Yang Hao extended his hand, palm outward, without emitting any visible energy or uttering a single word. Yet suddenly, in the air before the flying swords, countless beams of sword light appeared—blades of light stretching in every direction.
Sword essence—the ultimate sword principle.
Su Hanking, watching from a distance, felt his heart sink. He realized immediately that this attack had failed.
Yang Hao’s sword principle was unknown to the elders, but they had seen someone else use it before. That person had left these three hundred elders trembling with fear every time they recalled the encounter.
That person was Situ Hai, who would later be known in history as the last Sword Saint.
It wasn’t that no other masters had reached the Saint level after Situ Hai’s death. Instead, people wanted to honor this hero, this legendary figure, by forever bestowing upon him the title of Sword Saint.
During the Galactic Empire era and the great chaos that followed, many claimed titles like Sword God or Sword King, but never again did anyone dare to call themselves a Sword Saint.
The old Sword Saint passed away, Situ Hai died too, and thus, the world no longer had a Saint of swords.
Back then, in the Qianlong System, when Situ Hai was on the brink of death, he grasped the ultimate sword principle. Three hundred elders and four senior elders tried to surround and kill him, but they couldn’t even take a single step forward.
The terrifying sight of thousands upon thousands of sword beams dancing in the air was like having every sword, sword technique, and sword aura in the world gathered around you—an experience beyond imagination for any Saint-level expert.
When others believed that power alone determined everything, Situ Hai and the old Sword Saint proved that sword techniques could transcend raw power itself—this was an essence of power.
And the sword principle was the essence of swords, the rule of swords created by the Creator. By inheriting the sword principle, Yang Hao became the master of all swords.
Therefore, when Yang Hao unleashed the sword principle, the hundreds of flying swords in the air were finished.
These flying swords contained Saint-level power, but after being weakened by the ice wall, restricted by the metal-destroying fissure, and finally controlled by Yang Hao’s principle, they were helpless.
The swords screamed and twisted in the air, their sword auras slicing through the air like wind through the forest.
These flying swords, the elders’ divine weapons cultivated over many years, twisted into lumps of scrap metal in mid-air as Yang Hao extended his hand.
When they fell to the ground, they were worth less than scrap.
Su Hanking sighed deeply. He could only sigh. In truth, he knew Yang Hao was formidable, but he never imagined that Yang could be this powerful. This full-force attack was something he was certain even the Nine Executors couldn’t withstand. Yet Yang Hao not only endured it, he destroyed over a hundred of the elders’ flying swords. What kind of combat power was that?
The second major attack Su Hanking had prepared for Yang Hao had completely backfired.
At the same time, the third course, a dessert, was inappropriately served.
Just as Yang Hao finally broke free from the flying sword assault, a commotion erupted at the rear of the Danding Sword Sect’s formation.
In this attack, Yang Hao had carefully arranged the battle order. The nine strongest battalions of the Longyou Legion were placed at the front, several top experts were stationed in the center for support, while the rear guard was composed of members from the Danding Sect’s inner hall and the Hao Sword Group.
On the surface, the Hao Sword Group should have been safe. After all, the path up the mountain was a single trail. The front units advanced step by step, clearing the way, so the rear should have been completely safe.
But they had forgotten this was a mountain, and mountains have forests. The forests on Elder Mountain were especially dense, dense enough to hide many things.
Such as exotic beasts.
Throughout history, it has been proven that high-level experts often liked to keep exotic beasts as pets. The more difficult and powerful the beast, the more they loved to raise it. There were many types—some elegant cultivators preferred celestial cranes that soared through the skies, while more violent types kept tigers and lions. Those who liked the unusual might even raise elephants.
In short, a true expert without a giant pet simply wouldn’t look the part and would be looked down upon by others.
Yet during their long ascent up Elder Mountain, Yang Hao and his forces had only seen people, not a single exotic beast.
And that was where the problem lay.
After Su Hanking led the initial ambush and set up the hundred-sword ambush, he secretly planted another hidden move—he had deployed all the Elder Council’s exotic beasts into the forests. These dense woods were impassable for humans, but some beasts moved through them as easily as walking. They quietly bypassed Yang Hao’s central forces and attacked the Hao Sword Group when no one was paying attention.
Caught completely off guard, the Hao Sword Group suffered over a dozen injuries in an instant.
This was unacceptable. Everyone knew Yang Hao had no major flaws, except for one—he fiercely protected those close to him. The Hao Sword Group was especially dear to him, as they were the people he had brought from Remon Star. They had followed him the longest and were the most loyal.
They were family to Yang Hao.
Hearing the cries of pain from the Hao Sword Group, Yang Hao was furious. He quickly led his elite team to rush to the rear.
In reality, the situation at the rear wasn’t as bad as imagined. Though the beasts were strange-looking and possessed various abilities, they were still spirit beasts—powerful, but not overwhelmingly so. The Hao Sword Group had long since become a group of sword masters, with several squad leaders at the Grand Sword Master level.
The initial injuries were due to the beasts’ surprise attack—when a group of wild beasts suddenly charged out in the dark, anyone would be startled. But once they recovered, the battle turned even.
Besides, the Danding Sect also had pets of their own. Four flying dragons had already roared into the sky, engaging the beasts in battle. These dragons were no pushovers—just one dragon roar could stun several spirit beasts, and a single blast of dragon breath could incinerate a few more.
So by the time Yang Hao arrived at the rear, the situation had already been brought under control.
However, Su Hanking’s plan to divert Yang Hao had succeeded. Although the assassination attempt on Yang Hao failed, at this point, the elders had no other choice but to fight with all their might.
Seeing Yang Hao rush to the rear with his team, Su Hanking didn’t hesitate for a moment. He immediately charged toward the Longyou Sword Group.
Indeed, the power of leadership was immeasurable. When the leader charged forward with his sword, the other two hundred elders couldn’t possibly stay behind—they naturally fought bravely, giving it their all.
It was unfortunate for Qinglei. His Longyou Legion was the strongest within the Danding Sword Sect, so naturally placed at the front. Logically, these people were all Grand Sword Masters, battle-hardened veterans. Even if they couldn’t launch an effective attack, their defense should have been flawless.
But don’t forget—they were now on the elders’ territory, where the elders held the advantage of terrain and position. Attacking from above, their assault was like a flood, unstoppable.
The elders were far more powerful than Grand Sword Masters. Even though Yang Hao’s side had superior numbers, they couldn’t withstand the elders’ desperate attacks.
The Danding Sword Sect’s offense collapsed instantly, and their defense crumbled step by step. They were nearly overwhelmed.
This was truly unexpected. Yang Hao had brought two Saint-level experts, one Sword Saint, and nine Grand Sword Master battalions totaling over ten thousand warriors, all set to crush Elder Mountain.
Yet in their first clash, they were utterly routed. At this moment, over two hundred elders were wreaking havoc within the sword formation, turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.
Continuous setbacks finally sobered Yang Hao. His title of “Undying War God” wasn’t just for show—he had almost never lost a battle. Today’s heavy blow made him realize that he was facing a true opponent, not a disorganized mob.
Amid this chaotic bloodshed, Yang Hao didn’t follow Hede and the others to the front lines. Instead, he floated into the air, coldly observing the battlefield.
He raised his head, gazing at the vast, empty night sky. The dark blue cosmos glittered with stars. Yang Hao made a gesture toward the sky—one that no one could understand or even see.
But he knew it would work.
Because Yang Hao still had a hidden move. He wasn’t foolish enough to rely solely on his own strength to fight the Elder Council to the death. This hidden attack was something the elders would never anticipate, and even if they did, they couldn’t defend against it.
Even if Su Hanking had set up defenses on all sides, there was no way he could have predicted Yang Hao’s next move.
Because the attack came from the sky—from airspace the Elder Council had always considered inviolable.
Su Hanking felt fear. Although the battle favored them, this sense of dread had never truly left him. Now, with the situation looking increasingly favorable, the elders were advancing from above, step by step. They weren’t just defending anymore—it wouldn’t be long before they tore through the Danding Sect’s defenses and completely annihilate the enemy.
“Where’s Yang Hao?” Su Hanking asked someone nearby after cutting down a swordsman. “Have you seen Yang Hao?”
“No!”
The other elders were too busy enjoying their slaughter to care where Yang Hao was. Now that the Danding Sect’s Saint-level experts were each engaged in battle, even Hede was surrounded. Just a little more effort, and these long-standing threats to the Elder Council would be completely eliminated.
But Su Hanking felt something strange—an unusual sound that didn’t belong on the battlefield. It was distant, as if from countless light-years away, a faint disturbance.
Technically speaking, Su Hanking was probably just imagining things, but the elders’ power lay precisely in perceiving what others could not see or hear.
At the same time, Su Hanking noticed Yang Hao floating in mid-air, his head raised.
Su Hanking looked up too. The sky was no longer dark blue. A reddish glow had unknowingly spread across the sky above the Elder Council. This glow originated from space, passing through the atmosphere, reflecting before their eyes.
“Stellar Transformation?” Su Hanking’s first thought was of the Executors’ famous technique. But he quickly realized—the Nine Executors should already be trapped in the palace’s ambush. How could they possibly use such a powerful technique now?
Yet the glow in the cosmos grew stronger. Intense colors gathered, as if the sky were a palette being painted with vivid strokes.
Yang Hao extended his hand, palm forward, without any outward display of force or a single word. Yet, in the air before the flying swords, thousands of sword lights suddenly appeared.
Sword radiance! The essence of swordsmanship.
Su Hanjing, watching from afar, felt his heart sink into despair at this sight. He already knew that this wave of attack had failed.
The elders had never witnessed Yang Hao’s sword essence before, but they had seen it used by another—a man who, to this day, made the three hundred elders tremble in fear whenever they recalled him.
That man was Situ Hai, who would later be known in history as the Last Sword Saint.
It wasn’t that no Saint-level masters appeared after Situ Hai’s death, but rather that people, to honor such a hero, a legendary figure, forever reserved the title of Sword Saint for him.
Throughout the Galactic Empire and the chaotic eras that followed, many claimed titles like Sword God or Sword King, but none dared call themselves Sword Saint.
The old Sword Saint was dead. Situ Hai was dead. The world of swords would never see another Saint.
Back in the Hidden Dragon Pavilion galaxy, as Situ Hai lay dying, he had comprehended the essence of swordsmanship. Even when surrounded by three hundred elders and four executive elders, none could take a single step closer to him.
The terror of thousands of sword lights dancing in the air was like having all the swords, sword techniques, and sword energies of the world converge around you—an experience beyond comprehension for any Saint-level master.
While others believed raw power determined everything, Situ Hai and the old Sword Saint had proven that swordsmanship could transcend power itself—it was a fundamental force.
And the essence of swordsmanship was the very nature of the sword, the rules of creation governing it. Yang Hao, having inherited this essence, became the master of all swords.
So when this sword essence was unleashed, the hundreds of flying swords in the air stood no chance.
These swords, infused with Saint-level power, had already been weakened by the ice wall and sealed by the Golden Severing Slash. Now, they were completely subdued by Yang Hao’s essence.
The swords howled and twisted in midair, their blade energies passing through like wind through a forest.
Those hundred flying swords—the divine weapons the elders had painstakingly refined for years—twisted into useless scraps of metal the moment Yang Hao raised his hand.
By the time they hit the ground, they were worse than scrap.
Su Hanjing could only sigh. He had known Yang Hao was formidable, but never imagined he could be this strong. He was certain that even the nine executive elders couldn’t withstand their full-force attack, yet Yang Hao not only endured it but also destroyed the elders’ hundred swords.
The second course of Su Hanjing’s “grand feast” for Yang Hao had utterly failed.
At the same time, the third “dessert” arrived at the worst possible moment.
Just as Yang Hao finally freed himself from the flying swords’ ambush, chaos erupted at the rear of the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s formation.
Yang Hao had carefully arranged the battle formation—the strongest, the nine grand swordmaster regiments of the Dragon Blessing Legion, were positioned at the front, with elite fighters in the center. The rear was guarded by the Dan Ding Sect’s inner hall and the Hao Sword Regiment.
On the surface, the Hao Sword Regiment should have been safe—the path up the mountain was narrow, and the vanguard had cleared the way.
But they forgot this was a mountain, and mountains had forests. The dense woods of the Elder Mountain could hide many things.
Like exotic beasts.
Since ancient times, history had shown that great masters loved to keep exotic beasts as pets—the rarer and more powerful, the better. Some preferred graceful white cranes, others fierce tigers and lions, and the truly eccentric might even raise elephants.
In short, a master without a giant pet was no master at all—they’d be laughed at in public.
Yet, despite fighting their way up the Elder Mountain for so long, Yang Hao’s group had only encountered people, not a single exotic beast.
And that was exactly the problem.
While Su Hanjing dealt Yang Hao a crushing blow and set the “Hundred Swords Piercing the Heart” trap, he had also quietly prepared another surprise—all the Elder Mountain’s exotic beasts had been hidden in the forest.
These dense woods were impassable for humans, but some beasts could traverse them with ease. They stealthily bypassed Yang Hao’s central force and, unnoticed, struck the Hao Sword Regiment.
Caught off guard, over a dozen members were injured.
This was unacceptable. Everyone knew Yang Hao had one flaw—he was fiercely protective of his own. The Hao Sword Regiment was the group he had brought from the Thunder Star, his most loyal followers.
To Yang Hao, they were family.
Hearing their cries of pain, Yang Hao was furious. He immediately led his elite team to the rear.
In truth, the situation wasn’t as dire as imagined. Though the beasts looked bizarre and had strange abilities, they were still just spirit beasts—lacking in raw power. The Hao Sword Regiment had long become a swordmaster regiment, with several leaders at the grand swordmaster level.
The initial injuries were due to the beasts’ surprise attack—charging out of the dark would startle anyone. But once they regained their composure, the fight was even.
Moreover, the Dan Ding Sect had its own pets. Four flying dragons swooped down from the sky, engaging the beasts in battle. These dragons were no pushovers—a single roar could stun several spirit beasts, and a breath of dragonfire could incinerate others.
By the time Yang Hao arrived, the situation was under control.
But Su Hanjing’s goal of diverting Yang Hao’s attention had been achieved. Though the assassination attempt failed, the elders now had no choice but to fight with everything they had.
Seeing Yang Hao rush to the rear, Su Hanjing didn’t hesitate—he charged straight at the Dragon Blessing Sword Regiment.
The effect of leadership was undeniable. With their leader leading the charge, the remaining two hundred elders couldn’t hold back—they fought with all their might.
Qing Li was unlucky. His Dragon Blessing Legion, the strongest in the Dan Ding Sword Sect, was positioned at the front. Logically, these grand swordmasters, battle-hardened veterans, should have been impregnable in defense.
But they forgot—they were on the Elder Mountain. The elders held the advantage of terrain, attacking from above like an unstoppable flood.
The elders’ strength far surpassed that of grand swordmasters. Even with numbers on their side, Yang Hao’s forces struggled to withstand their desperate assault.
The Dan Ding Sword Sect’s offensive crumbled instantly, their defenses collapsing step by step, nearly shattered by the elders.
This was completely unexpected. Yang Hao, wielding two Saint-level peaks, a quasi-Sword Saint, and nine grand swordmaster regiments—over ten thousand strong—had marched on the Elder Mountain with overwhelming momentum.
Yet, at the first clash, they were routed. Now, over two hundred elders rampaged through the sword formations, turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.
The repeated setbacks sobered Yang Hao. His title of “Undying War God” wasn’t for nothing—he had never lost a battle before. But today’s brutal wake-up call made him realize he was facing a true opponent, not a disorganized rabble.
Amid the bloody chaos, Yang Hao didn’t join He De and the others on the front lines. Instead, he floated into the air, coldly observing the battlefield.
He raised his head, gazing at the vast, starry sky—the dark cosmos, stars twinkling behind the black curtain. Yang Hao made a gesture toward the sky—one no one could see or understand.
But he knew it would work.
Because Yang Hao had a backup plan. He wasn’t foolish enough to challenge the Elder Mountain alone. And this backup strike was something the elders could never anticipate—even if they did, they couldn’t defend against it.
Even if Su Hanjing had defenses on all sides, he would never expect this.
Because the attack came from the sky—from the Elder Mountain’s inviolable airspace.
Su Hanjing felt fear. Though the battle favored them, this dread never faded. The situation seemed perfect—the elders pressed their advantage, on the verge of breaking through the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s defenses.
“Where’s Yang Hao?” Su Hanjing cut down a swordmaster and asked those around him. “Has anyone seen him?”
“No!”
The other elders were too busy reveling in the slaughter to care. With the Dan Ding Sect’s Saint-level masters pinned down—even He De surrounded—just a little more effort would wipe out these long-standing foes.
But Su Hanjing heard something strange—a sound that didn’t belong on the battlefield, something distant, as if from light-years away.
Technically, it might have been psychological, but the elders’ strength lay in perceiving what others couldn’t.
Su Hanjing also saw Yang Hao floating in midair, looking upward.
He followed Yang Hao’s gaze. The sky was no longer dark—a crimson hue had spread across the Elder Mountain’s firmament, bleeding through the atmosphere from space.
“Stellar Shift?” Su Hanjing’s first thought was the grand technique the executives were famous for. But he quickly dismissed it—the nine executives should be trapped in the imperial palace.
Yet the cosmic light grew brighter, colors intensifying as if the sky were a canvas splashed with paint.
A deafening roar, like thunder or war chariots, erupted from the depths of the silent cosmos.
With the first thunderclap, the bloodshed stopped. Everyone on the Elder Mountain paused, weapons in hand, staring blankly at the sky.
There was nothing but color—vibrant, breathtaking color. But the thunder, or the sound of gathering chariots, grew louder, as if the universe itself were roaring like a beast. The heart-wrenching noise struck the elders like hammer blows.
Su Hanjing’s palms were drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding like never before.
“Great Brahma Light Defense!!” he shrieked. “Fall back! Activate the Great Brahma Light Defense!! Retreat now!”
Before the words faded, he shot toward the Elder Mountain like a streak of white light.
History would prove Su Hanjing the most remarkable of the elders. Though he had lived in obscurity, this one night of brilliance saved the elders time and again.
Years later, people might forget the names of the three hundred elders, but not Su Hanjing—the unassuming genius who shone for a fleeting moment.
Though he didn’t know what lurked in the sky, Su Hanjing understood it was Yang Hao’s trump card—a force of unimaginable power.
So he abandoned the attack, retreating to activate the “Great Brahma Light Defense.”
He was right again.
The dazzling colors in the sky were just a veil, masking the terrifying spectacle behind it. Across the galaxy, stars shifted their orbits under an unknown force, clearing vast stretches of space around Earth.
Countless wormholes tore open, disgorging warships—battleships, destroyers, even titanic dreadnoughts and Death Star fortresses.
In mere moments, an incalculable amount of energy was expended—perhaps centuries’ worth of cosmic reserves for this single strike.
But it was worth it. In the brief time it took the elders to retreat, tens of thousands of wormholes opened across the galaxy. The Galactic Empire’s invincible fleets, scattered across the cosmos, converged here.
A third of the empire’s mightiest warships now orbited Earth.
Their sheer mass altered the galaxy’s trajectory, but the mysterious force behind it applied counteracting energy, ensuring the stars remained on course with precise calculations.
Billions of celestial bodies and warships moved in perfect harmony—a feat no human could achieve.
Yang Hao knew it wasn’t human power. It was the Overmind, marshaling all its resources. The true ruler of this universe wasn’t the emperor—it was the Overmind, the collective intelligence of all machines. Only it could reshape the galaxy’s orbits, summon such fleets, and marshal a third of the empire’s strength around Earth.
All for one purpose.
The Final Barrage.
Today, Yang Hao had staked everything. So had the Overmind. Its sole task was to break the “Great Brahma Light Defense.”
At the sound of the first thunderclap, the battle froze. Everyone on Elder Mountain stopped fighting in shock, weapons in hand, staring upward in confusion.
Above the sky, aside from the dazzling colors, there was nothing else. Yet the sound of thunder—or perhaps the roar of war chariots—grew louder and louder, as if the entire universe were howling like a wild beast. The heart-wrenching noise struck like heavy hammers against the elders’ chests.
Sweat soaked Su Hanking’s palms. His heartbeat was faster than ever.
“Activate the Great Brahma Light Defense!! Retreat! Activate the Great Brahma Light Defense!! Retreat quickly!”
Before he finished speaking, he had already shot back toward the Elder Council like a streak of white light.
History would prove that Su Hanking was indeed the greatest among the elders. Though he had lived an obscure life, in this single night, he repeatedly saved the elders.
Many years later, people might forget the names of the three hundred elders, but they would never forget Su Hanking—the once-ordinary genius who shone like a fleeting flower.
Though Su Hanking didn’t know exactly what lurked in the sky, he clearly understood that it was Yang Hao’s weapon against the Elder Council, carrying unimaginable energy.
Therefore, he could only abandon the attack, retreat, and activate the “Great Brahma Light Defense.”
And he was right again.
The vivid colors in the sky were merely a smokescreen, concealing something astonishing behind them. Under the influence of an unknown force, the stars of the Milky Way were subtly shifting their orbits, clearing vast spaces around Earth. Thousands of wormholes were torn open in an instant, and from them emerged fleets of warships—massive battleships, destroyers, even Titan-class vessels and Death Star fortresses.
In just a short time, untold amounts of energy were consumed. Perhaps this single wave of attack alone would drain centuries’ worth of energy accumulated in this universe.
But it was all worth it. In the brief time it took the elders to retreat back to their council chamber, hundreds of thousands of wormholes had opened across the Milky Way, gathering fleets from every corner of the universe. The Galactic Empire’s once-undefeated armadas had all assembled.
One-third of the Empire’s largest warships had arrived outside Earth at this pivotal moment.
The sheer mass caused the Milky Way’s orbital paths to shift slightly, but the mysterious force behind it countered with precise calculations, allowing the stars to continue their original orbits.
Billions of planets and warships were managed with perfect order by this force—something no human could possibly achieve.
Yang Hao naturally knew this wasn’t human power—it was the Sovereign AI deploying all its resources. While the Galactic Emperor ruled the universe, the true manager was the Sovereign AI. Only this collective intelligence of all AIs could alter the Milky Way’s orbit, gather so many warships, and mobilize one-third of the Galactic Empire’s military might to Earth’s vicinity.
With such a massive fleet, they had only one mission.
Simultaneous bombardment!
In this battle, Yang Hao had bet everything, and so had the Sovereign AI. The only task Yang Hao had given it was to break through the “Great Brahma Light Defense.”
Using a third of the Galactic Empire’s warship strength to break through a defensive barrier is certainly not an overreaction. Yang Hao and his forces have possessed such immense power for a long time, yet they have never attacked Elder Mountain, mainly due to this very issue. As long as the “Great Brahma Light Defense” remains on Elder Mountain, it is virtually indestructible.
Before ascending to immortality, the Supreme Immortal left behind more than just the three hundred elders and nine stewards to protect Elder Mountain. To ensure the sanctity of the elders’ physical forms within the Pillar Cave, he also placed two divine artifacts inside the cave and the Elder Hall. When these two artifacts, created by the Cosmic Creators, are combined, the elders can activate the “Great Brahma Light Defense System,” hailed as the strongest defense in history.
This was an expected scenario; the elders, upon facing a sudden attack, would certainly activate this defensive barrier. Watching streams of light, filled with sacred chants and symbols, spread from the roof of the Elder Hall, Herd slowly floated beside Yang Hao, shaking his head silently.
“Can your Golden Sundering Slash break through this defense?” Yang Hao asked.
“You’re kidding,” Herd snorted. “A barrier formed by the Sacred Chant Rod and the Holy Light Shield, supported by the combined strength of three hundred elders—if I could break through it alone, I would be the Supreme Immortal himself.”
“So it’s truly indestructible?” Yang Hao gazed ahead, watching the sacred light rising from the Elder Hall merge with the divine glow from the Pillar Cave, forming a massive glowing dome that enveloped the entire summit of Elder Mountain.
“The nine steward elders once tried to break it together,” Herd said. “The result was that all nine were injured and needed a full year to recover, while the defense didn’t even tremble. The only person who ever deactivated it was him.”
“The Supreme Immortal?” Yang Hao nodded. “But today, no matter how powerful the defense, it will meet only one fate.”
The cosmic Final Salvo had already begun. Innumerable warships activated their anti-nuclear devices to maximum capacity, gathering unimaginable power. The primary weapons of this salvo were the light-hunting weapons mounted on several Titan-class ships.
The power of the Final Salvo lay in its concentration. By channeling the energy of countless warships into one point, it could momentarily exceed light speed, capable of annihilating entire planets. After this immense energy silently gathered, the light-hunting weapons would further focus it into a pinpoint strike. The destructive force of these weapons could obliterate entire star systems, yet when it struck Earth’s surface, it would cover no more than the size of a human palm.
Concentrate on a single point, and nothing can resist it. This was Yang Hao’s directive to the AI King. Though no individual could surpass the Supreme Immortal’s power, by assembling enough warships and igniting the energy of half the universe, nothing was truly impervious.
As the Final Salvo’s beam descended, Su Hanjing stood beside the Brahma Light Rod. No one outside the elders had ever seen the Brahma Light Rod, one of the Supreme Immortal’s divine artifacts collected long ago. This miraculous rod had, in reality, become a pillar of the Elder Hall—a central column supporting the entire structure.
The massive iron pillar, thick enough for several people to encircle, appeared unremarkable in ordinary times.
But when the three hundred elders knelt or floated to connect with it, channeling their boundless holy power, everything changed.
Golden Brahma light flowed from the pillar, and powerful chants echoed from every corner of the Elder Hall. The centuries-old hall, bathed in this sacred glow, appeared even more unshakable and holy.
Yet even so, Su Hanjing’s heart remained uneasy. When he led the counterattack, he had truly believed in victory. But upon witnessing the cosmic changes with his divine perception—the unimaginable spectacle—Su Hanjing was plunged into deep despair.
Had the world, had the universe, truly changed? Was the Elder Hall no longer the dominant force?
What power could drive Yang Hao to risk his life repeatedly, defying death itself?
What force could invert the cosmos, dim the stars, and draw so many warships to this place?
Had the order left behind by the Supreme Immortal truly come to an end?
Su Hanjing’s heart was like ash, yet his sole remaining conviction was to defend this sacred hall, the symbol of the Supreme Immortal’s ultimate authority.
At the same time, when the Great Brahma Light Defense reached its peak, the salvo from the sky descended.
A beam no larger than a human hand tore through Earth’s atmosphere, igniting the air with a crimson glow. It struck the Great Brahma Light Defense layer with unerring precision.
There was no explosion, no shockwave—just as if a fine needle had pricked a soft yet resilient rubber surface. The entire defense layer merely dimpled and dimmed slightly under the impact.
But it did not break—only barely.
Yang Hao raised his head and made a hand signal to the sky, one only the AI King could understand.
Then, something unfathomable occurred among the warships in space.
They began to self-destruct.
“Self-destructive salvo?!” This time, it was Herd’s turn to be stunned. “Kid, how many things have you kept from me? Are these ships even yours?”
Yang Hao had not told Herd much about the AI King, as per the orders of the Heroic Emperor.
Yang Hao gazed at the sky, indifferent, as if the self-destruction of the Galactic Empire’s most powerful fleet meant nothing.
The greatest power of the warships was not the Final Salvo. Each ship contained a special ability, capable of producing a force more than five times greater than the Final Salvo.
But no one had ever used it—Imperial military academies would never teach such a tactic.
“How did you know about the self-destructive salvo?” Yang Hao asked Herd.
This was one of the highest secrets among Galactic Empire fleet commanders. Unless one could become the supreme commander of a united fleet, no one would ever reveal this secret.
Each warship’s anti-nuclear device had a threshold controlled by the AI—a limit to its propulsion energy.
But this was not the true limit. The real maximum output of an anti-nuclear reactor was five times this threshold. In other words, each warship could unleash five times more energy than usual.
But this came at an unbearable cost—the anti-nuclear device would explode, and the entire ship would be consumed in the blast after releasing the salvo.
Thus, the self-destructive salvo was, in truth, a suicidal attack—a reckless, all-or-nothing strategy.
“Back then, I and Situ Hai were caught in a self-destructive salvo from the Titan fleet,” Herd sighed. “Luckily, we were saved by someone from the Hidden Dragon Pavilion. The power of that salvo was beyond belief.”
It had to be admitted—the AI King’s control was indeed extraordinary. Gathering a third of the Empire’s warships here was already astonishing, but coordinating their simultaneous self-destruction to unleash a final salvo was something even the Heroic Emperor could not have achieved.
Yet the AI King did it. For so many years, the AI King had done nothing but control every corner of the universe through its intelligence, and now, it was finally reaping the rewards.
Even more astonishing was that the force, over five times stronger than the Final Salvo, was still focused into a single beam, aimed directly at the Great Brahma Light Defense.
The AI King had gone to great lengths. The sheer power of such a weapon, if even slightly leaked, could destroy Earth entirely. To preserve Earth’s stability while eliminating the Elder Hall, the only way was to concentrate all the energy here.
This time, the greatest trouble still lay with Su Hanjing and his men.
The five hundred elders had already given their all, barely holding off the Final Salvo. Now, even though the self-destructive salvo had not yet struck, the elders could already sense the immense power descending from the sky.
To be honest, this was a feeling only the Supreme Immortal’s arrival could evoke.
But now, it was descending.
Su Hanjing’s eyes turned blood-red. Decades of spiritual cultivation had long smoothed his rough edges, making his heart as still as a calm pond. But when he thought of the great palace and all his comrades being destroyed by that single beam of light, Su Hanjing’s heart twisted in agony. He extended his hand, and with a sharp sound, his ten fingers tore open, spewing streams of bright red blood.
“Soul Sacrifice!” Su Hanjing floated in the air, stretching out both hands. Large drops of blood rained down like a storm, landing on the heads of the five hundred elders. These blood droplets seemed to possess life, seeping into the elders’ bodies and transforming into a strange energy.
“Soul Sacrifice!” Su Hanjing roared into the sky. “Soul Sacrifice!!”
This was all he could do.
Each elder had their own ultimate techniques—some self-learned, others personally passed down by the Supreme Immortal. These were techniques no one else could learn or imitate, and the elders often relied on them for their fame.
Su Hanjing had remained obscure precisely because his ultimate technique had never had the chance to be used.
“Soul Sacrifice!” This was recorded in an ancient text left by the Supreme Immortal, yet no elder had ever practiced it. It had been forgotten for centuries until Su Hanjing appeared.
The elders were well aware of their status in the Empire. They were objects of worship, untouchable and unshakable. Rarely did they face life-or-death situations, let alone engage in actual combat.
Thus, each elder cultivated two ultimate techniques. Some focused on offensive skills, striving to enhance their combat abilities and spread their reputation as formidable warriors—a sure path to becoming a steward elder. Others pursued longevity techniques, seeking to extend their lives, believing they had no chance of becoming stewards and having no worries about sustenance.
The Soul Sacrifice technique, though also left by the Supreme Immortal, was a supportive skill. It was meant to enhance others’ power when they faced insurmountable opponents.
But throughout the ages, who could truly challenge an elder? Moreover, the Soul Sacrifice technique required one’s own blood and life force as offerings, making it seem like a useless burden to many.
Only Su Hanjing cultivated it, and he had achieved great mastery. His accomplishments had never been displayed, nor had anyone known.
But today was meant for Su Hanjing—a moment for him to shine.
At this moment, Su Hanjing was like a crimson fountain in the sky, pouring down streams of blood without reservation, greatly enhancing the power of the elders struggling to support the Brahma Light Rod.
The increase in power was beyond imagination. They were like compressed sponges—when the blood touched their heads, they absorbed the water and rapidly expanded.
The Great Brahma Light Defense ring also expanded rapidly, its luminous barrier thickening.
The beam of the self-destructive salvo struck the barrier with incredible speed. Even Yang Hao and Herd, watching from afar, instinctively closed their eyes.
Then, instead of an all-destroying release of energy, there was a mutual absorption and tremor between the opposing forces.
A strange light, centered on the Elder Hall, rapidly spread, almost covering the entire Earth.
This light, though harmless to the human body, gave a feeling of emptiness—an absolute void where no object or substance exists.
It was as if matter and antimatter had collided, annihilating everything into nothingness.
Fortunately, this light only flickered for a single second, not lingering long enough to cause lasting harm. Otherwise, Earth’s biosphere might have been completely erased by this void-like sensation.
When Yang Hao and Herd opened their eyes, they saw an astonishing sight.
“That… that…” Herd’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Is it going to collapse?”
Yang Hao remained silent, equally stunned. Herd had not been mistaken. Before their eyes, the great structure symbolizing the Supreme Immortal and the elders was now teetering on the brink of collapse.
The Elder Hall was not built at the summit of Elder Mountain. The summit housed the Supreme Immortal’s physical form, a place of utmost sanctity. The essence of the Elder Hall was to protect the Supreme Immortal’s body, so their palace was built on the only accessible path up Elder Mountain, guarding the strategic pass.
The Elder Hall was actually a complex of buildings, hovering high above the clouds thousands of meters up, appearing almost suspended in midair.
Of course, even the Supreme Immortal could not build a structure on pure nothingness for centuries. It was actually constructed on a flat plateau protruding from the mountainside, forming the Elder Hall complex—three palaces and one grand hall.
The three palaces were where the elders rested and lived, divided into sleeping, dining, and leisure areas, while the grand hall was the main chamber of the Elder Hall and one of the symbols of Elder Mountain.
Surrounded by walls, the entire complex was built with white walls and black tiles, solemn and sacred.
Words alone could hardly describe the grandeur of the Elder Hall. Taking the main hall alone, from its foundation to the top of the Supreme Immortal’s statue inside, it reached an astonishing height of five hundred meters.
Enclosed within the main hall was the Supreme Immortal’s colossal statue, reputed to be the tallest in the universe. Originally carved into the mountainside, a person of average height standing beside it would only reach the statue’s ankle.
It is said that standing at the foot of the Senate’s walls, one could only glimpse the arching swords of the Cloud Sect beneath the clouds. Yet, once rising to half the height of the Senate palace, one could already overlook the entire imperial capital. And upon reaching the highest point of the Senate, those with keen eyes could even see the boundless ocean stretching far away.
This was the original intention behind the Senate’s construction—it was built to allow the elders to clearly observe the lands they governed, ensuring that no matter what occurred within their territory, it would fall within the elders’ sight.
But now, this magnificent architectural complex was already on the verge of collapse due to that single shockwave unleashed by Gan Cai’s strike.
Or rather, it had already begun to collapse.
Even the many members of the Dan Ding Sect, who had long desired to flatten the Senate, were astonished by this earth-shaking scene. Many couldn’t help but involuntarily step back several paces.
Bricks and stones flaked off like weathered clods of earth, even crumbling and cascading down. The massive black roof tiles shattered into fragments, raining like droplets into the valley below. The towering white walls, vast and expansive, vanished in an instant, as clouds of dust erupted skyward, enveloping the entire Senate in a thick haze.
Though the scene was grand and awe-inspiring, what truly shook people’s hearts was not merely the destruction itself.
It is said that standing at the base of the Senate’s walls, one could only glimpse the distant Sword Guard Sect beneath the clouds. Ascending halfway up the Senate palace, one could already behold the full panorama of the imperial capital. And from the very pinnacle of the Senate, those with keen eyesight could even catch sight of the boundless sea beyond.
This was the very purpose behind the Senate’s construction—to ensure that the elders could clearly oversee the territories they governed. No matter what transpired within those lands, nothing would escape the watchful eyes of the Senate.
But now, this grand architectural marvel was teetering on the brink of collapse under the shockwaves unleashed by the devastating strike from the Liver Talent.
Or rather, it had already begun to crumble.
Even the members of the Elixir Sect, who had been hellbent on razing the Senate to the ground, were awestruck by the earth-shaking spectacle before them. Many couldn’t help but stagger backward in involuntary retreat.
Bricks and stones peeled away like weathered clods of earth, cascading down in torrents. The massive black tiles shattered into fragments, raining down upon the valley like a storm. The towering white walls, vast and imposing, vanished in an instant, replaced by a towering plume of dust that swallowed the entire Senate in its wake.
Yet, as grand as this scene was, it was not the most staggering aspect.
For five centuries since the Supreme One established the Senate, these black-and-white structures perched on the mountainside had stood as the very embodiment of divine authority—a power that rivaled, and in some ways even surpassed, the imperial authority emanating from the royal palace.
No one had ever dared to challenge the Senate’s supremacy, nor had anyone recklessly scaled the Senate Mountain to desecrate so much as a single blade of grass. Even during the infamous rebellion by the thirty-six royal branches, the assailants had merely breached the Senate’s gates without daring to damage anything within.
Because everything here represented the Supreme One.
Yet now, the symbol of divine authority—the Senate that had stood unshaken for centuries—had been reduced to ruins under the synchronized bombardment of the fleet flying the banner of the Valiant Emperor.
No one had ever dared challenge the Senate’s authority, nor dared to recklessly climb Elder Mountain and damage even a single blade of grass or tree here. Even during the rebellion of the Imperial Family’s thirty-six branches, though they had stormed into the Senate, they had not dared to destroy anything.
It is said that standing at the base of the Senate’s walls, one could only glimpse the Sword Guard Sect beneath the clouds from afar. Ascending halfway up the Senate’s palace, one could already behold the full panorama of the imperial capital. And from the very pinnacle of the Senate, those with keen eyesight could even catch sight of the boundless sea stretching endlessly.
This was the very purpose behind the Senate’s construction—to ensure that the senators could clearly oversee the territories they governed. No matter what transpired within those lands, nothing was to escape their watchful gaze.
But now, this grand architectural marvel was teetering on the brink of collapse, shaken by the devastating force of Gan Cai’s strike.
Or rather, it had already begun to crumble.
Even the members of the Alchemy Sect, who had been hell-bent on razing the Senate to the ground, stood awestruck by the earth-shaking spectacle before them. Many couldn’t help but retreat several steps in sheer disbelief.
Bricks and stones peeled away like weathered clods of earth, cascading down in torrents. The massive black tiles shattered into fragments, raining down upon the valley like a storm. The towering, expansive white walls vanished in an instant, replaced by a swirling cloud of dust that engulfed the entire Senate.
Yet, as grand as this scene was, it was not the scale that struck awe into the hearts of onlookers.
For five centuries, since the Supreme One established the Senate, these black-and-white structures perched on the mountainside had stood as the very embodiment of divine authority. This divine power rivaled—and in some ways even surpassed—the imperial authority emanating from the royal palace.
No one had ever dared to challenge the Senate’s supremacy, nor had anyone ventured to climb Mount Senate and desecrate so much as a blade of grass. Even during the infamous rebellion by the thirty-six royal branches, the assailants had only breached the Senate’s halls without daring to damage a single artifact.
Because everything here represented the Supreme One.
Yet now, the symbol of divine authority—the Senate, which had stood unshaken for centuries—had collapsed like a house of cards under the concentrated fire of the fleet flying the banner of the Valiant Emperor.
Yet today, the symbol of this divine authority—the Senate that had stood firm for centuries—was being razed in a matter of moments, crumbling like deadwood beneath the coordinated bombardment of the fleet under Emperor Yinglie’s command.
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