“Everyone who has spoken to me like this is dead,” the silver-robed youth said calmly.
Though not particularly tall, he exuded an air of martial prowess, his expression unruffled, showing no anger. He clearly did not regard his opponent with much concern.
“His name is Luo Dao, from Red Province. He wields a Sparrowbone Sword, rumored to be forged from his ancestral bone. Its blade is said to be indestructible—he once slew a deity even as a Supreme Being,” Hong Huang whispered to Shi Hao through a secret transmission, warning him once more.
A First-Generation, with such illustrious feats, unrivaled across multiple provinces—now ascended to godhood. He was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous beings in the Immortal Ancient Realm.
First-Generations were inherently peerless. Even a group attacking them together would only meet death, let alone facing a godly First-Generation. It was absolute terror.
Shi Hao looked at the silver-robed youth and said, “What makes you think you can act so lawlessly just because you’re a First-Generation? Do you believe you can look down on everyone in this world?”
“In a certain sense, for someone like you, I can indeed look down,” Luo Dao replied evenly.
“Same as always—kill him, and we split everything fifty-fifty,” said a blue-robed youth stepping forward from behind. Even his pupils were blue, his body wreathed in a faint azure mist.
His blood and qi surged like an ocean, and with each step he took, the heavens and earth trembled, rumbling as if resonating with him. The very fabric of the world seemed to sing in harmony with his presence.
This was undoubtedly the manifestation of profound cultivation, pure mana, and innate talent. His mere footsteps synchronized with the rhythm of the world, faintly embodying the unity of man and nature.
Someone like this was surely the pride of his clan, standing among the strongest, destined to command his people in the future.
“And who might you be?” Shi Hao frowned slightly.
“Lan Yichen,” the youth replied, his eyes filled with mockery as he looked at Shi Hao. He approached leisurely, already envisioning the ease with which he would obtain a divine herb, his smile radiant.
After all, the formations here were formidable and difficult to dismantle. Now, someone had done the work for them.
The feeling of waiting in the shadows, stepping forth at the critical moment to pluck the ripe fruit—it was exhilarating.
“He… is actually Lan Yichen!” Hong Huang gasped, quickly transmitting to Shi Hao, revealing the man’s background.
This race was extraordinary, originating from the Bluegold Ridge. They were a clan of sentient metallic spirits, small in number but terrifying in strength.
And Lan Yichen was the most renowned youth of his clan, a conqueror who had battled countless experts, unrivaled in his province even as a Supreme Being.
In the distance, other godly experts had gathered, drawn by the commotion. Some recognized them and couldn’t help but retreat.
A single First-Generation was enough to dominate all challengers, commanding absolute supremacy. Even a horde of peers would be slaughtered.
Now, two such beings had joined forces. How could anyone hope to fight? There was no chance of victory!
No one had expected two such powerhouses to arrive together, destined to sweep through all opposition, leaving no rivals standing.
Hong Huang had long since paled, tugging at Shi Hao’s sleeve, signaling him to flee if necessary—otherwise, disaster loomed.
“So, today I’ve encountered two experts ranked within the top ten thousand,” Shi Hao remarked, still composed, showing no fear.
Lan Yichen’s smile faded at those words. He had been the strongest Supreme Being in his province, and the Upper Realm had only three thousand provinces. Yet this man dared to rank him within ten thousand.
“The Upper Realm is vast, and geniuses are countless. Don’t be too confident,” Shi Hao said.
“Interesting. Even at death’s door, you refuse to wake up,” Lan Yichen said with a faint smile before turning to the silver-robed youth. “This time, you go first.”
Luo Dao stepped forward, one pace at a time, and said to Shi Hao, “I’ll give you a chance. Submit, and I’ll spare your lives.”
“Keep them as deadweight?” Lan Yichen scoffed.
“Keep them to dismantle formations. They’ll be useful later,” Luo Dao replied.
Formation masters were usually not the strongest in combat, but in the Immortal Ancient Realm, they could prove invaluable—there were surely more ruins like this.
“Kid, you looking to die?” the Divine Striking Stone roared, long past patience, seething with anger.
An ordinary person would have swallowed their pride, and even a clan’s young elite would likely endure in silence. After all, they were facing two young monarchs.
But neither the Divine Striking Stone nor Shi Hao were the type to bow to pressure. How could they let their enemies dominate them?
“Leave the stone spirit. Kill the male,” Lan Yichen said coldly.
The silver-robed youth nodded indifferently, then glanced at Hong Huang. “I know you—a descendant of the Blood Phoenix, a noble lady. You may follow me.”
These two—one a First-Generation, the other with combat prowess on par—acted with absolute confidence, plucking the fruit at the perfect moment. They had every reason to be arrogant.
Shi Hao regarded them calmly, neither belittling nor fearing them. He stepped forward, ready to fight.
This confrontation was expected. The previous night, he and Hong Huang had triggered the formation, unleashing a storm of sword energy that would surely draw attention.
But he was unafraid. Now a god, he had the confidence to face any foe.
“All of you, step back. Don’t clutter my sight,” Lan Yichen commanded coldly, his aura flaring, forcing the onlookers to retreat. None dared approach too closely.
Though the divine herb was tempting, one needed to be alive to claim it. With two First-Generations blocking the way, charging forward was suicide.
“Will you two come at me together, or take turns?” Shi Hao asked lightly.
His words stunned not only the distant spectators but also the two First-Generations, their gazes deepening.
“A formation master with such confidence? Do you think you can set up a killing array here in an instant?” Lan Yichen said coldly.
Luo Dao’s eyes gleamed as he studied Shi Hao, sensing his formidable bloodline but also noticing incomplete baptism by divine fire—some parts radiant, others dim.
This was because Shi Hao had been tempered by one hundred and eight types of Dao flames, scattered across his body. Though he had ascended to godhood, the process was incomplete, leaving some areas untouched.
“A man who hasn’t fully ascended dares speak to me like this? Has the world changed so much?” Luo Dao said.
He had long observed Shi Hao’s condition from afar and was unperturbed. Someone like this, he could slaughter by the dozen.
“Hurry up. We have a divine herb to claim. After this, we’ll refine it and boost our cultivation. A great fortune awaits,” Lan Yichen urged from behind.
Luo Dao erupted with terrifying energy, his body clad in a suit of runic armor—the pinnacle of godly manifestation, bone inscriptions interwoven for protection.
He fixed Shi Hao with a cold gaze. “Submit or die. Choose.”
“Scram!” Shi Hao’s reply was a single word as he launched a fist strike.
“What?!” Lan Yichen’s eyes widened in shock. The youth whose incomplete ascension left patches of dimness had just unleashed a torrent of blood and qi.
This display moved even him. The vitality was overwhelming, the divine power berserk—this was undoubtedly a First-Generation, no weaker than them. They had misjudged him.
Shi Hao did not activate his mana immunity, a skill he now controlled at will. Today, he would rely on pure strength to crush his foes.
“Boom!”
The battlefield erupted with surging mana. Luo Dao roared, pushing his combat energy to the limit to counter Shi Hao.
“Bang! Bang!…”
Runes clashed, mana collided. The sky bloomed with dazzling explosions like fireworks.
In moments, the two had exchanged dozens of brutal blows with their precious techniques. Finally, Luo Dao staggered back, chest heaving, face pale.
The onlookers were petrified. This seemingly harmless youth was actually this strong? He had forced back a First-Generation!
Lan Yichen’s expression darkened. He had misjudged this formation master’s combat prowess. But he did not rush to assist, choosing instead to observe.
Luo Dao’s eyes turned abyssal, twin beams of light locking onto Shi Hao. He knew this would be troublesome—this was no ordinary foe but another First-Generation.
“Clang!”
Luo Dao moved. His right arm glowed crimson, and from his palm emerged the tip of a sword, crystalline as a blood diamond.
The blade, over half a meter long, was blood-red, as if carved from ruby. Sacred yet razor-sharp.
“First-Generation Precious Technique—Sparrowbone Sword!” someone gasped.
Luo Dao carried the bloodline of the Vermilion Bird. Legend said this sword was his innate weapon, so terrifying it could slay deities even in the Supreme Being realm.
“Whoosh!”
Luo Dao shot forth like an arrow, the Sparrowbone Sword unleashing scarlet beams, dazzling and deadly. He clashed with Shi Hao once more.
Faint blood wings materialized on his back, boosting his speed as he circled Shi Hao, thrusting relentlessly.
Shi Hao frowned—not in fear, but at the sword’s eerie aura. It was no ordinary weapon. Even a true god would perish if struck.
In moments, the two had shifted positions dozens of times, Luo Dao landing over a hundred thrusts without piercing Shi Hao.
“Die!”
Suddenly, Luo Dao’s demeanor shifted. His sword weighed like a mountain, its movements slowing as if dragging the weight of the world itself to crush Shi Hao.
Thrust after thrust, though slower, the crimson light blazed heavenward.
“Boom!”
At the moment of collision, Luo Dao unleashed his most devastating sword energy, aiming to end the fight.
“Clang!”
Shi Hao’s eyes turned icy. No longer observing, he erupted with divine might, launching his own fierce assault.
“Thud!”
The heavens trembled. The sword sliced through Shi Hao’s mana runes, grazing past him but missing its mark.
Luo Dao regretted deeply. A mere scratch from this blade was fatal to even a true god—its curse was that potent. But he had missed his chance.
Yet as they crossed paths, Luo Dao’s hair suddenly ignited, turning blood-red and elongating, lashing toward Shi Hao with soaring runes.
The attack was utterly unexpected. No one had foreseen his hair as a weapon, its runic power enough to make gods tremble.
“This… is his true First-Generation Precious Technique!” Even Lan Yichen was shocked.
Shi Hao dodged at lightning speed, but strands still coiled around his arm, biting into his flesh, drawing blood.
“So that’s it!” Shi Hao understood. Luo Dao was cunning. The Sparrowbone Sword was a ruse—a powerful artifact bestowed by his sect. His true innate ability lay in his hair.
“Die!”
Luo Dao bellowed, his entire body blazing, his hair now brighter than the sun, its runes horrifyingly radiant.
The strands tightened, draining Shi Hao’s divine power, cutting deeper into his flesh.
Simultaneously, Luo Dao swung the Sparrowbone Sword, aiming to bisect the entangled Shi Hao, its crimson light apocalyptic.
“You brought this on yourself,” Shi Hao murmured, unafraid. His body shone as he activated the Samsara Precious Technique, channeling it through Luo Dao’s hair and into his body.
In open combat, Luo Dao might have evaded. But now, retreat was impossible.
This was the clash of First-Generation techniques, the most brutal confrontation.
“Ahhh—!”
The next instant, Luo Dao screamed to the heavens. The change was instantaneous—his radiant hair dimmed, runes shattered. He aged ten thousand years in moments.
White hair cascaded like a waterfall, his face now wrinkled, vitality extinguished. His arms hung limp, his head too heavy to lift.
“Thud!”
Luo Dao collapsed, his hair slipping from Shi Hao’s arm.
The scene stunned all witnesses.
Shi Hao stepped forward, planting a foot on Luo Dao’s chest, looking down coldly. “Submit or die. Choose.”
Then he raised his gaze to Lan Yichen. “I need two servants. You, too, have a choice.”
Silence reigned. A mighty First-Generation lay trampled beneath his foot—who wouldn’t tremble?
Beyond, sect disciples gaped in awe. Was this his Supreme Precious Technique? The power of time itself, stealing life—it was terrifying.
This was the first time anyone had witnessed him unleash the Samsara Technique in the Upper Realm. All were shaken to the core.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage