“Guardian Spirit!” The disciples of the Sky Mending Pavilion cried out in anguish, their voices filled with sorrow. The guardian who had protected them for a lifetime had reached the end of his journey, aging and falling in battle. Within the sacred grounds, all the disciples wailed in grief, unable to accept this outcome. The Guardian Spirit had given them so much—dispelling calamities, battling through ancient times—yet now his divine flame had extinguished, ending in desolation.
As the Sky Mending Pavilion mourned, other beings and supreme powerhouses were struck with shock, their hearts filled with doubt and unease, a chill creeping through their bones. Who was that gray-haired elder? How could the Guardian Spirit of the Sky Mending Pavilion have been planted by him? The revelation was terrifying, sending shivers down their spines. It felt unreal, as if reality itself had twisted. Even the Devouring Heaven Roc, the Qiong Qi, and the humanoid beings from Yi Mountain were shaken, sensing that they had stumbled upon something far beyond their expectations.
“Longevity does not equate to strength. It means nothing!” the Qiong Qi growled, its body tensed in caution.
“ROAR—!” The gray-haired elder bellowed like a demonic god, one hand clenched into a fist, the other gripping a broken sword. His hollow eyes flickered with sorrow as he gazed at the rain of light in the sky, watching the divine vine burn away.
“You old fool, daring to ambush me! Fight me again!” the Devouring Heaven Roc screeched, its fury uncontainable. It had lost a claw earlier, and though it had reattached it, the humiliation still burned. With a mighty inhale, a colossal black hole tore through the void, threatening to swallow the ghostly elder whole—its name, “Devourer of Heavens,” was not for nothing.
The disheveled elder’s hollow eyes remained unchanged, but the hand holding the sword trembled. Suddenly, he shook his head violently, letting out a guttural roar as his gray hair whipped wildly.
“KILL!” The elder roared, his heart drowning in grief and hatred. The Guardian Spirit was dissolving into divine rain—there was no saving it. His sword radiated boundless killing intent.
A deafening explosion split the black hole apart as the gray-haired elder charged in like a demonic god. The rust on his broken sword flaked away, revealing an endless divine radiance. The two clashed violently, their runes intertwining in an eruption of blinding light that dispelled the void’s miasma.
“SPLAT!” Blood sprayed as the ghostly elder emerged, his hollow eyes now brimming with terrifying killing intent. His broken sword gleamed like the sun, and in the sky, the Devouring Heaven Roc shrieked—its beak had been severed, blood pouring down.
The sheer size of the Roc was staggering; even a single fragment of its beak was enough to crush and collapse distant lands. The onlookers were horrified—this ghostly elder was monstrously powerful, wounding even the Devouring Heaven Roc in their brutal clash!
The Roc shrieked in agony, circling the heavens, its pain bone-deep. The loss of its beak—its most formidable weapon—was unbearable. The beak was intrinsically linked to its most potent techniques, making the injury all the more humiliating.
“BUZZ!” Runes flickered as the Roc summoned its severed beak, beginning to heal. As a pure-blooded creature, its vitality was boundless, making it nearly impossible to kill—a fact it had always prided itself on.
The humanoid beings from the Southern Fall Divine Mountain, the Qiong Qi, and Yi Mountain’s entity were equally stunned. The elder’s ferocity exceeded all expectations, signaling an inevitable bloodbath.
“I’m leaving…” The Guardian Spirit’s final words echoed as its withered vines and yellowed leaves turned to ash, scattering in the wind. Simultaneously, a rain of light descended upon the earth, seeping into the soil, where green sprouts burst forth at a visible speed.
Born from the ancient courtyard, it had lived and died here, returning to the earth. Countless light motes danced in the air as many stretched out their arms, inhaling deeply—this was divine rain, a blessing one might never witness in a lifetime.
“Guardian Spirit!” The Sky Mending Pavilion disciples clenched their fists, their voices shaking the heavens with sorrow, yet unable to change fate.
“Elder…” Little Rascal murmured, his heart heavy as he recalled the days spent meditating and cultivating beneath the ancient vine.
In the sky, a green gourd shimmered, wreathed in strands of chaotic energy, suspended within the rain of light—this was the divine seed, the Guardian Spirit’s sole legacy.
The Qiong Qi was the first to lunge for it. Crimson-skinned, it resembled both a tiger and an ox, with fanged jaws and bull-like horns. Its body was covered in porcupine-like quills, each razor-sharp, and its wings—blood-red and monstrous—could sunder the heavens. Its emerald eyes alone could unsettle souls.
“The Guardian Spirit should have died long ago, clinging to life only to fail this decaying sect. The divine seed belongs to me!” It moved with terrifying speed, its wings stirring storms of wind and thunder, its runes flooding the sky in a dazzling, bloody display, blocking all others.
“SCAT!” The gray-haired elder barked, cleaving through the runes with his broken sword. The Qiong Qi’s spiked armor, forged from its own quills, shattered instantly, sending crimson needles flying—nearly impaling the Devouring Heaven Roc and others.
The battle escalated into a frenzy. With a sickening crunch, the Qiong Qi howled as a massive, bloodied claw was severed, crashing to the earth like a fallen mountain range.
The spectators trembled—even the supreme beings in the sky paled. The elder’s might was horrifying, wounding the Devouring Heaven Roc and now maiming the Qiong Qi.
“THUD!” The ghostly elder clutched the green gourd to his chest, his face etched with sorrow. “Farewell… I will never see you again. You did well, shaming me—my Sky Mending Pavilion, yet you were its protector.”
His words sent shockwaves through the crowd. Who was he? The Sky Mending Pavilion disciples were especially stunned—was this their founder?
“Who are you?!” the Devouring Heaven Roc demanded.
The Qiong Qi’s emerald eyes blazed with killing intent. “Speak! Who are you?”
“Who am I?” the elder muttered, his gaze briefly clouded before sharpening into twin beams of light that scattered the clouds. “I am an outcast… the founder of the Sky Mending Pavilion!”
Gasps erupted. The elder was the sect’s progenitor?!
“Y-you… our founder?” The Pavilion Master, Mu Yan, Elder Liu, and others trembled, their voices shaking.
Meanwhile, other beings felt sheer terror. This was the man who had established this sacred land—and he still lived? It defied belief!
On the ninth heaven, the humanoid beings from Yi Mountain, the Qiong Qi, the Southern Fall Divine Mountain entity, and the Devouring Heaven Roc were equally stunned, then resigned. No wonder the elder was so formidable—he was the legendary founder, a titan of the ancient era.
Below, the Sky Mending Pavilion disciples erupted in fervor. Their founder lived?! The so-called ancient spirit… was him! Many roared, tears threatening to fall.
“Ancestor, slaughter them all! Avenge the Guardian Spirit!”
“Don’t let them escape! Kill them!”
Little Rascal stood among the crowd, equally shocked. The ghostly elder was their founder?! His face turned green—he had once used the elder as a clothes rack, tossing his garments onto him in the dead of night.
“An outcast… but from which sect?” The bald vulture muttered, a chill running down its spine.
“This… is unbelievable! The founder himself?!” The crimson bird shuddered in fear.
The humanoid being from Yi Mountain manifested a divine halo, runes swirling around him, bracing for battle. Having once been a guardian spirit for the Western Paradise, he knew the horrors of such ancient figures.
The Southern Fall Divine Mountain’s entity grew solemn, his golden path receding as he summoned a golden bone banner.
The Devouring Heaven Roc and Qiong Qi burned with battle lust, their runes igniting as they pushed their limits.
The elder’s state was unstable—wavering between lucidity and confusion. Suddenly, he shook his head violently and, in a moment of clarity, hurled the gourd seed into the sky.
“BUZZ!” A golden ripple formed in the void, carrying the gourd into the horizon.
“Where you take root, the Sky Mending Pavilion shall be reborn. The sect may fall, but its legacy will never die!” The elder’s voice, though soft, resonated across the heavens.
The disciples were moved, chanting his words as if seeing a glimmer of hope.
“You old fool!” The Southern Fall Divine Mountain’s entity roared. Were they to lose the divine seed?
The Devouring Heaven Roc spread its wings, ready to pursue. The Qiong Qi and Yi Mountain’s being also surged forward.
The elder’s hollow eyes gleamed as his broken sword traced mysterious runes, sealing the heavens and trapping them all.
“Slay this old ghost!” The four supreme beings attacked in unison, aiming to obliterate the founder.
“Go. Rebuild the Sky Mending Pavilion another day,” the elder called down, his voice weary yet hopeful.
“Don’t let a single one escape! Slaughter them all!” the Qiong Qi and Devouring Heaven Roc bellowed.
“Retreat! Now!” The Pavilion Master ordered, leading the disciples to break through. He knew the elder’s unstable state was dangerous—they couldn’t linger.
The battle raged fiercely. Blood rained as the elder, his shoulder torn open, descended into madness. His hollow eyes blazed with killing intent.
“SPLAT!” His sword severed an arm from Yi Mountain’s entity, piercing through the battlefield.
“KILL!” The elder, now bloodied, suffered another blow but only grew fiercer. His sword gleamed like a demonic light from beyond the stars, unstoppable.
“SPLAT! SPLAT!” The Qiong Qi roared as a claw was severed; the Devouring Heaven Roc shrieked, half a wing sheared off; the Southern Fall warrior’s leg was cleaved away.
The elder was terrifying in his wrath, wounded yet crippling them all in turn.
“Pure-blooded flesh… I want a bite!” Little Rascal muttered, eyeing the fallen limbs with greed and hatred.
As the Sky Mending Pavilion retreated, he longed to snatch a severed limb but dared not.
Suddenly, the tiny jade-white pagoda glowed and zipped away, swallowing Yi Mountain’s arm, the Qiong Qi’s claw, the Roc’s wing, and the Southern Fall warrior’s leg in a flash.
Little Rascal’s eyes bulged. He glanced around—no one had noticed. Heart pounding, he bolted, fearing the enraged beings above.
The pagoda returned, its body plump as if stuffed, then fell silent.
The supreme beings summoned their lost limbs—only to find them gone. They erupted in fury.
“WHO?!”
Their limbs—vanished in an instant! Unthinkable!
The elder fought on, his broken sword unstoppable. But then—the ancient sword embedded in his skull trembled, emitting a hazy light. Black blood oozed as he staggered.
“GO!” The Pavilion Master, Mu Yan, and Elder Liu understood now—the elder’s instability and the cursed sword in his skull were why he had urged them to flee.
Who had done this? Who had pierced their founder’s skull with a sword? The thought alone was chilling.
“ARGH—!” The founder roared, the sword in his head inching out, black blood pouring.
“KILL!” The four beings seized the moment, attacking as one.
“ROAR!” The elder, now a demonic god, blazed with sword-light, merging with his weapon to resist the cursed blade.
“KILL!” His hollow eyes flickered with clarity as he lunged, his sword a sun of destruction.
Feathers scattered, claws shattered, blood rained.
In the chaos, the elder’s final stand had begun.
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