Wind whistled across the dueling grounds, sharp as a drawn blade.
Xu Hun's eyes gleamed scarlet with hatred—hatred so thick it breathed, so deep it might burn the air.
He wanted Li Qiye skinned alive, torn limb from limb, ground into dust.
The stands were filled: Yu He himself presided, Protector Xu at his side, and every disciple of Nine Saint Demon Gate watching in silence.
Even their breath lay pinned under the weight of this moment.
### The Gap Between Heaven and Dust
Protector Mo and Huairen exchanged a look; both knew the truth.
If Li Qiye survived, that alone would be miracle enough.
Xu Hun was a True‑Life realm cultivator,
trained in the Great Sage's own art—theSlaughterSwordMantra,
a technique of steel and storm.
But the youth before him?
No spiritual root, no cultivation; a mortal shell against a mountain of power.
Dust versus starlight.
"Can he possibly win?" someone whispered.
"Absurd!" scoffed another. "A mortal beat a cultivator? Unless an Immortal Emperor possesses him."
"Even then, he lacks the blood and qi to move a sacred blade."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"The Slaughter Sword defends like iron mountains and strikes like wildfire—none but the Princess and Senior Brother can match it!"
"He's swift as an eagle with flame gold in his veins; that boy won't even touch him!"
The air split with a scream of steel.
### The Sword Domain
Zheng—zheng—zheng!
Xu Hun drew his blade, breath exploding skyward.
Sword‑light fanned around him into a domain, sharp walls of glory, an iron fortress of fire.
From his mouth he exhaled nine shafts of flame; eight forged swords rose to hover over him,
each formed from flame‑gold ore—theBladesofSolarFire.
Their light blinded the sky; their heat burned to the bone.
The might of the Slaughter Mantra shone in full.
"The Flame‑Gold Divine Swords!" cried the disciples.
"True weapons engraved with dao‑runes—defense and offense as one!"
Even Protector Mo and Huairen stiffened.
With such power, they themselves might struggle to hold ground.
Against it, Li Qiye stood bare‑handed.
### The Mocking Stick
He smiled.
Then he spat into his palm.
"Flay me alive?" he said softly. "Let's see if your own mother can recognize you when I'm done."
From his back he drew … a stick.
An old charred wooden stick, scorched to black, with cracks along its grain.
"A fire poker?" someone gasped.
Huairen nearly choked.
TheCleansingDustSectisfinished.
Laughter erupted from the stands; jeers rolled like waves.
Even Yu He narrowed his eyes, opening his Heaven's Sight.
He found only plain wood — no spirit, no sigil, no pulse of power.
A stick and nothing more.
### Fire Meets Wood
"Die!" Xu Hun roared.
At his command the swords merged into one,
flame gathering into a sun.
Sword and fire fell as one blazing world.
Protector Mo's heart tightened.
That strike could melt stone—none at True Life realm would face it and live.
Then—
"Good strike!"
Li Qiye's voice rang like thunder.
He did not dodge.
He grinned and swung the burned stick.
Boom!
Light vanished.
The flames died.
The mighty Flame‑Gold Sword spun away and slammed into the ground, ringing once before cracking down its spine, its glow snuffed out.
Silence.
Xu Hun stared, frozen.
Li Qiye raised the stick and pointed at his nose.
"I haven't even used strength yet."
One step.
The stick flashed.
Bang!
It struck his face; blood spattered.
Bang!Bang!Bang!
Ten blows, each a serpent's bite to seven inches.
His shouts turned to screams; the technique, the sword will, the blood force — all ripped apart by a piece of wood.
### The Serpent Breaker
That stick was no weapon of shineless mockery—it was the ancient Snake‑BreakerRod,
a relic of Li Qiye's past life as the Dark Crow.
It struck not for life but for weakness, shattering blood currents and Dao hearts.
All below the Heavenly Origin Realm fell helpless before it.
Xu Hun rolled and howled, each hit a thunderclap.
Blood flew; bones splintered.
Yu He once more opened his Heaven's Sight—still nothing but a plain branch.
"Impossible," he whispered. "It truly is just wood…"
Protector Xu's face darkened to charcoal.
In the arena, the boy moved with careless grace, stick whirling like lightning,
a laugh in his voice.
"Strike the snake at seven inches—
lesson one in being human.
Remember it well."
Each blow echoed; hearts shook.
Above them clouds ripped apart; silence fell like stone.
Disciples of Nine Saint Demon Gate could only stare in fear.
Yu He closed his eyes, a single thought turning in his mind:
Thisone…isnoordinarybeing.
Cold wind dragged across the blood‑scented field.
Xu Hun lay broken and still.
Li Qiye rested the stick on his shoulder,
his voice barely a sigh:
"The Nine Saint Demon Gate … so much for your glory."