Clatter.
At Zhao Tieyi's renewed command,
the sound of armor scraping together rang out again.
Hundreds of guards and sentries poured in behind them, raising their shields in formation and blocking the way in front of the Heaven Dou Emperor and the nobles.
The shield bearers and archers drew their bows, keeping Yan Lingji and the others at bay.
Shields like a wall in front, arrows like a forest behind.
Blades and spears flashed with cold light.
"Loose!"
Zhao Tieyi gave the order.
Thwip, thwip, thwip—!
Bowstrings twanged, and arrows poured down like a violent rainstorm.
Thousands of arrows tore through the air, sweeping toward Yan Lingji, her two clones, and Xiaomeng.
Watching the three graceful figures, several nobles in the hall let regret flicker across their eyes.
"What a pity... Three peerless beauties..."
"If we could capture even one alive..."
"Too bad. Traitors like them can only be shot dead."
The rain of arrows was almost upon them.
Xiaomeng stepped forward and swept the sheathed Qiuli Sword through the air.
"Colorless World."
Black and white burst outward from her, spreading in an instant.
In the blink of an eye, the entire hall lost its color.
The air froze. Everything seemed to have been pressed into pause.
The arrows hung suspended in midair, motionless, as if seized by an invisible force.
The guards stood rigid in place. The archers' movements halted, and even their breathing slowed.
Yan Lingji gave a soft laugh, raised her hand, and gathered a ball of ghostly blue flame in her palm.
"Burn."
The flame exploded, expanding outward in a ring of fire.
The arrows suspended in midair touched the flames and instantly melted into molten iron, dripping to the floor with a sizzling hiss.
Shields and blades—anything the flames reached—warped and buckled in the scorching heat.
Colorless World lifted.
"Drip, drip, drip..."
The sound of molten iron falling echoed through the hall.
Everyone stared at the scene in shock.
"H-How is that possible?!"
"The arrows... They've melted?!"
"What kind of flame is that? It can melt iron in an instant!"
Yan Lingji turned and winked at Xiaomeng. "Thanks, Sister Xiaomeng."
Xiaomeng remained expressionless and gave a slight nod.
Yan Lingji turned back. The Venom longsword in her hand began to soften.
Its blade stretched like flowing water, growing longer and thinner,
until, in just a few breaths, it had become a pitch-black whip more than ten meters long.
Its length was covered in fine barbs.
"Now..."
Yan Lingji flicked her wrist.
The whip lashed through the air with a thunderous crack.
Crack!
Her first lash struck the shields of three guards in the front row, caving them in.
The men were hurled away, slamming into a pillar behind them. Their armor shattered, and blood spilled from their mouths.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Yan Lingji's wrist flicked again and again. The whip swept through the crowd like a venomous dragon bursting from its lair.
Every strike came with an explosive sonic boom.
Shields shattered.
Armor caved in.
Men were flung away like rags.
The guards, encased in armor weighing dozens of pounds, were sent flying like shooting stars whenever the whip struck them.
They crashed into nobles, smashed tables and chairs, and slammed into pillars.
One guard was struck in the chest. His armor burst apart, and he flew more than ten meters before crashing into the wall, leaving a human-shaped dent.
Another guard raised his shield to block. The whip came down, crushing and twisting the shield. The bones in his arm shattered, and he went flying with a scream.
The nobles shrieked in terror and scattered in every direction.
"Hold them back! Hold them back!"
"Retreat! Fall back, quickly!"
But the whip's range was far too wide.
In Yan Lingji's hands, the ten-meter-long lash was as nimble as her own arm. Every swing covered a vast area.
Soldiers kept pouring into the hall from outside, only to be flung right back out.
The shield formation was useless.
In the face of Yan Lingji's 1450% boost, defensive Soul Skills were as good as paper.
Before even half a teacup of time had passed,
a wide patch of empty ground had been cleared in the middle of the hall.
Hundreds of badly wounded guards lay sprawled on the floor. The rest huddled in the corners, trembling and too afraid to come forward.
Zhao Tieyi was covered in blood, kneeling on one knee. Cracks covered his great shield.
His eyes were full of terror.
In his fifty-odd years, he had never seen a monster like this.
Xue Jianfeng's dragon spear had been snapped into several pieces. He leaned against a pillar, gasping for breath.
The three worshippers struggled to their feet and supported one another, blood still clinging to the corners of their mouths.
They stared at Yan Lingji, their eyes full of wariness.
"Your Majesty... Run!"
A noble cried out.
"Run, Your Majesty!"
"That woman... That woman is a demon!"
The other nobles joined in, their voices filled with fear.
The Heaven Dou Emperor sat on the throne, his face livid.
Run?
Where could he run to?
This was his palace, his court, his empire.
If he fled here, what kind of emperor would he be?
"Silence!"
The Heaven Dou Emperor roared, and the oppressive might of an Eight-Ring Soul Douluo erupted.
He slowly rose from the throne, his gaze fixed on Yan Lingji.
"I... will not run."
He drew a deep breath. All eight of his Soul Rings lit up at once.
"Seventh Soul Skill—Swan Avatar!"
In an instant,
the phantom of a giant swan with a wingspan of more than eight meters appeared behind him.
Its body was white as ice crystals, its neck long and slender, its wings spread wide.
Chilling air rolled off it.
The aura of a Soul Douluo climbed higher and higher.
The Swan Avatar merged with Xuelan. His entire body was wrapped in an icy glow.
Wings spread behind him as his feet left the ground and he hovered in midair.
The Eighth Soul Ring lit up.
"Eighth Soul Skill—Swan Ice-Seal Slash!"
The giant wings of ice snapped together, then opened wide again.
Countless ice blades shot from his body,
gathering in midair into a colossal X-shaped wave of frost that roared toward Yan Lingji.
The temperature in the hall plummeted, and a thin layer of ice formed across the floor.
Yan Lingji looked up at the wave of frost.
The long whip in her hand condensed back into a sword.
Crimson flames flared along its blade once more.
"Sun-Eroding Sword Technique—Seventh Form."
She pointed her sword to the sky. The blazing sun rose again.
"Light of the Setting Sun."
She swung her sword.
Her sword intent sank like the setting sun sinking behind a mountain, so heavy it stole the breath from one's lungs.
Flames and frost collided in midair.
In that instant,
the frost was swallowed by the flames, and steam billowed like fog.
The X-shaped wave of frost was as flimsy as paper before the blazing fire. It burst apart with a thunderous crash.
The sword's force remained undiminished, surging straight toward Xuelan.
Xuelan's pupils contracted. His swan wings snapped shut in front of him,
and his Eighth Soul Ring lit again in an attempt to block the blow.
But it was too late.
Boom—!
The entire hall trembled.
Xuelan and his Swan Avatar
were flung away like a stone hurled from a catapult,
slamming into the golden relief behind the throne.
The relief shattered.
Xuelan slid down the wall and fell to his knees.
The bones in his chest had all been shattered.
He spat out a mouthful of blood along with pieces of his organs.
His splendid robes were stained red across the chest.
The Swan Avatar collapsed with a roar and dissolved into specks of light.
He braced himself against the floor with one hand, his whole body trembling, his eyes filled with horror.
One sword strike.
Just one sword strike.
His Eighth Soul Skill, his Swan Avatar, the Soul Power he had accumulated over more than eighty years—
before that sword light, it all amounted to nothing.
A deathly silence fell over the hall.
The three worshippers struggled to support one another as they watched Xuelan fall. Despair filled their faces.
Even His Majesty...
Yan Lingji lowered her sword and looked down at Xuelan on his knees.
"Old fool, still holding on?"
She smiled, her voice light and airy.
"Don't rush. This is only the beginning."
Xuelan trembled all over as he looked up at the woman.
She stood there, her black-and-red dress stirring in the windless air, her peach-blossom eyes slightly raised, as if she were looking at an ant on the verge of death.
In the hall,
the nobles had already collapsed to the floor in terror, trembling all over.
The three worshippers supported one another and struggled to stand in front of Xuelan, but they could barely keep their feet.
Zhao Tieyi braced himself on his battered great shield, still kneeling on one knee. Cracks covered its surface.
Xue Jianfeng leaned on his broken spear, gasping for breath.
They were still holding on.
But for how much longer?
No one knew.
Outside the hall, the Imperial Guards' shouts of battle drew closer and closer.
But at that moment, the scales of victory inside the hall had tipped completely.
"Now, become my puppets!"
A pair of fox ears appeared atop Yan Lingji's head, and nine fox tails unfurled behind her.
Before anyone had time to marvel at the sight,
blue light suddenly blazed in Yan Lingji's gemstone-blue eyes.
"Divine Ability: Heavenly Illusion."
Before you continue