd once more. Wherever he went, severed limbs flew and screams filled the air without end.
Iron Wall Pass still stood tall and imposing, but the North Gate had become a living hell.
The sunset in the west illuminated the mountains of corpses and seas of blood before the pass, and that demon-god figure standing drenched in blood, still hungry for more.
Those like them, who could remain unaffected by tribulation power in the Upper Realm, all possessed a dedicated "Dao."
And his, Zhan Wuji's, was the Dao of Battle — used to suppress all emotions within his heart.
Zhan Wuji licked the blood from the corner of his lips, his eyes full of unsatisfied regret.
"Tomorrow, I'll return."
[
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