Journey to the Zhao Clan
The moment the Green Sword Energy dissipated, the Evil Sword Immortal's body fell backward like a kite with a broken string. His black robes traced a twisted arc in the air, the fabric stretched taut from the high-speed descent, the edges even frayed by the airflow. Finally, with a muffled thud, he crashed heavily into the cliff face of Mist Valley —a cliff face already tinged with gray-black from years of black mist erosion, its rock layers riddled with countless holes corroded by evil power. The impact of his body sent large clumps of fine stone fragments falling, mixed with wisps of black energy, which turned into wisps of blue smoke upon landing.
His hat brim slipped off due to inertia, revealing a face etched with deep wrinkles. The wrinkles were as deep as if carved by a knife, crisscrossing as if gnawed by both time and evil magic; his eyes, which should have been cloudy, were now wide open in extreme fear, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, his pupils fixed on the afterimage of the Green Sword Energy, forgetting even to blink. The last trace of Evil Qi lingering in his eyes was cleansed by the spiritual light, leaving only an empty blankness, as if three hundred years of cultivation and infamous reputation had collapsed in this moment, even his soul had been shattered into dust by the sword intent.
With a soft "poof," as faint as a mosquito's buzz, yet remarkably clear in the silent valley, a three-inch-long gash appeared on the Evil Sword Immortal's chest. The edges were clean, as if sliced by a sharp blade. No bright red blood flowed out; only wisps of thick, ink-like black energy escaped from the wound—the black energy twisted in the air into agonizing ghastly faces, some howling in agony, others with blood streaming from their eyes—the remnants of the souls he had devoured over the past three hundred years. These remnants, now freed from the shackles of evil power, were finally liberated. But the moment they came into contact with the sunlight filtering through the valley, they hissed and vanished into wisps of smoke, disappearing without a trace.
His body also became transparent, gradually turning into black ash from the wound in his heart. The ash was blown away by the mountain wind and scattered into finer particles. His infamous reputation for slaughtering three sects and five factions and refining thousands of souls shattered like bubbles, ultimately buried under the Carefree Sword Intent. Only a shallow impact mark remained on the cliff, with a trace of weak evil power still lingering in it. However, under the sunlight, it dissipated at a visible speed, as if even heaven and earth did not want to leave any evidence of his existence.
Ren Xiaoyao sheathed his sword and stood there, the hem of his white robes swaying gently in the mountain breeze, the lingering black mist dissipating to reveal a three-inch-long shallow mark beneath the fabric. It was the mark of a burn inflicted by the evil sword Evil Sword Immortal's Purple Sword Energy during their clash; it still bore a faint purplish-black hue, with a subtle yet persistent stinging sensation beneath his skin. He glanced down at the Dao Wound, a wisp of pale blue spiritual energy swirling around his fingertips, gently covering the injury like silk—the instant the energy seeped into his skin, the purplish-black faded visibly, leaving only a pale pink, like a mosquito bite.
Then he looked up in the direction where the Evil Sword Immortal had vanished, and with a slight flick of his fingertips, a thin, cyan light blade shot out, slicing through the air like a willow leaf, precisely striking the last wisp of faint, lingering Evil Qi. The Evil Qi, touched by the light blade, emitted a sizzling, corrosive sound, churning violently like boiling oil meeting water, and instantly dissipated without a trace. Having done all this, he turned, lightly touching the bluestone slab with his toes, and his figure soared into the sky like a willow catkin. As his robes fluttered, a refreshing breeze arose, carrying away the remaining black mist in the Mist Valley and dispersing some of the last vestiges of gloom, revealing the newly green Green Moss on the cliff walls, with a few glistening dewdrops clinging to Green Moss, shimmering in the sunlight.
The clouds swirled beneath his feet, wrapping around his ankles like a light veil. His figure appeared and disappeared among the clouds, moving with astonishing speed—each time his toes touched the wisps of cloud, they left only a faint mark before vanishing, as if he were one with the Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi. In less than the time it takes to burn half an incense stick, the majestic vermilion gate of the Zhao Family Ancestral Land came into view in the distance.
The gate stood three zhang tall, its panels crafted from century-old Rosewood, so heavy that it took four people to encircle them. Two coiled golden dragons were carved into the panels, their scales inlaid with red gold, gleaming dazzlingly in the sunlight. The pearls gripped by their claws were even inlaid with tiny rubies, exuding the extravagance of the Aristocratic Clan clan. A black plaque hung above the gate, the characters "Zhao Mansion" carved in Seal Script, each stroke powerful and imposing, bordered by a silver rim, further enhancing its majesty. However, at this moment, that majesty carried a tense, chilling air. Even the two ten-zhang-tall stone lions before the gate had their eye sockets imbued with Defense Runes by clan cultivators, gleaming with a faint blue light, like pairs of vigilant eyes watching every passing movement. The bases beneath the stone lions were also inscribed with dense Clan Protection Incantations, flowing with a faint spiritual energy, enveloping the entire ancestral land in an invisible barrier.
Inside the Zhao Family Ancestral Land, security was extremely tight. Every three steps along the wall stood a Golden Core Cultivator dressed in black, close-fitting attire. Their postures were as upright as pine trees, and the scabbards of their longswords were engraved with the Zhao Clan Emblem —a blooming Ink Lotus. The swords were drawn three inches from their sheaths, revealing their gleaming white blades, which shimmered with spiritual energy and radiated a faint, cold light. They even deliberately kept their breathing light, their eyes scanning the surroundings like hawks. Even the passing of a bird would attract several wary glances.
Outside the Council Hall hall, the flagstones were spotless, not a speck of dust in the crevices, yet three hundred members of the Zhao Clan family stood in neat rows. They wore uniform blue robes, the collars and cuffs embroidered with silver cloud patterns, and held spears—the shafts made of thousand-year-old Ebony Wood, gleaming with a deep luster, while the tips were forged from Mysterious Iron, emitting a ghostly green, poisonous light. That was the Zhao Clan's specially crafted "Corrosive Heart Poison," made from the Southern Xinjiang Miasma and a hundred kinds of poisonous insects. Once it pierced the skin, it would travel along the blood vessels to the heart, causing the person to bleed from all seven orifices and die within half an hour.
Eight Clan Elder stood before the three hundred disciples, all dressed in brocade robes, their hair and beards white, adorned with Jade Hairpin, and leaning on exquisitely carved canes. The eldest elder's cane was topped with a piece of jade the size of a pigeon's egg, its vibrant green almost dripping, but now, due to tension, it gleamed with a dull light, as if shrouded in a layer of Gray Mist. The three hundred disciples and the eight Clan Elder stood in Eight Trigrams Formation, the Zhao Clan family's thousand-year-old protective formation, the "Dragon Locking Array"—at the formation's core stood a two-zhang-tall Black Iron Flagpole, from which hung a black flag. Embroidered with the character "Zhao" in gold thread, the flag shimmered slightly, imbued with spiritual energy, fluttering in the wind. Each flutter carried a chilling, Killing Intent, as if it would cleave the very air.
Zhao Lie stood at the front of the formation, dressed in a black brocade robe, with a black jade waist Waist Token tied around his waist. The token, engraved with the Zhao Clan Emblem, gleamed with a warm light. The deep wrinkles on his face were twisted with suppressed rage, each line exuding a fierce intensity, as if it could shatter the surrounding air. In his hand, he held a newly forged Bronze Token, its edges gleaming coldly, engraved with intricate runes, the gaps between which shimmered with a faint golden light—this was the Zhao Clan's most treasured "Clan Suppressing Grand Array" activation token. This token was originally a treasure passed down through the Zhao Clan for thousands of years, requiring the bloodline of the clan leader to activate, and would never be used lightly unless facing a crisis of annihilation. Yet now, he had taken it out prematurely to deal with Ren Xiaoyao, demonstrating the depth of his hatred for Ren Xiaoyao.
When the white-clad figure appeared at the plaza entrance, Zhao Lie's pupils contracted sharply, as if pricked by needles. His eyes instantly became bloodshot, bulging as if they would burst. He stared intently at Ren Xiaoyao, his fingers gripping the token so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and even the runes on the token were slightly hot from his grip. His voice was hoarse with extreme rage, as if it had been sanded. "Ren Xiaoyao! You dare come here!" Before he finished speaking, the Bronze Token in his hand slammed heavily onto the bluestone slab, producing a dull thud that shook the ground slightly. A tiny fluctuation of spiritual energy even seeped from the cracks in the bluestone. "Activate the Dragon Locking Array! Today, I will make you perish here, avenging my son Zhao Feng!"
At his command, the three hundred Zhao Clan family disciples simultaneously let out a low shout, their voices ringing out in unison like thunder across the square. Their spiritual energy surged like a tidal wave into their spears, causing the eerie green poisonous light at the spear tips to suddenly intensify, spreading along the spears to the ground and seeping into the cracks of the bluestone slabs, staining them a faint green. The next second, golden patterns appeared on the square's surface, rapidly weaving together as if alive. First, they outlined the shape of the Eight Trigrams, then gradually filled in, finally forming a gigantic dragon pattern— its Dragon Head held high, its whiskers flowing, its body coiling across the entire square, its scales gleaming with sharp spiritual light, as if it would leap from the ground at any moment to devour its prey.
The eight Clan Elder each stood at a corner of the Eight Trigrams Formation, their canes striking the ground simultaneously with a synchronized "thump-thump-thump," a sound that seemed to pound on everyone's hearts. Eight golden beams of light shot into the sky from the tips of the canes, each beam containing faint fluctuations of spiritual energy, converging in the air to form a phantom golden dragon. The dragon was ten zhang long, its claws sharp as knives, its nails gleaming coldly, and its eyes glowing crimson, as if stained with blood. It let out a deafening roar. With a roar, the sound waves spread out, shaking the leaves of the trees around the plaza so much that they rustled and fell to the ground, still trembling slightly. After the roar, the golden dragon swooped down, opening its massive jaws to reveal sharp fangs, some even glistening with golden saliva, and lunged at Ren Xiaoyao. Golden flames spewed from its mouth, leaving charred marks on the bluestone slabs, from which wisps of smoke rose and emitted a burnt smell.
Ren Xiaoyao neither dodged nor evaded. The Carefree Sword in his hand trembled slightly, emitting a soft "humming" sound, as if responding to the roar of the golden dragon. He leaped into the air, his robes unfurling like a blooming white lotus, a few wisps of grass still clinging to the fabric, shimmering faintly green in the sunlight. The cloud patterns on the sword flowed slowly under the impetus of spiritual power, as fluid as water, drawing in the surrounding spiritual Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi —the Spiritual Qi in the air gathered towards the sword like a tide, forming a half-zhang wide azure sword arc. The edge of the sword arc shimmered with a faint spiritual light, exuding Artistic Conception of Inclusive of Heaven and Earth, even softening the air itself.
With a crisp clang, the sword arc collided with the golden dragon's head. Golden scales flew, falling to the ground like meteors with a clattering sound. The scales, still slightly warm, landed on the bluestone slab. The golden dragon, in pain, let out a shrill roar, its massive body retreating backward. A shallow sword mark appeared on its Dragon Head —the spiritual light at the mark dimmed, unable to be repaired instantly, as if an indelible mark had been etched upon it. Ren Xiaoyao used the momentum to land, his toes lightly stepping on the golden patterns. The patterns, enhanced by spiritual power, were slightly dimmed by the Carefree Sword Intent emanating from him. The golden light flickered a few times before barely stabilizing, as if resisting the sword intent.
"You think you can stop me with just a formation?" Ren Xiaoyao's voice was cold and clear, like ice in the mountains, yet it carried a penetrating power, echoing across the plaza. He flicked his wrist, and his longsword swept out horizontally, his movements fluid and without the slightest hesitation. A Green Sword Energy, dozens of feet long, instantly formed, roaring like a Sword Qi as it rushed towards the Black Iron Flagpole at the center of the formation. The air along its path was torn apart, emitting a "sizzling" sound. As the Sword Qi swept across the ground, the golden patterns along its path shattered inch by inch, making a "crack" sound, like porcelain breaking. The weaker Foundation Establishment Cultivator among the Zhao Clan family members were instantly struck by the aftershocks of the Sword Qi energy, their chests tightening and spitting out a mouthful of blood—dark red in color. The blood, falling onto the bluestone slab, was instantly absorbed by the golden patterns, causing the patterns to glow with an eerie red light. Their bodies flew backward like kites with broken strings, crashing heavily into the vermilion pillars of the Council Hall with a loud thud. They then lost consciousness, leaving a deep bloodstain on the pillar, the bloodstain winding down the pillar like a small red snake.
Seeing this, Zhao Lie's anger intensified, as if he were about to breathe fire. He roared and lunged at Ren Xiaoyao, his spiritual power surging, his black brocade robe bulging under the strain, the patterns on the fabric clearly visible. He rapidly formed hand seals, spiritual power flowing from his fingertips, his inner energy condensing into a pair of black Mysterious Iron Gauntlets — the Gauntlets gleamed with Black Evil Qi, within Sha Qi tiny poison needles flickered, emitting a ghostly green light, exuding deadly danger. That was the Zhao Clan's ancestral "Bone Corroding Evil Qi," refined from a hundred kinds of deadly poisons. Those who came into contact with it would have their meridians instantly corroded, unable to circulate their spiritual power, ultimately dying in agony. "My son Zhao Feng died by your sword, his No Existence! Today I will use your bones to appease his soul!" His voice was filled with hatred, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a chilling coldness.
Ren Xiaoyao dodged Zhao Lie's fist, the force of the blow grazing his white robes and bringing with it a foul, pungent stench of poison. A black mark instantly appeared on his fabric, the lingering poison of the Sha Qi energy, slowly spreading as if to stain his entire robe black. The blade of his Carefree Sword grazed his Mysterious Iron Gauntlets, leaving a spark that landed on the ground, still flickering slightly. A faint light shimmered on the sword, deflecting some of the Sha Qi from the Gauntlets, Sha Qi then corroded the bluestone slabs, creating tiny holes. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the sword tip shot towards Zhao Lie's heart like a meteor, its trajectory too fast to be seen, leaving only a faint blue afterimage.
Just as the sword tip was about to pierce Zhao Lie's heart, a dark shadow suddenly attacked from the side—it was the Grand Elder's Dragon Head Cane. With a clang, the cane precisely blocked the sword tip. The jade at the top of the cane shattered under the immense impact, turning into specks of green light. The spiritual energy erupted, forcing Ren Xiaoyao back several steps. The hem of his white robe was swept by the spiritual energy, tearing a gash and revealing pale pink skin underneath, with a few wisps of residual spiritual energy still clinging to it.
At the same time, the other seven Clan Elder also made their move. They silently chanted incantations, the Incantation Syllables were strange, like the wailing of ghosts and wolves, unsettling the listener. Their spiritual power transformed into seven chains of different colors—red, yellow, blue, green, cyan, blue, and purple—corresponding to the seven attributes of fire, earth, water, wood, wind, thunder, and poison, respectively. The chains, like venomous snakes, coiled around Ren Xiaoyao's limbs from all directions. The chains gleamed with a ghostly light, leaving black marks on his white clothes as the toxins seeped into his skin, turning it a faint dark purple, as if stained with ink.
"He's trapped!" Zhao Lie's eyes flashed with wild joy, and the wrinkles on his face smoothed out with excitement, making him seem a few years younger in an instant. He raised the Bronze Token in his hand again, his voice trembling with excitement. "Clan Suppressing Grand Array, activate it at full power!"
The golden dragon above the plaza coalesced once more, this time three times larger than before, reaching a length of thirty zhang (approximately 13 meters), its body almost obscuring half the sky. Its claws glowed with a dense, eerie green poisonous light, which, when it fell to the ground, corroded small holes in the bluestone slabs, which continued to expand, emitting black smoke. As the golden dragon swooped down, even the air became tainted with the poison, tinged with a faint green; inhaling even a single breath caused a tightness in the throat, and even the flow of spiritual energy became sluggish. Ren Xiaoyao, bound by chains, felt a sharp pain in his limbs and meridians. The poison spread rapidly along his meridians, burrowing into his dantian like a leech, causing his spiritual energy to stagnate, his face to turn pale, and his lips to lose their color. However, there was no fear in his eyes. Instead, he held the Carefree Sword horizontally in front of his chest, and the Carefree Sword Intent around him suddenly surged. A pale blue spiritual light overflowed from his body, forcing back some of the poison, and the dark purple on his skin faded somewhat.
"Carefree Sword Intent, Break!"
A soft shout, like a thunderclap, resounded across the plaza. Pale blue spiritual light erupted from Ren Xiaoyao's body, forming a three-zhang-wide light shield. On this shield, Mountain and River Phantoms appeared—majestic peaks piercing the clouds, shrouded in mist, within which silhouettes of birds could be seen; surging rivers roared, waves crashing against rocks, creating a "whoosh" sound, carrying a power that Inclusive of Heaven and Earth. The seven chains binding his limbs shattered instantly under the impact of the spiritual light. The toxins at the broken ends were purified by the light, turning into wisps of black smoke that dissipated after twisting a few times in the air before vanishing completely. Ren Xiaoyao leaped into the air, his figure like a streak of blue lightning, his Carefree Sword transforming into a stream of light, aiming straight for the golden dragon's left eye.
Though illusory, the golden dragon possessed sentience. Sensing danger, it roared and tried to evade, its massive body twisting in the air, but it was still a step too slow—the sword tip pierced the dragon's left eye with pinpoint accuracy. Golden blood flowed from the dragon's eye, a viscous liquid that dripped onto the ground, scorching small holes in the bluestone slabs. White smoke rose from the slabs, emitting a strange odor. Ren Xiaoyao used the momentum to land beside the Black Iron Flagpole, and with a flick of his wrist, the sword blade slashed down heavily. With a crisp "crack," the black Black Iron Flagpole snapped in two, leaving a bluish sword mark at the break. A faint trace of spiritual energy remained at the mark, preventing the flagpole from regenerating. The black flag at the top of the flagpole, losing its support, slowly fell, and with a gust of wind, it shattered into fragments, which danced in the air like black butterflies.
As the flagpole snapped, the spiritual light of the Dragon Locking Array dimmed instantly, and the golden patterns faded rapidly, as if washed away by water. The golden dragon that had gathered in the air let out a mournful cry, its massive body becoming transparent before finally turning into specks of golden light and dissipating into the air, leaving only a faint Dragon Shape Imprint on the plaza. The mark still flickered slightly, as if recounting the fierce battle that had just taken place.
"No!" Zhao Lie's eyes were bloodshot as he charged madly toward Ren Xiaoyao, the blood vessels in his eyes almost solidifying as if they were about to drip blood. He no longer cared about the consumption of spiritual energy, and all the remaining spiritual energy in his body surged into his hands. The Black Evil Qi of the Mysterious Iron Gauntlets surged again, even dyeing the air gray-black. The Sha Qi also contained tiny poison needles, which glowed with a ghostly green light.
Ren Xiaoyao turned, his Carefree Sword pointing directly at Zhao Lie's throat. The tip of the sword gleamed faintly with a spiritual light, exuding a deadly chill. Zhao Lie instinctively raised his hand to block, holding his Mysterious Iron Gauntlets Sha Qi on the Gauntlets surged again, attempting to force Ren Xiaoyao's sword away. But Ren Xiaoyao twisted his wrist, the sword tip abruptly changing direction, slashing upwards like a serpent. With a "swoosh," the sharp blade precisely severed Zhao Lie's right hand, which held the Bronze Token. Blood gushed out instantly, splattering onto the black brocade robe like a torn red silk, staining the dark patterns on the fabric a hideous dark red. The severed hand fell onto the bluestone slab, the fingers still tightly gripping the Bronze Token. The runes on the token's surface, having lost their bloodline support, instantly dimmed, becoming nothing more than ordinary metal.
"Ah--!" Zhao Lie let out a heart-wrenching scream, his left hand tightly covering the bleeding wound, blood dripping from between his fingers and forming a winding stream of blood on the ground. He staggered backward, his eyes filled with terror and disbelief. His former ferocity had been completely shattered, leaving only the fear of death. He stared at the long sword gleaming coldly in Ren Xiaoyao's hand, his legs trembling uncontrollably, and he needed the support of the disciples beside him to even stand.
At this moment, the Zhao Clan family members were in complete chaos. More than half of the three hundred men had been killed or wounded. The wounded lay on the ground groaning, while the uninjured held their spears in trembling hands, the poisonous light at the tips of the spears dimmed with fear.