Furious Dragon Charges the Formation, Locking the Golden Ruins; A Host of Blades Shakes the Mountains, All in Vain

Jianlongzi was a man of exceedingly lofty ambition, and he had always considered himself extraordinarily gifted!

Naturally, both his master, Green Bamboo Sword Urn, and the martial uncles serving as elders of the Sword Hut had told him the same.

Yet ever since entering the sect, Jianlongzi had regarded the Sword Hut's sect master, Xie Qingmian, as the goal he would spend his entire life pursuing.

In his heart, the most gifted person in the world, the most stunningly brilliant talent of this generation, could only be his sect master martial uncle, Xie Qingmian.

He had entered the sect at five years old and was the youngest disciple of the previous generation.

Yet he had sensed Qi at six, opened his apertures at eight, opened his Dantian and reached Foundation Establishment at eleven, and condensed a top-grade Golden Core at twenty-three. He had mastered every one of the Sword Hut's many ultimate arts; when sparring with fellow disciples, he could casually call upon endless techniques and had never once been defeated.

From the youngest junior disciple, he had become the sect master senior brother.

And now, he had even broken through his bottleneck, formed an infant, and returned to the mountain.

To countless young disciples of the Sword Hut, he was a god—the person they revered most, the very faith of the sword path.

Heaven knew how stirred Jianlongzi had been when his sect master martial uncle had smiled so freely and stepped forward to protect him.

That man was the guiding beacon on Jianlongzi's journey, the direction for which he had striven and struggled all his life.

But now, that peerlessly brilliant sect master was kneeling prostrate before that devil, crushed so badly by the purple-gold divine mountain that he could scarcely breathe!

Jianlongzi looked up, his mouth unconsciously