Gao Lan stood on the palace steps, raising the jade seal of the Northern Zhou Emperor high in his hand. The Human Emperor Sword pointed diagonately forward, and a pale golden light erupted, transforming the entire palace into a dazzling golden brilliance.
The sun, moon, stars, and constellations floated as shadows on the palace ceiling, while mountains, rivers, and lands filled the surroundings. The palace itself transformed into a microcosm of the world, within which numerous illusions knelt. There were solemn and noble deities, indifferent immortals, bloodthirsty evil beings, and various mighty demons.
The Human Emperor Sword, a peerless divine weapon that ended the demonic chaos upon the earth, brought the mythological era to a close, and ushered in the prosperity of humanity!
Its blade was stained with the blood of immortals, gods, demons, and monsters, forming images of beings from different races along its surface. Through generations, the residual will and blood of human warriors fused into it. For tens of thousands of years, it was tempered by the collective will of the human race, growing so mighty that it reached the pinnacle of power, dominating the universe with imperial might!
Within Changle City, the prolonged chaos had left many commoners anxious and fearful. Some prayed to gods and Buddhas, others sought refuge with the strong, and some even turned to evil paths. Yet at this very moment, they all felt a sudden tremor in their hearts, and a majestic and solemn voice echoed in their minds: “I am Gao Lan, the Sovereign of Great Zhou, protecting my people, ensuring that immortals, gods, demons, and monsters shall not run rampant!”
Each citizen felt an unshakable sense of trust in this voice, involuntarily moved, as if they had found their pillar of support, their leader who would guide them through mutual aid and help them survive the calamity. Some knelt to the ground, others wept, some rejoiced, and others stood united. A tide of invisible energy surged into the void.
“I am Gao Lan, the Sovereign of Great Zhou, protecting my people, ensuring that immortals, gods, demons, and monsters shall not run rampant!”
In Peijing, Lulong, Juyuan, and in every city and village of Northern Zhou, every subject heard this voice simultaneously, regardless of distance or social status. Their beliefs, their wills, their yearnings were invisibly linked together.
Outside a certain prefectural city, the “Sixfold Yama Demon Statue” struck down, shattering the city’s protective formation, plunging the martial heroes and commoners within into despair.
At that very moment, they heard Gao Lan’s voice and clung desperately to this final straw.
Suddenly, light soared into the sky, and an imperial figure appeared above the city. Clad in a bright yellow imperial robe, wearing a crown that symbolized dominion over heaven, his handsome and cold visage, with thin lips, unmistakably belonged to Gao Lan himself. He had instantaneously crossed hundreds of thousands of miles to arrive here.
Gao Lan swung his pale golden sword, and the images of immortals, gods, demons, and monsters etched on its back surged forth. The immortal blood of ancient warriors flowed eternally within it, finally focusing on the image of the evil beings!
The might of imperial dominion was revealed, the aura of evil beings dissipated. The “Sixfold Yama Demon Statue” was as if encountering its nemesis, its movements slowing. The collapsing primordial energy sea around it parted effortlessly, and the exploding destructive energy clusters split like tofu into two halves.
The pale golden sword slashed downward, cleaving the Sixfold Yama Demon Statue in two, reducing it once again to a single sinister bone.
The Human Emperor Sword strikes, and the evil beings fall!
At the border between Northern Zhou and the grasslands, Gao Lan’s figure abruptly reappeared above a city, leaping into the upper air where Daman and He Qi were locked in battle.
His expression remained cold, yet his back bore the images of mountains, rivers, sun, moon, stars, and constellations. He swung his sword once again.
Seeing Gao Lan attacking him, Daman was momentarily surprised but quickly regained composure, summoning countless wish-light points into a divine statue, its entire body ablaze with golden divine fire.
As soon as this divine statue appeared, it lunged toward Gao Lan. Behind it came entangling vines and swarms of strange insects flying across the sky, all manifestations of shamanistic arts, aiming to delay him momentarily.
Gao Lan’s eyes remained indifferent, his thin lips tightly shut. He acted as heaven itself, reversing directions, instantly positioning himself above the divine statue and the shamanistic techniques, then cleaving downward with the Human Emperor Sword.
The pale golden glow flowed, the blood transformed, and the images of sun, moon, stars, constellations, mountains, and rivers on Gao Lan’s back remained unchanged. Yet the surrounding immortals, gods, demons, and monsters suddenly shrank, leaving only the image of a noble and supreme deity.
The sword struck the divine statue, dispersing the golden flames and wish-light points into a rain of scattering sparks, utterly powerless to resist. The subsequent shamanistic techniques and the Longevity Heaven Realm were likewise cut down in a single stroke, as if encountering a natural nemesis.
Upon seeing the pale golden sword with its face engraved with the sun, moon, stars, constellations, mountains, and rivers, and its back adorned with kneeling figures of immortals, deities, demons, and monsters—while the hilt bore inscriptions of farming, fishing, and the myriad facets of human life—Daman suddenly gasped in shock and exclaimed:
“The Human Emperor Sword!”
Human will triumphs over heaven, the enemy of immortals, gods, and demons!
And it seemed to have awakened to the Earth Immortal level! Knowing the might of the Human Emperor Sword, Daman abandoned all thoughts of battle and hastily activated a life-saving technique, intending to flee.
Unfortunately, had he faced only Gao Lan alone, he might still have clung to a sliver of hope. But at this very moment, when the Human Emperor Sword severed his “substitute body,” his true divine form—a blue-green deity—was forcibly expelled by an invisible and formless sword qi from nearby, and Gao Lan swiftly closed the distance.
After a few breaths, Daman stood frozen in midair, his divine form pierced by countless sword qi erupting from within, disintegrating piece by piece. Even the strange indigo-black vine staff was seized by Gao Lan.
Daman had perished, but the Longevity Heaven was immortal. With sufficient offerings and incense prayers, he would eventually be reborn, though it might take countless years.
At that moment, He Qi suddenly looked up, gazing into the high sky. A purple meteor streaked across the heavens, causing his pupils to contract and his heart to tremble:
“Cui Qinghe has fallen!”
Gao Lan glanced upward, then turned to face the south. His imperial crown remained undisturbed, his bright yellow robe fluttering in the wind, his majesty evident as he solemnly proclaimed to all directions:
“I am Gao Lan, the Sovereign of Great Zhou. Wherever there are people of Great Zhou, there shall I be!”
This was the wondrous power of the Human Emperor Sword combined with the Imperial Jade Seal!
As the words faded, Gao Lan appeared at the border between Northern Zhou and the Great Jin, merging his body with the sword. A pale golden light tore through the void as he rushed toward a long-awaited archenemy.
…
Within the Shaolin Temple, in the Stupa of Relics, the venerable monk Konghui sat on the top floor of the Sutra Pavilion, before him a precept blade stained with worldly dust—the Ananda Breaking Precept Blade. Around him stood numerous Buddhist statues, each base holding a crystal-like relic, the remains of high monks from past generations, including Arhat relics and even the relic of Bodhidharma himself!
Due to his hidden injuries, not only the Head of the Bodhi Hall, Wusi, and the Elder of the Bodhidharma Hall, Wuwang, were assisting in controlling the formation, but even Kongjian, the Head of the Bodhidharma Hall who had been in retreat for ten years, was temporarily allowed to leave to patrol the temple and prevent potential dangers. Only Wu Jing, the former Head of the Precept Hall who had deeply fallen into demonic ways, remained imprisoned in the lower levels of the Stupa.
As for Xuanbei, the Elder of the Bodhi Hall, and Kongxiang, the younger brother of Abbot Kongwen, one was undergoing a Nirvana retreat while the other was in a meditation of cessation. Since the crisis had not yet reached a life-or-death point, and their defenses were solid as a fortress, they were not disturbed.
Meanwhile, in the most unassuming and overlooked part of the temple—the Servants’ Courtyard—a fat monk named Xuanxin, with a protruding belly, glanced at the sky and calculated the time. Suddenly, he stood up, discarding his fatty meals and wine, his cheerful expression turning solemn, mixed with a sense of eagerness and liberation.
He shook his head, and his body suddenly expanded to nine chi in height, covered entirely in white fur, with wings sprouting from his back—he was a demon in disguise, hiding his true form through transformation techniques!
Xuanxin spat out a gourd from his mouth, pointed his finger at it, and a white light emerged from the gourd, within which hung a five-colored banner, radiating a thousand beams of light.
“After more than a decade of monotony, it’s finally starting!” With a slight tremor of his body, a deafening chorus of ten thousand demonic howls erupted from beneath the Stupa of Relics at the back mountain. Among them surged an overwhelmingly terrifying aura, rivaling even the Peacock Demon King in power, violently shaking the stupa and causing the relics inside to radiate with a crystalline brilliance. Alongside it emerged numerous presences at the Demon Lord level.
“Has the Bai Ze Demon King, sealed by Patriarch Yuan Kong, not yet perished?” The Stupa trembled, and Konghui felt a flicker of surprise. Although demon lifespans were generally longer than humans’, the Bai Ze Demon King should have already reached the end of his life!
Without stopping to consider the reason, he swiftly formed a hand seal and began murmuring incantations. The relics soared into the air and embedded themselves into different sections of the Stupa. The Bodhidharma relic leaped into Konghui’s palm, radiating a glow that resonated with the Ananda Breaking Precept Blade. Meanwhile, Wusi and Wuwang rushed to reinforce the faltering mountain-protection formation, weaving countless Mani characters and Prajna Sutras into a crystalline, womb-like barrier.
In an instant, the entire pagoda emitted a glazed radiance, forming a Diamond Realm that firmly suppressed the myriad demons beneath it.
Outside the Shaolin Temple’s main gate, a refined middle-aged man stood with his hands behind his back. His handsome face bore black hair casually tied with a wooden hairpin, exuding a mysterious and demonic charm. This was none other than the “Demon Sage” Han Guang.
He had not gone to the Xuantian Sect but had come directly to the Shaolin Temple!
Beside Han Guang stood an old master with white hair, his face hideous, resembling a ghost or demon.
Seeing the temple’s formation waver, Han Guang seemed to have anticipated it. His right hand calmly pressed forward, slowing time itself. The swirling Mani characters and sutra texts instantly froze in place.
He precisely seized the fleeting moment of weakness!
Attacking the Shaolin Temple was also an attack on the orthodox sects!
With a wave of his left hand, the two figures vanished, and the crystal-womb barrier instantly restored itself, appearing perfectly intact once more.
In a hidden part of the rear mountain, Han Guang’s figure flickered and vanished, piercing through space into a secret passage.
He moved swiftly, arriving in an instant at a crossroads guarded by an Outer Manifestation-level senior monk.
The monk wore a red robe, his face emaciated like a withered tree. Sensing someone approaching, he was about to call out when he was already trapped in the slowed time. Han Guang struck with one palm, reducing him to dust.
Han Guang did not stop, continuing until he reached a stone archway inscribed with the words: “Those who value emotions, righteousness, and benevolence must not enter this door.”
He turned to the old master with white hair and said, “Activate your demonic techniques and open this door. Upon success, I shall return your adopted son to you.”
“Yes, Master.” The old master, with a hideous face and crazed eyes, exuded an aura of evil.
Han Guang, in his wide robes, stood with his hands behind his back, his sharp features and mature demeanor concealing a faint inner smirk:
“In this chaotic world, where the tides of power rise and fall, such things are mere trivialities. Only self-improvement is the true path to supremacy!”
…
Meng Qi did not know where he had been flung through space, only that it was a remote wilderness with no presence of powerful beings nearby.
He felt his sleeves about to explode, quickly flinging them outward, sending the leader of the Golden Tent Warriors, Haswula, flying out. His right hand swiftly followed with a long saber strike aimed at the enemy.
…
Inside the Sword-Washing Pavilion, Jiang Zhiwei was in charge of maintaining internal order, preventing anyone from taking advantage of the chaos.
Suddenly, she felt a stirring in her heart and looked up at the sky, where a purple meteor streaked across the heavens.
“Cui Qinghe has fallen.” A familiar voice echoed in her ears.
“Master! You’ve broken through?” Jiang Zhiwei turned in joy, seeing her master, Su Wuming, standing there in a simple green robe, his expression empty and detached, as if he had transcended self and all worldly things. His face was handsome, but his eyes were indifferent and deep, as if he had experienced countless lifetimes and traversed the dust of the mundane world.
Su Wuming nodded slightly, his tone tinged with emotion: “In this world, nothing can ever be perfectly complete. Even the Great Divination has fifty stalks, yet one remains hidden. There is no need to strive too hard.”
As his words faded, a shard of a mirror flew from his hand, floating before him.
The fragment was black and dull, yet it seemed capable of reflecting countless illusions and infinite universes.
A thought stirred in Jiang Zhiwei’s mind, recalling what the little monk had said, and she blurted out:
“The fragment of the Mirror of Heaven!”
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