Qi Daolin stood atop the rubble before the mountain gate, his Daoist robes fluttering in the fierce wind, divine radiance surging into the heavens, sanctifying the entire Supreme Dao Field and dispelling its desolation.
“Little Qi, you’ve grown bold—talking of slaying Heavenly Gods one moment and beheading imperial clans the next,” the Guardian said coldly, his voice eerie. He was not of the Celestial Clan, and his true origins remained unknown. His most distinctive feature was a pair of black horns atop his head.
“They’ve come to my mountain gate to provoke me, and you expect me to stay calm? Perhaps I should stroll through the Celestial City one day and paint it red,” Qi Daolin said flatly, though no one doubted his words.
Given his past actions, he was a man of his word.
“Dao Master Qi, do not overstep. Our Guardian Elder has come personally to speak with you, yet this is how you respond. Do you truly believe the Celestial Clan is weak?” the middle-aged Heavenly God interjected.
He was extraordinary, his body shrouded in light, bone inscriptions weaving into armor that draped over him, exuding astonishing fluctuations. His eyes blazed like torches.
Yet now, he was merely a “Dao Child,” tasked with supporting the Guardian.
In truth, he had once been the Guardian’s attendant, but over the long years, he had grown into a figure who could dominate entire regions and look down upon all races.
“If I truly wanted to overstep, I would have already slaughtered my way through. Unlike you, I don’t care about face—whether you’re a Venerable, True God, or Heavenly God, I’d crush you all without hesitation.”
Qi Daolin spoke casually, but his words struck like thunder, drenched in blood, as if a tide of overwhelming killing intent had swept over them.
“Little Qi, I ask only one thing—will you hand over this boy?” the Celestial Clan’s Guardian said, leaning on a cane, his body hunched. Yet when his eyes opened, beams of terrifying light shot forth.
Where his gaze passed, the void brightened as if lightning had streaked across it. Then his eyes locked onto Shi Hao, scrutinizing him intently.
Shi Hao’s heart trembled. This old man was indeed terrifying—just a glance from him felt like a heavenly blade descending, carrying rolling killing intent capable of splitting a mountain apart.
Fortunately, Qi Daolin stood beside him, radiating strands of sacred light that enveloped the entire mountain gate, blocking the murderous intent.
“No,” Qi Daolin refused bluntly.
“He is a calamity our clan must eliminate. Dao Master Qi, are you deliberately opposing us? Before this, he had no significant ties to you,” Heavenly God Mo Luo said from the distant mountains, rising to his feet, wiping blood from his lips and reattaching his broken bones as he strode forward, causing the mountain range to tremble once more.
“I declare this solemnly—Huang is the sole successor of my Supreme Dao Field. These words are not idle talk but a proclamation to the world. Let all hear it clearly!” Qi Daolin roared.
At that moment, his body blazed with light, his voice like raging tides, sweeping across the land and shaking the heavens.
Was this a declaration to the world? Everyone was stunned.
In an instant, beings from Fire Province, Celestial Immortal Province, Kun Province, and other nearby regions all sensed it, lifting their heads to the sky.
From this day forth, Huang’s identity was confirmed—he was the sole successor of the Supreme Dao Field, no longer a mere rogue cultivator. Anyone who wished to act against him would have to reconsider.
“You—” Heavenly God Mo Luo paled. The atmosphere had frozen; there was no chance Qi Daolin would change his mind.
Many in the mountains gasped, murmuring among themselves.
Especially the older generation, who knew the Dao Master’s temperament well—if provoked, he could overturn the heavens themselves.
“Ah, I may be old, but I refuse to accept it. Little Qi, shall we exchange a few moves?” the Guardian said, his horns glowing, his eyes shimmering with divine light.
He had to act. With his lifespan dwindling, he had glimpsed a terrifying vision—Shi Hao was a calamity for the Celestial Clan.
“Certainly!” Qi Daolin agreed without hesitation, though he added, “But your blood energy is withered. Can you still fight?”
The crowd fell silent at his words. Qi Daolin’s arrogance and unyielding nature knew no bounds—he was openly belittling the Celestial Clan’s Guardian.
“No matter. I recently obtained a drop of Immortal Nectar, granting me a few more years of life. This battle is within my means,” the Guardian replied, soaring into the sky in an instant.
Everyone was shocked. Despite his frail appearance, he moved with blinding speed, vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.
Qi Daolin remained composed. With a flash, he too appeared in the heavens, nearing the outer realms.
On the ground, the Celestial Clan’s eyes burned with killing intent, fixed on Shi Hao. Many were ready to strike.
Mo Luo was no exception, his gaze darkening. If they acted now to eliminate this threat, would Qi Daolin truly go mad?
He exchanged a glance with another Heavenly God, a silent understanding passing between them.
“He’s a madman, infamous for his ruthlessness.”
“Then I’ll retrieve the Fate Stone first,” Mo Luo said, unwilling to leave empty-handed.
From a distance, Mo Luo coldly stared down at Shi Hao, exuding heavenly might. Though he did not attack, his divine sense sharpened like a sword, spraying terrifying light.
He had an impulse—though he couldn’t kill Shi Hao, he could plant a seed in his heart, one that would later shatter his Dao heart and hinder his rise.
If done carefully, he might evade Qi Daolin’s notice. Thus, instead of reclaiming the Fate Stone, he prepared to unleash the “Soul-Severing Hand.”
He concealed the divine light at his brow, secretly condensing a seed of divine thought to execute an ancient technique—the “Demon-Seeding Art!”
This method was incredibly subtle, nearly undetectable, and something he had stumbled upon by chance.
Yet the moment the demon seed was sent forth, before it could even approach, Shi Hao’s divine senses reacted. The bone inscriptions recorded in the “Primordial True Explanation” flickered into existence.
**Boom!**
A massive palm descended from the sky, covering the entire mountain peak and crushing Mo Luo beneath it, leaving him no room to evade.
“What?!” He was stunned—how had he been detected despite such secrecy?
“Do you know who I am? I’ve stolen techniques from a hundred schools—I know the Demon-Seeding Art too. How dare you show off before the master?” Qi Daolin said coldly, his palm erupting with bone inscriptions, terrifying in its might.
“Ah—!”
Even a powerhouse like Mo Luo could only scream. His artifacts shattered, his body splintered inch by inch, blood spraying across the heavens.
“Stop!” the Guardian bellowed, surging with radiant light to block Qi Daolin.
“You dare use underhanded tricks on my turf? You brought this upon yourself!” Qi Daolin remained unmoved, his palm continuing its descent.
Mo Luo’s body was drenched in blood, his powerful flesh torn apart, bones shattered. Under that colossal hand, resistance was futile. The mountains ran red with his blood.
In the end, only his divine soul remained.
“Elder, save me!” Mo Luo cried, gripped by terror.
“You brought this on yourself,” Qi Daolin sneered, though he relented. “I’ll spare your divine soul. Recover for a few decades, find a new body, and let my disciple behead you as training.”
The leaders of various sects shuddered. This was Qi Daolin’s true power? Once hunted by all, now few could restrain him if he chose to wreak havoc.
In the sky, the Guardian’s face darkened. “Little Qi, you’ve gone too far. Let me see how strong you’ve become!”
At that moment, his blood energy surged, shaking the borders of three provinces. Countless experts from major sects turned their gazes toward them.
The void around him split, stretching endlessly into the outer realms, as if the world itself would shatter.
No longer frail, his skin now gleamed, his back straightened, and his hair cascaded like a waterfall—he had transformed into a youth, brimming with vitality.
“Interesting. The Immortal Nectar truly works. A perfect chance to test my Eight-Nine Heavenly Art,” Qi Daolin said calmly, unafraid of the Guardian.
**Boom!**
Qi Daolin stood beyond the heavens, his golden Daoist robes billowing, one hand behind his back. Boundless mist rose around him, sacred light illuminating the world.
He unleashed the Eight-Nine Heavenly Art, his eight or nine strongest techniques merging, resonating with deafening divine tones.
The world trembled—lightning tore through the sky, a phoenix cried amidst flames, a roc spread its wings, a dragon roared, stars linked into ripples, spreading terrifying Dao light.
The Eight-Nine Heavenly Art spun, fusing these techniques into apocalyptic phenomena!
**Pfft!**
The Guardian coughed blood, sent flying. His strongest divine ability shattered, leaving him grievously wounded.
**Crack!**
At the critical moment, he used a Life-Substitution Art, sacrificing his horns in his place. Both horns snapped, falling bloodied to the earth.
The Guardian fled into the distance, never looking back.
It wasn’t that the Guardian was weak—the Eight-Nine Heavenly Art was simply too formidable. Both had fought with their full power; victory or defeat was decided in an instant.
In such a duel, one move was as good as a thousand.
“Let’s see who dares call me ‘Little Qi’ now,” Qi Daolin muttered as he landed before the mountain gate.
Shi Hao inwardly scoffed—the old man was petty. His outburst was likely due to his irritation at being called “Little Qi” repeatedly.
Had the Guardian known, he would have spat blood in regret.
The mountains fell silent, awestruck.
Qi Daolin had defeated the Guardian of an imperial clan? This was earth-shattering news!
The older generation realized—the times had changed. The once-notorious Heavenly God Qi Daolin had now ascended to the ranks of the mightiest sect masters, a true titan.
And his age was far younger than theirs—a tremendous advantage.
**Boom!**
The crowd erupted in uproar.
The Celestial Clan trembled, their Heavenly Gods and disciples pale-faced.
Only the Ancient Celestial could suppress Qi Daolin now—but how much longer did he have to live?
Qi Daolin, though white-haired and bearded, brimmed with vitality. He was just beginning his ascent, with centuries ahead.
If he wished, he could revert to youth in an instant.
“The Eight-Nine Heavenly Art still has flaws. It can’t compare to the Six Paths Reincarnation. Needs refinement,” he muttered, frowning.
Then, he raised his head, sweeping his gaze across the land. “Today, I declare to the world—Huang is the sole successor of my Supreme Lineage!”
His words were solemn, clearly meant to shield Shi Hao from further targeting.
“But I permit all Venerables to come and kill him!”
The next sentence left everyone stunned.
“Those in the Divine Flame Realm may also try,” Qi Daolin added.
Shi Hao’s brows furrowed. What was the old man thinking? Making him an enemy of the world?
“But if any Heavenly Gods or higher dare disregard their status to harm my disciple, don’t blame me for extinguishing your sect’s fortune and slaughtering all your disciples!” Qi Daolin’s voice boomed, shaking heaven and earth.
Now, everyone understood.
Qi Daolin wouldn’t interfere in battles among the younger generation—just as he hadn’t when his two disciples were besieged millennia ago.
But if higher powers targeted his disciple, he would personally visit their sects and paint them red.
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