The Might of the Blood Spirit

Zhao Jian'an had not expected these Radiance Cult fiends to dare counterattack instead of fleeing. Caught off guard, he was forced back by the combined assault of Mr. Bei and Liu Bai. Even Zhao Wuji, following behind him, was caught in the attack and blasted away.

Zhao Jian'an steadied himself and fixed his gaze on the Sun-Piercing Sword in Liu Bai's hand, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes.

He was very familiar with this divine weapon. A hundred years ago, he had just entered the Ninth-Realm Heavenly Profound and was at the peak of his strength. Great Xia had not yet completely abandoned its major border provinces as it had today.

That was why Zhao Jian'an had been named the Northern Suppression King by the emperor two generations before the last and sent to suppress Youzhou.

When Zhao Jian'an departed, he had been full of ambition, believing he could pacify the north and live up to the emperor's favor. Yet he had suffered a crushing defeat in Youzhou, losing to the previous leader of the One Qi Piercing Sun Alliance, Sword from the Morning Sun, Feng Tianyang.

And it was not only the One Qi Piercing Sun Alliance that he could do nothing about. Even the impoverished Murong Clan had been slippery beyond belief, and Zhao Jian'an had likewise failed to deal with them. In the end, he returned to the Capital City in disgrace, spending the past century cultivating in seclusion within the inner city and guarding the imperial palace, almost never leaving.

Now that he saw the Sun-Piercing Sword again and recalled his defeat at Feng Tianyang's hands, how could Zhao Jian'an not hate it?

Seeing Mr. Bei and the others still trying to escape, Zhao Jian'an said coldly, "You think merely holding a divine weapon means