In reality, Yang Hao’s current cultivation path had already diverged completely. His previously shaky foundational techniques now only served as auxiliary tools. The true energy circulating within his body was genuine qi, cultivated through dedicated practice. In theory, this qi would continuously circulate and remain largely undiminished for a long time. However, today, Yang Hao had rushed through numerous checkpoints, excessively using the Feihua Mirage Body Technique, which was particularly draining on his qi reserves, leaving him genuinely exhausted.
“If defense fails, attack!” Hun Yuan Zi also noticed Yang Hao’s physical condition.
Five flying swords danced like butterflies, vibrating in midair before leaving Yang Hao’s defensive perimeter, speeding toward Jin De. Yang Hao’s cultivation had improved significantly, and indeed, his flying swords now created terrifying momentum, much faster than before. If students from the academy, or even Li Bo’s Eight Cutters, were to face him now, they would likely be defeated in a single move.
But the one facing Yang Hao now was Jin De, the vice captain of a swordsman corps. Though not yet a master within the swordsman community, he was still a formidable expert.
Jin De’s expression remained calm. Once again, dazzling radiance burst from his right palm, so brilliant it resembled the sun. It was impossible to even see how he had drawn his sword. As that glow emerged, Yang Hao’s flying swords immediately veered off course, losing power and spinning weakly in the air.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Jin De’s expression turned solemn. He finally decided not to waste any more time and prepared to deliver a decisive, devastating blow to end Yang Hao’s life.
This was Jin De’s signature technique.
In the darkness of night, Jin De’s expression was solemn. He resembled a dignified king slowly raising his treasured sword, as if about to deliver a final, fatal strike.
What he held was truly a legendary blade. On this sword were embedded one hundred and eight rare gemstones. These gems were not for showy display, but because Jin De belonged to the renowned “Light Blade Sect.”
The Light Blade Sect was a swordsman school with a profound historical background. Legend had it that it originated during the golden age of sword immortals. Though the civilization of sword immortals had abruptly vanished, taking their cultivation techniques with them, the Light Blade Sect’s sword arts had endured and evolved. Today, the Light Blade Sect, together with nine other sword schools, formed the Ten Imperial Sword Schools. Their disciples occupied positions as captains or vice captains in the Empire’s swordsman corps, wielding immense power and authority.
The Light Blade Sect’s secret lay in the word “light.” Though seemingly simple, its application was infinitely variable, giving rise to numerous sword techniques of differing levels. At Jin De’s level, he embedded gems into his sword to gather and refract light. Each time he unsheathed his sword, primal energy would flow into the gems, causing them to radiate blinding light that made it impossible for opponents to look directly, ultimately allowing Jin De to strike unseen.
However, few knew that this was merely Jin De’s minor trickery—the real purpose of those gems was to unleash his ultimate killing move. Those who had witnessed that technique were already dead.
This was a true, lethal technique.
Actually, Yang Hao’s current cultivation path is entirely different now. Those shoddy basic techniques of his only serve an auxiliary role at best. What truly circulates within his body is the genuine Qi he has cultivated. Logically, this Qi cycles endlessly and shouldn’t deplete for a long time. However, today, Yang Hao had broken through multiple checkpoints in succession, overusing his “Flying Flower Phantom Steps” technique, which happens to be the most Qi-draining of all. As a result, he was truly running on fumes.
“If you can’t defend, then attack!!” Even Hunyuanzi noticed Yang Hao’s physical predicament.
The five flying swords fluttered like butterflies in the air, breaking free from Yang Hao’s defensive perimeter and shooting toward Jin De at lightning speed. With Yang Hao’s growing mastery, the swords now moved several times faster than before, their momentum terrifying. If any student from the academy—or even Li Bo’s Eight Blademasters—were to face him now, they’d likely be subdued in a single move.
But Yang Hao was up against Jin De, the deputy leader of a swordsman regiment. Though not yet a grandmaster in the swordsman world, Jin De was undoubtedly a formidable expert.
Jin De’s expression remained unreadable as his right palm erupted with a dazzling, sun-like radiance. It was impossible to see how he drew his sword, but the moment that light flared, Yang Hao’s flying swords immediately veered off course, wobbling weakly in midair.
“Is this all you’ve got?” Jin De’s solemn expression darkened. He had no intention of wasting any more time—his next strike would be a frenzied, lethal blow meant to end Yang Hao’s life.
And this strike was Jin De’s signature technique, the one that had earned him his fame. Under the night sky, Jin De stood like a solemn king, slowly raising his sword as if preparing to deliver the final, fatal blow.
The weapon in his hand was a true treasure—a sword embedded with 108 rare gemstones. These weren’t mere displays of wealth; they were integral to Jin De’s affiliation with the renowned “Light Sword Sect.”
The Light Sword Sect was a swordsmanship school with deep historical roots, said to trace back to the golden age of sword-immortal civilization. Though the methods of immortal cultivation had long been lost with the sudden decline of that era, the Light Sword Sect’s techniques had endured. Today, it stood as one of the “Ten Great Sword Sects of the Empire,” its disciples holding high-ranking positions as leaders or deputy leaders in the imperial military’s swordsman regiments—a testament to their immense influence.
The sect’s signature lay in the word “light.” Simple in concept, yet infinitely versatile in application, branching into countless techniques of varying mastery. At Jin De’s level, the gemstones on his sword served to gather and refract light. Each time he drew his blade, his inner force would channel into the gems, unleashing blinding rays that left opponents unable to look directly at him, allowing Jin De to strike unseen.
But few knew this was merely a minor trick. The true purpose of those gemstones lay in Jin De’s ultimate killing move—one that no living soul had survived witnessing.
This was the real deal—a genuine, lethal technique.
Jin De raised his sword high, gazing at the moon as its silvery glow bathed his blade in an enchanting radiance.
“Polaris!!” he murmured, the words dripping like a curse.
In an instant, the slender sword transformed. It was no longer a blade but a beam of light—a sharp, silver gleam of death, pulsating ominously in the dark night.
It seemed poised to leap forth, extinguishing all life in its path. No one caught within its reach could possibly escape.
A mere second passed, yet it felt like slow, agonizing centuries. The growing radiance shifted into an eerie, glass-like hue before splitting into dozens of slender light-swords, all shooting toward Yang Hao.
Yang Hao had no time to dodge—even if he tried, human speed could never outmatch light. Unless one could warp space itself to achieve faster-than-light travel, no one could evade Jin De’s “Polaris” technique.
But Yang Hao wasn’t afraid. He had a better defense. With a flick of his consciousness, his five flying swords encircled him, forming an airtight shield so seamless it was nearly invisible—only faint arcs resembling a glass dome protecting his body.
This was the “Guard” technique from the Dual Cultivation Sect’s Five Sword Arts. Though Yang Hao was still a novice, this was an immortal’s skill, possessing astonishing power. Not even a wisp of wind could penetrate such a defense.
Yet Yang Hao had underestimated his opponent. He hadn’t considered that the Light Sword Sect, having endured for millennia, must possess its own unparalleled techniques—ones that might not be far inferior to the Dual Cultivation Sect’s. Moreover, how could a beginner’s experience compare to a veteran who had weathered countless battles?
Sure enough, seeing Yang Hao resort to defense, Jin De’s eyes gleamed coldly. “Die!”
The dozens of light-beams struck Yang Hao’s defensive formation—only to suddenly shudder, slowing down before splitting into tens of thousands of hair-thin needles of light. These minuscule rays, fine as dust, embedded themselves into Yang Hao’s sword barrier like pins.
No matter how fiercely Yang Hao channeled the “Guard” technique, he couldn’t block every speck of dust in the world. Among those countless threads of light, one slipped through.
Just one—but that was enough. This insignificant sliver of light erupted with shocking lethality the moment it breached his defense, striking like a viper’s fang straight for Yang Hao’s throat.
In battles between experts, the slightest misstep could spell doom. And though Yang Hao had made some progress, he was still far from being a true master.
Before coming here, Yang Hao had only applied the “Ice-Skin Iron Balm” to his chest, leaving his throat—a vital spot—completely unprotected. If Jin De’s Polaris struck, it would sever his carotid artery instantly, leaving even an immortal powerless to save him.
At this critical moment, Yang Hao had almost no time to react. Yet, inexplicably, a surge of instinctual power erupted within him. His limbs moved as if floating on clouds, entirely beyond his control, shifting his body a few inches to the side at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.
Those few inches saved his life. The thread of light grazed his neck, leaving only a deep gash on his shoulder. Though the beam was as fine as a wheat awn, the mere brush was enough to wound Yang Hao severely, his blood immediately staining his outer robe crimson.
“Aurora!!” Jin De murmured the word like an incantation.
In an instant, the slender legendary sword transformed. It was no longer just a sword, but a beam of light—a sharp, death-laden silver beam. This light, nurtured in the darkness of night, trembled and pulsed, ready to leap forth at any moment, turning everything it touched into oblivion. Anyone within its range had no chance of escape.
Actually, Yang Hao’s current cultivation path is entirely different now. Those shoddy basic techniques of his have become purely supplementary. What truly circulates within his body is the genuine Qi he has cultivated. In theory, this Qi cycles endlessly and shouldn’t deplete for a long time. However, today Yang Hao had to break through multiple checkpoints in succession, and his excessive use of the “Flying Flower Phantom Steps” technique had drained him severely. This particular technique happens to be the most Qi-consuming, leaving him truly exhausted.
“If you can’t defend, then attack!!” Even Hunyuanzi noticed the issue with Yang Hao’s condition.
Five flying swords fluttered like butterflies in the air, breaking free from Yang Hao’s defensive perimeter and shooting toward Jin De at lightning speed. As Yang Hao’s cultivation progressed, his flying swords had indeed become more formidable—several times faster than before. If he were facing students from the academy, or even Li Bo’s Eight Blademasters, they’d likely be subdued in a single move.
But now, Yang Hao was up against Jin De—a deputy commander of a swordsman regiment. Though not yet a grandmaster in the swordsman world, he was undoubtedly a formidable expert.
Jin De’s expression remained unreadable as his right palm erupted with a brilliance akin to the sun. It was impossible to see how he drew his sword, but the moment that radiance burst forth, Yang Hao’s flying swords immediately veered off course, wobbling weakly in midair.
“Is this all you’ve got?” Jin De’s face turned solemn. He had no intention of wasting any more time—his next strike would be a frenzied, fatal blow meant to end Yang Hao’s life.
And this strike was none other than Jin De’s signature technique. Under the night sky, Jin De stood with regal solemnity, lifting his sword slowly like a dignified king preparing to deliver the final, lethal strike.
The sword in his hand was a true treasure, inlaid with 108 rare gemstones. These weren’t mere decorations for ostentation—they were essential to Jin De’s affiliation with the renowned “Light Sword Sect.”
The Light Sword Sect was a swordsmanship school with deep historical roots, said to trace back to the golden age of sword-immortal civilization. Though the methods of immortal cultivation were lost when that civilization abruptly vanished, the sect’s swordsmanship endured. Today, the Light Sword Sect was one of the “Ten Great Sword Styles of the Empire,” and its disciples held high-ranking positions in the military’s swordsman regiments, wielding immense influence.
The sect’s signature technique revolved around the concept of “light.” Simple in theory, yet infinitely versatile in application, with countless variations distinguishing mastery levels. At Jin De’s level, the gemstones embedded in his sword served to gather and refract light. Each time he drew his sword, his inner force infused the gems, causing them to emit blinding radiance that disoriented opponents, allowing Jin De to strike unseen.
But few knew this was merely a minor trick. The true purpose of those gemstones lay in Jin De’s ultimate killing move—a technique no living soul had survived witnessing.
This was the real deal—a genuine, lethal technique.
Jin De raised his sword high, gazing at the moon as its silvery glow bathed his blade in an enchanting sheen.
“Polaris!!” Jin De murmured the words like an incantation.
In an instant, the slender sword transformed. It was no longer a blade but a beam of light—sharp, deadly, and silver, pulsating ominously within the darkness.
It seemed poised to lash out at any moment, extinguishing all life in its path. No one within its range could possibly escape.
A mere second stretched into what felt like centuries. The increasingly radiant beam fractured into dozens of slender light-swords, all shooting toward Yang Hao.
Yang Hao had no time to evade—even if he tried, human speed could never outmatch light. Unless one could warp space at superluminal speeds, no one could outpace Jin De’s “Polaris.”
Yet Yang Hao wasn’t afraid. He had a better defense. With a flicker of thought, his five flying swords encircled him, forming an airtight shield so seamless it was nearly invisible—only faint arcs resembling a glass barrier enveloped him.
This was the “Guard” technique from the Dual Cultivation Sect’s Five Sword Principles. Though Yang Hao was still a novice, this was an immortal’s secret art, possessing astonishing power. Not even a wisp of wind could penetrate such a defense.
But Yang Hao had underestimated his opponent. He hadn’t considered that the Light Sword Sect had thrived for millennia for a reason—their techniques were no less formidable than those of the Dual Cultivation Sect. And how could a beginner’s experience compare to a battle-hardened veteran’s?
Sure enough, seeing Yang Hao brace for defense, Jin De’s eyes gleamed coldly. “Die!”
The dozens of light-beams struck Yang Hao’s sword barrier—then suddenly shuddered, slowing before splitting into tens of thousands of hair-thin light-needles. These minuscule rays, fine as dust, embedded themselves into Yang Hao’s defensive formation.
No matter how fiercely Yang Hao channeled the “Guard” technique, he couldn’t block every speck of light. Among those countless filaments, one slipped through.
Just one—but that was enough. This insignificant sliver of light erupted with terrifying lethality the moment it breached his defense, streaking toward Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent’s strike.
In battles between experts, the slightest misstep could be fatal—let alone for someone like Yang Hao, who was still far from mastery.
Before arriving, Yang Hao had only applied the “Frost-Skin Iron Balm” to his chest, leaving his throat unprotected. If Jin De’s Polaris struck, it would sever his carotid instantly—not even an immortal could save him then.
At this critical moment, Yang Hao had almost no time to react. Yet, inexplicably, a surge of instinctual power erupted within him. His limbs moved as if floating on clouds, completely beyond his control, shifting him a few inches sideways at an imperceptible speed.
Those few inches saved his life. The light-beam grazed his neck, leaving only a deep gash on his shoulder. Though the ray was as fine as a wheat awn, the mere brush was enough to wound him severely—his blood instantly staining his outer robe crimson.
Yang Hao had no time to activate his body techniques. Even if he tried, he couldn’t possibly dodge. Human speed, no matter how fast, could never rival beams of light. Unless one could achieve faster-than-light travel through space compression like in interstellar navigation, no one could possibly evade Jin De’s “Aurora” technique.
But Yang Hao was not afraid. He had a better method of defense. With a flicker of thought, the five flying swords had already whirled around him, forming an airtight protective barrier around his body. The swords moved so seamlessly that they became almost invisible, with only faint arc-shaped traces, like a glass dome, shielding Yang Hao’s form.
This was the “Defense” technique from the Five Sword Techniques of the Dan and Dual Cultivation Sect. Although Yang Hao had only just begun learning it, it was still an expert-level immortal technique with astonishing power. Such a tight defense naturally allowed not even a breeze to pass through.
But Yang Hao had been too confident. He hadn’t considered that the Light Blade Sect, having survived for thousands of years, naturally possessed unique and formidable techniques—techniques that might not be inferior to those of the Dan and Dual Cultivation Sect. Moreover, how could a novice’s experience ever rival someone hardened by years of battlefield experience?
Indeed, when Jin De saw Yang Hao adopt a defensive stance, his eyes flashed with coldness. “Die!”
As those dozens of auroral beams approached Yang Hao’s defense, they suddenly trembled, no longer moving at full speed. Instead, they split again into countless thinner, thread-like light needles. These fine beams, like needles, pierced toward the exterior of Yang Hao’s defensive formation.
No matter how hard Yang Hao tried to control the “Defense” technique, it was impossible to block every single particle in the world. Among the thousands of thin beams, one tiny ray slipped through.
Just one ray—but that was enough. This seemingly insignificant beam erupted with terrifying killing intent upon breaking through the defense, like a viper’s deadly strike, directly aiming for Yang Hao’s throat.
In a duel between experts, even the smallest oversight could lead to death with no chance of burial. Let alone that Yang Hao, though somewhat accomplished, was still far from being a true expert.
Actually, Yang Hao’s current cultivation path was entirely different now. Those shoddy basic techniques of his had become merely auxiliary, while the true energy circulating within him was the genuine cultivated qi. In theory, this qi cycled endlessly and wouldn’t deplete for a long time. However, today Yang Hao had breached multiple checkpoints in succession, and the excessive use of his Flower-Shadow Movement Technique had drained him severely. Coincidentally, this technique was the most qi-consuming, leaving him truly exhausted.
“If you can’t defend, then attack!!” Hunyuanzi also noticed the issue with Yang Hao’s condition.
The five flying swords fluttered like butterflies in the air, breaking free from Yang Hao’s defensive perimeter and shooting toward Jin De at lightning speed. With Yang Hao’s growing cultivation, the flying swords were now far more formidable, moving several times faster than before. If it were students from the academy—or even Li Bo and his Eight Blade Masters—they would likely be subdued by Yang Hao in a single move.
But now, Yang Hao was facing Jin De, the deputy leader of a swordsmen regiment. Though not yet a grandmaster in the swordsmen world, he was at least a formidable expert.
Jin De’s expression remained unreadable as his right palm erupted with a dazzling, sun-like radiance. It was impossible to see how he drew his sword, but the moment that light burst forth, Yang Hao’s flying swords immediately veered off course, fluttering weakly in the air.
“Is this all you’ve got?” Jin De’s expression turned solemn. He was no longer willing to waste time and prepared to end Yang Hao’s life with a single, devastating strike.
This strike was Jin De’s signature technique. Under the night sky, his demeanor was as solemn as a dignified king as he slowly raised his sword, as if delivering the final, fatal blow.
The weapon in his hand was a true treasure sword, inlaid with 108 rare gemstones. These gems weren’t for mere ostentation—they were essential to Jin De’s affiliation with the renowned “Light Sword Sect.”
The Light Sword Sect was a swordsmanship school with a profound historical background, said to originate from the golden age of sword-immortal civilization. Though the methods of immortal cultivation had been lost with the sudden decline of that era, the Light Sword Sect’s techniques had endured. Today, along with nine other sword sects, it formed the Empire’s Ten Sword Schools, with all its disciples serving as leaders or deputy leaders in the imperial military’s swordsmen regiments—a testament to their immense influence.
The sect’s signature lay in the word “light.” Simple in concept, yet infinitely variable in application, with techniques ranging from basic to masterful. At Jin De’s level, the gemstones on his sword served to gather and refract light. Each time he drew his sword, his inner force infused the gems, unleashing blinding radiance that left opponents unable to see clearly, allowing Jin De to strike unseen.
But few knew this was merely a minor trick. The true purpose of those gemstones was to facilitate Jin De’s ultimate killing move—one that none who had witnessed had lived to tell of.
This was the real, undisputed killing technique.
Jin De raised his sword high, gazing at the moon as its watery glow bathed his blade in an enchanting sheen.
“Polaris!!” Jin De murmured the words like an incantation.
In an instant, the slender sword transformed. It was no longer a blade but a beam of light—sharp, silver, and deadly—pulsing within the darkness as if ready to leap forth and annihilate everything it touched. None within its reach could escape.
A mere second felt like centuries as the increasingly radiant light fractured into dozens of slender beams, shooting toward Yang Hao.
Yang Hao had no time to evade—even if he tried, human speed couldn’t match that of light. Unless one could warp space itself at superluminal speeds, no one could outpace Jin De’s “Polaris.”
Yet Yang Hao wasn’t afraid. He had a better defense. In the blink of thought, his five flying swords encircled him, forming an impenetrable barrier so seamless it was nearly invisible—only faint arcs resembling a glass shield surrounded him.
This was the “Guard” technique from the Dual Cultivation Sect’s Five Sword Arts. Though Yang Hao was still a novice, this was an immortal’s skill, possessing astonishing power. Such a defense wouldn’t even let a wisp of wind through.
But Yang Hao had underestimated his opponent. He hadn’t considered that the Light Sword Sect, having survived for millennia, must have its own unparalleled techniques—ones that might not be inferior to the Dual Cultivation Sect’s. Moreover, how could a beginner’s experience compare to a veteran of countless battles?
Sure enough, seeing Yang Hao rely on defense, Jin De’s eyes gleamed coldly. “Die!”
As the dozens of light beams reached Yang Hao’s defensive formation, they suddenly shuddered, slowing before splitting into tens of thousands of hair-thin needles of light. These dust-like rays pierced through Yang Hao’s sword barrier like pins.
No matter how fiercely Yang Hao channeled the “Guard” technique, he couldn’t block every speck of dust. Among those countless beams, one slipped through.
Just one—but that was enough. This insignificant sliver of light erupted with terrifying killing intent the moment it breached his defense, striking like a viper’s fang straight for Yang Hao’s throat.
In battles between experts, the slightest oversight could be fatal—let alone for Yang Hao, who, despite some progress, was still far from being a true master.
Before coming, Yang Hao had only applied Iron-Skin Frost Balm to his chest, leaving his throat unprotected. If Jin De’s Polaris struck, it would sever his carotid artery instantly—not even an immortal could save him then.
At this critical moment, Yang Hao had almost no time to react. Yet, inexplicably, a surge of instinctual power erupted within him. His limbs moved as if weightless, completely beyond his control, shifting him a few inches to the side at an imperceptible speed.
Those few inches saved his life. The light beam grazed his neck, leaving only a deep gash on his shoulder. Though the beam was as fine as a wheat awn, the mere graze inflicted severe damage, staining his clothes crimson with blood.
At this critical moment, Yang Hao had practically no time to react. Yet, inexplicably, a surge of powerful energy suddenly surged from within his body. His limbs moved as if riding clouds and mist, completely beyond Yang Hao’s control. He floated in midair, shifting sideways by just a few inches at a speed imperceptible to the human eye.
It was those few inches that saved his life. The beam grazed past his neck, leaving only a deep blood gash on his shoulder. Although this beam was as thin as a wheat awn, merely grazing him caused severe injury, and blood immediately soaked his outer garment.
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