The moment the God Venerable's head rolled to the ground, the entire foot of the mountain fell into a deathly silence.
After a brief moment of tranquility, the 100,000-strong army below the mountain collapsed in chaos.
In this hastily assembled team, the rogue cultivators at the fourth and fifth realms and ordinary soldiers were the first to collapse.
Some people, in a panic, threw down their weapons and turned to flee in a frantic escape.
Some people's legs buckled, and they knelt heavily on the ground, kowtowing and begging for mercy, their fear evident.
Some people panicked and scrambled to their deaths, desperate to survive.
Those sects and forces that had been eager to try their luck fled more hastily than anyone else.
The sect leaders who were just moments ago eager to seize the opportunities at Qingfeng Temple were now all ashen-faced, their pale faces filled with nothing but fear.
Completely disregarding the safety of their own disciples, they only thought about escaping and ran wildly backward in a panic.
The so-called majesty of the Southern Domain Overlord and the so-called righteousness of acting on behalf of Heaven were completely cast aside under the crushing force of absolute power.
One of the sect leaders fled the fastest, and in his panic he lost a boot, but he dared not stop for a moment, much less turn back to pick it up.
The massive army of tens of thousands scattered like birds and beasts in just a few breaths.
At the foot of the deserted mountain, only a mess remained, with discarded swords, spears, halberds, and tattered sect banners scattered all over the ground.
Several other rogue cultivators, who had been running too fast, had accidentally broken their legs and were lying paralyzed in the mud.
Hundreds of miles away, high in the clouds, a group of top experts from the Twelfth Realms, who were watching the battle from afar, were all frozen in place, unable to move for a long time.
Some were horrified; the sound of shattering rang out, yet they were completely unaware.
Some people stared in disbelief, their mouths agape, drooling with shock, yet they remained frozen in place, their eyes wide with disbelief.
An old, white-haired, rogue cultivator who had lived for thousands of years muttered repeatedly to himself, his voice trembling and dry. "Thirteenth Tier... one sword... just one sword..."
The sect's supreme elder beside him had already turned ashen-faced, his lips trembling violently, his heart churning with turbulent emotions. Despite having a thousand words to say, he couldn't utter a single one.
These top experts, who have stood in the Southern Domain for hundreds of years, have witnessed countless battles and the rise of many prodigies throughout their lives. Yet, they have never heard of, nor have they ever seen, a top- Thirteenth Tier God Venerable being so easily killed.
When the God Venerable just now displayed his power, his immense pressure swept across thousands of miles. Even from hundreds of miles away, it made them feel breathless and mentally overwhelmed, making it almost impossible for them to stand.
But the young Daoist in green robes remained calm and composed throughout, making casual moves without even revealing a trace of his imposing aura. Yet, with a single sword strike, he managed to slay a God Venerable.
A moment later, someone quietly put away their weapon and silently turned to leave.
He had already made up his mind that upon returning, he would close the mountain and the sect, and devote himself to arduous cultivation. For a hundred years, he would never set foot in any disputes, and would never dare to interfere in any of the affairs of Qingfeng Temple.
Inside Qingfeng Temple, Master Xuanwei, standing in front of the alchemy room, remained motionless for a long time, as if frozen in place.
He still held a handful of dry firewood firmly in his fingertips, his arm suspended above the stove, frozen for a long time, not falling an inch.
Just now, there was a storm brewing outside the mountain, and a great battle was about to break out. He carefully followed his disciple's instructions, sat quietly in the alchemy room guarding the furnace, and deliberately ignored the strife outside the window.
But when a wisp of thunderous aura suddenly swept in from outside the mountain gate, his movements came to a complete halt.
That was the lingering effect of the intertwining of the laws of Tribulation Source Law and Law of Thunder, something he was extremely familiar with.
But the grandeur and profundity of this lingering charm far surpassed his entire life's understanding, transcending all realms he knew.
Xuanwei slowly put down the firewood in his hand, stepped out of the alchemy room, stood in the courtyard, and looked up towards the direction of the mountain gate.
A gentle breeze swept across the mountains, and he caught a glimpse of that slender figure in the distance.
Chen Du sheathed his sword and returned to the mountain with unhurried steps, as if the earth-shattering sword strike he had just unleashed was nothing more than a trivial matter of brushing away dust and cutting down grass and trees.
With just one glance, Xuanwei understood everything.
His disciple's sword strike just now had already surpassed his entire life's cultivation and understanding, reaching an unknown height that no one could reach.
He shook his head slightly, a mixture of helplessness and amusement, and turned back to the alchemy room.
The bright flames inside the furnace flickered and danced, warming the small alchemy room.
He calmly added a handful of firewood, watched the flames rise, and murmured softly, full of sighs. "You little brat... just how far have you cultivated yourself to...?"
Beneath the old pine tree in the courtyard, Zhao Yuanshan sat upright on a stone bench, looking disheveled and dazed.
He had been holding a handful of melon seeds in his hand, leisurely munching on them while gazing at the battle situation beyond the mountains, completely at ease.
But the moment the God Venerable unleashed his overwhelming pressure, his action of cracking melon seeds abruptly stopped, his mind completely captivated.
The moment Chen Du slew the God Venerable with a single sword strike, sealing the victory, the melon seeds he was tightly gripping in his palm were crushed into fine powder by the sudden tightening force, and slipped through his fingers in a flurry.
Zhao Yuanshan stared wide-eyed at the direction of the mountain gate, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg, and it took him a long time to slowly come to his senses.
He looked down at the tiny crumbs of sunflower seeds in his palm, then looked up at Chen Du who was slowly returning. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh hard, knocking away all the remaining crumbs.
Zhao Yuanshan turned to his stunned junior brothers, raising his voice slightly, full of pride. "Look closely! This is your senior brother! My own junior brother, Zhao Yuanshan's own brother!"
The junior disciples all looked up at him, their eyes wide with shock and admiration, unable to recover for a long time.
The youngest junior brother tugged at his sleeve, his eyes full of curiosity, and timidly asked, "Senior Brother Zhao, what exactly is Senior Brother Li Xuan's cultivation level?"
Zhao Yuanshan grinned broadly, his expression frank and carefree. "I don't know. But I know he's far more capable than me."
The junior brother, still undeterred, pressed on, "So, will you still seek out Senior Brother Li Xuan for sparring matches in the future?"
Upon hearing this, Zhao Yuanshan's smile instantly froze on his face. He coughed awkwardly twice, waved his hands repeatedly, and said in an extremely sincere tone, "Sparring? How could I dare to spar with him? It would be my blessing to serve tea and water under my senior brother's wing in the future."
The earth-shattering news of victory swept across the land, spreading throughout the entire Southern Border region at an astonishing speed.
King of Nanli was in his fiefdom, sitting in his study, intently reviewing official documents from the court.
The attendant presented him with a secret letter detailing the battle situation outside the mountains. He lowered his head and read it carefully, turning the page three times over, his fingertips tightening slightly, his heart churning with emotion.
After a long while, he put down the letter, leaned back in his chair, looked up and gazed at the beams and pillars of the palace roof. He sat silently for a long time, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
He suddenly recalled the scene from a few years ago when he met that young Daoist priest for the second time.
At that time, he was a prince and watched as the once noble crown prince retired to a Daoist temple, living a life of seclusion. He felt extremely regretful and lamented the fall of a brilliant talent, which was a pity given his royal demeanor and unparalleled talent.
But only now has he realized that the one who truly regrets is not Li Xuan who has gone into seclusion, but himself, who has a narrow mind and limited vision.
A mere vassal king is nothing but an ant or dust before such a powerful figure, utterly insignificant.
King of Nanli shook his head in disappointment, picked up his pen and wrote a letter, which he immediately ordered his personal guards to send it to Qingfeng Temple by fast horse overnight.
The entire letter, though brief, was sincere and heartfelt. "I am convinced."
Hundreds of millions of miles away, in the Taiji Hall of the Imperial City, the aging emperor sat on his dragon throne, being carefully fed medicine by palace maids.
After the personal eunuch bowed and knelt to report the details of the battle at Qingfeng Temple, the old emperor's withered fingers suddenly trembled, and the jade bowl full of medicine slipped from his hand and fell, smashing into pieces on the cold gold brick floor, splashing the medicine everywhere.
The main hall was deathly silent.
The old emperor stood there, stunned, his eyes vacant. After a long while, he suddenly chuckled softly.
The laughter was hoarse and dry, carrying with it a lifetime of vicissitudes, endless guilt, and ultimate relief—both desolate and moving.
As he laughed, cloudy tears streamed down his face, soaking the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"I knew it... I knew it..."
He choked back sobs and chuckled softly as he wiped away his tears haphazardly. All the palace maids and eunuchs in the hall held their breath and bowed their heads, trembling with fear, none daring to utter a sound.
The laughter faded, but the tears remained.
The old emperor leaned wearily against his dragon throne, gazing up at the clear sunlight outside the palace. He murmured softly, his voice filled with pride and relief, "My son... is ultimately stronger than me, far too stronger..."
He seemed to suddenly recall something from the past, slightly turning his head to look at the eunuch beside him, his voice hoarse and weak. "When he left the palace to live in seclusion, did he leave behind even a single word before he departed?"
Upon hearing this, the eunuch's heart tightened. He quickly bowed and replied cautiously, "Your Majesty, Daoist Li Xuan left that day without uttering a single word."
Upon hearing this, the old emperor remained silent for a long time.
After a long pause, he sighed softly and waved his hand wearily, "You may all leave."
The once grand and majestic Taiji Hall is now filled with only silence, where an aging emperor gazes silently towards the green mountains to the south, lost in thought.