The great battle had begun. Meng Tianzheng wielded his sword embryo, its blade energy crisscrossing the heavens, tearing through the sky with thousands of divine radiances, splitting the vast desert apart—a sight so terrifying it defied description.
From the foreign realm, a demonic overlord emerged to face him, equally fearsome in power, standing like a peerless tyrant reborn, clashing with Meng Tianzheng.
Sword energy swirled like a storm, heralding the ultimate duel at the pinnacle of human strength!
No one had expected Meng Tianzheng to dare pursue the enemy alone, leaving the Imperial Pass with his sword to hunt down the endless foreign army, striking with overwhelming force, unstoppable in his advance.
Earlier, when the sword energy first manifested, blood had spilled in torrents, heads rolled in waves, and countless foreign cultivators were beheaded by Meng Tianzheng’s sweeping strikes, the aura of slaughter overwhelming the heavens.
Even the mighty supreme being from the Imperial Clan, riding his ancient black metal war chariot, saw it instantly split apart by the sword energy, shattered into fragments that scattered into the sky.
This sight stunned everyone—not only those on the walls of the Imperial Pass but even the foreign soldiers, their bodies chilled by the realization that someone dared to charge out alone to hunt them down.
For in the past, the foreign realm had always been the aggressor, dominating the borderlands, while the Imperial Pass had adhered strictly to defense. Today, everything was different.
“Kill!”
A commanding voice echoed through the sky, like thunder blooming in the void, streaks of crimson light surging forth, brighter than lightning.
The supreme being from the Imperial Clan was making his move, unleashing an unfathomable ancestral technique. As he threw punches toward the Grand Elder, crimson radiance erupted from his shoulders and elbows, his entire body a storm of killing intent.
Clang!
The sound was ear-piercing. The supreme being’s fist was astonishingly hard, shocking everyone on the Imperial Pass. What kind of terrifying strike was this?
It was blinding, more dazzling than a shattered sun, erupting with a force that crushed the heavens and earth, slamming into the side of the sword embryo with a deafening metallic clang.
Who dared to clash head-on with the sword embryo? Yet this supreme being did so without hesitation.
Fist and sword collided, unleashing a tempest of blazing radiance.
But this was not the most terrifying part. What truly horrified onlookers was the crimson glow erupting from the supreme being’s shoulders and elbows, resembling molten lava.
These red lights enveloped the Grand Elder, shifting forms—one moment a beast’s maw filled with fangs, the next a torrent of flames.
Clang!
Finally, the crimson radiance coalesced into a massive furnace, grand and ancient, crimson in hue with a cold metallic sheen.
Yet, whenever its lid lifted slightly, surging flames could be seen within, their power awe-inspiring.
Boom!
The furnace expanded, crashing down toward Meng Tianzheng with terrifying force.
It devoured the essence of heaven and earth, as if refining the very laws of the cosmos, commanding all to its will.
Clang!
Meng Tianzheng swung his sword embryo without hesitation, slashing directly at the furnace. The sword energy was like a rainbow, dazzlingly brilliant, sending sparks flying.
On the walls of the Imperial Pass, an invincible figure narrowed his eyes, staring at the fiery furnace in shock.
Even Wang Changsheng was moved, unable to remain calm, for he recognized the origin of that furnace.
“The Furnace of the Crimson King!” Jin Taijun gasped in horror.
In the past, among all deadly weapons, the Furnace of the Crimson King ranked supreme. Legends spoke of an Immortal King who fell at the end of the Immortal Ancient Era, his blood refined within this furnace.
From then on, the furnace turned entirely crimson, earning its name—the Crimson King.
“Crimson” also homophonous with “devour,” for it had slain a king, its infamy shaking the world, its malevolence unmatched.
Of course, the power of a weapon also depended on its wielder.
Regardless, the fact that it had once been stained with the blood of an Immortal King spoke volumes of its horror.
Since then, the furnace had vanished from the foreign realm, never seen again. Rumors claimed its master had disappeared after that battle.
Some said he perished; others claimed he lay dormant, seeking to refine the essence of Immortal Kings to transcend.
Yet, his descendants gained a unique ability—an innate ancestral technique that could instantly manifest a crimson furnace.
This weapon seemed fused into their bones, growing stronger with their bloodline power, capable of endless transformations.
This was not “ancestral summoning” but a mystical inheritance embedded in their blood.
When wielded by a supreme being of the Imperial Clan, the so-called Furnace of the Crimson King was naturally peerless in power.
Earlier, when people saw the surging heat waves and crimson radiance from the furnace, they assumed it was the essence of flames. Now, they realized it was boiling crimson blood.
Boom!
As Meng Tianzheng’s sword forced the furnace back, its glow intensified. Behind it, a towering figure stood like a demonic mountain, hands forming seals, striking the furnace walls to solidify and amplify its power.
It seemed real—not a construct of ancestral technique but the true Furnace of the Crimson King reborn.
“Seal!”
The supreme being roared, commanding the furnace to spin and crash down once more toward Meng Tianzheng, its lid lifting.
Inside, a churning red liquid, blindingly scarlet and searing like magma—though many believed it to be terrifying blood.
“Roar!”
Meng Tianzheng, in the prime of his life, stood tall and heroic, his golden battle robes tattered yet enhancing his majesty.
His right arm shone like condensed divine light, nearly transparent, erupting with boundless chaotic energy as he thrust his sword embryo straight into the furnace.
Clang!
The sword’s radiance pierced the heavens, stabbing into the crimson furnace—its walls actually punctured.
“Good!”
On the Imperial Pass walls, the crowd roared in exhilaration. Since ancient times, how often had they taken the offensive to hunt the enemy? Meng Tianzheng’s dominance stirred their hearts.
Hum!
The Furnace of the Crimson King trembled, resonating violently. From its open mouth emerged a towering, indistinct figure.
Bound in chains, imprisoned within the searing red liquid, his appearance darkened the very sky.
Even the crimson furnace itself seemed shrouded in mist, growing more unreal.
With a low growl, he lunged forward, arms outstretched to seize Meng Tianzheng.
His aura was terrifying, shaking souls and forcing the urge to kneel in worship.
On the Imperial Pass walls, the elders paled, trembling, for they knew the legends—and the horror they implied.
The foreign army, meanwhile, cheered in anticipation, eager to witness the legendary spectacle.
For when the Furnace of the Crimson King appeared, its first transformation unleashed a figure from the red plasma to embrace and refine its victim.
In the past, it had slain supreme beings, its feats countless.
Boom!
Meng Tianzheng, undaunted, let out a battle cry, struggling to free his sword while his other hand blazed with supreme divine power, palm radiating indestructible scriptures as he struck forward.
“Awaken, tormented soul of the Nine Heavens!” Meng Tianzheng bellowed.
This shocked and horrified all, for if the true Furnace of the Crimson King had slain an Immortal King, whose soul might be imprisoned? The thought sent chills down their spines.
Had the true furnace appeared, none could have resisted its terror.
Fortunately, this was merely a manifestation of ancestral technique, not the real artifact.
Clang!
The sword embryo vibrated, slicing through the furnace walls as Meng Tianzheng’s palm strike slammed into the shadowy figure bound in chains.
“Awaken!” the Grand Elder roared.
“Awaken!” echoed the crowd on the Imperial Pass walls, their eyes reddening, for this might be the vengeful soul of an Immortal King.
Once of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, he had fought the foreign realm to protect his homeland, only to meet such a fate.
The borderlands held countless legends, remnants of ancient Immortal King battles. As the crowd roared, the shadowy figure shuddered.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, as if sensing a familiar presence.
Then—boom!—he shattered, taking the crimson furnace with him into oblivion.
The foreign army fell silent, stunned. Meng Tianzheng had broken the Imperial Clan’s Furnace of the Crimson King?
“He exploited the battlefield and the hearts of those in the Imperial Pass to dismantle the ancient furnace,” someone from the foreign realm muttered in discontent.
“No, this man is beyond reason. Even without tricks, he could have countered it—this was merely ancestral technique, not the true furnace,” a supreme being declared.
They knew the furnace’s myriad transformations could no longer unfold, thwarted at the first step.
Silently, six figures closed in from all sides, aiming to encircle and execute Meng Tianzheng.
Earlier, their presence had shielded the army from the supreme battle’s fallout. Now, they moved to kill.
Boom!
Suddenly, as the six supreme beings advanced, a vast fluctuation erupted from the desert behind them. A tattered, bloodstained war banner surged from the sands, sweeping through the enemy ranks.
“The Blood Iron Banner of old!” someone from the foreign realm gasped.
It was also a burial shroud, once wrapped around the corpses of two Immortal Kings, their blood staining it, transforming the tattered banner into a treasure.
This banner carried immense significance, embodying the weight of ancient history—a symbol of the Immortal Ancient Era and the brutality of that war.
Meng Tianzheng had brought it, secretly embedding it in the desert upon leaving the pass, waiting for the right moment.
As the six supreme beings moved away, he activated it, sweeping through the enemy ranks to rescue Shi Hao.
Boom!
The banner unfurled, its divine might vast. Though tattered, it inspired awe, for from within came the deafening cries of battle—as if the Immortal Ancient War had returned.
“Kill!”
“Slaughter the foreign demons!”
Faintly, figures emerged from the banner—broken yet brimming with fighting spirit, some supporting each other, others charging forth, an unstoppable tide.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The banner swept like a celestial blade through the foreign army, severing thousands of heads and bodies, the killing intent overwhelming.
“Kill!”
On the Imperial Pass walls, many burned with fervor. When had they ever been so dominant, hunting the enemy and slaughtering them like this?
“Open the gates! Let us fight!”
“Charge out! Annihilate these demons!”
Commanders bellowed, the warmongers’ blood boiling, demanding to join the battle.
“Kill!” Even an invincible figure voiced his support publicly.
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