At the Imperial Pass, amidst the towering mountains, stood a colossal palace.
The mountain range was majestic, ancient trees reached for the skies, and massive boulders lay scattered. This was the secluded cultivation ground of Meng Tianzheng. Since he entered, he had not emerged. A bronze lamp hung at the palace’s entrance, flickering unsteadily.
The flame was dim, the wick swaying weakly, as if it could extinguish at any moment—a sight that sent chills down the spines of onlookers.
For this was no ordinary artifact—it was Meng Tianzheng’s Soul Lamp, a reflection of his life force. Its flickering state indicated his dire predicament, teetering between life and death.
The bronze Soul Lamp resonated with the Grand Elder’s aura, revealing his condition.
“Grand Elder!”
Several figures stood before the palace, their faces pale with shock. The Grand Elder was in grave peril, struggling amidst the storm—how could he emerge now?
These were the divine thoughts and spiritual avatars of Qing Yi, Chang Gongyan, the Lunar Jade Rabbit, and others, gathered here in deep anxiety.
“Heh…” A soft, mocking laugh echoed, light yet grating.
Aside from Qing Yi and her companions, other beings had also gathered—some in their true forms. Yet, these individuals showed no urgency, standing composed and unhurried.
*Whoosh!*
In the distance, divine light blazed as numerous figures descended, merging with the divine thoughts and avatars. The true forms of the Heavenly Horned Ant and others arrived, landing upon the earth.
“Step aside!” Qing Yi snapped.
Gentle by nature, even she was now furious, instantly grasping the situation.
The composed group ahead were members of the Jin Clan, who had followed their divine thoughts and avatars here. Not long ago, they had deliberately blocked the path!
Their intentions were sinister—they had obstructed the Lunar Jade Rabbit, Qing Yi, and others, preventing them from approaching the palace.
This was a fatal hindrance, cutting off communication with the palace and ensuring that Qing Yi and the Lunar Jade Rabbit could not alter Shi Hao’s fate of leaving the Imperial Pass.
Only when they saw the Grand Elder’s Soul Lamp flickering dangerously, on the verge of extinguishing, did they reluctantly cease their obstruction.
Now, though they no longer blocked the path, their barely concealed smirks remained, a sight that stung the eyes.
“Grand Elder Meng is in peril. I advise everyone not to disturb him. We should guard his cultivation, not cause a commotion here!” A middle-aged man spoke—a great cultivator at the Dunyi Realm.
His smile was placid, but it reeked of insincerity.
“Get out of my way! If you dare obstruct us again, not even Jin Tai Jun will save you from death!” The Heavenly Horned Ant, though small in stature, roared with piercing fury, his eyes blazing.
The Jin Clan members flinched. Though their cultivation surpassed the ant’s, they feared him—rumors spoke of five veteran soldiers guarding him, remnants of his father’s army.
Though those veterans were not at the Imperial Pass—still stationed at the Heavenly Deity Institution—they might emerge someday.
After all, when the Wang Clan had once mobilized to capture Shi Hao at the institution, those veterans had crippled them.
“We mean well. We all hope Grand Elder Meng survives this ordeal, but his condition is truly dire,” one of them said.
Now, they dared not smirk. A large group of youths had arrived, and any further provocation would incite collective wrath.
The young cultivators paced outside the palace, uneasy. Without the Grand Elder’s aid—and with the possibility of worse news—the bronze lamp grew ever dimmer.
It was truly about to go out!
Many sighed. Perhaps this was heaven’s will—to destroy the Desolate One. Now, even their last hope was lost. What could they do?
At this point, no one expected the Grand Elder to intervene. If he merely survived this ordeal, it would be a blessing.
“Shi Hao…” Some bowed their heads, overwhelmed by helplessness. Qing Yi, the Lunar Jade Rabbit, and others had tears in their eyes. There was nothing they could do.
In the end, their cultivation was insufficient. Had they neared the Supreme Realm, they could have challenged the likes of Jin Tai Jun.
With even one or two immortal artifacts, they could have resisted.
“Not good!” Great Xu Tuo gasped, his usual serenity shattered—a rare sight for this disciple of the Ancient Monk lineage.
Before the palace, the Soul Lamp flickered—and then went out entirely. The flame did not reignite.
Had Grand Elder Meng Tianzheng perished?
The crowd was stunned, then plunged into despair. Could such a mighty figure truly be gone? It was unbelievable—unacceptable!
“Grand Elder!” The crowd roared.
“Elder Meng, how could this be?” Many wailed in grief. It was too sudden, too unexpected.
Was this truly a case of misfortunes never coming singly? Everything had gone wrong at once.
Hope was lost. No one could save Shi Hao now. And time had run out.
Some among the Jin Clan curled their lips—not in sorrow, but in surprise and relief, as if a great mountain had crumbled.
Members of the Wang Clan, present in part, also felt unburdened. Meng Tianzheng had been a terrifying pressure in their lives.
He had once stormed the Wang Clan for Shi Hao, standing toe-to-toe with Wang Changsheng. Now that he was gone, it was as if dark clouds had parted.
“Grand Elder!” The youths’ cries shook the region, thick with grief.
Yet in the distance, some wore faint smiles.
“Heh…”
These were Jin Clan extremists, arriving from the city walls. Their expressions were detestable, inciting fury.
Though few and well-concealed, their demeanor was noticed, sparking collective rage.
Just as tensions were about to erupt, the palace trembled.
*Boom!*
A deafening roar erupted as a mighty aura surged forth.
The extinguished Soul Lamp flared back to life, radiant as the sun.
“Ah! The Grand Elder has revived! He lives!” someone cried in joy.
The Soul Lamp blazed, shifting from darkness to brilliance—proof that the Grand Elder was unharmed, his life secure.
*Clang!*
The palace doors swung open, unleashing a vast, overwhelming pressure. Many shuddered, unable to endure.
The Jin and Wang Clans’ members froze, their smirks replaced by terror, teeth chattering.
*Thud!*
Many from the Jin Clan collapsed, trembling. The Wang Clan fared no better—even Dunyi Realm experts could not withstand the pressure.
Meanwhile, the Soul Lamp dimmed and brightened repeatedly, flickering unpredictably.
The crowd tensed. The Grand Elder’s condition was unstable, fluctuating between frailty and immense power.
Then, a youthful Meng Tianzheng emerged, clad in the same tattered golden armor, stained with blood—unchanged since his return from the frontier.
“Grand Elder, Shi Hao…” The Lunar Jade Rabbit wept.
Meng Tianzheng sighed. “I know everything.”
He had awakened due to the intense emotions permeating the outside world, pulling him from deep cultivation.
Though outwardly calm, his fury was palpable—a storm brewing beneath the surface. He would not let this stand.
*Boom!*
The Grand Elder stepped out of the palace, appearing before the crowd.
With that step, the Jin and Wang Clan members convulsed, collapsing in terror, their bones turned to jelly.
This was the wrath of a Supreme Being—a force that drained color from the heavens. Winds howled, thunder rolled, lightning crisscrossed, and mountains trembled.
Had this not been the Imperial Pass, where he restrained his power, lava would have erupted and mountains shattered.
Even so, the Jin and Wang Clans could not endure. Those who had mocked or obstructed Qing Yi and Chang Gongyan exploded on the spot, reduced to pools of blood.
In contrast, the youths remained unharmed. Despite the Supreme’s fury, a gentle light shielded them.
In the next instant, the Grand Elder took another step—crossing tens of thousands of miles in a flash—arriving at the city wall where the incident had occurred.
“It’s… Elder Meng!” someone gasped.
All knew of Meng Tianzheng’s ties to the Desolate One and his recent deep meditation. None expected him to awaken so swiftly.
The Jin Clan paled. The Wang and Du Clans were equally stunned.
The Grand Elder’s rage was evident.
A Supreme’s wrath meant rivers of blood. The Jin Clan was in peril.
Meng Tianzheng, now in his prime, stood tall and imposing, his golden armor bloodstained, his black hair wild. His eyes blazed with divine light.
Spotting the Great Luo Sword Plow embedded in the ground, his brows furrowed. With a wave, the sword tore free, landing firmly in his grasp.
The crowd recoiled.
A Supreme’s fury, a drawn sword—was this the prelude to slaughter?!
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