Spring Rain on a Small Building Overnight!

The blood-red setting sun dyed the corpses strewn across the hillside a dark crimson. Several warhorses neighed among the piles of bodies, their hooves pawing at the mud soaked through with blood.

With a flick of Wang Xuan's wrist, the blood clinging to the Blood Blade slid off in streams, revealing a blade dark red, nearly black.

After days of slaughter, this Demonic Blade had drunk deeply of blood. Its body had long lost its original snowy brilliance, becoming heavy and dull.

After repeated fierce battles and the continual infusion of Grandmaster-level True Qi—icy, yang, tyrannical, gentle, all kinds of True Qi tempering and tearing through the blade—it had finally reached its limit.

That last slash had made him clearly feel fine cracks splitting open inside the blade, like ice fracturing beneath his feet.

He weighed the Blood Blade in his hand, revealing a look of regret.

The scene he had imagined, of it drinking blood, evolving through the demonic path, and even developing a weapon spirit, had ultimately never appeared.

A martial arts world was still a martial arts world. It could not conjure up the fantasies of an immortal cultivation world.

He casually planted the Blood Blade into the ground, its body sinking into the dirt amid the corpses to keep those fallen enemies company.

"Old friend, this is goodbye."

There was no hesitation in him, nor could he afford any.

He summoned the Divine Weapon Card from the System Panel. Countless Divine Weapons from the Intermediate Martial Arts World surfaced in his mind: the Heavenly Sword, Dragon Slaying Saber, Holy Flame Tablet, True Martial Sword, Deer Cutting Saber... He only possessed one weapon martial art, Divine Blade Slash, so he naturally prioritized a Divine Weapon suited to that technique.

Full Moon Scimitar.

The instant the thought fell, a saber appeared in his hand.

[Item: Full Moon Scimitar (Spring Rain on a Small Building Overnight)]

[Material: Millennium Cold Mountain Nether Iron]

[Description: The Demonic Sect's sacred treasure, weighing two jin and seven liang and measuring three chi long. Its blade curves like a crescent moon, ancient yet sharply imposing. A faint eerie gleam shimmered from its edge, where seven characters were engraved—"Spring Rain on a Small Building Overnight."]

The blade was faintly cool and fit perfectly against his palm, as though it had been born to be held there.

Three days later.

The salty sea wind rushed toward him, but Wang Xuan's expression darkened. There was no joy at having reached the coastline, only killing intent so dense it could not be dissolved.

Within the range of his divine awareness, Grandmaster auras stretched endlessly in the distance. Not one or two, not seven or eight, but an entire mass joined together like an iron wall spanning heaven and earth.

At that moment, even the wind was suppressed by that immense presence, and the air stagnated like dead water.

After rounding a mountain ridge, Wang Xuan saw the beach—and the people waiting for him upon it.

At a glance, there were hundreds, perhaps thousands.

Those Grandmaster Players stood woodenly along the coast. Pairs of numb eyes turned toward him in unison, their gazes vacant, like puppets whose souls had been extracted.

Without a ripple in his expression, Wang Xuan turned to look farther down the shoreline.

A cluster of pavilions and towers had been built there from logs. Shadowy figures stood atop the foremost platform. With his eyesight, he could clearly see many members of the Royal Clan with the character "Wang" carved into their foreheads, holding glazed wine cups as they calmly watched this way.

One Royal Clan member met Wang Xuan's eyes and actually raised his cup in a distant toast. His posture was as though he were watching a carefully prepared gladiatorial match.

Humiliation burned in his chest like Blazing Fire.

Wang Xuan's grip on his saber suddenly tightened, his knuckles cracking. Yet he did not erupt. The raging fury in his chest silently transformed at that moment into a cold, heavy, bloodthirsty malice that craved rivers of blood.

His body shifted slightly as he took a step toward the Royal Clan.

That step seemed to trigger some hidden mechanism.

Among the Grandmaster Players who had stood still as stone statues, one figure suddenly exploded into motion. Violent True Qi erupted, blasting beach sand more than a man's height into the air. Dust filled the sky, obscuring the setting sun. Only a fading afterimage remained where he had stood; his real body was already charging like an arrow loosed from the bow.

Flame Blade!

The Grandmaster Player chopped downward with his right palm. Flames several feet high instantly surged from his hand, and scorching blade qi tore through the air like a crimson dragon. Carrying a piercing shriek and the pungent smell of scorching, it slashed down at Wang Xuan from above. Even the air currents seemed to ignite in its wake, rippling with distorted heat.

Wang Xuan did not slow. His body abruptly became a ghostly afterimage that skimmed rapidly across the ground, moving so fast that only a blurred outline remained.

Almost the instant his body shifted aside, the blazing Flame Blade qi tore through his lingering phantom and smashed into the ground. With a thunderous boom, scorching sand sprayed into the sky. A long, charred trench was carved into the earth, while the sand along both sides rapidly melted under the extreme heat and condensed into translucent glass-like crystals that glinted with piercing cold light beneath the setting sun.

Though his strike missed, the Grandmaster Player remained utterly composed. His movements flowed smoothly into the next attack, the flames in his palm burning even brighter. Blade qi after blade qi followed in an unbroken stream, sweeping in like raging waves of fire. The scorching air currents nearly boiled the air around Wang Xuan, and even the plants on the ground began to curl and blacken.

Wang Xuan weaved through the Flame Blade qi filling the sky, his expression tightening slightly as unconcealed irritation flashed through his eyes.

He was no longer the cultivator who had just arrived in this world at the fifth level of Grandmaster. This Player's attacks were not weak, and his Flame Blade was far superior to that of an ordinary Grandmaster. Even among peak Grandmasters, he would have been considered top-tier.

But against Wang Xuan now, he only needed one slash.

Without any unnecessary movement, Wang Xuan lightly hooked his fingers. The Full Moon Scimitar slid from its sheath in response. No dazzling saber light burst forth, no deafening roar rang out. Everything was eerily silent.

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In an instant, saber intent as bone-chilling as frost and as lonely as a frozen abyss swept across the land. The surrounding scorching air currents were immediately suppressed by that coldness, and even the flames of the Flame Blade qi seemed to dim.

The seven seal-script characters, "Spring Rain on a Small Building Overnight," faintly flowed across the blade, giving off a dim, eerie glow. No sharpness was revealed, yet it possessed an awe-inspiring aura that looked down upon the world.

The curved saber left its sheath. No fierce edge could be seen; only a hazy moonlight appeared from nowhere, cold and pure as it crossed the sky, as though it would use one blade to split all the flames and endless clamor in two!

The Player using Flame Blade froze in place, the life in his eyes extinguishing like a candle flame.

Wang Xuan struck with a backhand palm, and the Energy Absorption Technique drained every last trace of the other man's True Qi and life force.

By the time he returned the saber to its sheath, he had already walked five steps away. Behind him, only a shriveled corpse remained, turning into ash.

"Clap, clap, clap..."

Applause came from the distant platform, mixed with wild laughter. They seemed greatly satisfied by the slaughter.

Wang Xuan did not look up.

He knew this was merely the appetizer.

Suddenly, three figures shot out from the dense crowd of Players. Their bodies were as swift as startled swans, and in an instant they formed a triangular formation around Wang Xuan. Their auras were deep and heavy as an abyss, without a single wasted movement.

The two at his sides launched their palms simultaneously. Their palm force was bitterly cold, comparable to an ice cellar frozen for ten thousand years. Their palm shadows were black as ink, wrapped in faint black qi as they swiftly closed in from both sides. With whistling force, both palms struck toward Wang Xuan's vital points at once.

The man directly ahead raised his middle finger slightly, his knuckle glowing faintly. Streams of Invisible Sword Qi howled forth in a frenzy, interwoven in dense and sparse patterns, instantly sealing every route of retreat before, behind, left, and right of Wang Xuan, leaving him no room to evade.

Mysterious Nether Palm! Six Meridian Divine Sword!

The three unleashed a killing formation from the start, without the slightest probing. The Invisible Sword Qi arrived first, shrieking through the air in a dense deluge like torrential rain, accurately targeting every major acupoint across Wang Xuan's body in an attempt to finish him in one strike.

Wang Xuan did not pause, his expression still calm. A brilliant golden radiance suddenly spread over his body as he drove the Indestructible Diamond Divine Skill to its limit. Every inch of his skin seemed coated in heavy, pure gold.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The Invisible Sword Qi struck his golden body in rapid succession, producing crisp chimes like a bell being struck. Sparks flew and fragments scattered, but no matter how sharp or tyrannical the sword qi was, it could not even leave a faint white mark.

Amid the storm of sword qi, the Mysterious Nether Palms of the two men at his sides simultaneously landed on Wang Xuan's back.

One palm was pitch-black and gave off an eerie chill; the other was deathly pale as frost, its coldness piercing through his clothing. Two streams of incomparably pure Mysterious Nether Cold Poison rushed deep into his meridians like living serpents flicking their tongues.

Yet Wang Xuan neither dodged nor resisted, and his expression did not change in the slightest.

The Energy Absorption Technique abruptly erupted from his back like two invisible vortices with terrifying suction, firmly locking onto the two palms pressed against him.

The Mysterious Nether Cold Poison that had failed to break his defenses instantly surged back like a burst dam, wholly absorbed into Wang Xuan's body. Along with it, the True Qi, blood, and even life force of the two men were continuously devoured by the Energy Absorption Technique.

The two Players using Mysterious Nether Palm desperately tried to pull their hands back, but their palms seemed cast onto Wang Xuan's back with molten iron. They could not move at all and could only watch their power rapidly drain away.

Wang Xuan endured the Invisible Sword Qi coming from the front and took two steady steps forward, dragging the two men behind him along.

After only two steps, the bodies of the men behind him visibly shriveled. Their skin wrinkled and turned gray, while their empty clothes drifted to the ground. Their flesh, True Qi, internal force, and martial arts insights had all been absorbed clean, leaving behind only two hollow shells.

Several new cultivation technique notifications suddenly appeared on the System Panel: Mysterious Nether Divine Skill, Mysterious Nether Palm, Flame Blade, and Shakya Elephant-Throwing Skill.

Wang Xuan swept his gaze over them. Without even thinking, he moved his mind and maxed out all four techniques with one command. Massive amounts of martial arts insight flooded into his mind. Beyond the many types of True Qi he already possessed, another icy and tyrannical stream of Mysterious Nether True Qi now circulated slowly through his meridians.

Shakya Elephant-Throwing Skill!

After maxing out this supreme external art that incorporated the essence of Tianzhu yoga, Wang Xuan could clearly feel his physical strength rise another level. His muscles and bones became even tougher.

Especially its unique method of exerting force—it was exquisitely profound and marvelously ingenious. Even at his current realm, it made his eyes light up.

The Player facing him, who wielded the Six Meridian Divine Sword, saw that Wang Xuan had treated him as though he did not exist from beginning to end. His ten fingers fluttered like butterflies as different sword qi shot out in succession: the fierce and tyrannical Shaoshang Sword, the swift and agile Shangyang Sword, the heavy and steady Zhongchong Sword, the light and ethereal Shaochong Sword... Sword qi of every kind intertwined into an airtight net of death. The endless clanging rang out as all of them struck Wang Xuan's golden body.

They could not break his defenses.

But they were annoying.

Like several irritating flies endlessly buzzing beside his ears—they could not hurt him, but they were utterly disgusting and maddening.

A cold gleam flashed through Wang Xuan's eyes. His brows shot upward, and his calm expression instantly vanished. Like a wrathful Buddha glaring with wide eyes, his aura surged explosively, his pressure sweeping across the land like a mountain.

He reached backward with one hand. A huge hand formed from nearly tangible True Qi appeared in the air, lifelike and clearly defined down to each finger. Carrying a heavy pressure like a mountain, it grabbed at the Player using the Six Meridian Divine Sword.

The Player remained expressionless, but his body tried to use lightness skill to evade. He could not move. It was as though a stagnant force field existed around the huge True Qi hand; the air instantly became like a thick swamp. His body suddenly slowed, and even breathing became difficult.

The huge True Qi hand seized him in its palm like lightning. The force was so immense that the bones throughout his body cracked under the unbearable pressure.

Wang Xuan flung his hand back and smashed him brutally into the ground—Shakya Elephant-Throwing Skill!

Legend had it that when Shakyamuni was ten years old, his cousin killed a white elephant with one punch, and its corpse blocked the city gate. Shakyamuni then lifted the elephant with his left hand, supported it with his right, and hurled it through the air beyond the city. It flew over seven walls and seven moats before landing and forming the Elephant-Fall Pit. Its power was evident from this, and the Shakya Elephant-Throwing Skill originated from that tale.

The explosion cracked out like thunder, shaking the earth and mountains as it echoed in all directions. The tremendous impact hurled sand more than three meters into the air like an inverted waterfall, blotting out the sky and blanketing the entire battlefield in gray dust.

As the dust slowly settled, a massive crater appeared in the ground, its walls covered in cracks and jagged stones.

At the center of the crater, the Grandmaster Player who had used the Six Meridian Divine Sword lay limp as mud. His flesh was mangled and bloody, and he took in more breaths than he released. Every bone in his body had been pulverized, leaving him soft and collapsed like a waterskin filled with water.

At the center of the crater, the Grandmaster Player lay limp as mud, taking in more breaths than he released. If anyone stepped forward to touch him, they would find that every bone in his body had been pulverized, leaving him soft and collapsed like a waterskin filled with water.