Now, the group led by Ji Yunye was standing near the ruins of the Dandingchun Pharmacy. Although the flames had long since died out, the entire street remained charred and blackened, a sight that sent chills down anyone’s spine.
Ji Yunye walked along the edge of the wreckage, his frown deepening. If the Danding Sect couldn’t even protect its own territory, how could it possibly protect them or save the emperor?
Had their decision to seek refuge with the Danding Sword Sect truly been a mistake?
“Heke was really that powerful that even the Danding Sect couldn’t resist him?” Ji Yunye asked one of his companions.
“He wasn’t just powerful—he was unbelievable. I was in the crowd watching when Heke slashed just once and collapsed half a building. But the Danding Sect didn’t even dare to show their faces. They just committed suicide.”
“The Divine Retribution Sword Group has always been among the top forces in the Ten Sword Streams,” Ji Yunye murmured, his voice tinged with gloom. “If even the Danding Sword Sect can’t stop him, who can possibly turn this situation around?”
At that moment, the disheartened group suddenly noticed something strange.
“What is that?” One of the braver noble youths stepped through the charred debris and entered the ruins of the pharmacy. There, standing among the wreckage, was a wall that hadn’t yet collapsed. Though scorched by fire, the wall remained pale and ghastly.
A large human figure was impaled on the wall, swaying slightly in the cold wind, a terrifying sight.
“That’s…” Ji Yunye was the first to recognize the figure. His eyes widened in shock, and he stood there, stunned, unable to utter a word.
“Huh?!” The person who had just been praising the Ten Sword Streams moments ago turned pale, nearly fainting.
“What is it? What is it?” Others who hadn’t yet seen it rushed forward.
Ji Yunye took a few deep breaths to steady himself before patting his companion on the shoulder. “That’s the corpse of Heke, the legendary leader of the Divine Retribution Sword Group—the greatest swordsman in the Ten Sword Streams. Brothers, the man who could slice through half a building with a single strike has now been nailed to this wall.”
Now, everyone could clearly see the body pierced through the throat by a common cross-shaped sword and pinned to the wall. Indeed, it was the massive body of Heke, the leader of the Divine Retribution Group, displayed in a cruel and horrifying posture. His wide, terrified eyes and the dried blood around his throat told a chilling tale: anyone who dared to oppose them would meet the same fate.
“Who did this? Who did this?” someone muttered, still in awe of Heke’s strength.
“Who else could it be?” Ji Yunye’s face lit up with excitement. “This is revenge. The Danding Sword Sect’s revenge. Heke once destroyed the Danding Sword Sect’s manor and killed members of the Hao Sword Group. Now, the Danding Sect is striking back—starting by nailing Heke here, declaring war on the Senate.”
“But the Danding Sword Sect is under siege themselves. How could they have the strength to do this?”
“Because *he* has returned. His return means hope for revenge.” Ji Yunye’s hands trembled with excitement. “Yang Hao is alive! He’s back in the capital! This time, the emperor truly has a chance of being saved.”
Yang Hao is alive! He’s returned!
The noble youths exchanged glances, stunned. It was an incredible revelation. The man who had caused chaos in the capital three months ago, even leaving the Elders’ Council helpless, had returned.
Could he really be an immortal warrior?
Yang Hao’s return brought with it the corpse of a master swordsman from the Ten Sword Streams. The sheer audacity and strength behind this act were unmatched in the empire.
If this was true, then the Senate’s downfall was truly imminent.
Ji Yunye noticed something else as he approached Heke’s corpse. Just beneath the body, neatly stacked, was a pile of white garments.
He picked one up and unfurled it. It was the signature white cloak of the Danding Sword Sect, embroidered with the sect’s mysterious emblem.
“I understand!” Ji Yunye exclaimed joyfully. “This is the signal for counterattack!”
“Counterattack?”
“Yes! These white cloaks are the Danding Sect’s signal for us to rise up against the Senate.” Ji Yunye raised the white cloak high and shouted, “We return now! Distribute these cloaks to our friends and brothers. When Yang Hao sounds the horn of counterattack, we will wear them and strike back at the Ten Sword Streams! We will flatten the Senate Mountains!”
“Strike back at the Ten Sword Streams!”
“Flatten the Senate Mountains!!”
The noble youths, seemingly forgetting the pain of their wounds, grabbed the white cloaks and wrapped them around themselves. They raised their arms, clasped hands, and roared in unison.
From that day on, spring in the capital became filled with passion and determination. Although the Ten Sword Streams and the Senate still maintained control over the situation, a current of resistance surged quietly beneath the surface, growing stronger as the white cloaks continued to spread.
In every corner of Earth, secret factories began producing the same white cloaks. These cloaks, once worn during the Imperial Trial, now became the symbol of hope for the resistance.
Everyone believed that no matter how powerful the Senate was, one day, at the command of the immortal warrior Yang Hao, all the warriors clad in white would rise and fight to the death.
Yang Hao, the originator of the white cloaks, never imagined his spontaneous idea would have such an impact. Nor could he have known that soon, the title of “Immortal Warrior” would spread across the entire planet.
After impaling Heke’s corpse on the ruins of the Dandingchun Pharmacy, Yang Hao and his group hurried to the Danding Sword Sect’s headquarters.
Upon learning that the sect’s disciples were on the verge of collapse due to a lack of medicine, Yang Hao mobilized every resource of the Oracles, converting several warships into massive cargo ships and even dragging along the powerful ally Hede. He had expected a brutal, bloody battle, a gauntlet of death.
But after breaking through the Acceleration Station and defeating the Divine Retribution Group, Yang Hao was stunned to find that there was no Senate defense line between the station and Earth.
Even when he entered Earth’s atmosphere, no one came to challenge him.
Where were the troublesome Elders and Senior Elders? Yang Hao used his sensing techniques and found that these top experts had vanished, hiding somewhere far away. Only near the Imperial Palace was there a terrifying energy fluctuation.
But with his disciples’ lives hanging in the balance, Yang Hao had no time to ponder. He rushed to the Danding Sword Sect as fast as he could, only to be horrified by the sight that greeted him.
In front of the sect’s gates, corpses had piled up for who knows how long, their decaying bones emitting a foul stench.
Yet the Ten Sword Streams’ forces were still attacking.
About two hundred swordsmen, wielding various swords and strange weapons—even military-grade particle guns—were surrounding the gate of the Danding Sword Sect.
On the sect’s side, only four people and four creatures were still resisting.
Long Yun and Xie Fengjian were naturally the main fighters. Lan Ling had unleashed her full Saint-level power, darting back and forth with her silver spear, though her beloved Snow Night Star Lion was nowhere to be seen.
Even Maya and the four Wind Dragon Beasts had joined the battle, fighting off the endless waves of attacks.
In theory, with their eight fighters, even a few Elders should have been no match. Yet they were being overwhelmed by these two hundred ordinary swordsmen.
Yang Hao immediately sensed something was wrong.
Ten Sword Stream members usually wielded standardized swords, with only a few leaders receiving special weapons from the Senate. But now, the swordsmen at the gate had a variety of weapons—some even used non-swords, like particle guns. This suggested their strength didn’t lie in swordsmanship, but in something else.
That “something else” soon became clear. The swordsmen were nearly immortal.
When struck, they would smear a salve on their wounds and recover within seconds. Even severed limbs could be reattached and healed in minutes.
Could such monstrous beings truly exist?
No wonder the four dragons and several sword saints were struggling.
As Yang Hao stared in disbelief, Hede noticed something from their clothing. “So it’s the Immortal Clan. The Senate even deployed them. The Danding Sect must have quite the reputation.”
“The Immortal Clan?”
“In the Ten Sword Streams, some families remain hidden, not seeking fame or fortune, but researching their own arts. The Yan Clan is one such family,” Hede explained. “The Yan Clan, known as the Immortal Clan, is one of the oldest sects in the Ten Sword Streams. They were founded even before the Supreme Sage unified the world and were taught secret healing techniques directly by the Sage himself.”
“Healing?”
“More like regeneration,” Hede clarified. “The Yan Clan produces a miraculous salve that can revive the dead and regenerate flesh. As long as the body isn’t completely destroyed, it can be restored instantly.”
Yang Hao was stunned. “That’s even more powerful than my Iron Skin Salve! If every swordsman in the Ten Sword Streams had a tube of this, we’d be doomed.”
“It’s not that simple,” Hede shook his head. “The salve only works on those who have trained the Yan Clan’s unique techniques from childhood.”
“Oh,” Yang Hao understood now. The swordsmen had to wait a few seconds after applying the salve before they could fight again.
Yang Hao looked out and spotted Lan Ling in the chaos, her blood-soaked white armor now crimson.
She wielded a silver spear taller than herself, darting through the air, striking the Yan Clan swordsmen in the throat—one of the few wounds that took time to heal. Without her, the Danding Sword Sect’s defenses would have already fallen.
But Lan Ling herself was nearing collapse. Her movements were slowing, and despair was creeping into her beautiful face.
Since gaining her formidable skills, Lan Ling had always been the proud “Ice Beauty” of the empire, protected by twelve Saint-level seniors, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps, the Imperial Guard, and the peak Saint-level Qin Feng.
Now, she felt true despair. The Yan Clan had attacked for over a day, and their seemingly immortal warriors had pushed her to the brink.
She knew that if she fell, the thousand lives behind her would perish. But other than the hope that Yang Hao would come, she had no strength left to fight.
Her power was fading.
She was about to fall.
Yang Hao’s eyes darkened as he saw Lan Ling’s desperate state.
“Wait! Let’s talk first!” Hede shouted, trying to stop him. But Yang Hao was unstoppable now. His brothers were fighting for their lives nearby—he had no other choice.
Those who bled together were brothers.
Yang Hao charged alone into the Yan Clan’s ranks. With a single arc of Shadow Moon, he cleanly blew the heads off two Yan swordsmen, splattering blood everywhere.
Watch them heal *that*.
Yang Hao coldly watched the two headless bodies fall. Indeed, there was no recovery. He realized the weakness—destroy the brain, and the regeneration failed.
His sudden attack stunned nearly two hundred swordsmen. One of their leaders stepped forward and shouted, “This is the Ten Sword Streams’ business. Wise men will leave now, or be executed.”
He had recognized Yang Hao’s strength and wanted to avoid unnecessary conflict.
But Yang Hao wasn’t an “unnecessary enemy.”
He *was* their enemy’s leader.
As Yang Hao stepped forward, Long Yun, Lan Ling, Xie Fengjian, Maya, and the four Wind Dragons all turned toward him, frozen in place, forgetting their wounds and the hundreds of enemies before them.
But none of them showed joy. In their eyes, Yang Hao’s arrival was perfectly natural—as if it had always been part of the plan.
“Those who bleed with me today are brothers!” Yang Hao declared to the Yan Clan.
Brothers—those who had fought through blood and fire, waiting for him to arrive.
“From now on, I’ll bear every hardship.”
Though he didn’t say it, his expression said it all.
The others took deep breaths and sat down in the blood-soaked ground to rest. Even the dragons folded their wings, ignoring the enemies around them.
The Yan Clan was simply ignored.
The Yan leader was stunned. He hadn’t expected the Danding Sect to have backup. To avoid escalation, he chose to overlook the two men Yang Hao had killed.
“Brother, the Danding Sect has been declared heretical by the Senate. We are here to execute them. If you don’t want to anger the Senate, leave now.”
The words were polite but threatening. He believed few in the empire would dare oppose the Senate.
But he hadn’t counted on standing before several of them.
Yang Hao shook his head. “I want to leave. Really.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I can’t,” Yang Hao sighed. “Because of them.” He pointed at the four resting figures.
“They’re rebels, to be executed!”
“I know,” Yang Hao agreed. “But why do they still resist, even in defeat? Why not flee?”
“They’re waiting,” the Yan leader sneered. “Waiting for someone who will never come.”
“I see,” Yang Hao recalled Shadow Moon.
“Then leave quickly. I don’t want to kill an innocent man,” the Yan leader urged.
“I still can’t leave,” Yang Hao laughed.
“You won’t leave?” The Yan leader signaled his men, surrounding Yang Hao. “You really won’t leave?”
“Because…” Yang’s voice suddenly rose, filled with boundless power. Flames engulfed him and Shadow Moon, making him appear like a blazing fire. From the fire came a godlike voice: “Because I am the one they were waiting for!”
Before the voice faded, the Three Flames of Hell descended like divine punishment upon the Yan Clan. Flames followed each of them like shadows, and no matter how much salve they applied, they couldn’t escape the fiery judgment.
“Those who kill my brothers,” Yang Hao calmly walked among them, “die!”
“Those who attack my sect,” he stepped forward, flames erupting from his footprints, “die!”
“Those who harm my disciples,” he declared, “die!”
These three “deaths” became death sentences for the Yan Clan. The flames trapped them.
The Yan leader and his men desperately applied salve and activated their techniques to resist the burning.
Yang Hao strolled through the flames, Shadow Moon soaring above, spewing astonishing fire.
“You’re Yang Hao!” the Yan leader finally recognized him. “You’re Yang Hao!”
That sentence was like the first domino falling. The Yan swordsmen screamed in terror.
“Yang Hao is back! The Danding Sect’s Yang Hao is here!”
“The Immortal Warrior! We’re doomed!”
“Damn the Senate for sending us to die!”
To them, Yang Hao was a harbinger of death—no matter how many faced him, they would all die.
Except for one foolish soul.
The Yan leader retreated, shouting, “So what if you’re Yang Hao? I don’t believe you’re immortal. We are the Immortal Clan! We are the true Immortal Warriors!”
This declaration steadied the Yan swordsmen slightly. Though Yang Hao’s flames caused chaos, their salves still protected their bodies.
Who was truly immortal? That would soon be decided.
The Yan leader and a few brave swordsmen lunged at Yang Hao with their swords.
They struck empty air. Yang Hao’s afterimage shattered on their blades, while his real body hovered above.
Yang Hao coldly surveyed the blazing battlefield. He raised the Flame-Fusing Bow, though he could not fully draw its string. Nevertheless, the fire god’s soul and divinity sealed within it surged into his mind, revealing the profoundest secrets of fire.
He declared proudly to the ants below, “You claim immortality, but I am the true god. So… die!”
As Yang Hao uttered the final words, infinite fire essence erupted from the Yan Rong Bow. The fire god’s soul howled, and the flames transformed.
The fire became a raging inferno—ten-meter-high flames engulfing everything, flames of destruction unlike the life-giving sacred fire.
If the Yuan flame represented life, then this flame represented death.
The flames turned black, erupting from the Yan swordsmen’s mouths.
This time, the Immortal Clan met their end. Screaming and writhing, they were consumed by the divine punishment—the accumulated wrath of the fire god Zhu Rong over thousands of years.
The inferno scorched the battlefield, turning blood and bones to ash, leaving not a trace of the three-month-long war.
If not for the lingering hellish heat, no one would believe this place had once been a slaughterhouse.
Yang Hao had arrived just in time.
After annihilating the two hundred Yan swordsmen, Yang Hao walked toward Lan Ling and the others across the still-smoldering ground.
There were no tears or emotional reunions—just smiles.
“You came,” Long Yun nodded.
“I came,” Yang Hao replied, slightly embarrassed. “I’m late.”
“Not bad,” Long Yun said. “We’re all still alive.”
Inside the Danding Sword Sect, the disciples and Hao Sword Group members, who had fought desperately for survival, were now lying on the ground, barely conscious. Seeing Yang Hao, they thought they were dreaming.
“Captain? Is it really you?”
When Yang Hao approached and they touched his face, they finally believed: “Captain is back! Captain is back!”
At once, everyone who had been lying down sat up. They had endured countless battles, clinging to life with their last breaths, waiting for Yang Hao.
Their faith in him had not been in vain.
Yang Hao took a deep breath to steady himself. The scene was too tragic—worse than he had imagined. The Danding Sword Sect had never faced such devastation.
Yang Hao’s fifty disciples quickly distributed the prepared pills. Those on the brink of death began meditating to recover.
Yang Hao walked around, checking on the injured and channeling energy to those in critical condition. Even with his Saint-level power, he soon broke into a sweat.
Long Yun and Xie Fengting approached, clearly with something to say.
Yang Hao waved them off. “From today on, every inner disciple of Danding and the Hao Sword Group must have three months’ worth of pills. This must never happen again.”
Zhuge Jian nodded. This was his responsibility.
“What about the palace?” Yang Hao asked before Long Yun could speak.
Xie Fengting frowned. After contacting the Merchant Guild, he had learned the situation.
“The Ghost Elder among the Nine Senior Elders has set up the Dragon Trap Formation, complete with thirty-six Ghost幽 barriers. Now, the palace has become a trap—with only an entrance, no exit.”
“Hasn’t Feng Feng taken action?” Yang Hao was skeptical. Qin Feng was a formidable expert.
“The Imperial Guard has charged over a hundred times, suffering thousands of casualties, but the Ghost幽 remain unharmed,” Xie Fengting sighed. “The Ghost Elder boasted that even if several Senior Elders joined forces, they couldn’t break through the thirty-six Ghost幽 barriers. Only the Supreme Sage might possibly accomplish such a feat.”
Yang Hao pursed his lips. The emperor wasn’t as important to him as his brothers, but if the emperor and Qin Feng were eliminated, Yang Hao would be alone again.
“What’s the Merchant Guild doing?”
Xie Fengting’s face darkened. “The Merchant Guild is in worse shape. The Senate’s main forces aren’t even on Earth. Besides the Ghost Elder guarding the palace, Earth’s main military force is the swordsmen of the Ten Sword Streams. The Senate’s true forces—three hundred Elders and eight Senior Elders—are all outside Earth.”
“They’re not on Earth?” Yang Hao was surprised. “What are those old men doing out there?”
Xie Fengting lowered his voice. “The forty sword groups of the Merchant Guild stationed in the galaxy’s outer regions have been suddenly suppressed by Elders. Also, the high-level experts cultivated by the Guild in recent years are being hunted by Senior Elders.”
“Experts?”
Yang Hao sneered. Though he held one of the Ten Directors’ seats, he knew little of these secrets.
“The Merchant Guild secretly cultivated a group of Saint-level experts in recent years, believing no one knew. But the Senate had already discovered them. This time, the Senate deployed the Strangulation and Dragon Trap strategies to tie down our forces, while the main forces went after these experts.”
“Can they hold out?”
Xie Fengting’s face was grim. “We’ve lost contact. They’ve been missing for a month. Their fate is unknown.”
Yang Hao nodded. He understood Xie Fengting’s feelings. Cultivating a Saint-level expert wasn’t easy. Even someone like Xie Fengting, a newly-minted Saint, required countless trials and training. To cultivate them secretly under the Senate’s watchful eyes was even harder. These Saint-level experts were likely the Guild’s last secret weapon.
“What do the Directors want me to do?”
Though Yang Hao wasn’t fond of the nine old men in the Guild, he was still one of the ten CEOs. In times of crisis, he had to contribute.
Xie Fengting glanced around. Though the Danding Sword Sect had suffered greatly, their situation was better than others. The inner disciples had nearly perished due to a lack of medicine, but with Yang Hao’s return and the supply of pills, they could recover in time.
Xie Fengting said, “The Directors have decided the top priority is to rescue the emperor. If the Elders push too hard and kill him, the anti-Senate forces will fall apart and be destroyed one by one.”
Yang Hao nodded. Saving the emperor was the general hope. No one else could do it. Besides, the emperor was practically his future father-in-law. If he let him die, where would he put his face?
“Alright, I’ll rest tonight and take Lan Ling to the palace tomorrow.”
Speaking of Lan Ling, Long Yun and Xie Fengting’s expressions changed.
Long Yun hesitated. “We need to talk about that.”
“What’s wrong?” Yang Hao felt something was off. He looked around and realized Lan Ling was missing. Earlier, during the battle with the Yan Clan, she had been there, watching him with complex eyes.
Long Yun pulled Yang Hao toward the sect’s manor, leading him to the four Dragon Towers—tall structures built for the four Wind Dragons. But today, at the base of one tower, there was a mound—a grave.
“What is this?” Yang Hao was puzzled. The mound was over a meter high, suggesting something large was buried inside.
“It’s Snow Night Star Lion,” Long Yun sighed. “Lan Ling’s Snow Night Star Lion died in battle.”
“What?” Yang Hao’s eyes widened. He remembered the flying lion, its silver fur gleaming, proud and majestic. Only Lan Ling could approach it, and it would kneel to nuzzle her neck.
But more often, the Snow Night Star Lion was a proud and sacred creature, untouchable by anyone.
As a member of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps, the mount was a loyal companion, worth one’s life to protect.
But Lan Ling’s Snow Night Star Lion was buried beneath the Dragon Tower.
Long Yun patted Yang Hao’s shoulder. “Lan Ling has been fighting with us for so long. Without her, this place would have been destroyed. She rarely speaks, and when injured, she just bandages herself. Half a month ago, her Snow Night Star Lion died in battle. She fought like a madwoman for days and nights before burying it here.”
Yang Hao was stunned. He knelt down, touching the grave’s thick layer of earth, sensing the sorrow of the woman’s tears mixed into the soil.
To others, Lan Ling was the Ice Beauty, even cold and distant to Yang Hao. But Yang Hao knew her heart was soft—toward those she loved, and toward her companions.
“Don’t let her down,” Long Yun reminded.
Yang Hao didn’t know what to say. Reflecting on their relationship, perhaps Yang Hao had been more proactive. On the surface, he seemed to care more for Lan Ling.
But was that truly the case?
Yang Hao suddenly realized that in his heart, Lan Ling was someone worth loving—but not everything. What had he done for her?
It was Lan Ling who stayed on Zhinao Star with him during the Celestial Transformation. It was Lan Ling who defied her master Qin Feng to save him in the palace. It was Lan Ling who took care of the Danding Sect’s disciples when Yang Hao left.
Perhaps in Lan Ling’s heart, Yang Hao *was* everything.
She never said it—she just did it.
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