At last, someone from Mount Buxian stepped forward. A chill ran through the hearts of all present, a sense of oppression—even dread—settling over them. The cultivators from this place were too terrifying. Everyone knew that while they were few in number and not a force spanning multiple domains, they were more like a reclusive clan dwelling in a secluded corner. Yet, they were powerful enough to rival the Heaven Mending Sect and the Western Sect, striking fear into all regions and looking down upon the world.
“Everyone knew that once their descendants were humiliated, they wouldn’t let it go. Now, they’re making their move,” a cultivator murmured, his eyes gleaming with sharp light.
Mount Buxian—an unparalleled legacy, claiming to be eternal, with ancient powerhouses who had lived through the ages, transcending even the greatest sects. At this moment, not only the people of the Fire Nation but even experts from beyond the domain felt uneasy. Once this ancient lineage set its sights on someone, the outcome was never good.
This lineage was usually low-key, but once they engaged in battle, they struck like thunder, sweeping away all opposition without leaving any loose ends.
“Little Shi is a peerless genius, unrivaled among his generation, but now he’s provoked Mount Buxian. He’s effectively cutting off his own path,” an elder sighed.
Nowadays, who didn’t know of Shi Hao? Once he matured, he could very well become a true supreme being, invincible under heaven! But now, he had angered Mount Buxian—a faction that rarely stepped into the mortal world yet was fiercely protective of its own. His situation was dire. A prodigy like him might very well be cut down prematurely.
Mount Buxian was shrouded in mystery, with ageless deities dwelling within, capable of looking down upon all living beings. If they targeted someone, even the ancient divine mountains would be flattened.
People whispered among themselves, their voices hushed, afraid of displeasing the representatives of Mount Buxian. The middle-aged man who had stepped forward was clearly powerful—extremely formidable.
Moreover, even if the people of Mount Buxian weren’t particularly strong themselves, no one dared to openly provoke them. Their background was simply too terrifying.
“Since the two of you are connected to him, come here,” the middle-aged man said, his gaze falling upon the Great Red Bird and the Nine-Headed Lion.
“Who the hell are you? Strutting around like the second grandson of the Heavenly King—so full of yourself! I ain’t scared of you!” The Great Red Bird’s mouth had always been sharp, never one to back down, especially when it was riding high on its own confidence.
The crowd was stunned. This “crow” truly had a personality—daring to insult someone from Mount Buxian without fear.
“Did you not hear what I said?!” The middle-aged man’s voice was icy, not loud, but carrying an overwhelming authority.
The Nine-Headed Lion stood tall, its golden fur radiating majesty, its presence alone exuding immense power—a manifestation of its awakened bloodline. It did not respond, but golden light flared in its eyes. Since ancient times, its lineage had been a mighty one, with its own dignity. It had even devoured divine kings in the past.
“Old man, did you eat too much? Don’t try to scare me—I ain’t afraid!” the Great Red Bird taunted.
“Whoosh!”
The middle-aged man raised his hand, and a streak of silver light shot forth like a shuttle, tearing through the air with a thunderous roar. A vast array of runes descended, pressing down with immense force.
The crowd gasped. A casual strike, yet so powerful—this middle-aged man was no ordinary figure!
“A King!” someone muttered.
With the Venerables in seclusion and the supreme experts seeking their own paths, Kings were now the pinnacle of power, capable of roaming the Desolate Wasteland unchecked.
That a King from Mount Buxian had appeared naturally put everyone on edge. Normally, dealing with a junior wouldn’t require someone of this level. Even beyond the domain, this man held a high status.
After all, Venerables usually secluded themselves in cultivation, unwilling to meddle in worldly affairs.
“Caw!”
The Great Red Bird let out a cry like a crow, flapping its wings in retreat, its expression uneasy. It didn’t dare face such an opponent head-on—that would be suicide.
“Lion King, you take this!” It hid behind the Nine-Headed Lion.
The silver streak of runes shot toward the Nine-Headed Lion on the platform, aiming to seal both it and the Great Red Bird.
“ROAR—!”
A lion’s roar like thunder, golden waves crashing into the heavens. The Nine-Headed Lion spat out nine golden runes, forming a killing array that clanged sharply, blocking the silver shuttle.
“BOOM!”
The nine golden runes collided with the silver streak, runic light exploding in all directions, interweaving into a dazzling rain of radiance.
The Nine-Headed Lion was sent flying by the impact, nearly knocked off the platform. Fortunately, it hadn’t been struck directly by the silver shuttle.
“Just a little lion, yet you dare act fierce before me? Capturing you as a mount would be a fine choice,” the middle-aged man said indifferently.
He struck again, this time manifesting a thunder rune in his palm, flashing with violet light. When a King attacked, how many of the younger generation could withstand it?
Everyone’s expressions darkened. The creatures of the Desolate Wasteland naturally didn’t want the Nine-Headed Lion to be subdued, while those from beyond the domain didn’t want such a mount—coveted even by gods—to fall into Mount Buxian’s hands.
“Fellow Daoist, hold your hand. This is a gathering—there’s no need for such violence. Besides, the one you seek isn’t them,” an elder spoke up.
This was one of Huo Ling’er’s uncles, clearly summoned by her to intervene and save the Golden Lion from suppression.
“This is Mount Buxian’s affair. The Fire Nation need not interfere,” the middle-aged man said coldly.
The Fire Nation’s experts seethed inwardly. No matter what, this was their territory, yet this man was acting so overbearing, showing no respect.
“Brother, let us sit and talk. Why trouble yourself with a junior?” the Fire Clan elder said.
“And if I refuse?” the middle-aged man retorted, his tone icy, offering no face.
Huo Ling’er frowned, clenching her delicate fists. She had asked her uncle to intervene, hoping to delay the conflict, but now he had been slighted, fueling her anger.
“Princess, don’t mind this arrogant fool. Who does he think he is? So what if he’s from Mount Buxian? If he doesn’t play fair, we’ll beat him down!” the Great Red Bird shouted defiantly.
It had always been unruly, never one to swallow insults. Even if Mount Buxian’s background was vast, it still wanted to mock them. Of course, it wasn’t foolish—it still had some confidence.
The experts all paled. To question Mount Buxian and dismiss them so casually—how many in this world would dare belittle this ancient sect?
“Insolence!” the middle-aged man barked, attacking again. He soared into the air, heading straight for the platform.
“Lion, take the sword! Kill him!” The Great Red Bird handed the black broken sword to the Nine-Headed Lion, knowing that in stronger hands, the weapon could unleash its full might.
The Nine-Headed Lion didn’t hesitate. Facing a King, it had to rely on such a treasure—otherwise, it stood no chance. Even with the great fortune it had gained over the years, defying the heavens was impossible.
The black broken sword hovered before it. It exhaled a golden mist, like shimmering starlight, which then ignited, pouring tremendous divine power into the blade.
“Hum—!”
The broken sword glowed, its dark radiance swelling before shooting forth like black lightning, a terrifying sight.
The King from Mount Buxian’s expression changed. He thrust out a palm, erupting with blinding runes, trying to evade the strike and seize the Nine-Headed Lion in one grasp.
But the sword’s edge was too sharp, its brilliance awe-inspiring, its divine might chilling. This was, at the very least, a weapon of the Saint level!
Alarmed, he swiftly withdrew his hand, dodging the sword light and darting dozens of feet away before charging again from another angle, intent on suppressing the Golden Lion.
Mount Buxian had arrived in the Desolate Wasteland late and didn’t know the origins of this sword. Thus, he had nearly suffered a grave loss, startling him.
“A little lion wielding a Saint’s sword? I underestimated you. But it ends here. Even with such a weapon, the gap between us is too vast—you cannot overcome it,” the middle-aged man sneered.
He spoke the truth. Once one entered the “Array Formation Realm,” their power surged exponentially. The earlier realms were about laying foundations, but this realm was where one truly became a powerhouse.
Whether in rune mastery or comprehension, one entered a new world. As the name suggested, “Array Formation” meant mobilizing all accumulated runes for an explosive release.
“Shhiiing!”
The Nine-Headed Lion remained silent, exhaling another golden mist to fuel the broken sword. In an instant, sword energy crisscrossed, divine light surging violently.
Everyone’s eyelids twitched. This Golden Lion was too fierce! With the broken sword in hand, it actually forced the King from Mount Buxian to retreat repeatedly, not daring to face it head-on.
In truth, even a King of the Array Formation Realm wouldn’t dare clash directly with a Saint’s or divine sword. They could only evade its killing intent and strike from the side.
The King from Mount Buxian hadn’t expected the Nine-Headed Lion to be so formidable, wielding the black sword as if it were part of its own body, unleashing endless sword energy and denying him any opening to advance.
The middle-aged man grew solemn. Fortunately, his movement techniques were swift enough to evade, circling the platform for an opportunity.
Soon, the entire platform turned golden as the Nine-Headed Lion erupted with power, runes surging as it brandished the broken sword, slashing horizontally and vertically, sword energy piercing the heavens.
For a time, the area blazed with light, clouds of radiance swirling, the fluctuations so intense they weighed heavily on all present.
This was a true battle!
Though the King from Mount Buxian was strong, without a Saint’s weapon, he couldn’t immediately subdue the Nine-Headed Lion. Furious, he had vowed to suppress this golden beast, yet he was being held at bay.
Worse, the true target—Shi Hao—hadn’t even appeared yet. Here he was, locked in combat with Shi Hao’s former mount, unable to gain the upper hand. It was humiliating!
“BOOM!”
Finally, he formed a series of hand seals, unleashing a tidal wave of divine power. His speed multiplied, and as the Golden Lion’s repeated sword strikes drained its energy, the attacks grew less frequent. Seizing the moment, the King closed in.
“Oh no!” the Great Red Bird wailed.
Yet, to everyone’s shock, a sword beam slashed out from the void, drawing blood from the King’s body—nearly cutting him in half!
“Shhiiing!”
A second sword beam followed, and with a “thud,” one of his arms fell to the ground, severed cleanly.
The scene fell into dead silence.
This was a King from Mount Buxian! How had he been defeated? Who would dare injure him like this?!
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