“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly said. He had been silent for a long time, yet now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, my disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so despondent before.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Just let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
Yang Hao knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go limp, his breath fading, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One coldly increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Legion and the Imperial Guards were still here, the earth-shaking response would have been:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t understand why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if casting everything aside, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
The Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had charged just like this—and now they were gone.
Lan Ling was determined to walk this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The long string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though Yang Hao was plummeting, he mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One wouldn’t give him the chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the cave, catching Lan Ling in its grasp before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no further attention to Lan Ling, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—these were the Supreme One’s true prizes.
“Dammit! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized there was no escape. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, he had no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said:
“What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once leaving his hand.
The Supreme One had wandered the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy within them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are…”
“Exactly what you called ‘imprisoned fools’!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their wrath!!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring could unleash divine magic five times—sealed within them were the divine arts of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of mystical light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
If he had simply let go and allowed himself to be thrown off the planet, he could have watched as the divine magic obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting all the divine magic detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint wisp.
A long, long time later, when the divine explosion had finally dissipated, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his image as the peerless god, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the grave of countless human elites.
A century’s worth of the wisest and strongest warriors—slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—only two hundred of the six hundred Elders survived. Two of the nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never experienced such a crushing defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The imperial princess, Xian Lan—dead.
The chief ministers of the Privy Council, the Interior, and the Foreign Office—along with seventy-eight other high-ranking officials and their families—all perished in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grand Swordmaster Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordmasters—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the imperial family and the Merchants’ Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams were obliterated. The Dragon Guard Legion and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the empire’s stage.
The Merchants’ Guild was also a target, but the nine directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a tribute to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the War of the Two Gods had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Nalando’s Hunter Star, located in the system’s arm, was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no industry or agriculture. Its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had made it their supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked away in a dingy alley, its exterior looked like a relic from the 20th century—yet it was the favorite haunt of top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was a hundred times tougher than any of them.
The Adventurer’s Tavern’s proprietor, known as Ghostblade Jack, was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of a team or a lone hunter, these were professions where lives hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their heyday, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had been the strongest in the East, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer bosses stationed at headquarters gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the tavern. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave like lambs.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed that old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retiring.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even if given extra courage.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the federation ruling the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a mysterious individual.
Since the republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter—but to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
Something in his gut told him the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
Yang Hao’s heart ached bitterly. If he could move, he’d rather slam his head into a wall and die.
Yang Hao deeply understood how much resentment his master harbored against this enemy, a hatred that hadn’t faded in a thousand years—the massacre of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet for his disciple’s sake, Hunyuanzi actually humbled himself like this.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“I still lost to you in the end,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
Yang Hao knew full well how deep his master’s hatred for this enemy ran—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go weak, his breath fading, his life force slipping away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure of his grip.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword still in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the heavens:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice. Frail, yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was stunned. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, the one left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
Now, she was doing just that.
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
The Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had charged the same way—and they were gone.
Lan Ling was now walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even look at Lan Ling—just plucked the string of the bow in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a spray of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Lan Ling!!” Yang Hao, though plummeting, mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a Qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—there are still higher gods in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliance unlike before. “Then, taste the wrath of the higher gods.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having been absent for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint pulses of divine power within made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao roared. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of divine light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier god, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
If he had let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine power obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the explosion around himself, containing the divine fury within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robes were charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of godly dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the scale of battles involving hundreds of thousands, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished. A century’s worth of the finest martial artists—slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even hold their own stronghold—of the six hundred Saint-Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the Chief Minister of the Privy Council, the Minister of Internal Affairs, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs—all perished in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only fields of black armor told the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s personal Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Styles—gone. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also a target, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would refer to them by one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no significant industry or agriculture. Its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had turned it into a supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in a back alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough guys loved it? The tavern’s owner was someone even tougher—a hundred times more so.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern was known as Ghostblade Jack, the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of an expedition team or a star hunter, these were life-risking professions. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their heyday in the Eastern Reaches, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had been the strongest, controlling over half the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the Eastern Reaches and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed at headquarters gathered here.
These roughnecks would brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere—but in the Adventurer’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed that Old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint-Realm expert, even if given extra courage.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a certain mysterious figure.
Since the Republic’s founding, the Eastern Reaches had quieted down. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
Something in his gut told him the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
“Don’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t surrender!!”
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to lower himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Whether you surrender or not, you’ll die,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards were still here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed erupt in the sky—though it was a lone, frail woman’s voice, yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast everything aside to return to this battlefield.
The Supreme One was stunned. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would come back. Yang Hao was clearly a sacrificial pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone return for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
“Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the heroic Emperor Yinglie and Fengfeng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling was determined to walk this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded pawn, a spray of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Lan Ling!!” Yang Hao, though plummeting, summoned his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it shot straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted desperately, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. He had no clue about the origins of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Exactly what you called ‘imprisoned fools’!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier god, the sheer magnitude of this divine force was like an entire reservoir bursting its banks, crashing down upon him.
If he had simply let go and allowed himself to be flung away, he could have watched the planet be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could never abandon them.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, containing all the divine techniques within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint flicker.
A long, long time later, when the divine explosion had finally dissipated, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robe was now blackened, riddled with holes and billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his godly image, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial talents accumulated by the intelligent races over a century were slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of the Saint Realm’s decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—out of six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, these were minor.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never experienced such a devastating defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie Jaran—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Fengfeng—dead.
Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs, along with their families—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only scattered black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the imperial family and the Merchants’ Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the sect’s inner hall obliterated, the Ten Sword Styles eradicated, and the Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion left with only half their experts.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Fengfeng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchants’ Guild was also a target, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. Regardless, the guild’s control over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that great war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter’s Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter’s Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had adopted it as their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, but more often, it was people—Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled through hunter networks, slowly infiltrating the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer the wild frontier they once were. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter’s Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in a back alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century.
It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was a figure even more formidable than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer underworld. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where lives hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling the majority of spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who might brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his blade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed that Old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even if given ten extra lives.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter’s Star, notices plastered everywhere, and news broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him—the Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach these shores.
Yang Hao instantly felt his blood freeze, his body stiffening. With his last ounce of spiritual energy, he roared fiercely: “Let the long sword strike again!!”
It sounded like a death rattle echoing across the desolate Yuanlao Mountain.
If this place were still filled with the Longyou Legion and the Imperial Guard, there should have been a thunderous response shaking the mountains: “Haa!!”
“Haa!!” A voice indeed exploded from midair.
But it was only a lone female voice, thin yet filled with tragic resolve.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t submit!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t submit!!”
“Submit or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One’s voice was icy as he increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard Legion and the Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
And indeed, a voice exploded in the air—though it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was supposed to be the abandoned pawn, the one left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now… let us forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if casting everything aside, she thrust her spear toward the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done before her—both now gone.
Lan Ling, too, was walking the path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again. Instead, he plucked the bowstring in his arms—
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though Yang Hao was plummeting, he mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One wouldn’t give him the chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no further attention to Lan Ling, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi resided within Yang Hao, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—these were the Supreme One’s true prizes.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm master, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to celestial immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a celestial immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” A sudden, dazzling light flashed in Yang Hao’s eyes, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, the ones that never left his fingers.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. He didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Those imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and knocking him unconscious.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet’s destruction.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, containing the divine techniques within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint glimmer.
A long, long time later, when the divine explosion finally subsided, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, disregarding his divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! KILL YOU!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless human elites perished. The greatest martial artists accumulated over a century of wisdom—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had amassed over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of the six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the imperial family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead. The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead. The Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead. Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Styles were wiped out. The Dragon Guard Legion and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their masters.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Grand Merchants had already fled the planet. Still, the guild’s rule over the merchant class came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, those who perished were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As researchers would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had adopted it as a supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the aristocratic circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked away in a dingy alley, its exterior looked like a relic from the 20th century. Yet, it was the favorite haunt of top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these roughnecks loved it? The tavern’s owner—a man a hundred times tougher than any of them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern was known as Ghostblade Jack, the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was a feat.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These brutes, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to make even the rowdiest behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his ghostly blade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even if given ten extra guts.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer captains with a slight frown.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Federation—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, notices plastered everywhere, and news broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a certain mysterious figure.
Since the federation’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the shockwaves from the Galactic Empire would reach here.
Lan Ling, alone and wielding only a spear, had already charged like a silver dragon, her fearless charge reminiscent of a final farewell to the martial world.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily intensified his grip.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously: “The long sword is still in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth: “Hah!!”
“Hah!!” A voice did explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast all worldly ties aside.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao was clearly a sacrificial pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes,” Blue Feather had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Fengfeng had done—they were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother looking at Blue Feather again. Instead, he plucked the bowstring in his arms—the bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded chess piece, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One wouldn’t give him the chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure burst of energy shot up from below, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Blue Feather.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather’s fate, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi resided within Yang Hao, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—these were the Supreme One’s true prizes.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget, in this world, there are still the upper-tier divine races—they will always be stronger than you, far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, try facing the wrath of the upper-tier divine races.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings from his fingers—rings he had worn almost without exception, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s expression change drastically. “Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their wrath!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring could activate a divine technique five times—techniques sealed within them by the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Five upper-tier divine techniques, capable of overturning heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of divine light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier divine race, the sheer magnitude of this divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
If he had let go and fled the planet, he could have simply watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, containing all the divine techniques within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming and thinning.
A long time passed before the divine explosion finally dissipated. The Elders cautiously approached, only for the Supreme One to suddenly recover. His white robe was now black, riddled with holes and billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite human warriors perished.
The pinnacle of martial prowess accumulated over a century by the wise was slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial standards of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had amassed over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders survived, two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the imperial family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Fengfeng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the chief ministers of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered during the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grand Swordsmen Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the royal family and the Merchants’ Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the sect’s inner hall wiped out, the Ten Sword Styles eradicated, and only half of the Dragon Guard Corps and Hidden Dragon Pavilion’s experts remained.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few surviving experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Fengfeng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchants’ Guild was also a target, but the nine directors had already fled the planet. Nevertheless, the guild’s rule over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would refer to them by one title: “The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the Elders’ tyranny and defied the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, these fallen warriors were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao, yet it was also the only crushing loss in his life.
As researchers noted, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and grandeur, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Territories.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Territories.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the lawless adventurers roaming the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters used it as a supply stop before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Territories. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Territories was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, but more often, it was people—Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled through hunter channels into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Territories were no longer the wildlands of old. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Nightsea City, the busiest spot at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
These rugged men came for one reason: the tavern’s owner, a figure even tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, the tavern’s owner was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were life-risking professions. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Territories, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only exchanged insults in the tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even with extra courage.
Sitting behind the bar, Jack frowned slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Outer Territories—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere, while news broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him—the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
So why would someone come to save him?
But it was Lan Ling who came. As Yang Hao drifted downward, he gazed at Lan Ling’s determined eyes and felt only bitterness in his heart.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then forget each other in the martial world,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other in the martial world.”
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!” A voice did answer—a lone, thin female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let’s forget each other.”
With that same resolve, she threw herself at the Supreme One, as if ready to abandon everything.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the depths of human emotion. He didn’t bother looking at her again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded chess piece, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left hand expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then, from beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, catching Lan Ling and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. The Sword Spirit—the soul of the Kirin—had been hiding in the Sword Tomb all along. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what the Supreme One truly wanted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was just a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face.
“Flying immortals aren’t so impressive,” Yang Hao said coldly. “Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented brilliance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you mocked!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now feel their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One in one reckless motion.
The five Divine Rings erupted simultaneously, unleashing all their stored power.
Each ring could activate a divine technique five times—techniques sealed within them by the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy exploded at once.
A blinding eruption, like hell itself, sent a white mushroom cloud soaring over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still hurled him off the planet, knocking him unconscious.
The Supreme One fared worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down on him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold—his disciples and the Elder Council were here. He couldn’t abandon them.
So he had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only after the explosion subsided did the Elders cautiously approach. The Supreme One’s white robes were now blackened, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, forgetting all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this single mountain claimed countless lives—the greatest martial talents humanity had cultivated in a century, slaughtered in one night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Their stronghold was breached, and of the six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat.
The Heroic Emperor, the highest authority, was dead. The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng, was dead. The Imperial Princess, Xian Lan, was dead. Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers—including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—and their families perished in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Division were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen died without a single corpse left behind—only scattered black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was wiped out, the Ten Sword Schools eradicated, and only half of the Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion’s experts survived.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took control.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over merchants ended that day.
History would remember this as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly hundred thousand experts buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s oppression.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often puzzled over one detail: despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars noted, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only export was the lawless adventurers roaming the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters used it as a supply stop before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became their headquarters.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was essentially the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, but also people—Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked in a dingy alley, its worn exterior resembling a relic from the 20th century, it was a favorite haunt for elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough men frequented it? The tavern’s owner was a hundred times tougher than any of them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as adventurers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was rare.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed their record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
Though these rough men might brawl elsewhere, in Ghostblade’s tavern, they limited themselves to insults. A single glance from Jack could tame the wildest of them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm after retiring.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere, and news broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious figure.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm. He sensed the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
That was how Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng had charged, and they were gone now.
Lan Ling was still determined to walk this irreversible path.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather bash his head against a wall and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One coldly increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the earth-shaking response would have been:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did answer—exploding in midair.
But it was a lone, frail female voice. Frail, yet brimming with tragic heroism.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon—her determination unwavering, as if she had cast everything aside to return to this battlefield.
The Supreme One was stunned. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would come back. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone return for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now… let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if discarding everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done. They were gone now.
Lan Ling was about to walk the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The long string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength.
He wanted to catch her.
But the Supreme One wouldn’t give him the chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it shot straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure burst of energy shot up from below, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a Qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate entirely, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi was within Yang Hao, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, this was the true prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm master, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” A dazzling light suddenly flashed in Yang Hao’s eyes—completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, almost never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their wrath!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of this divine force was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto his body.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint flicker.
A long, long time later, when the divine explosion finally subsided, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke—utterly ruined, like a beggar’s rags.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing in battle, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished. The highest martial talents accumulated over a century by the intelligent races—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of the Saint Realm’s decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—out of six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elder Stewards died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to recover his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, it was a drop in the ocean.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never experienced such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The empire’s supreme leader, the Heroic Emperor Jia Ran—dead.
The supreme commander of the Imperial Guards, Feng Feng—dead.
The imperial princess, Xian Lan—dead.
The chief ministers of the Privy Council, the Interior, and the Foreign Office—along with seventy-eight other high-ranking officials and their families—all perished in the Elders’ counterattack that night.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Division were annihilated in this battle. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the imperial family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the sect’s inner hall wiped out, the Ten Sword Styles eradicated, and the Dragon Guard Corps and Hidden Dragon Pavilion left with only half their masters.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire. From that moment on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the imperial stage.
The Merchant Guild was also a target of the Elders’ assault, but the nine guildmasters had already fled the planet, their whereabouts unknown. Yet, the Merchant Guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end that day.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood”—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand masters buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would refer to them by one shared title:
“The Rebels!”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Those who perished, like the Heroic Emperor, were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—yet it was also the only crushing loss in his entire life.
As researchers would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this very night—so drenched in blood and heroism—the prelude to the War of the Two Gods had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
The planet was resource-poor, with no significant industry or agriculture. Its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had turned it into a supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Eventually, it became the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who entered the region and discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lions—but more often, it was people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly filtering into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer the wild frontier it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many of its systems, a federation had formed in its core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Nightsea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in a back alley, its exterior so antiquated it might as well be a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these roughnecks loved the place? The tavern’s owner—a man a hundred times tougher than any of them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern was known as Ghostblade Jack, the undisputed top fighter in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of an exploration team or a star hunter, these were professions where death was a constant companion. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying? In their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had been the strongest force in the Eastern Outer Domain, controlling the majority of spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the Eastern Outer Domain and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses stationed in the city would gather here.
These brutes, who’d start brawls at the drop of a hat elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave like lambs.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled one bit. Some well-traveled folks even claimed Old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retirement.
Even the boldest adventurers wouldn’t dare provoke a Saint Realm master.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy mercenary leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling body of the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Troops from the Republic flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a certain mysterious individual.
Since the Star Spirit Republic’s founding, the Eastern Outer Domain had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this was likely the calm before the storm.
A sense of unease gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s massive upheaval would eventually reach these shores.
The long string of the Yanrong Bow.
Lan Ling was like a discarded piece, blown away by the shockwave. A red rain of blood sprinkled through the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Although Yang Hao was nearly falling, he still summoned his remaining strength.
He wanted to catch the woman.
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“I still lost to you in the end,” Hunyuanzi said to his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did ring out—a lone, thin female voice, frail yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her unstoppable advance like a warrior who had chosen to forget the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to buy time for the others.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in this vast world.”
Now, she was doing just that—forgetting everything, throwing herself at the Supreme One with reckless abandon.
Just like the martyred Emperor and Fengfeng had done. They were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother looking at her again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded chess piece, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Yang Hao, though plummeting, mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it lunged straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away but could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then—
A surge of pure energy shot up from below, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. The Sword Spirit—the lingering soul of the Kirin—had been hiding in the Sword Tomb all along. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was the Supreme One’s true prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what hope do you have?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face-to-face.
“Flying Immortal? So what?” Yang Hao sneered. “Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One said dismissively. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unearthly light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the cosmos for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao hurled them forward, the faint but unmistakable Divine Realm energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you mocked!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
He didn’t kiss the rings—he flung all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he couldn’t abandon them.
So he had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only when the explosion finally subsided, and the Elders cautiously approached, did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes—he looked like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of godly dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! KILL YOU!!!”
—
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, the small stretch of Elder Mountain became a graveyard for countless elite warriors.
In a single night, the greatest martial talents accumulated over a century were slaughtered.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of the past.
The Elder Council lost nearly all its talent reserves built over centuries. Their stronghold was breached, their numbers dwindling from six hundred Elders to two hundred. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled—never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house suffered its most devastating defeat since its founding.
The martyred Emperor Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Fengfeng—dead.
The Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—their entire families slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Division were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Styles obliterated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining guards, and installed the Crown Prince as the new emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took control.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled. The guild’s dominance over merchants ended that day.
History would remember this as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s rule.
Like the martyred Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite exhaustive research, Yang Hao’s fate remained a mystery.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars noted, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
—
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, nestled in the Nalando Arm, was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had made it their base for venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was essentially the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had braved this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles through these hunters’ channels.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in an alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century.
It was a favorite haunt for elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason? The tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times more formidable than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles.
Adventuring and star hunting were professions where one’s head hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was rare.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed their record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, behaved surprisingly well under Jack’s watchful eye.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint.
Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting bulletins and broadcasting news about a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach them.
Yang Hao dodged desperately but could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling fell toward the Yuanlao Mountain camp.
Just then, a pure energy surged up from beneath the cave dwelling, caught Lan Ling, and flew into space at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.
“Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Wasn’t the Sword Spirit still hidden in the Sword Grave? The soul of that Qilin had been hiding all along, and fortunately rushed out in time to save Lan Ling.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather dash his head against a rock and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to lower himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint, his life force draining away.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, never surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!” A voice did answer—a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the decoy, sacrificing himself so the others could flee.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let us forget each other.”
With that final resolve, she threw everything away and lunged at the Supreme One.
Just like Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling, too, was walking the path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded pawn, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though plummeting, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away but could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling fell toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then, from beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, snatched Lan Ling, and vanished into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. The spirit of the Qilin, hidden within the Sword Tomb, had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But he had no such luck. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unearthly light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm power emanating from them made the Supreme One pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force hurled him off the planet, knocking him unconscious.
The Supreme One fared worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold—his disciples and the Elder Council were here. He couldn’t abandon them.
So, with no other choice, he swept his sleeve, containing the explosion within himself, letting the divine techniques detonate inside his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robe was charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists were slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the overall combat prowess of the universe regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Their stronghold was breached, and of the six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat.
Emperor Yinglie Jaran—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Feng Feng—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered no less. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the Inner Hall wiped out, the Ten Sword Streams eradicated, and the Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion reduced to half their former strength.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a tribute to the hundred thousand warriors buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to the War of Two Gods had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Nalando’s Hunter Star, located on the galactic arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no industry or agriculture. Its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had made it their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was essentially the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked in a dingy alley, its exterior looked like a relic from the 20th century. Yet, it was the favorite haunt of top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner—a man a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where life hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling most of the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only traded insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd, and frowned slightly.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a mysterious individual.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of unease gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach here.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather bash his head against a wall and die.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force ebbing away.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily intensified his grip.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HUAAH!!”
“HUAAH!!”
A voice did indeed erupt in the sky—though it was a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast all worldly ties aside.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he met her stubborn gaze, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in this vast world,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the martyred Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng had done before her—both now gone.
Lan Ling, too, was walking this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the depths of human emotion. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though plummeting, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it lunged straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away—only to watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then, from beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, snatching Lan Ling midair before vanishing into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the Qilin, which had lain dormant until now. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—far more valuable to the Supreme One.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path to survival. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face-to-face. Coldly, he said:
“What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented brilliance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never once taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm energy they emitted made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“From the ‘imprisoned fools’ you despise!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him hurtling off the planet, consciousness slipping away.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could never abandon them.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he contained the explosion within himself, letting the divine techniques detonate inside his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only after the explosion had fully dissipated did the Elders cautiously approach. The Supreme One’s white robes were now charred black, riddled with smoking holes—he looked like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
In a single night, the greatest martial talents accumulated over a century were slaughtered.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all its talent reserves built over centuries. Their stronghold was breached, leaving only 200 of the original 600 Saint Realm Elders. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled—never to regain his peak.
Yet compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was trivial.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house suffered its most devastating defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Feng Feng—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers and their families—slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grandsword Division were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished without a single corpse remaining—only scattered black armor told of their fate.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams obliterated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few survivors fled the planet with Elder He De—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor—beginning the Elder Council’s puppet rule.
The Merchants’ Guild was also targeted, but its nine directors had already fled. The guild’s dominance over merchants ended that night.
History would remember this as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though nameless, future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s oppression.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often puzzled over one mystery:
Yang Hao’s fate remained unknown.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars noted, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to that war had already begun.
—
**Some time after the Night of Blood…**
**Nalando Hunter Star System, Eastern Outer Reaches.**
Nalando’s Hunter Star was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only export was the lawless adventurers roaming the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, over time, hunters and monster slayers adopted it as a supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Reaches. Eventually, it became their headquarters.
The Eastern Reaches’ history was written by these hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless others followed into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled into the empire’s noble circles through these hunters.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, its core now housed its own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest spot at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by elite explorers and mercenary captains.
These rough men came for one reason: the tavern’s owner, a man even fiercer than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert among adventurers. Most in this deadly profession were lucky to retire alive.
Yet Jack not only survived—his entire team did.
More terrifyingly, in their prime, Ghostblade Mercenaries dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most spirit beast trade—a record still unbroken.
After retiring, Jack settled here and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurers gathered under his watchful eye.
Elsewhere, these brutes would brawl at the slightest provocation. But in Ghostblade’s Tavern, they only traded insults. One glare from Jack, and they fell silent.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint.
Seated behind the bar, Jack frowned as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, unrest brewed. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Eastern Reaches’ Star Spirit Federation had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, bulletins plastered the streets, and news buzzed with reports of a mysterious fugitive.
To an old hunter like Jack, the Eastern Reaches’ newfound quiet felt like the calm before the storm.
He sensed the empire’s tremors would soon reach these shores.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized he couldn’t escape. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, he had no way out at all. “Master, let’s fight together!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi also roared.
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather dash his head against a rock and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go limp, his breath shallow, his life force draining away bit by bit.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, never surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously, “Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth: “Hah!!”
“Hah!!” A voice did explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her unstoppable advance reminiscent of warriors who had once sworn to forget each other in the rivers and lakes.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let’s forget each other.”
With that same resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the way the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had charged—both now gone.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the depths of human emotion. He didn’t even glance at Blue Feather again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Yang Hao, though plummeting, mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted desperately, but he could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But he had no such luck. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather entirely, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what truly mattered to the Supreme One.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliance unlike before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned. He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—rings that had always adorned his fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had wandered the immortal realms for so long that he knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy within them made the Supreme One’s face pale. “Those are…”
“The very fools you imprisoned!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier god, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
Had he let go and fled the planet, he could have simply watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could never abandon them.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, containing the divine techniques within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robe was charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the overall martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—out of six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Feng Feng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Interior Ministry, and the Foreign Ministry—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grand Sword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the Imperial Family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s personal Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The inner hall of the Alchemy Sword Sect was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams were obliterated. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also a target, but the nine directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a tribute to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, those who perished were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this very night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter’s Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter’s Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had made it their base for resupply before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lions—but more often, people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the noble circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer the wilderness they once were. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter’s Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated-looking bar hidden in a back alley, favored by top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The owner—a man even tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, the tavern’s proprietor was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of an exploration team or a star hunter, these were professions where lives hung by a thread. Most were lucky to retire alive.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the Eastern Outer Reaches and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenary and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who might brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only exchanged insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, no matter how bold.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter’s Star, posters plastered everywhere, news broadcasts repeatedly mentioning a mysterious figure.
Since the republic’s founding, the Eastern Outer Reaches had quieted down. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the shockwaves from the Galactic Empire would reach here.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, my disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
Yang Hao knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to lower himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Whether you surrender or not, you’ll die.” The Supreme One coldly intensified his grip.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast everything aside to return.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would come back. Yang Hao was clearly a sacrificial pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
Yet here was Lan Ling, risking everything for him.
As Yang Hao fell through the air, he met Lan Ling’s stubborn gaze, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
Now, she was doing just that—forgetting everything, charging at the Supreme One without hesitation.
Just like the martyred Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng, who had already perished.
Lan Ling was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother to look at Lan Ling again. Instead, he plucked the bowstring in his arms—the string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a shower of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Lan Ling!!” Even as he plummeted, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below, catching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a Qilin, lying in wait. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling entirely, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was the Supreme One’s true prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm master, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—there are still higher gods in this world, beings far stronger than you!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the higher gods.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. He didn’t recognize the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy within made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you mocked!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier god, the sheer magnitude of this divine force was like a dam bursting, crushing him under its weight.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched it be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“That damned brat!! That damned Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of godly dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial talents accumulated over a century by the wise races were slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of the Saint Realm’s decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—600 Saint Realm Elders were reduced to 200, two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Feng Feng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Interior Ministry, and the Foreign Ministry—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grand Sword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordmasters perished without a single corpse remaining—only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the Imperial Family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the sect’s inner hall obliterated, the Ten Sword Styles eradicated, and the Dragon Guard Corps and Hidden Dragon Pavilion reduced to half their former strength.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also a target, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like Emperor Yinglie, those who perished were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this very night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no significant industry or agriculture. Its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had turned it into a supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was essentially the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, but more often, it was people—Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled through hunter networks into the hands of the Galactic Empire’s nobility.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches was no longer the wild frontier it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar tucked away in a back alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was someone even tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, the tavern’s proprietor was widely regarded as the strongest in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of an expedition team or a star hunter, these were life-risking professions. Most were lucky to retire alive.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only traded insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, no matter how bold.
Sitting behind the bar, Jack frowned slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops had flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere, and news broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the republic’s founding, the East had been relatively peaceful. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the Galactic Empire’s upheaval would reach these shores.
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi had lowered himself to such humiliation.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force draining away bit by bit.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, never surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the response would have shaken the heavens:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed erupt in the sky—though it was a lone, frail female voice, yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to flee.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now… let us forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Fengfeng had done—they were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t even glance at Blue Feather again, merely plucking the bowstring in his arms—the string of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded pawn, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away, but he could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then—
From beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot upward, catching Blue Feather midair before vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant until now. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Within Yang Hao’s body lay Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—far more valuable to the Supreme One than anything else.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to celestialhood, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face.
“Celestialhood isn’t so impressive,” Yang Hao said coldly. “Don’t forget—there are still the Upper Gods in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger.”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented brilliance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper Gods.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings from his fingers—rings he had worn for as long as anyone could remember.
The Supreme One, having been absent for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was apocalyptic, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him hurtling through the air until he lost consciousness entirely.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Council of Elders were here—he could not abandon them.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, allowing the divine techniques to detonate within his robes.
As the mushroom cloud dissipated, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only after the explosion had completely faded did the Elders cautiously approach.
The Supreme One’s white robes were now blackened, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of godly dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I will hunt you down!! I will kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, the small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
In a single night, the greatest martial talents accumulated over a century were slaughtered.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Council of Elders lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of the six hundred Saint-Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Fengfeng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Division were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Schools were obliterated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their masters.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Fengfeng’s subordinates, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elders’ puppet regime officially took control.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. The Guild’s dominance over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s oppression.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite exhaustive research, Yang Hao’s fate remained a mystery.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood—
Nalandor Hunter Star System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located on the Nalandor Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had turned it into their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the heart of interstellar hunting.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the aristocratic circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many star systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated-looking bar hidden in an alley, favored by elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was a hundred times tougher than any of them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top fighter in the adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was a feat.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most of the spirit beast trade—a record still unbroken.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenary and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only exchanged insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint-Realm expert.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd with a slight frown.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the shockwaves from the Galactic Empire would reach here.
“Is that so? Then…” A sudden brilliant light shone in Yang Hao’s eyes, completely different from before. “Then experience the wrath of the Upper Divine Beings.”
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to lower himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint as his life force trickled away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One’s voice was icy as he increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffening. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
The words echoed like a death cry across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard Legion and the Imperial Guards still been here, the earth would have trembled with their response:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A lone voice did erupt in the air—thin, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Despite his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return. Yang Hao had been the decoy, the one left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he met her stubborn gaze, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear toward the Supreme One.
Just like the Emperor of Valor and Feng Feng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling, too, was walking the path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the depths of human emotion. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again. Instead, he plucked the string of the bow in his arms—the bowstring of the Flaming Rift Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elder faction’s camp.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, catching Lan Ling midair before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Hunyuanzi resided within Yang Hao, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—these were the Supreme One’s true prizes.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—there are still the upper-tier divine clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented brilliance. “Then, try experiencing the wrath of the upper-tier divine clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings from his fingers—rings he had worn almost without exception, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t recognize the rings’ origins.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s expression darken.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings as one might expect, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power simultaneously.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier divine clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet’s destruction.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, containing the divine techniques within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion finally dissipated. Only when the elders cautiously approached did the Supreme One finally recover. His white robe was now black, riddled with holes and billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the earth—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial talents accumulated over a century by the intelligent races were slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had amassed over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of the six hundred Saint Realm elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine presiding elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the imperial family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Emperor of Valor, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Feng Feng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight ministers, including the chief ministers of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all perished in the elders’ counterattack that night.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grand Swordmaster Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordmasters died, leaving not a single corpse behind—only fields of black armor to mourn their loss.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the imperial family and the Merchants’ Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Corps was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard Legion and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtering the Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates before installing the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the imperial stage.
The Merchants’ Guild was also targeted, but the nine directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a tribute to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Emperor of Valor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of bloodshed and grandeur, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had adopted it as their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Eventually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, but more often, it was people—Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled through hunter networks into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in its core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in a back alley, favored by top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
These rugged men came for one reason: the tavern’s owner, a figure even more formidable than themselves.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles. Whether as adventurers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Domain, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed their record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
Though these rough men might brawl elsewhere, in Ghostblade’s tavern, they limited themselves to insults. A single glance from Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Sitting behind the bar, Jack frowned slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Federation—ruling the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, plastering bulletins everywhere. News repeatedly broadcasted warnings about a mysterious figure.
Since the federation’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the Galactic Empire’s tremors would reach here.
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather dash his head against a rock and die.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi had lowered himself to such humiliation.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint as a wisp of smoke, his life force slowly draining away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did answer—a lone, thin female voice, yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
Now, she was doing just that—charging toward the Supreme One with absolute resolve, as if casting everything aside.
The Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had charged the same way. They were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother looking at her again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then—
A pure burst of energy shot up from below, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the Qilin, which had lain dormant until now. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was what truly mattered to the Supreme One.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what hope do you have?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face.
“Flying Immortal? So what?” Yang Hao sneered. “Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One said dismissively. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented radiance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings from his fingers—rings he had worn almost without exception, never once taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm power emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now feel their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi but was still blasted away by the overwhelming force, hurled beyond the planet’s bounds, consciousness fading entirely.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet’s destruction.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could not abandon them.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion within himself, letting the divine techniques detonate inside his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only after the explosion’s force had completely dissipated did the Elders cautiously approach.
The Supreme One’s white robes were now blackened, riddled with holes and billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I will hunt you down!! I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
In a single night, the greatest martial talents accumulated over a century were slaughtered.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Stewards perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered no less. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams were exterminated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-world, their fate unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Bloody Night—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Bloody Night often found themselves puzzled—despite exhaustive research, Yang Hao’s fate remained unknown.
The Bloody Night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true strength, setting the stage for the Divine-Dual War.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Bloody Night, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Nalando’s Hunter Star was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources, devoid of industry or agriculture, its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had made it their base for resupply before venturing deeper into the Eastern Reaches.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was essentially the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the noble circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in an alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century.
It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles.
Adventuring and star hunting were professions where one carried their head on their belt. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the Eastern Reaches and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who might brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only exchanged insults in the tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd with a slight frown.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Bloody Night in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of unease gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach these shores.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so dejected before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint as a wisp of smoke, his life force slowly draining away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily intensified the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the earth would have shaken with their response:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed erupt in the sky—though it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her fearless advance akin to a warrior bidding farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let us forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear toward the Supreme One.
Just like the Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling, too, was walking this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded pawn, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though Yang Hao was plummeting, he mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it lunged straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the cave, snatching Lan Ling midair before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no mind to Lan Ling’s fate—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Within Yang Hao lay Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—far more valuable to the Supreme One.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, utterly different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five that had always adorned his fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t recognize the rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy within made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet’s destruction.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint glimmer.
A long time passed before the divine explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes—utterly ruined, like a beggar’s rags.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small peak, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the overall combat prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—of the six hundred Saint-Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie Jaran—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Feng Feng—dead.
Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Interior Ministry, and the Foreign Ministry—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished—not a single corpse remained, only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Schools were wiped out. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor.
From this moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the nine directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants ended here.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the Elders’ tyranny and defied the Supreme One.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often puzzled over one mystery:
No trace of Yang Hao could be found.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars noted, it was this night that revealed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the coming War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches…
Hunter Star, situated on Nalando’s galactic arm, was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources, devoid of industry or agriculture, its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters adopted it as their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Gradually, it became the hunters’ stronghold.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
These hardened men came for one reason: the tavern’s owner, a man a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles.
Both adventuring and star hunting were deadly professions. Most were lucky to retire alive.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, in their prime, Ghostblade Mercenaries had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed their record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only traded insults here. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his blade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint.
Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly at the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had quieted. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
He sensed the Galactic Empire’s tremors would one day reach here.
“Just those imprisoned fools!” Yang Hao roared. “Taste the wrath of these fools!”
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather dash himself to death.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint as his life force trickled away.
“I won’t submit!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t submit!!”
“Submit or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared savagely:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the response would have shaken the heavens:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A lone voice did explode in the air—thin, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her unstoppable advance reminiscent of warriors parting ways in the rivers and lakes.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return. Yang Hao was clearly a sacrificial pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and tasted only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us part in the rivers and lakes. Now… let us part in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute finality, as if casting everything aside, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Fengfeng had done. They were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t even glance at Blue Feather again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded piece, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Though plummeting, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted frantically, but could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then—
From beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, snatched Blue Feather midair, and vanished into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin, lying in wait. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But he had no such luck. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather entirely, his demonic hand still locked onto Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was the Supreme One’s true prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path to survival. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face-to-face. Coldly, he said:
“What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger.”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliance unlike before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm or the rings’ origins.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the faint pulses of Divine Realm power within made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you mocked!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now face their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within were the powers of the Dark Angel King, Black Dragon King, Flash Clan God, Titan God, and Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was hellish, a white mushroom cloud blooming over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still hurled him off the planet, knocking him unconscious.
The Supreme One fared worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam crashing onto him.
Had he let go and fled the planet, he could have watched it be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could never abandon them.
So he had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion faded. Only when the Elders cautiously approached did the Supreme One finally stir. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes—he looked like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, discarding all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping scale of battles involving hundreds of thousands, this small mountain became the grave of countless human elites.
A century’s worth of the greatest martial talents—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders survived. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Fengfeng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers and their families—slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished without a single corpse remaining—only fields of black armor told the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s personal Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elites.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their fate unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining guards, and installed the Crown Prince as the new emperor—beginning the Elder Council’s puppet rule.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled. The guild’s dominion over merchants ended that night.
History would remember this as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s oppression.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often puzzled over one mystery:
Despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate was ever found.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars noted, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to that war had already begun.
—
**Some time after the Night of Blood…**
**Nalando Hunter Star System, Eastern Outer Reaches.**
Hunter Star, situated on the Nalando Arm, was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only export was the lawless adventurers roaming the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters adopted it as a supply depot for expeditions into the Eastern Reaches, eventually making it their headquarters.
The Eastern Reaches’ history was essentially the chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks into the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation now ruled the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest spot at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men gathered here? The tavern’s owner was a figure even more formidable than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert among adventurers. Both adventuring and star hunting were deadly professions—retiring alive was rare.
Yet Ghostblade Jack not only survived, but his entire team emerged unscathed.
More terrifyingly, in their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenaries dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most spirit beast trade—a record still unbroken.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer chiefs congregated here.
Elsewhere, these brutes would brawl at the slightest provocation. But in Ghostblade’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults—one glance from Jack made them docile.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some claimed Jack had even reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint.
Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly at the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers swarmed Hunter Star, posting bulletins and broadcasting news about a mysterious fugitive.
To an old hunter like Jack, the Eastern Reaches’ newfound peace felt like the calm before the storm. He sensed the empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
In an instant, the five divine rings simultaneously unleashed all their stored power.
Each ring could use five divine techniques, techniques sealed by the Upper Divine Beings: the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda King.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, the energy of so many divine techniques erupted together.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell rising, creating a white mushroom cloud over Yuanlao Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately used his spiritual energy to protect himself, but was still violently pushed by the overwhelming energy, flung out of the planet and completely losing consciousness.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Just let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi said to his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against a rock and die.
Yang Hao knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi had lowered himself to such humiliation.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go weak, his breath fading, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One coldly increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast all worldly ties aside.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he looked into her stubborn eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if discarding everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had charged the same way—and they were no longer here.
Lan Ling was now treading the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother to look at Lan Ling again. He merely plucked the bowstring in his arms—the bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, catching Lan Ling in its grasp before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no further attention to Lan Ling—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, this was the true prize.
“Dammit! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized there was no escape. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to celestialhood, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about celestialhood? Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” A sudden, dazzling light flashed in Yang Hao’s eyes, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned. He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had wandered the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their wrath!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto his body.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint glimmer.
A long, long time later, when the divine explosion had finally subsided, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of the six hundred Saint-Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the imperial family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Feng Feng—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only fields of black armor telling the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the royal house and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the nine guild masters had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren in resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had made it their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the aristocratic circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer the wildlands of old. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in an alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner was a figure a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, the tavern’s proprietor was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where lives hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer bosses stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who might brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to make them behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached Saint-Realm after retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint-Realm expert, even with borrowed courage.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer captains drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Federation—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a mysterious individual.
Since the federation’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach here.
If he let go and flew away, at worst the planet would be destroyed by divine techniques.
But Yuanlao Mountain was his base. His disciples and the Yuanlao Council were all here. This was something he could never abandon.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against a rock and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to lower himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Whether you surrender or not, you’ll die.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—though it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao had clearly been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done—they were gone now.
Lan Ling was determined to walk this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a shower of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Lan Ling!!” Though Yang Hao was plummeting, he mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure burst of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no further attention to Lan Ling—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, that was what truly mattered.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a divine realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” A dazzling light suddenly flashed in Yang Hao’s eyes, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had wandered the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t recognize the origin of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Those imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their wrath!!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet and watched it be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So, with no other choice, he flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint flicker.
A long time later, when the divine explosion finally subsided, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robe was charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his image as a peerless deity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial artists accumulated over a century of wisdom—slaughtered in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the universe regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of the Saint Realm’s decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had amassed over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—of the six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, it was insignificant.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never experienced such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Feng Feng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—all perished in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grand Swordmaster Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordmasters—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told the tale of their tragedy.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the imperial family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Corps was halved. The sect’s inner hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams—annihilated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a tribute to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one shared title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Nalando’s Hunter Star, situated on the galactic arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the lawless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had made it their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Gradually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunters’ channels, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, its core had formed its own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Nightsea City, the busiest spot at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in an alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these tough guys loved it? The tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times tougher than them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern, known as Ghostblade Jack, was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as part of an expedition team or a star hunter, these were life-risking professions. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had dominated the Eastern Outer Domain, controlling most of the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the Eastern Outer Domain and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed at the headquarters gathered here.
These roughnecks would brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere—but in the Adventurer’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults. One glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed that Old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even with extra courage.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious individual.
Since the Star Spirit Republic’s founding, the Eastern Outer Domain had quieted down. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of unease gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go limp, his breath fading, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“Never surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, never surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword still in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the heavens:
“HA!!”
“HA!!”
A voice did ring out—a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, spear in hand, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast all worldly ties aside.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the decoy, sacrificing himself so the others could flee.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love. If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in this vast world,” Lan Ling had once said. “Now, let’s forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done. They were gone now.
Lan Ling was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again, merely plucking the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though plummeting, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below, catching Lan Ling and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Fortunately, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling entirely, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Under the pursuit of a Divine Realm expert, there was nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had been absent for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm power emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Those imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five of them—without hesitation—straight at the Supreme One.
In an instant, all five Divine Rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine power obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So he had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting all the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion finally subsided. The Elders cautiously approached, only for the Supreme One to suddenly recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, disregarding his divine dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was destroyed—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the Chief Ministers of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—their entire families slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished, leaving not a single corpse behind—only fields of black armor as a testament to their tragedy.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Styles were eradicated. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Galactic Emperor.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took control of the empire.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled. The guild’s dominance over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite exhaustive research, Yang Hao’s fate remained a mystery.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars put it, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this bloody yet magnificent night, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters used it as a supply stop before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Eventually, it became their headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, its core had formed its own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Port City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
These rugged men came here for one reason: the tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer circles. Whether as adventurers or star hunters, these were life-risking professions. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had dominated the Eastern Outer Domain, controlling most spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed their record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only exchanged insults in the tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious individual.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach them.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force draining away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did answer—a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao had been the decoy, sacrificing himself to let the others escape.
So why was someone coming back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
Now, she was doing just that.
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the martyred Emperor and Feng Feng had done. They were gone now.
And Lan Ling was about to walk the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then, from beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, catching Lan Ling and vanishing into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the Qilin. It had stayed concealed all this time—thankfully emerging just in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Realizing escape was impossible, Yang Hao steeled himself. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face.
“Flying Immortal? So what?” he said coldly. “Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented radiance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings from his fingers—rings he had worn almost without exception, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. He had no clue about the rings’ origins.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s expression change drastically.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring could activate a divine technique five times—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Five Upper God Clans’ divine techniques—enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was apocalyptic, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung off the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet would have been obliterated by the divine techniques’ force.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he couldn’t abandon them.
So he had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
Only after the explosion’s force had completely dissipated did the Elders cautiously approach. The Supreme One finally stirred—his white robes charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“That damned brat!! That damned Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I’ll kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the overall combat prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders survived. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Martyr Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished without a single corpse remaining—only fields of black armor telling the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining elites fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining guards, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took power.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The Guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood”—a tribute to the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s dominion.
Like the Martyr Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite exhaustive research, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was the Night of Blood that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the coming War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of bloodshed and valor, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter’s Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter’s Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had adopted it as their base for expeditions into the Eastern Reaches.
The entire region’s development was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but more often, people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter’s Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented it? The tavern’s owner was a figure even more formidable than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most of the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had surpassed that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the region’s mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, limited themselves to insults in the tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd with a slight frown.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—ruling the Eastern Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter’s Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious fugitive.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the Galactic Empire’s tremors would reach here.
“It’s useless,” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously, “Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards had still been here, the response would have shaken the heavens: “Hah!!”
“Hah!!” A voice did ring out—but it was a lone, thin female voice, frail yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t understand why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, buying time for the others to flee.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let’s forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With that final resolve, she threw everything away and lunged at the Supreme One.
Just like the martyred Emperor and Feng Feng had done. They were gone now.
And Lan Ling was about to walk the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the depths of human emotion. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left hand suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then, from beneath the mountain, a pure surge of energy shot up, snatching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. It had emerged just in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the millennium-old legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Against a divine realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to celestial status, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a celestial? Don’t forget—there are still higher divine beings in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented brilliance. “Then, taste the wrath of the higher divine beings.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never taking them off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. He didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint divine energy pulsing within them made the Supreme One’s face pale. “Those are…”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five divine rings at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier divine being, the sheer magnitude of this divine force was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing onto him.
If he had let go and fled the planet, he could have watched it be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he couldn’t abandon them.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a sweep of his sleeve, he contained the explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally stirred. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the most skilled martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached. Of the six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the imperial family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The martyred Emperor Jaran—dead. The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead. The imperial princess, Xian Lan—dead. Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Interior Ministry, and the Foreign Ministry—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen perished, leaving not a single corpse behind—only fields of black armor to tell the tale.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The inner sect was wiped out. The Ten Sword Schools were obliterated. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took control.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the nine guildmasters had already fled the planet. The guild’s dominance over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, future historians would record them under one title: “The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the martyred Emperor, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
Barren of resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had made it their base for resupply before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Eventually, it became the heart of interstellar hunting.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but more often, it was people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the noble circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in its core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked away in a dingy alley, its exterior looked like a relic from the 20th century, yet it was a favorite haunt for elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner—a man even tougher than them.
Known as Ghostblade Jack, he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer underworld. Whether as explorers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Most were lucky to retire alive.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their heyday, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Outer Domain, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenaries and adventurer leaders stationed in the city gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only traded insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm after stepping back.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy crowd, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Lately, things hadn’t been peaceful. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious individual.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
Something told him the Galactic Empire’s upheaval would eventually reach these shores.
The Battle of Yuanlao Mountain was the most brutal battle in human history.
Although it wasn’t as glorious as the divine and demonic wars, nor as thrilling as tens of thousands of people fighting fiercely.
Yet on this small Yuanlao Mountain, countless human experts lost their lives. The highest martial artists accumulated over centuries of intelligent beings were slaughtered overnight.
After this battle, the martial arts level in the universe rapidly regressed by a century, returning to the desolate state of a hundred years ago when the Sacred Realms were in decline.
The Yuanlao Council lost almost all its talent reserves accumulated over hundreds of years since its establishment. Even the Yuanlao Council building complex couldn’t be defended. Out of six hundred Sacred Domain Yuanlaos, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Executive Yuanlaos were killed, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to recover to his peak Sacred Domain state.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, this was just a small loss. The Galactic Empire’s imperial family had never encountered such a complete defeat since its establishment.
The highest imperial leader, Emperor Yinglie of the Jaran, died. The highest commander of the Imperial Guard, Feng Feng, died. The imperial princess, Xianlan, died. The families of the seven ministers headed by the chief ministers of the Privy Council, the Interior, and the Foreign Affairs all perished.
During the Yuanlaos’ counterattack night.
The Imperial Guard and the Merchant Guild’s Great Swordsmen Corps were completely annihilated in this battle. Nearly ten thousand swordsmen left no corpses, only fields of black armor telling the tale of sorrow.
The Dan Ding Sword Sect also suffered losses no less than those of the imperial family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s direct subordinates, the Hao Sword Corps, lost over half their members. The Dan Ding Sect’s inner hall was completely wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams were all annihilated. The Longyou Legion and the Qianlong Pavilion lost half their experts.
Thus, the once prominent Dan Ding Sword Sect disappeared from the imperial stage. The disciples scattered to seek their own fortunes, and the few remaining experts followed Elder He De out of the planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Yuanlao Mountain, the Yuanlaos launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily captured the imperial city, killing the Imperial Guard and Feng Feng’s subordinates, then enthroned the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire. From this moment on, the puppet regime of the Yuanlao Council officially took the imperial stage.
The Merchant Guild was also a target of the Yuanlaos’ raid, but the nine directors had already fled the planet, their whereabouts unknown. However, the Merchant Guild’s rule over the merchants also ended at this moment.
In history, this day was called the Crimson Night, commemorating the nearly ten thousand experts buried on Yuanlao Mountain.
Although these people died without leaving their names,
all subsequent historical records recorded a common title for them: “The Resistance!”
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Just let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather dash his head against a rock and die.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go weak, his breath fading, his life force draining away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged like a silver dragon, her unwavering advance like a warrior who had chosen to forget the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, sacrificing himself to let the others escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let’s forget each other in this vast world.”
“Now, let’s forget each other in this vast world.”
With absolute resolve, as if casting everything aside, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the heroic Emperor Yinglie and Fengfeng had done—they were gone now.
Lan Ling was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again, merely plucking the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a shower of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below, catching Lan Ling midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate, his demonic hand relentlessly pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi resided within Yang Hao, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—these were the Supreme One’s true prizes.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said:
“What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—there are still the Upper God Clans in this world. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliance unlike before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. He had no clue about the rings’ origins.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Exactly! The ‘imprisoned fools’ you despise!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, all five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of arcane light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him hurtling away, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
Had he chosen to abandon the planet, he could have escaped the destruction wrought by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he could never abandon them.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time later, when the divine explosion finally subsided, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I’ll kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of humanity’s greatest martial talents—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—of the six hundred Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, it was insignificant.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a crushing defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie Jaran—dead.
Imperial Guard Commander Fengfeng—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking ministers and their families—annihilated in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were completely wiped out. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told of their tragic end.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Styles were eradicated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Fengfeng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but its nine directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s rule over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s dominion.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite exhaustive research, Yang Hao’s fate remained a mystery.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the coming War of Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Resource-poor and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters adopted it as their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the hunters’ stronghold.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but more often, people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in its core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern. Tucked in a dingy alley, its exterior looked like a relic from the 20th century—yet it was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented the place? The tavern’s owner—a man a hundred times tougher than them.
Known as “Ghostblade Jack,” he was the undisputed strongest in the adventurer circles. Whether as adventurers or star hunters, these were professions where death lurked at every turn. Merely surviving to retirement was a feat.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their heyday, the Ghostblade Mercenaries dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most of the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Jack settled in the Eastern Reaches and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
These rough men, who’d brawl at the slightest provocation elsewhere, only traded insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. A single glance from Ghostblade Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his ghostly blade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert.
Sitting behind the bar, Jack frowned slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. News broadcasts repeatedly mentioned a mysterious individual.
Since the Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter—but to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of foreboding gnawed at him. Sooner or later, the Galactic Empire’s tremors would reach here.
Those who died, like Emperor Yinglie, were all immortal heroes of the empire.
When later historians studied the Crimson Night, they often felt puzzled because after searching through all the materials, people couldn’t find Yang Hao’s whereabouts.
The Crimson Night was the first recorded defeat of “Undying War God” Yang Hao in history, but it was also Yang Hao’s only devastating defeat in his life.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. After a long silence, he now felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew full well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath faint as a wisp. His life force was slipping away, drop by drop.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way.” The Supreme One icily increased the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been stationed here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast everything aside to face her fate.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the sacrificial pawn, the one left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now… let us forget each other.”
With absolute resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the martyred Emperor Yinglie and Feng Feng had done—both now gone.
Lan Ling was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t bother looking at Lan Ling again. Instead, he plucked the bowstring in his arms—the string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was flung away like a discarded piece, a crimson rain of blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered his remaining strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left hand suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, snatching Lan Ling midair before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the Qilin, which had lain dormant until now. Fortunately, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But Yang Hao himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One ignored Lan Ling’s fate entirely, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi within him, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect—the Supreme One’s true prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path to flee. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a mere wandering immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to the Flying Immortal realm, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face-to-face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” The Supreme One smirked. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” A dazzling light suddenly flared in Yang Hao’s eyes, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the same five rings that had always adorned his fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had been absent for so long that he knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil Realm, nor the origin of these rings.
But as Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm energy emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the five divine rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crashing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, he could have escaped the planet and watched it be obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold—his disciples and the Elder Council were here. He could not abandon them.
So, with no other choice, he flicked his sleeve, wrapping the entire explosion around himself, containing the divine detonations within his robe.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a mere flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion finally subsided. The Elders cautiously approached, only for the Supreme One to suddenly recover. His white robe was now blackened, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all pretense of godly dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! Kill you both!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
In a single night, the greatest martial talents accumulated over a century were slaughtered.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders survived. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak strength.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never suffered such a devastating defeat since its founding.
Emperor Yinglie—dead.
Feng Feng, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xianlan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished without a single corpse left behind—only scattered black armor marking their tragic end.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams were obliterated. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Galactic Emperor. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took control.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The Guild’s rule over merchants ended that night.
History would remember this day as the **Night of Blood**, commemorating the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, future records would honor them with one title:
**The Rebels.**
They were the pioneers who defied the Elders’ tyranny and the Supreme One’s dominion.
Like Emperor Yinglie, they were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often puzzled over one mystery:
Yang Hao’s fate remained unknown.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars noted, it was the Night of Blood that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the **War of the Two Gods**.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to that war had already begun.
—
**Some time after the Night of Blood…**
**Nalando Hunter Star System, Eastern Outer Reaches.**
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources, devoid of industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, it had become known as Hunter Star over time, as explorers and monster hunters used it as a staging ground before venturing deeper into the Eastern Reaches.
The history of the Eastern Reaches was, in essence, the history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had braved this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter networks, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer wild. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s **Sea of Stars City**, the busiest place at night was the **Adventurer’s Tavern**—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in an alley, favored by elite explorers and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented it? The tavern’s owner was a figure even more formidable than them.
Known as **Ghostblade Jack**, he was the undisputed top expert in adventurer circles. Surviving as a star hunter or mercenary was already a feat—yet Jack hadn’t just survived, he’d retired with his entire crew intact.
Even more terrifying? In their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenaries had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling the majority of spirit beast trade—a record still unbroken.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenary leaders and adventurer chiefs gathered here.
Though these rough men might brawl elsewhere, in Ghostblade’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults. A single glance from Jack was enough to silence them.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he’d reached the Saint Realm post-retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint.
Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the **Star Spirit Republic**—the Eastern Reaches’ ruling power—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers flooded Hunter Star, posting bulletins and broadcasting news about a mysterious fugitive.
Though the Republic had brought stability to the East, Jack, as an old hunter, sensed this was the calm before the storm.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
Or rather, from this night filled with blood and grandeur, the curtain of the Dual Divine War had already slowly risen.
On a certain day after the Crimson Night, in the Eastern Outer Region’s Nalanduo Hunter Star System’s main planet.
The Hunter Star located in the Nalanduo Arm was an important port and transportation hub planet in the Eastern Outer Region.
This place was resource-poor and had no industrial or agricultural economy. The only thing it produced in abundance were the reckless adventurers of the universe.
Its original name wasn’t naturally called Hunter Star. For a long time, space adventurers and monster hunters used this planet as a supply transit station to enter the Eastern Outer Region for hunting. Over time, this place became the base for interstellar hunters.
The development of the entire Eastern Outer Region was almost a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer entering the Eastern Outer Region and discovering Angel Star, countless star hunters entered this undeveloped wilderness.
Their hunting targets here, besides spiritual beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion, were more often people. Angel Star’s beauties gradually flowed into the noble class of the Galactic Empire through the hunters’ smuggling channels.
Hundreds of years passed, and the Eastern Outer Region was no longer the wilderness it once was. Although many spiritual beasts still existed in various star systems, the core areas of the Eastern Outer Region had already developed their own federation.
In the city of Hunter Star, the busiest place at night was naturally the Adventurer’s Bar. Hidden in a broken alley and looking old-fashioned like a twentieth-century antique on the outside, this bar was the favorite place for top exploration team leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these fierce guys liked to come here was entirely because of the bar owner, a person who was even a hundred times fiercer than them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Bar was known as Ghost Blade Jack, the acknowledged number one expert in the adventurer circles. Whether it was adventurer teams or interstellar hunters, these were dangerous professions where just surviving to retirement was already difficult.
Ghost Blade Jack not only survived himself but his entire adventurer team also remained intact.
Even more terrifying was that during their prime, Ghost Blade Mercenary Group was already the strongest team in the East, almost controlling the supply of most spiritual beasts. To this day, no one had broken this record.
After retiring, Ghost Blade Jack settled in the East and opened this bar. Every night, the mercenary and adventurer leaders who stayed at the base would gather here.
Those rough guys, if they met elsewhere, would probably start a fight at the slightest disagreement, but in the Adventurer’s Bar, they would at most just insult each other. Anyone who caught Ghost Blade Jack’s eye would behave unusually well.
Although this one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghost Blade skills hadn’t declined at all. In fact, some well-informed people said that after retiring, Old Jack had actually reached the Sacred Domain level.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“I still lost to you in the end,” Hunyuanzi said to his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
Yang Hao knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go weak, his breath fading, his life force slipping away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, I won’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With the last of his energy, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, they would have shaken the mountain with their response:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Lan Ling, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast everything aside to return to this battlefield.
The Supreme One was stunned. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would come back. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure everyone else’s escape.
So why would anyone return for him?
But it was Lan Ling. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he looked into her stubborn eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Lan Ling had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if discarding everything, she thrust her spear toward the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done before her—they were gone now.
And Lan Ling was about to walk the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if finally understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t even glance at Lan Ling again—just plucked the string of the bow in his arms.
The long string of the Flaming Bow.
Lan Ling was sent flying like a discarded chess piece, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Lan Ling!!” Yang Hao, though plummeting, mustered his remaining strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it aimed straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Lan Ling plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from below the cave, catching Lan Ling in its grasp before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a Qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Lan Ling.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no further attention to Lan Ling—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi within him, along with the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, this was the most crucial prize.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized there was no escape. Under the pursuit of a Divine Realm expert, he had nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to Flying Immortal, what can you possibly use against me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, almost never leaving his hands.
The Supreme One had been wandering the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had visited the Divine Veil Realm. He had no idea of the rings’ origins.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm power emanating from them made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“Those imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao roared. “Now taste their wrath!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five of them—recklessly, without hesitation—straight at the Supreme One.
The five Divine Rings erupted with all their stored power in an instant.
Each ring could unleash a divine technique five times—techniques sealed within them by the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Five Upper God Clans, each capable of overturning the heavens.
And now, all that divine energy exploded at once.
The blinding explosion, like the fury of hell itself, sent a white mushroom cloud billowing over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and plunging him into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-Level God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing down upon him.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So he had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, containing all the divine techniques within his own robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale. His divine radiance dimmed, thinning to near nothingness.
A long, long time passed before the divine explosion finally dissipated. The Elders cautiously approached, and only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were scorched black, riddled with holes billowing smoke—he looked like a beggar, utterly disgraced.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, casting aside all dignity as a peerless deity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the earth—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping scale of battles involving hundreds of thousands, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial artists accumulated over a century by the intelligent races—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. They couldn’t even hold onto their own stronghold. Of the six hundred Saint-Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Steward Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint-Realm strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the Imperial Family, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s Imperial Family had never experienced such a devastating defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guards’ supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess Xianlan—dead.
The Chief Minister of the Privy Council, the Chief Minister of Internal Affairs, the Chief Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the families of seventy-eight other high-ranking officials—
All slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack that night.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated in this battle. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only the scattered black armor told the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the Imperial Family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s personal Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall of the Alchemy Sword Sect was wiped out. The Ten Sword Streams—annihilated. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the Empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off the planet—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counterattack. They easily seized the Imperial Capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the Crown Prince as the new Emperor of the Galactic Empire.
From that moment on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the Empire’s stage.
The Merchant Guild was also a target of the Elders’ assault, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. The Guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would refer to them by one common title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Those who perished, like the Heroic Emperor, were the Empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, they could never determine Yang Hao’s fate.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss in his lifetime.
As researchers would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the later Divine Duel.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and grandeur, the prelude to the Divine Duel had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Domain.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Domain.
Barren in resources and lacking industry or agriculture, its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it wasn’t called Hunter Star. But over time, cosmic adventurers and monster hunters had turned it into their supply base before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Domain. Eventually, it became the headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Domain was practically a history book of star hunters. From the first adventurer who entered and discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but more often, it was people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the aristocratic circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Domain was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many star systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skysea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in a back alley, looking like a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these roughnecks loved it? The tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times tougher than them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern, known as Ghostblade Jack, was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer underworld. Whether as part of an adventurer team or a star hunter, these were professions where one’s head was always on the line. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, during their prime, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had been the strongest force in the East, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer bosses stationed at the base gathered here.
These brutes, who’d start fights at the drop of a hat elsewhere, would at most exchange insults in the Adventurer’s Tavern. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave like lambs.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade skills hadn’t dulled. Some well-informed folks even claimed Old Jack had reached the Saint Realm after retirement.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint-Realm expert, even if given extra courage.
Old Jack sat behind the counter, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders drink and shout, his brow slightly furrowed.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling body of the Eastern Outer Domain—had reacted swiftly.
Troops from the Republic flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a certain mysterious figure.
Since the Star Spirit Republic’s founding, the East had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this was likely the calm before the storm.
Deep down, he felt a growing unease—that the Galactic Empire’s massive upheaval would eventually reach these shores.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the drinking and noisy adventurer leaders, and slightly furrowed his brows.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so dejected before.
“In the end, I still lost to you.” Hunyuanzi addressed his thousand-year-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against the ground and die.
He knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a grudge that had festered for a millennium. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi had lowered himself to such humiliation.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force trickling away.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t yield!!”
“Whether you surrender or not, you’ll die.” The Supreme One coldly intensified the pressure.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
Had the Dragon Guard and Imperial Guards still been here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HAH!!”
“HAH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—a lone, frail female voice, yet brimming with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, spear in hand, charged like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t fathom why someone would return. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, left behind to ensure the others’ escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he gazed at her stubborn eyes, his heart filled with sorrow.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
Now, she was doing just that—forgetting everything, charging at the Supreme One with absolute resolve.
Just like the martyred Emperor and Feng Feng had done. They were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love. He didn’t even glance at Blue Feather—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded chess piece, a shower of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Blue Feather!!” Even as he plummeted, Yang Hao mustered his last strength, desperate to catch her.
The Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm expanded, blotting out the sky as it lunged for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao twisted away, but he could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
Then—
A surge of pure energy shot up from below, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at blinding speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao realized. The spirit of the Qilin, hidden within the Sword Tomb, had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But he had no such luck. The Supreme One ignored Blue Feather entirely, his demonic hand still pursuing Yang Hao.
Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect resided within Yang Hao—that was what the Supreme One truly coveted.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao knew escape was impossible. Against a Divine Realm expert, there was no path left. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared back.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face-to-face.
“Flying Immortal? So what?” Yang Hao sneered. “Don’t forget—this world still has the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools,” the Supreme One said dismissively. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with an unprecedented radiance. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
Yang Hao had removed five rings—the five rings he always wore, never once taken off.
The Supreme One, having wandered the immortal realms for so long, knew nothing of Yang Hao’s journey to the Divine Veil or the origins of these rings.
But as Yang Hao removed them, the flickering Divine Realm power within made the Supreme One’s face pale.
“Those are—”
“The imprisoned fools you despise!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now feel their fury!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the rings unleashed their full power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
Now, all that energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud blooming over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam, crushing down upon him.
Had he chosen to flee, the planet might have been obliterated by the divine techniques.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold—his disciples and the Elder Council were here. He could not abandon them.
So, with no other choice, the Supreme One swept his sleeve, containing the explosion within himself, letting the divine techniques detonate inside his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint glimmer.
A long time passed before the explosion subsided. The Elders cautiously approached, only for the Supreme One to suddenly recover. His white robes were now black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, abandoning all dignity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee, I’ll hunt you down!! I’ll kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the God-Demon War or the spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, this small mountain became the graveyard of countless elite warriors.
A century’s worth of the galaxy’s finest martial artists—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the overall martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the era when the Saint Realm was in decline.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. Even their stronghold was breached—only 200 of the 600 Saint Realm Elders survived. Two of the Nine Grand Elders perished, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak.
But compared to the Imperial Family’s losses, this was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house suffered its most devastating defeat since its founding.
The Martyr Emperor, Jaran—dead.
The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Feng Feng—dead.
The Imperial Princess, Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, Internal Affairs, and Foreign Affairs—slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly 100,000 swordsmen perished, leaving not a single corpse behind—only fields of black armor to mourn their loss.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered no less. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The Inner Hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard and Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their experts.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered, while the few remaining experts fled the planet with Elder He De, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the battle, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the Imperial City, slaughtered the remaining guards, and installed the Crown Prince as the new emperor—marking the official rise of the Elder Council’s puppet regime.
The Merchant Guild was also targeted, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. The guild’s dominion over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly 100,000 elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who defied the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Like the Martyr Emperor, they were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians, studying the Night of Blood, often puzzled over one detail:
No trace of Yang Hao could be found.
This night marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars noted, it was the Night of Blood that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the coming God War.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the God War had already begun.
—
**Some time after the Night of Blood…**
**Nalando Hunter Star System, Eastern Outer Reaches.**
Hunter Star, nestled in the Nalando Arm, was a vital port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
Barren of resources and devoid of industry or agriculture, its only export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally unnamed, it had become the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters who used it as a staging ground before venturing deeper into the Eastern Reaches.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was, in essence, the history of these hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless others had followed, drawn to this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lions—but also people. Angel Star’s beauties, smuggled through hunter networks, gradually entered the noble circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Reaches were no longer a wasteland. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, a federation had formed in the core regions.
In Hunter Star’s Voidsea City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby, antiquated bar hidden in a back alley, favored by the top expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these hardened men frequented it? The tavern’s owner was even tougher than they were.
Known as “Ghostblade Jack,” he was the undisputed top expert in the adventurer underworld.
Surviving as a hunter or mercenary was already a feat—but Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived. His entire team had retired intact.
Even more terrifying? In their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had dominated the Eastern Reaches, controlling most of the spirit beast trade—a record still unbroken.
After retiring, Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenary leaders and adventurer bosses gathered here.
Elsewhere, these rough men would brawl at the slightest provocation. But in Ghostblade’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults. One glare from Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his skills hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed he had reached the Saint Realm in his later years.
No adventurer, no matter how bold, would dare provoke a Saint.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, frowning slightly as he watched the rowdy crowd.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Republic soldiers swarmed Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted warnings about a mysterious fugitive.
To an old hunter like Jack, the Republic’s newfound order felt like the calm before the storm. He sensed the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
And when they did, the Eastern Reaches would burn.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“I still lost to you in the end,” Hunyuanzi said to his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he’d rather smash his head against a wall and die.
He knew full well how deep his master’s hatred for this enemy ran—a grudge that had festered for a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Instantly, Yang Hao’s limbs went limp, his breath shallow, his life force draining away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words from his throat. “Master, don’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously, “Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth: “Hah!!”
“Hah!!” A voice did ring out—a lone, thin female voice, yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had cast all worldly ties aside.
The Supreme One was baffled. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t understand why someone would return after escaping. Yang Hao had been the decoy, sacrificing himself to let the others flee.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he saw the stubborn fire in her eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With that final resolve, as if abandoning everything, she thrust her spear toward the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Fengfeng had done—they were gone now.
Blue Feather was walking the same path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother looking at Blue Feather again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was sent flying like a discarded pawn, a shower of crimson blood painting the sky.
“Blue Feather!!” Though barely conscious, Yang Hao mustered the last of his strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One gave him no chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically, but he could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure surge of energy shot up from beneath the mountain, snatching Blue Feather midair and vanishing into the cosmos at an unfathomable speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the spirit of the sword—the soul of a Qilin that had lain dormant. It had emerged just in time to save Blue Feather.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no mind to Blue Feather’s fate—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, that was what truly mattered.
“Damn it! Fight to the death!!” Yang Hao realized there was no escape. Under the pursuit of a divine realm master, he had nowhere to run. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“Fight!!” Hunyuanzi roared in agreement.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a loose immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a flying immortal, how do you plan to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said, “What’s so great about a flying immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly blazed with a brilliance unlike anything before. “Then, taste the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the five rings that had always adorned his fingers, never once removed.
The Supreme One had been wandering the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. He had no clue about the origins of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable divine energy within them made the Supreme One’s face pale. “Those are…”
“The imprisoned fools you spoke of!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Now taste their wrath!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five at the Supreme One without hesitation.
In an instant, the five divine rings unleashed all their stored power.
Each ring contained five divine techniques—sealed within them were the powers of the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that divine energy erupted at once.
The explosion of light was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao shielded himself with his last reserves of qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, knocking him unconscious as he was flung beyond the planet.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a mid-tier god, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a dam bursting—all of it crashing down on him.
If he had simply let go and fled the planet, he could have watched as the divine techniques obliterated it.
But Elder Mountain was his stronghold. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—he couldn’t abandon them.
So he had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a flicker.
A long time passed before the divine explosion finally subsided. When the Elders cautiously approached, the Supreme One finally regained his composure. His white robes were charred black, riddled with smoking holes, making him look like a beggar.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, forgetting all dignity as a supreme deity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the earth—I will kill you!! Kill you!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
A century’s worth of the greatest martial talents among the intelligent races—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had accumulated over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—out of six hundred Saint-level Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to regain his peak Saint-level strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the imperial family, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal family had never experienced such a crushing defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor Jaran—dead. The Imperial Guard’s supreme commander, Fengfeng—dead. The imperial princess, Xianlan—dead. Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the heads of the Privy Council, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—all slaughtered in the Elders’ counterattack.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchant Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told the tale of their demise.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the royal family and the Merchant Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved. The sect’s inner hall was obliterated. The Ten Sword Streams were wiped out. The Dragon Guard Corps and the Hidden Dragon Pavilion retained only half their elite forces.
Thus, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to the winds, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off-planet, their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Fengfeng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the new emperor of the Galactic Empire. From then on, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the throne.
The Merchant Guild was also a target, but the Nine Directors had already fled the planet. Regardless, the guild’s control over merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the Night of Blood—a memorial to the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would honor them with one shared title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the tyranny of the Elders and the Supreme One.
Those who perished, like the Heroic Emperor, were the empire’s indelible heroes.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled. Despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—yet it was also the only crushing loss in his life.
As scholars would later say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s full power, setting the stage for the War of the Two Gods.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the War of the Two Gods had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Hunter Star, located in the Nalando Arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no industry or agriculture to speak of. Its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had made it their base for resupply before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Eventually, it became the de facto headquarters for interstellar hunters.
The history of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a chronicle of star hunters. From the first adventurer who set foot in the region and discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but also people. The beauties of Angel Star were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly making their way into the noble circles of the Galactic Empire.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches were no longer the wildlands they once were. Though spirit beasts still roamed many star systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar tucked away in an alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century. It was a favorite haunt for top-tier expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these roughnecks loved the place? The tavern’s owner was a man a hundred times tougher than any of them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern was known as Ghostblade Jack, the undisputed top fighter in the adventurer underworld. Whether as part of an adventurer team or a star hunter, these were professions where lives hung by a thread. Merely surviving to retirement was an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, back in their heyday, the Ghostblade Mercenary Group had been the strongest force in the Eastern Reaches, controlling the supply of most spirit beasts. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the Eastern Reaches and opened this tavern. Every night, the mercenaries and adventurer bosses stationed at the base gathered here.
These brutes would start brawls at the slightest provocation elsewhere—but in the Adventurer’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults. One glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave like lambs.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed that Old Jack had reached Saint-level after retirement.
No adventurer in their right mind would dare provoke a Saint-level expert.
Old Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders with a slight frown.
Lately, things had been uneasy. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Republic—the ruling power of the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops from the Republic had flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a certain mysterious figure.
Since the Star Spirit Republic’s founding, the Eastern Reaches had grown quieter. But to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
Deep down, he sensed the Galactic Empire’s tremors would eventually reach here.
“It’s useless.” Hunyuanzi suddenly spoke up. He had been silent for a long time, but now, he felt despair. “It’s useless, disciple. Just let it be.”
“Master!!” Yang Hao had never heard Hunyuanzi sound so defeated before.
“In the end, I still lost to you,” Hunyuanzi said to his millennia-old nemesis. “I’ll call you ‘Supreme One’—just spare my disciple.”
Yang Hao’s heart ached with bitterness. If he could move, he would rather dash his head against a rock and die.
Yang Hao knew all too well the depth of his master’s hatred for this enemy—a hatred that had not faded even after a thousand years. The annihilation of his sect, the murder of his wife.
Yet, for the sake of his disciple, Hunyuanzi was willing to humble himself like this.
The Supreme One chuckled but tightened his grip on Yang Hao’s neck. Yang Hao instantly felt his limbs go weak, his breath shallow, his life force draining away bit by bit.
“I won’t surrender!” Yang Hao forced the words out from his throat. “Master, don’t surrender!!”
“Surrender or not, you’ll die either way,” the Supreme One said coldly, increasing the pressure in his hand.
Yang Hao felt his blood freeze, his body stiffen. With his last ounce of strength, he roared furiously:
“Longsword in hand!!”
It was like a death cry, echoing across the desolate Elder Mountain.
If the Dragon Guard Corps and the Imperial Guards were still here, the response would have shaken the earth:
“HUH AH!!”
“HUH AH!!”
A voice did indeed explode in the air—but it was a lone, frail female voice, thin yet filled with tragic resolve.
Even the Supreme One was startled. He released Yang Hao and turned to look.
Blue Feather, alone with her spear, charged forward like a silver dragon, her determination unwavering, as if she had come to bid farewell to the world.
The Supreme One was stunned. Even with his wisdom, he couldn’t understand why someone would return after fleeing. Yang Hao was clearly the abandoned pawn, sacrificing himself to let the others escape.
So why would anyone come back for him?
But it was Blue Feather. As Yang Hao fell through the air, he looked at her stubborn eyes and felt only bitterness.
“There are two kinds of love,” Blue Feather had once said. “If we can’t be together, then let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes. Now, let us forget each other in the rivers and lakes.”
With absolute resolve, as if casting everything aside, she thrust her spear at the Supreme One.
Just like the Heroic Emperor and Feng Feng had done—they were gone now.
Blue Feather was determined to walk this path of no return.
The Supreme One sighed, as if suddenly understanding the nature of love between men and women. He didn’t bother looking at Blue Feather again—just plucked the bowstring in his arms.
The bowstring of the Flaming Bow.
Blue Feather was flung away like a discarded pawn, a rain of crimson blood scattering in the air.
“Blue Feather!!” Though Yang Hao was about to crash, he mustered his remaining strength, desperate to catch her.
But the Supreme One wouldn’t give him the chance. With a cold snort, his left palm suddenly expanded, blotting out the sky as it reached straight for Yang Hao’s dantian.
Yang Hao dodged frantically but could only watch helplessly as Blue Feather plummeted toward the Elders’ ranks.
At that moment, a pure burst of energy shot up from below, catching Blue Feather in its grasp before vanishing into the cosmos at an imperceptible speed.
“The Sword Spirit!” Yang Hao suddenly remembered. Hidden within the Sword Tomb was the Sword Spirit—the soul of a Qilin that had lain dormant. Thankfully, it had emerged in time to save Blue Feather.
But he himself wasn’t so lucky. The Supreme One paid no mind to Blue Feather’s fate—his demonic hand pursued Yang Hao relentlessly.
Yang Hao carried Hunyuanzi and the thousand-year legacy of the Alchemy Sword Sect. To the Supreme One, that was what truly mattered.
“Damn it! Let’s fight!!” Yang Hao realized there was no escape. Under the pursuit of a Divine Realm expert, he had no way out. “Master, let’s fight!!”
“FIGHT!!” Hunyuanzi roared in response.
“Fight?” The Supreme One laughed. “With what? Even when I was a Loose Immortal, you were no match for me. Now that I’ve ascended to a Flying Immortal, what can you possibly use to fight me?”
Yang Hao stopped fleeing. Instead, he floated toward the Supreme One until they were face to face. Coldly, he said:
“What’s so great about a Flying Immortal? Don’t forget—in this world, there are still the Upper God Clans. They will always be stronger than you. Far stronger!!”
“A bunch of imprisoned fools!” the Supreme One sneered. “I’ll surpass them soon enough.”
“Oh? Then…” Yang Hao’s eyes suddenly gleamed with a dazzling light, completely different from before. “Then, try facing the wrath of the Upper God Clans.”
“What?” The Supreme One was stunned.
He watched as Yang Hao removed five rings—the five rings that had always adorned Yang Hao’s fingers, almost never leaving his hands.
The Supreme One had been wandering the immortal realms for so long that he had no idea Yang Hao had been to the Divine Veil Realm. Naturally, he didn’t know the origin of these rings.
But when Yang Hao took them off, the faint yet unmistakable Divine Realm power emanating from them made the Supreme One’s expression change drastically.
“Those are—”
“Exactly what you called ‘imprisoned fools’!” Yang Hao bellowed. “Taste their fury!!”
Instead of kissing the rings, he hurled all five of them—without hesitation—straight at the Supreme One.
The five Divine Rings erupted with their full power in an instant.
Each ring could unleash a divine technique five times—techniques sealed within them by the Dark Angel King, the Black Dragon King, the Flash Clan God, the Titan God, and the Garuda.
Five Upper God Clans’ divine techniques—enough to overturn heaven and earth.
And now, all that power exploded at once.
The blinding eruption was like hell itself, a white mushroom cloud rising over Elder Mountain.
Yang Hao desperately shielded himself with his qi, but the overwhelming force still sent him flying, hurling him off the planet and into unconsciousness.
The Supreme One fared even worse. Though he possessed the power of a Mid-God Clan, the sheer magnitude of divine energy was like a bursting dam—all of it crashing onto him.
If he had simply let go and allowed himself to be flung off the planet, the worst outcome would have been watching the world shatter under the divine techniques’ force.
But Elder Mountain was his lair. His disciples and the Elder Council were here—things he could never abandon.
So the Supreme One had no choice. With a flick of his sleeve, he wrapped the entire explosion around himself, letting all the divine techniques detonate within his robes.
As the white mushroom cloud rose, the Supreme One’s face turned deathly pale, his divine aura dimming to a faint flicker.
A long, long time later, when the divine techniques’ force had finally dissipated, the Elders cautiously approached. Only then did the Supreme One recover. His white robes were charred black, riddled with holes billowing smoke—he looked like a beggar, utterly disheveled.
“Damn that brat!! Damn Hunyuanzi!!” The Supreme One, completely disregarding his image as a peerless deity, pointed at the cosmos and raged. “No matter where you flee—to the ends of the universe—I will kill you!! KILL YOU!!!”
The Battle of Elder Mountain was the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Though it lacked the grandeur of the Divine-Demon War or the heart-stopping spectacle of hundreds of thousands clashing, on that small stretch of Elder Mountain, countless elite warriors perished.
The greatest martial talents accumulated by the intelligent races over a century—wiped out in a single night.
After this battle, the martial prowess of the cosmos regressed by a hundred years, reverting to the desolate state of a century prior.
The Elder Council lost nearly all the talent it had gathered over centuries. They couldn’t even defend their own stronghold—out of six hundred Saint Realm Elders, only two hundred remained. Two of the Nine Grand Elders died, and Wu Yi was crippled, never to recover his peak Saint Realm strength.
But compared to the losses suffered by the Imperial Family, it was nothing.
The Galactic Empire’s royal house had never experienced such a crushing defeat since its founding.
The Heroic Emperor, the empire’s supreme leader—dead.
Feng Feng, commander of the Imperial Guards—dead.
Princess Xian Lan—dead.
Seventy-eight high-ranking officials, including the Chief Minister of the Privy Council, the Minister of Internal Affairs, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs—all perished in the Elders’ counterattack that night.
The Imperial Guards and the Merchants’ Guild’s Grandsword Corps were annihilated. Nearly a hundred thousand swordsmen—not a single corpse remained. Only scattered black armor told the tale of their tragic end.
The Alchemy Sword Sect suffered losses no less severe than the Imperial Family and the Merchants’ Guild. Yang Hao’s elite Hao Sword Regiment was halved, the sect’s inner hall obliterated, the Ten Sword Streams eradicated, and the Dragon Guard Corps and Hidden Dragon Pavilion left with only half their experts.
From then on, the once-mighty Alchemy Sword Sect vanished from the empire’s stage. Its disciples scattered to fate, while the few remaining experts followed Elder He De off the planet—their whereabouts unknown.
Twelve hours after the Battle of Elder Mountain, the Elders launched a full-scale counteroffensive. They easily seized the imperial capital, slaughtered the remaining Imperial Guards and Feng Feng’s subordinates, and installed the crown prince as the Galactic Empire’s new emperor.
From that moment, the Elder Council’s puppet regime officially took the empire’s reins.
The Merchants’ Guild was also a target, but the Nine Grand Directors had already fled the planet. Still, the guild’s rule over the merchants came to an abrupt end.
History would remember this day as the “Night of Blood,” commemorating the nearly hundred thousand elites buried on Elder Mountain.
Though they died nameless, all future records would refer to them by one title:
“The Rebels.”
They were the pioneers who resisted the Elders’ tyranny and defied the Supreme One.
Like the Heroic Emperor, those who perished were heroes the empire would never forget.
Later historians studying the Night of Blood often found themselves puzzled—despite scouring records, no trace of Yang Hao’s fate could be found.
The Night of Blood marked the first recorded defeat of the “Undying War God” Yang Hao—and the only crushing loss of his life.
As scholars would say, it was this night that exposed the Supreme One’s true power, setting the stage for the coming Divine War.
Or perhaps, from this night of blood and glory, the prelude to the Divine War had already begun.
Some time after the Night of Blood, in the main star of the Nalando Hunter System, Eastern Outer Reaches.
Nalando’s Hunter Star, located in the system’s spiral arm, was a crucial port and transit hub in the Eastern Outer Reaches.
The planet was resource-poor, with no industry or agriculture to speak of. Its only notable export was the reckless adventurers who roamed the cosmos.
Originally, it hadn’t been called Hunter Star. But over time, adventurers and monster hunters had made it their supply depot before venturing deeper into the Eastern Outer Reaches. Gradually, it became the hunters’ headquarters.
The development of the Eastern Outer Reaches was practically a history of star hunters. From the first adventurer who discovered Angel Star, countless hunters had ventured into this untamed frontier.
Their prey included spirit beasts like the Snow Night Star Lion—but more often, it was people. Angel Star’s beauties were smuggled through hunter channels, slowly entering the Galactic Empire’s noble circles.
Centuries later, the Eastern Outer Reaches was no longer the wilderness it once was. Though spirit beasts still roamed many systems, the core regions had formed their own federation.
In Hunter Star’s Skydrift City, the busiest place at night was the Adventurer’s Tavern—a shabby-looking bar hidden in a back alley, resembling a relic from the 20th century.
It was a favorite haunt for elite expedition leaders and mercenary captains.
The reason these roughnecks loved it? The tavern’s owner—a man a hundred times tougher than them.
The owner of the Adventurer’s Tavern was known as Ghostblade Jack, the undisputed top expert in the adventurer underworld.
Both adventuring teams and star hunters lived dangerous lives—retiring alive was already an achievement.
But Ghostblade Jack hadn’t just survived—his entire team had made it out intact.
Even more terrifying, in their prime, Ghostblade’s mercenary group had been the strongest in the East, controlling most of the spirit beast trade. To this day, no one had broken that record.
After retiring, Ghostblade Jack settled in the East and opened this tavern. Every night, mercenaries and adventurer bosses stationed in the city gathered here.
If these brutes met elsewhere, a single disagreement could lead to bloodshed. But in the Adventurer’s Tavern, they limited themselves to insults—one glance from Ghostblade Jack, and they’d behave.
Though the one-eyed old man had retired, his Ghostblade hadn’t dulled. Some even claimed Jack had reached the Saint Realm after stepping down.
No adventurer would dare provoke a Saint Realm expert, even with extra courage.
Ghostblade Jack sat behind the bar, watching the rowdy adventurer leaders, and frowned slightly.
Lately, things hadn’t been peaceful. Though the Night of Blood in the imperial capital hadn’t reached here, the Star Spirit Federation—ruling the Eastern Outer Reaches—had reacted swiftly.
Troops flooded Hunter Star, posting notices everywhere. The news repeatedly broadcasted information about a mysterious individual.
Since the federation’s founding, the East had grown quieter—but to an old hunter like Jack, this felt like the calm before the storm.
A sense of unease gnawed at him. The Galactic Empire’s tremors would inevitably reach here one day.
A ragged homeless man walked into the bar. The previously noisy place fell silent in an instant. At least forty pairs of eyes fixed tightly on the tramp.
The bar was mostly filled with regulars. Even the least accomplished among them were top hundred adventurers on the rankings. This man, however, had long, unkempt hair, tattered clothes covered in burn marks, clearly not part of any well-equipped adventurer team.
Unfazed by the stares, the tramp simply found an empty table, sat down, and said flatly, “Beer!”
“Hmm!” Old Jack responded, casually pouring a glass of dark ale. With a flick of his wrist, the large wooden mug flew across the room like a meteor.
“Wow!” someone with a keen eye gasped. Old Jack was clearly still in his prime. With just a casual toss, he could pack so much power into the mug. If he came out of retirement, he could probably subdue beasts without even needing his ghost blade—his bare hands might be enough to tear a monster apart.
This move was clearly meant to embarrass the newcomer. It was a tradition in the adventurer’s bar—any newcomer had to endure this initial intimidation from Old Jack. After all, everyone in the bar was a renowned expert; not just anyone could waltz in. If a newcomer failed to catch Jack’s mug or ended up drenched, they’d be tossed out amid a chorus of laughter.
But today’s greeting seemed a bit harsher than usual.
“Old Jack’s in a bad mood,” a few familiar adventurers muttered quietly.
He had added extra force to the throw. It wouldn’t be easy even for an experienced interstellar hunter to catch it.
Before people could finish praising Jack’s strength, another round of gasps erupted.
The tramp didn’t even lift his head. As the beer mug flew through the air like a meteor, he simply raised his hand. The large mug obediently landed in his palm like a kitten.
Even Old Jack was momentarily stunned. He knew exactly how much force he had used, yet the tramp had caught it so effortlessly, not a drop of beer had spilled. It was something he had never seen in all his years of running the bar.
Today was clearly the first.
The bar was silent for a few seconds before noise resumed. Adventurers revered strength, and this small display from the tramp was enough for him to sit here and enjoy his drink in peace.
A few nearby tables of mercenaries resumed their previous conversation.
“Have you received the bounty orders from the Senate?” asked a scar-faced mercenary leader.
“Which one? There have been quite a few bounty orders lately,” replied a middle-aged, muscular man who clearly had beast blood in his veins. The golden badge on his shoulder marked him as a leader of a high-ranking team.
“Hehe, every one of them is a good price. This time, the Senate is really splurging,” the scarred man licked his fingers as he counted a stack of bounty notices, “Nine leaders of the Merchant Guild, each worth one hundred million imperial credits, plus a broadsword blessed by the Senate.”
“Wow!” The huge reward drew a crowd of nearby adventurers.
But the muscular man wasn’t impressed. He used a dagger the size of his palm to cut off a piece of strange roasted meat from the table, shoved it into his mouth, chewed furiously, then licked his fingers again. “I’ve seen those nine old council members. They’re as sly as star foxes. Now they’re probably hiding somewhere in the outer territories, who knows where to find them?”
The crowd murmured, most nodding in agreement with the muscular man’s analysis. Although the merchant council members were now fugitives, they had been influential for centuries. Their lingering power still deterred adventurers from going after them.
“What about this one?” The scarred man flipped through a few pale golden bounty notices, “The Senate has issued a bounty on everyone from the Dan Ding Sword Sect. A regular swordsman is worth ten million, a grand swordsman a hundred million, and a Saint Domain swordsman two hundred million. Capture ten people, and the Empire will grant the adventurer team the title of Imperial Royal Mercenary Corps.”
The scarred man looked around smugly after reading the notice. He thought such a high reward would be enough to attract attention. Even if someone didn’t care about the money, the title of Imperial Royal Mercenary Corps wasn’t easy to obtain. Once earned, it would grant immunity for smuggling and hunting, allowing them to act with impunity in the Empire.
But to his surprise, the people around him chuckled and joked with each other, completely ignoring him.
Although the scarred man had only recently arrived in the east, he was still the leader of an organization and felt his face burning with embarrassment. Angrily, he said, “Such a high bounty hasn’t been seen in ten years! And all you need to do is capture a few swordsmen and grand swordsmen. Don’t the people of the east have any guts?”
The muscular man chuckled and continued cutting meat, as if lecturing a junior.
“Just a few swordsmen aren’t a big deal, but you need to understand what capturing them means.”
“What do you mean?”
As the scarred man asked in confusion, Old Jack noticed that the tramp, who had been quietly drinking, also turned his ear, seemingly listening intently.
“The Haotian Sword Group and the Longyou Legion are now in the Oracular Autonomous Territory. Everyone knows that, but who dares to go after them?” The muscular man, with his hands greasy and sweating from eating, said, “The current administrator of the Oracular Autonomous Territory is just an old bear named Hede. This old bear is merely the spiritual leader of the former Anti-Empire Alliance and a war hero from the Left Spiral Arm Battle. He has only recently broken through to the peak of the Saint Domain, and under him, there are only a few hundred Saint Domain experts. If you want to go die, you can try earning a few tens of millions.”
Sweat ran down the scarred man’s bald head to his thick, dark neck.
He might not have heard of the others, but Hede was a legendary figure. With just one person, he had protected the independence of the western outer territories and was revered as a god among adventurers. Upon hearing that Hede had reached the peak of the Saint Domain, no one dared to go hunting in the Oracular Autonomous Territory, even if they had several lives to spare.
“You… how do you know so much?” someone asked the muscular man in confusion.
The muscular man stabbed the knife into the fatty meat, his face full of grief and anger. “One of my brothers actually joined the Longyou Legion and died on the Blood Night at Elder Mountain.” The tramp shuddered all over, but then he drank several gulps of wine.
“If you really want to get rich, why don’t you just go after Yang Hao?” The muscular man, somewhat resentfully, said, “Whoever captures Yang Hao will be taken as the final disciple by the Supreme, and after that, not only can they become a senator, but even a councilor senator is within reach!!”
The muscular man’s words were clearly the result of too much alcohol and thinking about his fallen brother, leading him to lose control of his tongue. This frightened the surrounding people, who hurriedly pressed him down.
“Are you crazy? Daring to speak ill of Yang Hao here!!” Several familiar people quickly covered the muscular man’s mouth, pointing at several notices on the wall, “Don’t you see? The Star Spirit Republic has recognized Yang Hao as the savior of the world. Whoever dares to insult him is committing a serious crime, just like insulting the Supreme in the Empire!”
“I’m not afraid of him!!” Although the muscular man was still defiant, his voice had already dropped significantly. Even a strong dragon couldn’t overpower a local snake, let alone this place was already under the jurisdiction of the Star Spirit Republic.
The tramp couldn’t help but follow people’s gestures to look at the notices on the wall.
Obviously, the level of technology in the eastern outer territories was far behind that of the imperial core areas. So here, announcements still needed to be posted in the form of notices.
But maybe there were too many notices.
On the walls of the entire bar, there were at least a dozen electronic notice boards. On them was a picture of Yang Hao when he had just become the western lord. At that time, Yang Hao was handsome, dashing, and tall, wearing a light blue imperial lord uniform. A silver shoulder cape engraved with dragon patterns shone brilliantly on his body.
The notice read in large letters: “The Savior of the Universe—the Immortal Warrior Yang Hao!”
Besides that, there were no other words.
It was said that these strange notices began to appear after the Blood Night. At first, they only occasionally appeared in the capital of the Star Spirit Republic, but soon, they spread all over the eastern outer territories.
The military of the Star Spirit Republic conveyed high-level orders: anyone who insulted or slandered Yang Hao would be arrested and charged with a serious crime.
The muscular man obviously had high prestige among adventurers. He had spoken out of anger and immediately several people who seemed quite formidable stood up and addressed the crowd in the bar, “Earlier, our Iron Wolf Mercenary Group’s leader was drunk and said a few foolish words. We all know each other here, so everyone please be polite and pretend you didn’t hear anything.”
The Iron Wolf Mercenary Group was also famous among the universe’s adventurer teams, having once achieved the glorious feat of eliminating all the beasts on an entire planet alone.
Such a fierce team naturally no one dared to provoke. The seasoned adventurers in the bar raised their wine glasses, indicating they wouldn’t say anything.
The eyes of two Iron Wolf mercenaries fell on the only outsider in the bar—the tramp. It seemed only this person had been drinking quietly without making any promises.
That tramp was naturally Yang Hao himself.
After the Elders’ Mountain battle, Yang Hao was thrown out of the planet by the massive shockwave from the ring explosion and had been floating in space for a long time. Yang Hao himself had long lost consciousness. Fortunately, Hun Yuanzi took over his body in time, allowing his severely injured physical form to recover.
It took a whole month for Yang Hao to recover, but his spirit was still somewhat down. The huge sense of failure, the gap between him and the Supreme that couldn’t be bridged, and the brothers who had died and been injured on Elders’ Mountain all made Yang Hao deeply blame himself.
Without realizing it, he had come to the eastern outer territories under the identity of a wanderer.
Hearing the Iron Wolf leader’s self-reproach, Yang Hao wasn’t angry. On the contrary, he felt he indeed owed those brothers who had died and been injured. They had entrusted their lives to Yang Hao, but in the end, they didn’t even leave behind their bodies.
But the two subordinates of the Iron Wolf Mercenary Group were not friendly. Seeing Yang Hao didn’t speak, they stomped over and slapped the table: “Vagabond, did you hear what was said earlier?”
Their hands seemed to be made of iron, leaving a deep imprint on the table.
Yang Hao’s expression didn’t change at all. He just continued drinking.
“Pretending to be mute! Let’s see if you keep pretending when you’re about to die,” a muscular Iron Wolf mercenary pulled out his double-edged axe and chopped at Yang Hao’s hand holding the wine glass.
Adventurers were simple like this—disagreements often led to fights, and everyone lived by their fists.
In normal circumstances, the Iron Wolf’s fists were always the strongest, but today was a bit unexpected.
As people were lamenting the tramp’s seemingly delicate hands, their vision blurred. When they looked again, the two mercenaries had already been thrown out of the bar, lying on the ground unable to get up.
This caused an uproar in the bar.
All forty people in the room stood up. Although some had conflicts with the Iron Wolf, they were all drinking buddies. To be bullied by an outsider was unacceptable.
Especially the leader of the Iron Wolf, the muscular man named Sha Leng, who was a highly respected expert in the ***. Seeing his subordinates thrown out, his drunkenness completely sobered. He grabbed the dagger stuck in the roasted meat and charged at Yang Hao.
But before he could reach Yang Hao, someone grabbed his wrist. Filled with anger, Sha Leng didn’t care who it was. He used all his strength to twist his wrist and stabbed the knife toward the person pulling him.
But a sharp pain shot through his hand—the dagger was already in the other person’s palm.
“You!!” Sha Leng finally saw that the one stopping him was Old Jack. “Old Jack, are you helping an outsider?”
“I’m helping you, you fool!” Old Jack coldly snapped, throwing the dagger back to his counter. Even if others couldn’t see clearly, Old Jack, with his level of expertise, already knew that the tramp was definitely not an ordinary adventurer, nor someone Sha Leng and his men could handle. Perhaps even all forty people in the bar combined couldn’t withstand a single move from him.
And this was Old Jack’s territory. Whether for the sake of face or friendship, Old Jack had to take responsibility for this incident.
“Young man, please leave,” Old Jack walked to Yang Hao’s table and said without any emotion, “This place no longer welcomes you.”
“I just want to drink,” Yang Hao said calmly. “If they want to kill me, I’ll fight back. If they don’t, we can coexist peacefully.”
“If you don’t leave, I’ll ask you to leave,” Old Jack continued in an indifferent tone. “If you still refuse to leave, my ghost blade will make you leave. Young man, if you often stay in the east, you should have heard of Old Jack’s ghost blade. The ghost blade doesn’t like to cause trouble for people.”
A chill circulated in the dim, damp, alcohol-scented bar, causing people to instinctively step back.
The ghost blade wouldn’t cause trouble for people, but it would kill.
Yang Hao put down his glass, looked up at Old Jack.
Old Jack, with a face marked by the passage of time, met Yang Hao’s gaze but was momentarily stunned by the young man’s handsome face hidden beneath his long, disheveled hair. He didn’t recognize Yang Hao, but that commanding aura, towering above everyone else, could not be hidden.
“Saint Domain?” Yang Hao noticed Old Jack’s ability and smiled. “A fight with a Saint Domain expert should attract the attention of the federal army.”
A fierce gleam flashed in Old Jack’s eyes. Although he had been retired for many years and hadn’t fought in a long time, it didn’t mean his killer instinct had faded away.
As Old Jack’s fingers twitched, a strange-looking short blade appeared in his palm. It was pitch-black all over, except for crimson patterns at its tip.
“The Ghost Blade!” people around exclaimed in alarm, stepping back several paces. If not for their desire to witness Old Jack’s skills firsthand, they probably would have fled outdoors already.
A sharp beam of blade-light flashed around Yang Hao. The Ghost Blade’s edge surged like waves, sweeping fiercely toward him.
Yang Hao smiled. He could see the brilliance in Old Jack’s blade techniques—after all, a Holy Domain expert was no ordinary opponent. The Ghost Blade did not merely slice through air; it tore through space itself. Old Jack had split countless spatial dimensions around Yang Hao and was now wielding the cross-sections of those spaces as unstoppable weapons.
What would happen if a person were caught between two different dimensions?
Spatial laws were established by the Creator God himself, and even divine races could not easily defy them. The only outcome would be to be torn apart, literally split in two.
At this moment, Old Jack had at least slashed open more than twenty different dimensions, weaving a dense net of spatial rifts meant to crush Yang Hao into nothingness.
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