Qiao San’s head lunged forward fiercely, the blood mark on his brow crashing precisely against Chi Ya’s forehead, causing the young master of Chen Yuan to bleed profusely and appear disheveled and wretched. The rogue did not immediately retaliate for the injustice; the hatred in his heart made him speak slowly and clearly, each word forced through his teeth: “Do you know? You killed my elder brother—my own flesh and blood—in the Ghost Forest. Now, descend to the underworld and repent before him!”
Murderous intent filled the heavens and earth. Qiao San wasted no time; his face tightened, his fingers clenched, and with a loud crack, the demon-possessed rogue actually tore his enemy’s throat open with sheer force.
A massive jet of blood erupted outward. Within the colorful pavilion, Feng and Yu, the two Hermit Adepts, roared furiously. Their immortal swords flew forth, unleashing the power of immortality that blanketed the skies and filled the space, sealing off any escape for the demon.
Qiao San, his eyes bloodshot, spun his body in place, instantly transforming into a whirlwind of red. He blew the two immortal swords aside effortlessly, then summoned another gust of red wind, hurling Chi Ya’s corpse violently toward the charging Feng and Yu.
“Fiend! Return my young master’s life!”
Feng Hermit caught Chi Ya’s corpse midair, while Yu did not hesitate—raising his hand, he retrieved his immortal sword. Its glow flashed, tearing through space itself. With the first strike, it sliced through the loose strands of hair beside the rogue’s neck.
The power of an Immortal was beyond Qiao San’s ability to resist; he could only retreat rapidly. Blood sprayed into the air as a blade pierced the wild rogue’s chest, and a glowing edge pursued his throat—a moment so perilous it teetered on the edge of a thousandweights of pressure.
The immortal sword pierced skin, sliced flesh, drew blood, and aimed straight for the rogue’s throat. The blood spraying in the sunlight painted a grotesquely beautiful scene, its bloody stench filling the hearts of both righteous and evil. In this moment of utmost peril, the rogue somehow made an unthinkable countermove.
Gritting his teeth, Qiao San grabbed the Kun Yuan Sword lodged in his chest and yanked it forward. The blade tore through half his torso, slicing through rows of ribs, until finally… the divine sword left his body.
“Clang—” In an instant, a strange and eerie metallic clang rang out—Kun Yuan Sword had blocked Yu Hermit’s immortal sword.
The miracle didn’t stop there. The divine sword now in Qiao San’s hands seemed to have shaken off its dust. Amidst a majestic, resonant hum, it emitted a blood-red glow so intense that even the Dragon Matriarch dared not look directly at it.
“Impossible! The sword spirit has revived—it has chosen its master!” From the crowd came the rare exclamation of shock from the Dragon Matriarch. Only cultivators above the Immortal level could grasp the horror of this—once a divine sword awakens, its power multiplies a hundredfold.
As if to confirm the Dragon Matriarch’s fears, with a single slash of Qiao San’s wrist, the red glow passed over Yu’s sword, cleaving it cleanly in two.
When a sword breaks, its master inevitably suffers. Immortal swords are bound to their cultivators’ lives. Yu Hermit spat a mouthful of blood and plummeted to the ground—an unexpected defeat at the hands of the rogue.
“What a sword!” Suppressing unbearable pain, Qiao San snapped his finger against the blade, listening intently to the awakened sword’s resonance. He secretly gloated over his own Ten-Yang Bloodline—within the Three Realms, who else but Qiao San could resurrect a dead sword spirit?
At this moment, the rogue was already drenched in blood, his internal organs partially exposed. Unfortunately, neither Chi Ya nor Yu possessed enough strength to push him into the Ten-Death Tribulation.
“Master San, flee quickly!” Though Twelve’s figure did not appear in space, the concern of the Xuan Fox entered Qiao San’s ears, snapping the hate- and blood-filled rogue back to his senses.
Even a demon-possessed rogue remains a rogue—his shameless nature hadn’t changed in the slightest. With his enemies dead, why stay around to be someone else’s punching bag?
As soon as the thought formed, Qiao San turned and fled.
Though this all seemed to take a long time, in reality only moments had passed. As Qiao San turned to run, Feng Hermit had just caught Chi Ya’s corpse, Yu’s broken sword still flying midair, and a crowd of cultivators had just risen from their seats.
“Fiend! You must not escape!” A majestic voice thundered above Qiao San. Though the tone was smooth and dignified, to Qiao San’s ears it was like thunderclaps, shaking his severely wounded body and making him stagger, his ghost-cloud underfoot wobbling violently.
The Master of the Four Seas had finally acted. The Great Luo Golden Immortal, who had long hated Qiao San bitterly, was infamous for his cruelty throughout the Three Realms. Though he did not use his most powerful divine treasures, even his fierce sleeve movement was enough to change the heavens and earth.
His three-foot sleeve flapped slightly in the wind, then roared like an iron plate rushing forth. Qiao San blocked crosswise with his sword—though Kun Yuan was mighty, the rogue still felt like a falling meteor, crashing down with a boom. His flesh-and-blood body slammed heavily into the earth, creating a massive human-shaped crater.
The divine sword flew from his grasp, then automatically transformed into a beam of light and dove into Qiao San’s body. Once a divine artifact of the Great Void chooses its master, no one else can ever claim it again.
“Kuh, kuh…” At any time, the sound of Yu Shan’s laughter was always so enchanting, her graceful figure so delicate and alluring, exquisitely seductive.
“Dragon Matriarch, after thousands of years, your temper is still as fierce as ever.”
A white jade fan, enlarged to over a zhang in length, swept across the sky, precisely blocking between Qiao San and the Dragon Matriarch. At this critical moment, the Princess of Ten Thousand Demons finally appeared. The Ten-Yang Body had successfully entered demonic transformation. Now, it was time for the Princess of the Netherworld to shine.
“Hmph!” The venomous Dragon Matriarch withdrew her sleeve, her flowing hair fluttering beside her temples without wind, her fierce aura piercing the heavens.
A killing chill filled the heavens and earth, pressing down like storm clouds overhead. At such a tense and solemn moment, the common people on the ground should have scattered in terror. Yet from the emperor down to every official, all stood gazing upward, dazed and entranced by the once-in-a-lifetime breathtaking beauty. Not even the danger to their lives could suppress their enraptured gazes.
In the sky, the towering Dragon Matriarch and the slender Yu Shan stood facing each other. The legendary beauty of the Five Beauties of Heaven and Earth lived up to its reputation. The regal elegance of a national beauty and the graceful allure of a seductive figure each possessed their own charm; rather than diminishing each other, their beauty shone even more brilliantly in contrast.
The breath of the world halted before these two peerless beauties, while deep in the crater, a nearly broken man’s thoughts drifted further. Even unbearable pain could not suppress the surge of lust in his heart.
“Heh, heh… If only I could pin down the Dragon Matriarch and embrace Yu Shan… Whew! That would definitely be the ultimate dream of every man in the Three Realms!”
“Uh!” A sudden surge of desire made the man want to leap up and dance, but as he moved his limbs, he realized every part of him was broken. His mind flashed with images—national beauty instantly transformed into fierce killing intent, and graceful elegance turned into sinister menace.
“Damn it! No fun at all!” The beautiful reverie was instantly replaced by flashing blades and bloodshed. The man’s lust was finally frozen by fear. The beauties may have been stunning, but they always lacked a certain feminine charm!
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