A Century-Old Legacy Must Part at Last, Yet a Sword's Chilling Radiance Cannot Turn Back the Heavens

However, the fist that had just shattered the Protective True Qi suddenly spread open.

A pinch of powder scattered out, seeping directly through the skin and into the body.

Du Quan felt the internal power throughout his body suddenly stagnate. The circulation through his meridians slowed, and the force behind his finger strike abruptly weakened halfway through. It brushed past the corner of his opponent's clothes and struck empty air.

He hurriedly retreated several steps.

Then weakness spread through all four limbs. His body grew limp, and his vision began to blur.

His heart jolted, and he hurriedly circulated his internal power, trying to suppress it.

But his opponent would not give him that chance.

A blur swept past his right side.

Pfft!

A burst of excruciating pain came, bringing a brief flash of clarity to his mind.

Du Quan followed the pain and looked toward his right arm.

It was already gone.

Blood sprayed in all directions.

"Your Excellency's right hand is quite nice. I'll gladly accept it."

A low voice rang out, followed at once by another side kick.

Du Quan was sent flying sideways, crashing through the stable roof.

Before he could struggle to his feet, another handful of powder was sprinkled over his head, seeping into his torn wounds and skin.

Just before he completely sank beneath the powder's effects, the last thing reflected in his scattered pupils was a wooden ghost mask.

Chen Duan casually tossed the severed arm into a massive wooden chest.

One more material.

At that moment, several nearby grooms had already been scared stiff by the scene.

Only when Chen Duan's gaze swept over did they come to their senses. They hurriedly shut their eyes, raised both hands high, and cried out in trembling voices:

"Hero, spare us! We didn't see anything!"

"We didn't see anything! We really didn't see anything!"

"Even if you did, it wouldn't matter."

Chen Duan moved, striking the backs of the grooms' necks with the edge of his hand and rendering them temporarily unconscious.

Then he shook his hand, sending the remnants of the Yellow Medicine wrapped in true qi scattering away.

The effects of this Yellow Medicine were even better than he had expected.

Even a Five Levels Martial Artist would still succumb once their Protective True Qi was broken through.

However, the purpose of this trip was not to fight, but to gather materials. It would not be wise to cause too much commotion, so using medicine directly was enough.

He then took a list from his robes. He had casually found a "warmhearted passerby" to compile it just now.

He cut his fingertip and crossed out one name.

Chiliu Sect.

Wei Zhentian crouched down and closed the eyes of a young disciple lying in a pool of blood.

He rose and surveyed the surroundings. Everywhere his gaze reached, there were corpses.

At the far end of the corpses, a figure sat quietly in meditation.

The man was thin as a withered tree. Golden true qi coiled around him, lifting his body from the ground and suspending him in midair. He was none other than Linghu Yan, the current Sect Master of Yuanxiang Sect.

Beside him, Yan Cong's eyes were red as blood. Dark-red, cracked patterns covered his skin, and beneath them, true qi flowed like magma.

"Ling! Hu! Yan!"

Wei Zhentian forced the name through clenched teeth, his voice twisted out of shape by rage.

Hatred and killing intent churned in his chest. Why Linghu Yan had appeared here no longer mattered to him. There was only one thought in his mind—kill him!

Tear the man before him into a thousand pieces!

Yan Cong had already briefly regained his reason. Sensing Wei Zhentian's Killing Intent, the patterns across his body lit up, and he was about to step forward.

But Linghu Yan raised a hand and stopped him.

He looked toward Wei Zhentian, his voice amplified by true qi.

"Wei Zhentian, do you dare receive one sword strike from me?"

"What's there not to—"

Wei Zhentian was almost instinctively about to accept, but the words froze in his throat.

He sensed it—a terrifying aura unlike anything he had ever felt was rising from Linghu Yan's ruined body.

Before the sword was drawn, the intent had already arrived.

The battle had not even begun, yet the air seemed to be clenched by an invisible hand, beginning to tremble and hum.

Clang!

The long sword in Linghu Yan's arms slowly slid halfway from its sheath on its own.

In an instant, the already immense aura surged again, becoming almost tangible as it crashed down.

The golden true qi no longer merely coiled around him. It transformed into raging waves, rippling outward in all directions with Linghu Yan at the center.

The Chiliu Sect disciples who had been furious moments ago could not help feeling a chill under this oppressive force. Their blazing anger was forced back down.

Some of those with weaker cultivation even felt their legs go soft and began to tremble uncontrollably.

Wei Zhentian's heart sank. He understood now.

This was the Sword of Abandoning Life.

A sword born when a dying man cast aside every last spark of life and burned everything he had.

The sword that followed would surely be Linghu Yan's final sword—and the strongest sword of his life.

Memories of his repeated defeats in the past surged uncontrollably through his mind once more, making his Adam's apple bob.

Damn it!

Wei Zhentian came to his senses, shame and fury rushing straight to his crown.

A dying man! An old dog at the end of his strength! And I'm actually afraid of him!

His ferocity was provoked. His heart hardened, and he was just about to open his mouth and accept.

Suddenly.

A sword cry rang out.

Clear and soaring like a dragon's roar.

There was no warning and no buildup.

The long sword transformed into a streak of golden light and left its sheath completely.

A pure golden boundary, condensed to the extreme, formed between heaven and earth and shot toward Wei Zhentian.

Everywhere it passed, the brick and stone flooring was utterly destroyed by the shockwaves, raising vast clouds of thick dust.

Space itself seemed to split in two. Carrying the will to sever everything, it came straight toward him.

"Whether you dare or not, you'll receive this sword for me!"

Linghu Yan's voice rang out a beat later, almost perfectly synchronized with the sword light.

"Your mother, Linghu, you old dog! How dare you launch a sneak attack!"

"A sneak attack? You've got the nerve to say that!"

Prefecture Office.

West City Gate.

The city gates closed behind them.

Qi Baorui could not help turning back.

The city walls seemed especially silent. This was the place where he had lived for several decades, the place into which Yuanxiang Sect had poured a century of effort.

Today, they truly had to leave.

With careful arrangements made beforehand and secret assistance from Taihui Sect, they had managed to withdraw from this land of trouble without danger.

"Let's go."

Mo Zhen's calm voice came from beside him.

"As long as the people remain, the sect will not perish. One day, we'll return."

How difficult it was to abandon a place they had built up over a hundred years!

But things had come to this. No matter how reluctant they were or how helpless they felt, there was nothing they could do.

The torrent of troubled times had arrived. Without a Break Apex expert overseeing the sect, they had lost the qualifications to contend for supremacy.

Now, preserving their core strength as much as possible and withdrawing intact was already the best possible outcome.

"Wei Zhentian is a reckless brute, incapable of presiding over the greater situation. Yan Changyou is sinister and devoid of virtue; sooner or later, he'll suffer the backlash. As for who will ultimately claim the fruits of Qingzhou, that remains uncertain." Mo Zhen gave his assessment.

"Ah, no one is perfect~"

Qi Baorui shook his head, his face carrying both emotion and exhaustion.

"They fought and schemed, exhausting every stratagem. In the end, who could truly be called the victor?"

Even Linghu Yan, the Sect Master of Yuanxiang, had fallen into an ambush because of his arrogance and because his life had gone too smoothly.

Arrogance and conceit...

Qi Baorui inexplicably thought of Chen Duan. That boy should have already left the prefecture office, right...?

That was truly hard to say.

Forget it~

Let him be.

He had already done everything he should and could do.

One's personal fate could not be forced.

His gaze swept over the Yuanxiang Sect Disciples behind him, each wearing a different expression.

Worry, confusion, unwillingness, fury...

What would tomorrow hold for Yuanxiang Sect?

No one could provide a definite answer.

Mo Zhen was the first to board the carriage. "Let's go. There's no need to remain attached to the past. The road ahead lies in Shu Prefecture. There, we'll rebuild Yuanxiang Sect."

"All right."

Qi Baorui answered and cast one last deep look in the direction of Yuanxiang Sect's mountain gate.

Then he turned around and did not look back.