The tiny flame of the Swift-Burning Incense had barely licked the tip and produced the first wisp of ethereal blue smoke when the three elite disciples of the Liyang Sect could no longer contain their fury and killing intent. With a simultaneous roar, they struck without hesitation!
They knew well that their opponent's reputation was no empty boast, so they held nothing back from the very start, unleashing their full power. The three shared a common spiritual root—all were pure, blazing fire-attributed. Now, linked together through the Three Talents Formation, their aura surged explosively, as if they had transformed into a three-headed, six-armed giant of flames!
*"Blazing Heaven-Scorching Palm!"*
*"Meteor Fire Rain!"*
*"Blazing Sun Earth-Splitting Slash!"*
Palm shadows filled the sky, carrying heat that could melt metal and stone. Countless fist-sized fireballs rained down like meteors, sealing off any room to dodge. And as the main assault, a condensed, crimson blade aura—so sharp it seemed capable of tearing the earth apart—hurtled straight toward Tang Xiaoqi's face with a piercing shriek.
The three worked in perfect coordination, their attack a tempest of fury that instantly engulfed the area where Tang Xiaoqi stood. The scorching heat wave rolled outward, making the disciples of both sects watching from a distance feel their skin sting as if they were standing at the edge of a furnace.
The Liyang Sect disciples wore excited, cruel smiles, as if they could already see Tang Xiaoqi battered, wounded, and coughing up blood under their senior brothers' combined strike. Fire Cloud Daoist, Yan Gang, and the others also held their breath, eyes locked on the heart of the battle.
Yet, facing this coordinated assault—enough to make even an ordinary early-stage Golden Core cultivator take it seriously—Tang Xiaoqi stood motionless. Not even the hem of his robe was stirred by the raging currents of spiritual power.
Just as the countless palm shadows, fire rain, and blade aura were about to land, his figure vanished with startling abruptness, as if he had never been there at all.
No—not vanished!
It was speed beyond limit, leaving behind an almost lifelike afterimage!
The next instant, he appeared like a ghost beside the disciple who had used *Blazing Heaven-Scorching Palm*. He did not draw the Nirvana Crimson Flame Sword. He did not summon the Creation Qiankun Frying Pan. He did not even use any profound spell.
Simply and plainly, he brought two fingers together like a sword, their tips wreathed in a faint, barely perceptible wisp of spiritual power imbued with pure purification intent. Like a dragonfly touching the water, he gently brushed a key node three inches below the disciple's armpit—a critical point in the flow of his spiritual power.
The disciple felt a stream of cool energy pierce his body. His surging, blazing palm force, like a punctured balloon, suddenly stalled, then uncontrollably reversed its flow back into his own meridians! With a muffled grunt, his face turned crimson as blood. His forward momentum halted abruptly, and he stumbled backward like a drunkard, his internal spiritual power in complete chaos—he had already lost his combat ability, at least for the moment.
All this happened in a flash.
The other two Liyang Sect disciples hadn't even processed why their companion had suddenly collapsed when Tang Xiaoqi's figure blurred again.
He seemed to transform into a flowing wind, strolling leisurely through the dense *Meteor Fire Rain*. The seemingly violent, swift fireballs couldn't even touch his clothes. His body movement did not rely on raw speed to force through; instead, it carried a mysterious quality of "pre-judgment" and "redirection." At the last possible moment, he avoided each attack with the smallest movement possible, and occasionally flicked a finger to subtly deflect a fireball aimed at him, sending it crashing into the blade aura of *Blazing Sun Earth-Splitting Slash* being launched by the other disciple.
Boom! Boom!
Fireball and blade aura collided in a violent explosion, sending spiritual power currents flying everywhere.
The disciple who was the main attacker had his blade aura slightly deflected by the fireball (guided by Tang Xiaoqi) from his own companion, revealing a tiny, almost imperceptible opening.
In that instant of opening, Tang Xiaoqi seemed to have been waiting for it. His body slithered in like a wandering dragon, again bringing two fingers together like a sword. The nature of the purifying spiritual power at his fingertips abruptly changed, carrying a heavy, mountain-like intent, and gently tapped the disciple's wrist that held the blade.
"Buzz—"
The disciple felt as if his wrist had been struck by a mountain. Intense pain shot through him, his entire arm went numb, and the *Blazing Sun Earth-Splitting Slash* blade aura—the one he had poured all his strength into—collapsed before it could fully form! The powerful backlash made his throat feel sweet; he nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. He staggered back more than ten steps before barely steadying himself, but his sword hand trembled uncontrollably, unable to muster any more strength.
From the start to this moment, only two or three breaths had passed. The Swift-Burning Incense had burned less than one-fifth of its length.
Of the three fierce Liyang Sect elite disciples at the peak of Foundation Establishment, one was temporarily incapacitated by spiritual power backlash, one had his blade aura shattered due to a wrist injury, and only the last—the one who had used *Meteor Fire Rain* and was now staring dumbfounded—remained.
Tang Xiaoqi didn't even look at the last disciple. He merely swept his calm gaze across the arena. A faint, intangible pressure—seemingly carrying the might of the Azure Dragon, the ferocity of the White Tiger, the flame of the Vermilion Bird, and the steadfastness of the Black Tortoise—spread out like liquid mercury.
This was not a spiritual pressure he actively released. Rather, it was a trace of his original essence, naturally emitted from the fusion of the Four Symbols Soul Crystal and his own aura.
The last Liyang Sect disciple, caught by that gaze and struck by that ancient, majestic aura—as if it came from the dawn of time and stood above all living things—felt his mind shaken to its core. The blazing fire-attributed spiritual power surging inside him seemed to meet its bane, becoming sluggish and obstructed. The smoothly executed *Meteor Fire Rain* technique abruptly stopped. His face turned deathly pale. He looked at his two battered companions nearby, then at Tang Xiaoqi, who seemed to have never moved, his aura still as calm as ever. An unprecedented fear seized his heart.
What… what kind of monster was he?!
Was this really the kind of strength a Foundation Establishment cultivator—or even an early Nascent Soul—could possess?
At that moment, his fighting spirit utterly collapsed.
He took a step back, then another, and finally let his hands fall limply, not even having the courage to meet Tang Xiaoqi's eyes.
At this point, the Swift-Burning Incense had burned barely one-third of its length.
Dead silence filled the valley.
On the Liyang Sect's side, the excitement and cruelty on the disciples' faces had long since frozen, replaced by disbelief, shock, and confusion. Fire Cloud Daoist, Yan Gang, Han Feng, and the other higher-ups had faces ashen as if they had been slapped dozens of times—burning with humiliation.
They had seen it clearly: from beginning to end, Tang Xiaoqi had used no magical treasure, no profound spell. He had relied solely on his ghostly, unpredictable footwork, his masterful application of basic techniques, his terrifyingly precise insight into the flow of battle, and finally that inexplicable pressure that even they found unsettling. With the ease of an adult playing with children, he had effortlessly defeated three of the sect's finest Foundation Establishment peak elites.
This was not a competition. This was a complete and utter… **overwhelming victory**.
On the Qingxu Temple side, Liu Yun slowly released her grip on her sword hilt. A rare, relieved smile appeared on her cold face. Behind her, the enforcement disciples straightened their chests, their eyes filled with fervor and pride, gazing at the green-robed figure in the arena as if he were a deity!
Tang Xiaoqi brushed a speck of non-existent dust from his sleeve. He turned his gaze once more to Fire Cloud Daoist, whose expression was now unspeakably ugly, and spoke in the same calm tone:
"The incense stick doesn't seem to have burned out yet."
"Shall we continue?"