Ke Yanyue's arrogance and foul temper were famous throughout the Jianghu, but so long as your strength surpassed his—or you were someone like Su Xin, capable of catching his eye—he could be quite forthright and generous toward you.
Naturally, Murong Ting before him did not fall into that category. In Ke Yanyue's eyes, most martial artists born among the northwestern tribes were merely frogs at the bottom of a well—utterly worthless. Those from Great Snow Mountain were the sole exception.
As the sacred ground of martial arts in the Northwest, Great Snow Mountain carried some renown even in the Central Plains Martial Arts World. The martial artists it had trained from childhood were at least fairly capable.
"Ke Yanyue! You go too far!"
Murong Ting gave a cold snort. A longsword speckled with star-like marks appeared in his hand. With a light tap of the blade, an unusual ripple spread outward—galaxy and falling moon, sword pointing to the vault of heaven!
Forget that Murong Ting was a high-ranking Yang Spirit Realm martial artist and an elder of the Murong Clan; even an ordinary person would not have been able to stomach what Ke Yanyue had just said.
Yet Ke Yanyue merely sneered. His Fire Chi Crescent Blade moved, and boundless blazing flames surged skyward. Its blade force swept through the air, unleashing an endless torrent of tyrannical ferocity.
It was plainly no more than the simplest Mountain-Splitting Cleave, yet in Ke Yanyue's hands, it carried the might of creating heaven and earth. That strike tore open the sky and shattered the stars. Murong Ting's expression changed abruptly as sword qi burst forth, instantly dyeing the several-hundred-zhang area around them in a sheen of starlight, as though night had fallen.
Ke Yanyue's strike was simple, and so was his martial path: