Now, Jia Yunye and his group were standing near the ruins of the Dan Ding Chun pharmacy. Although the flames had long since died out, the entire street covered in ashes was still shocking to see.
As Jia Yunye walked along the ruins, his brows furrowed tighter and tighter. If the Dan Ding Sect couldn’t even protect its own territory, how could it possibly have the strength to protect them or save the emperor?
Had his decision to seek help from the Dan Ding Sword Sect truly been a mistake?
“Was Haik really that powerful that even the Dan Ding Sect couldn’t resist him?” Jia Yunye asked one of his companions.
“He wasn’t just powerful—he was unbelievable. I was in the crowd watching at the time, and I saw Haik slice a single sword strike that collapsed half a building. But the Dan Ding Sect didn’t dare show their faces—they only committed suicide.”
“The Divine Mercy Sword Corps has always been one of the top forces among the Ten Sword Schools,” Jia Yunye said gloomily. “If even the Dan Ding Sword Sect can’t resist them, then who can turn the tide?”
At that moment, the disheartened group suddenly noticed something strange.
“What is that?” A bolder noble youth stepped through the ashes and debris, entering the ruins of the Dan Ding Chun pharmacy. There, a wall still stood upright, its surface pale and ghastly despite having been scorched by fire.
A huge human figure was impaled on the wall, swaying slightly in the cold wind, a horrifying sight.
“That’s…” Jia Yunye was the first to recognize the figure on the wall. He stood there, stunned, unable to utter a word.
“Ha!” The person who had just been praising the Ten Sword Schools moments ago turned pale, nearly fainting.
“What is it? What is it?” Others who hadn’t seen clearly rushed forward.
After a few deep breaths, Jia Yunye finally regained his composure. He patted his companion’s shoulder and said, “That’s the corpse of Haik, the great leader of the Divine Mercy Sword Corps—the most elite swordsman among the Ten Sword Schools. Brothers, the man who could slice down half a building with one strike has now been nailed to this wall and killed.”
Now everyone could clearly see the body impaled on the wall by an ordinary cross-shaped sword. Indeed, it was the massive frame of Haik, the leader of the Divine Mercy Sword Corps, displayed in a cruel manner. His eyes, filled with terror, and the dried blood in his throat, told everyone that anyone who dared to resist would meet the same fate.
“Who did this? Who did this?” Those who had always believed in Haik’s strength muttered in disbelief.
“Who else could it be?” Jia Yunye, however, broke into an excited smile. “This is revenge—the revenge of the Dan Ding Sword Sect. Haik once destroyed the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s estate and killed members of the Hao Sword Corps. Now the Dan Ding Sect has begun its retaliation, starting by nailing Haik to this wall. This is a declaration of war against the Senate!”
“But the Dan Ding Sword Sect is under siege themselves—they can barely defend themselves!”
“It’s because that person has returned. His return means the hope of revenge.” Jia Yunye felt his hands trembling with excitement. “Yang Hao is not dead—he has returned to the capital. This time, the emperor truly has a chance of being saved.”
Yang Hao is alive! He has returned!
The noble youths exchanged glances filled with disbelief. This was truly shocking news. The man who had caused chaos in the capital three months ago, even leaving the Senate elders helpless, had returned.
Could he really be an immortal warrior?
Yang Hao’s return had already brought the corpse of a grandmaster from one of the Ten Sword Schools. His power and courage were unmatched in the empire.
It seemed that the Senate’s disaster was truly about to begin.
Jia Yunye noticed something else. He approached Haik’s corpse and saw, just below it, a neatly stacked pile of white clothes.
He picked them up and spread one out. It was the signature white cloak of the Dan Ding Sword Sect, embroidered with the sect’s mysterious emblem.
“I understand!” Jia Yunye exclaimed joyfully. “This is the symbol of our counterattack.”
“Counterattack?”
“Yes, these white cloaks are the signal for the Dan Ding Sect to lead us in striking back at the Senate.” Jia Yunye raised the white cloak high and shouted, “We must return now and distribute these cloaks to our friends and brothers. As soon as Yang Hao sounds the horn of counterattack, we will wear these cloaks and strike back at the Ten Sword Schools, leveling the Senate Mountain!”
“Counterattack the Ten Sword Schools!”
“Level the Senate Mountain!!”
The noble youths seemed to forget the pain of their wounds. They each grabbed a white cloak, wrapping it around themselves, raising their arms together, and shouting with fervor.
From that day on, spring in the capital became filled with passion. Although the Ten Sword Schools and the Senate still controlled the situation, an underground current of resistance surged more powerfully with the spread of the white cloaks.
In every corner of the Earth, factories secretly began producing the same white cloaks. These cloaks had once fluttered in the skies of the capital during the royal court judgment, and now they had become the symbol of resistance.
Everyone believed that no matter how powerful the Senate was, one day, at the command of the immortal warrior Yang Hao, all the warriors wearing white cloaks would rise to fight.
“Counterattack the Ten Sword Schools! Level the Senate Mountain!” This was the day everyone longed for in their hearts.
Yang Hao, the originator of the white cloaks, never expected his sudden inspiration to have such an impact. He certainly didn’t know that soon, his title of “Immortal Warrior” would spread throughout the entire Earth.
After nailing Haik’s corpse to the ruins of the Dan Ding Chun pharmacy, Yang Hao and his group hurriedly made their way to the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s headquarters.
Upon learning that the sect’s disciples were about to lose their powers due to a lack of medicinal pills, Yang Hao immediately mobilized all the resources of the Oracles, converting several battleships into massive merchant ships. He even managed to convince the formidable Hade to join him. Originally, he had expected to face countless trials and bloodshed to reach the sect.
However, after breaking through the acceleration space station and eliminating the Divine Mercy Sword Corps, Yang Hao was stunned to find that there were no longer any Senate defenses between him and Earth.
Even when Yang Hao and his group entered Earth, no one came to confront them.
All those previously troublesome elders and senior senators seemed to have vanished. Yang Hao used his keen perception to sense their presence and found that these top experts had hidden themselves, far away. The only place emitting a terrifying energy fluctuation was the imperial palace.
With his disciples’ lives hanging in the balance, Yang Hao couldn’t afford to think much. He rushed as fast as he could to the Dan Ding Sword Sect, only to be horrified by the scene before him.
Outside the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s gate, corpses had been piled for who knew how long, their decaying bones emitting a nauseating stench.
Yet even atop these corpses, the Ten Sword Schools continued their assault.
About two hundred swordsmen, wielding swords of various sizes and shapes, surrounded the sect’s gate in a strange formation.
On the sect’s side, only four people and four creatures were still resisting.
Long Yun and Xie Fengjian were naturally the main forces. Lan Ling had also fully unleashed her Saint-level strength, wielding a silver spear and darting back and forth. However, her beloved Snow Night Star Lion was nowhere to be seen.
Even Maya and the four Wind-Running Dragons, who had been defending inside the sect, had come out to resist the endless attacks.
Logically, with their eight defenders, even a few elders should have been no match. Yet they were being overwhelmed by these two hundred ordinary swordsmen.
Yang Hao immediately sensed something was wrong.
Among the Ten Sword Schools, weapons were of utmost importance. Practically every member used standardized swords, with only a few leaders receiving special blades granted by the Senate.
Yet now, the two hundred swordsmen at the sect’s gate wielded various weapons, some even using non-swords, including military-grade particle guns. Clearly, this family’s greatest inheritance wasn’t swordsmanship but something else.
This “something else” was now obvious. Two sword saints, one near-saint, and four dragons being overwhelmed by two hundred swordsmen could only mean a special reason.
Yang Hao could hardly believe his eyes. The swordsmen seemed almost immortal. To put it more accurately, they were extremely difficult to kill.
When struck by a sword, these swordsmen would smear some ointment on their wounds, rest for a few seconds, and then continue fighting as if nothing had happened.
Even more shockingly, if their limbs were severed, they would apply the ointment, reattach the limb, and within minutes, it would heal completely.
Could such monstrous beings actually exist in this world? Were they truly immortal?
No wonder even the dragons and sword saints were struggling.
Looking at Yang Hao’s stunned expression, Hade noticed a clue from the swordsmen’s attire. “So these are the Immortal Clan. The Senate has even deployed them—the Dan Ding Sect must have quite the reputation.”
“The Immortal Clan?” Yang Hao asked. “What is that?”
“Some families within the Ten Sword Schools are deeply hidden. They don’t seek fame or fortune but instead focus on their own research. The Yan Clan is one such example.” Hade, the elder, was indeed a legendary figure, well-versed in the Ten Sword Schools. “The Yan Clan is known as the Immortal Clan. They are one of the oldest sects in the Ten Sword Schools. It’s said that during the unification under the Supreme Sage, they had already established their sect and were personally taught some alchemical techniques by the Supreme Sage.”
“Alchemy?”
“Pfft! Alchemy!” the Hun Yuanzi scoffed from inside.
“They produce a special ointment said to bring the dead back to life and regenerate flesh from bones. As long as the body isn’t completely destroyed, it can be revived instantly.”
Yang Hao was stunned. “Such powerful ointment? It’s even stronger than my Ice Muscle Iron Skin Ointment. If every swordsman in the Ten Sword Schools had a tube of this, we might as well surrender now.”
“You really think it’s just a healing ointment?” Hade shook his head. “The ointment alone is useless. Only those who have trained the Yan Clan’s unique techniques from childhood can react with the ointment.”
“Oh!” Yang Hao finally understood. Indeed, after applying the ointment, the swordsmen needed a few seconds before they could fight again.
From afar, Yang Hao spotted Lan Ling, her blood-stained red armor making her stand out.
Her once-white armor was now soaked in blood, and her mount was nowhere to be seen. Now wielding a silver spear taller than herself, she darted through the battlefield, each thrust accurately piercing the throats of the Yan Clan swordsmen.
Such fatal injuries required the most time for recovery. Without Lan Ling holding the line, the Dan Ding Sword Sect’s defenses would have already collapsed.
Yet Lan Ling herself was in a dire state. Her movements had begun to show signs of exhaustion, and despair had crept into her beautiful face.
Since gaining her formidable martial prowess, Lan Ling had always been the proud “Ice Beauty” of the empire. No one had ever driven her to the brink—behind her were twelve Saint-level seniors, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps, the Imperial Guards, and the peak Saint-level warrior, Qin Feng.
But now, Lan Ling tasted the bitterness of despair. The Yan Clan’s assault had lasted over a day and night. She didn’t know what message had driven the Ten Sword Schools to attack so recklessly. These seemingly immortal enemies had pushed her to the edge of life and death.
She knew that if she fell, the lives of over a thousand people behind her would perish with her. Yet, the only thing keeping her going was the hope that Yang Hao would appear. Without that, Lan Ling didn’t know what else could give her strength to endure even one more second.
Her strength was fading.
She was about to fall.
As Yang Hao saw Lan Ling in such a desperate situation, a thick killing intent began to radiate from him.
“Wait! Let’s discuss it first!” Hade shouted, trying to stop Yang Hao. But the Yang Hao of this moment was unstoppable. With his brothers fighting and bleeding nearby, he had no other choice.
Those who shared the bloodshed were true brothers.
Yang Hao charged alone into the Immortal Yan Clan’s ranks, his sword, Shadow Moon, carving a dreamlike arc and cleanly blowing two Yan Clan members’ heads into bloody mist.
Let’s see if they can heal without their heads.
Yang Hao coldly watched the two headless corpses fall. Indeed, there was no recovery this time. He understood now—these “immortal” beings did have weaknesses. Destroy the brain controlling the body, and no ointment could save them.
However, Yang Hao’s sudden attack had already caused nearly two hundred swordsmen to stop. One of the leaders stepped forward and pointed at Yang Hao from a distance.
“This is the Ten Sword Schools’ business. Wise men would step aside now, or we’ll execute you too.”
He was a perceptive man, recognizing Yang Hao’s formidable strength, so he didn’t immediately order an attack. In the face of powerful enemies, no one wanted unnecessary opposition.
But Yang Hao was no “unnecessary opponent.”
He was their leader all along.
As Yang Hao stepped forward, those few figures standing in the pool of blood in the distance had already seen him.
Long Yun, Lan Ling, Xie Fengjian, Maya, and the four Windrider Dragons were all frozen like under a spell, their gazes locked on Yang Hao, completely forgetting the wounds still bleeding on their bodies.
They also forgot they were facing hundreds of powerful enemies, and behind them lay the lives of thousands of their brothers.
Yet none of these people showed any sign of joy or excitement. It was as if seeing Yang Hao here and now was the most natural thing in the world—as if everything had been planned, and Yang Hao was always meant to arrive at this moment and stand beside them.
“Those who bleed with me today are all brothers!” That’s exactly what Yang Hao had told the disciples of the Flame Sect.
Brothers indeed—only brothers would endure until today. Months of bloody battles, struggling through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, finally waiting for Yang Hao’s arrival.
“From now on, no matter how much hardship there is, I will bear it all alone.” He never said these words aloud, but his expression made it crystal clear.
So those few figures on the other side took a few deep breaths and sat down directly in the blood-soaked ground to rest, even the four dragons folding their wings and lifting their heads, no longer caring about the surroundings.
Those hundreds of seemingly immortal Ji Clan disciples were simply ignored.
The slanted eyes of the four dragons clearly said: if there’s any trouble, go find that newly arrived guy.
The leader of the Flame Clan leading the charge was taken aback—he hadn’t expected the Pill Sect to have outside help. To avoid unnecessary complications, he could only temporarily ignore the two men Yang Hao had killed.
“Young man,” the leader said politely yet threateningly, “The Pill Sect has been declared heretical by the Council. We are here to carry out justice. If you don’t want to offend the Council, please leave immediately.”
This statement was courteous but laced with threats. The leader believed there were very few people in the Empire who weren’t afraid of the Council.
But who would have guessed, right in front of him stood several who weren’t?
Yang Hao shook his head vigorously, “I want to leave, really I do.”
“Then why don’t you leave?” The leader tried to persuade him kindly, feigning concern.
“I can’t leave,” Yang Hao sighed regretfully, pointing his finger at the four people sitting and resting, glaring sideways at him. “Because of them.”
“They are traitors of the Pill Sect, about to be executed!”
“I know,” Yang Hao agreed. “But if they’re clearly at a disadvantage, why do they still resist? Why don’t they run?”
“Because they’re waiting,” the Flame Clan leader sneered. “Waiting for someone who will never come.”
“I see,” Yang Hao recalled Yingyue, who had been circling in the sky.
“If you understand, then leave quickly. I don’t want to kill an innocent person,” the Flame Clan leader said with fake sorrow while secretly wishing Yang Hao would scram.
“But I still can’t leave,” Yang Hao laughed heartily.
“You won’t leave?” The Flame Clan leader started signaling behind his back. A group of Flame disciples surrounded Yang Hao. In their eyes, he was about to become another corpse in the pile. “You really won’t leave?”
“Because…” Yang Hao’s voice suddenly rose, filled with immense power. Towering flames enveloped Yang Hao and Yingyue, making him seem like a blazing inferno. Yet the godlike voice still emerged from the fire, “Because I am the one they were waiting for!”
Before the voice had even faded, the Three Flaming Swords of Inferno had already descended like divine punishment upon the heads of the Flame Clan disciples. Flames followed each person like shadows; no matter how they resisted or what ointments they applied, they couldn’t escape the judgment of fire.
“Those who kill my brothers,” Yang Hao calmly walked among the crowd, “shall die!”
He is none other than the leader of these enemies.
When Yang Hao stepped forward, the few people standing in the distance amidst the blood had already spotted him.
Long Yun, Lan Ling, Xie Fengjian, Maya, and the four Windrider Dragons were all as if frozen by magic, their gazes fixed on Yang Hao, completely forgetting the wounds that still bled on their bodies.
They even forgot that they were facing hundreds of powerful enemies, with the lives of thousands of their brothers hanging in the balance behind them.
Yet, none of them showed any overwhelming joy. It was as if seeing Yang Hao here at this moment was the most natural thing in the world—as if it had all been planned long ago, and Yang Hao was simply fulfilling his role by appearing now to stand with them.
“Those who shed blood with me today are my brothers!” This was what Yang Hao had told the disciples of the Yan Clan.
Brothers—it was because they were brothers that they had endured until now. Months of bloody battles, struggling through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, had finally led them to this moment when Yang Hao arrived.
“From now on, no matter how much suffering there is, I will bear it alone.” Though Yang Hao didn’t say these words aloud, they were written plainly in his expression.
So, those few people in the distance took deep breaths and simply sat down in the blood to rest. Even the four dragons folded their wings, raised their heads, and stopped paying attention to their surroundings.
The hundreds of seemingly unkillable disciples of the Yan Clan were casually ignored.
The dragons’ sidelong glances clearly said: *If there’s trouble, go find the guy who just showed up.*
The leader of the Yan Clan was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected the Danding Sect to have reinforcements. To avoid complications, he could only temporarily overlook the two men Yang Hao had just killed.
“Young man, the Danding Sect has been declared a heretical faction by the Elder Council. We are carrying out their orders to execute them. If you don’t want to offend the Elder Council, leave now.” His words were polite but laced with threat, and the leader was confident that few in the empire dared defy the Elder Council.
But little did he know, standing right before him were several such people.
Yang Hao shook his head vigorously. “I want to leave. I really do.”
“Then why don’t you?” The leader spoke kindly, almost as if he were genuinely concerned for Yang Hao.
“I can’t.” Yang Hao sighed regretfully. “Because of them.” He pointed at the four people sitting and resting, who were now giving him sidelong glances.
“They are traitors of the Danding Sect and will be executed at any moment!”
“I know.” Yang Hao nodded. “But if they’re clearly at a disadvantage, why are they still resisting? Why don’t they run?”
“Because they’re waiting for someone,” the Yan Clan leader sneered. “Someone who will never come.”
“I see.” Yang Hao recalled Shadowmoon, which had been circling in the sky.
“If you understand, then leave quickly. I don’t want to kill an innocent man.” Though the leader spoke with feigned mercy, he was eager for Yang Hao to scram.
“Still can’t leave.” Yang Hao laughed heartily.
“You won’t leave?” The Yan Clan leader began signaling to his men behind him. A group of Yan disciples surrounded Yang Hao, certain that he would soon join the piles of corpses. “You really won’t leave?”
“Because—” Yang Hao’s voice suddenly rose, brimming with boundless power. Surging flames enveloped him and Shadowmoon, turning him into a blazing inferno. Yet, his godlike voice still emerged from the flames:
“Because I am the one they’ve been waiting for!”
Before the words even faded, the *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames* descended like divine punishment upon the Yan Clan disciples. The flames clung to their bodies like shadows—no matter how they resisted or what ointments they applied, they couldn’t escape the judgment of the fire.
“Those who kill my brothers—” Yang Hao strolled casually among the crowd. “Die!”
“Those who attack my sect—die.” His steps were calm, but flames erupted from his footprints. These flames were no longer just the power of the *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames*—they carried the essence of the *Yan Rong Bow* strapped to his back.
“Those who harm my disciples—die!”
These three declarations of death were like execution orders stamped upon the bodies of the Yan Clan. The flames had already trapped them all.
The Yan Clan leader and his disciples could only frantically apply ointments and muster their sect’s techniques to resist the relentless burning.
Yang Hao walked leisurely through the crowd and flames, Shadowmoon dancing in the sky above him, spewing astonishing fire.
“You’re Yang Hao!” The Yan Clan leader finally recognized the man before him. “You’re actually Yang Hao!”
His words were like the first domino in the collapse of morale. The disciples around him began screaming in terror.
“Yang Hao is back! The Danding Sect’s Yang Hao is here!”
“The Undying War God! We’re doomed!”
“Damn the Elder Council for sending us to our deaths!”
To them, Yang Hao was nothing less than a reaper of lives. Facing him meant certain death, no matter how many stood against him.
Except for one particularly reckless fool.
The Yan Clan leader retreated while roaring, “So what if you’re Yang Hao? I don’t believe you’re truly unkillable! *We* are the unkillable clan! *We* are the true Undying War Gods!”
His words did rally the Yan disciples somewhat. Though Yang Hao’s *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames* had created a sea of fire, the flames hadn’t burned them severely—thanks to the Yan Clan’s miraculous ointments, which protected their bodies.
But who was truly unkillable? The answer would soon be clear.
The Yan Clan leader and a few bold disciples lunged at Yang Hao with their swords—only to slash through empty air. Yang Hao’s afterimage shattered at their blade tips, while his real body had already risen into the sky.
Coldly, Yang Hao surveyed the inferno below. He reached back and grasped the *Yan Rong Bow*. Though he couldn’t fully draw the divine bow now, it still contained the soul and divine essence of the Fire God. All the mysteries of fire flowed into Yang Hao’s mind through the bow’s icy surface.
Proudly, he declared to the ant-like enemies below:
“You claim to be unkillable, but *I* am the true god. So—die!”
With those final words, infinite fire mysteries erupted from the *Yan Rong Bow*. The soul of Zhu Rong let out a piercing howl, transforming the flames into something far more terrifying.
The fire became *malicious flame*—ten-meter-high infernos that engulfed everything in their path with unstoppable fury. This was the most fearsome fire since the dawn of creation, the polar opposite of the *Primordial Flame*.
If the *Primordial Flame* represented life, then this *malicious flame* represented death.
The flames turned black, erupting from the mouths of the Yan disciples.
This time, the so-called unkillable men finally met their doom. They shrieked and writhed in the flames, but the *malicious flame*’s power was divine retribution—far beyond mortal resistance.
The black inferno was both divine punishment and the culmination of Zhu Rong’s millennia of wrath.
The unkillable clan had finally met their match in these flames.
The all-consuming fire burned away every trace of the battle at the Danding Sect’s gates. The mountains of corpses and rivers of blood were reduced to ash, scattered by the scorching winds until nothing remained.
If not for the lingering hellish heat, no one would believe that this pristine ground had witnessed three months of brutal warfare—where countless lives were lost, and the Danding Sect’s fate had hung by a thread.
Thankfully, Yang Hao had arrived at the final hour.
After slaughtering all two hundred Yan Clan swordmasters in one breath, Yang Hao walked across the scorched earth toward Lan Ling and the others.
There were no tearful reunions—just silent smiles exchanged between them.
“You’re here,” Long Yun nodded.
“I’m here,” Yang Hao replied sheepishly. “A bit late.”
“Not too bad,” Long Yun said. “We’re all still alive.”
The disciples of the Danding Sect’s inner hall, the members of the Hao Sword Regiment—brothers who had fought alongside Yang Hao through life and death—had all survived. But no one knew just how hard that survival had been, nor how many battles they had endured.
Before Yang Hao could even speak to Lan Ling, he entered the Danding Sect’s inner hall. The wounded lay everywhere, barely clinging to life. When they saw Yang Hao, they thought they were dreaming.
“Regiment Leader? Is it really you?”
Only when Yang Hao stood before them, letting them touch his face, did they believe it was real.
“The Regiment Leader is back! The Regiment Leader is back!”
In an instant, all the wounded rallied. They had endured unimaginable suffering, clinging to life with their last breath, just to wait for Yang Hao’s return.
Their faith had not been in vain.
Yang Hao took a deep breath to steady himself. The scene was far worse than he had imagined—the Danding Sect had never faced such devastation in its history.
The fifty disciples Yang Hao had brought quickly distributed refined elixirs to everyone. Those on the brink of death began meditating to recover their strength after taking the medicine.
Yang Hao moved among them, channeling energy to heal those in critical condition. Now at the peak of the Saint Realm, he had more than enough energy to spare.
Soon, sweat beaded on his forehead. Long Yun and Xie Fengjian approached, seemingly with something to say.
Yang Hao waved them off and spoke first:
“From today onward, every member of the Danding Sect’s inner hall and the Hao Sword Regiment must carry three months’ worth of elixirs. We can’t let this happen again.”
Zhuge Jian, standing nearby, acknowledged the order. Internal affairs had always been the old man’s responsibility.
“What’s the situation at the palace?” Yang Hao asked before Long Yun could speak.
Xie Fengjian frowned. After the crisis here was resolved, he had contacted the Merchant Guild for updates.
“Ghost Elder, one of the Nine Grand Elders, has set up a *Dragon-Trapping Formation*. Thirty-six *Ghost You* have created a barrier—now, the imperial city can only be entered, not exited.”
“Old Qin Feng didn’t do anything?” Yang Hao found that hard to believe. Qin Feng was a formidable expert.
“The Imperial Guards have charged over a hundred times, with casualties likely exceeding ten thousand, but the *Ghost You* remain unscathed.” Xie Fengjian smiled bitterly. “Rumor has it Ghost Elder boasted that even if several Grand Elders joined forces, they couldn’t break the *Thirty-Six Ghost You Barrier*. Only the Emperor himself stands a chance.”
Yang Hao pursed his lips. His thoughts were complicated. The Emperor wasn’t as important to him as his Danding Sect brothers—certainly not worth risking his life for. But now, the Emperor was an ally against the Elder Council. If the Emperor and Qin Feng were eliminated, Yang Hao would stand alone.
“What’s the Merchant Guild doing?”
Xie Fengjian’s expression darkened. “The Merchant Guild is in even worse trouble. They’re completely overwhelmed. Though the battles on Earth have drawn everyone’s attention, the Elder Council’s main force isn’t even here. Aside from Ghost Elder overseeing the imperial city, Earth’s main threats are the Ten Sword Schools’ swordmasters. The Elder Council’s true strength—three hundred elders and eight Grand Elders—have left Earth.”
“They’re not on Earth?” This surprised Yang Hao. “What are those old bastards doing at a time like this?”
Xie Fengjian lowered his voice, gritting his teeth. “The Merchant Guild’s forty swordmaster regiments are stationed at outposts along the galaxy’s edge. But now, each regiment is being suppressed by suddenly appearing elders, unable to move.
“Also, the elite forces the Guild secretly trained in recent years are being hunted down by the Grand Elders.”
“Elite forces?” Yang Hao scoffed. Though he held a seat among the Ten Directors, he knew less about these secrets than Xie Fengjian.
“The Guild has secretly trained a group of Saint Realm experts in recent years. They thought no one knew, but the Elder Council had them under surveillance all along. Now, the Council has set up two traps—*Massacre* and *Dragon-Trap*—to pin down our forces, while their main strength hunts those elites.”
“Can they hold out?” Yang Hao asked.
Xie Fengjian’s face darkened. “We’ve lost contact. They disappeared a month ago—no word on whether they’re alive or dead.”
“I see.” Yang Hao nodded, understanding Xie Fengjian’s concern. Saint Realm experts weren’t easily cultivated—even someone like Xie Fengjian, who had just entered the Saint Realm, had undergone rigorous selection and training. Doing so under the Elder Council’s nose was even harder. Those elites were likely the Merchant Guild’s last-ditch secret weapon.
“What do the Directors want me to do?”
Though Yang Hao had little respect for the Guild’s nine old men, he was still one of the Ten Directors. With disaster looming, he had to contribute.
Xie Fengjian glanced around. Though the Danding Sect had suffered, their situation was better than most. The inner hall disciples had been on the brink of death due to lack of elixirs, but now that Yang Hao had returned with a fresh supply, they would soon recover. Even facing multiple sword schools wouldn’t be a problem.
“Those who harm my disciples, shall die!”
These three proclamations of death were already death knells hammering down on the Flame Clan disciples. The power of fire had tightly trapped them all together.
The Flame Clan leader and disciples could only desperately smear ointments on their bodies and activate their clan’s techniques to resist the endless burning force.
Yang Hao leisurely walked through the crowd and flames, with Yingyue flying above, spewing astonishing flames.
“You are Yang Hao!” The Flame Clan leader finally recognized the identity of the person before him. “You are actually Yang Hao!”
This sentence was like the first domino of collapsing willpower. The surrounding disciples screamed in terror.
“Yang Hao is back! The Yang Hao of the Pill Sect is here!”
“The Undying War God, we’re doomed.”
“Damn the Council for sending us to our deaths!”
In their mouths, Yang Hao was a harbinger of death—once encountered, no matter how many people you had, you were doomed.
Except for some fool who didn’t know the meaning of fear.
While retreating, the Flame Clan leader roared furiously, “What if you are Yang Hao? I don’t believe you’re truly immortal. We are the clan that cannot be killed. We are the real Undying War God!”
This statement indeed calmed the Flame Clan disciples a bit. Although Yang Hao’s Three Flaming Swords created a vast sea of fire, these flames seemed unable to injure them. The Flame Clan’s spiritual medicines still desperately protected their descendants’ bodies.
Who was the real Undying War God? The answer might soon become clear.
The Flame Clan leader and several brave disciples thrust their swords toward Yang Hao.
But they struck nothing. Yang Hao’s afterimage shattered at their sword tips, while his real body had already risen into the air.
He is none other than the leader of these enemies.
When Yang Hao stepped forward, the few people standing in the distance amidst the blood had already spotted him.
Long Yun, Lan Ling, Xie Fengjian, Maya, and the four Windrider Dragons all seemed frozen by magic, their gazes fixed on Yang Hao, completely forgetting the wounds that still bled on their bodies.
They even forgot that they were facing hundreds of powerful enemies, with the lives of thousands of their brothers hanging in the balance behind them.
Yet, none of them showed any signs of wild joy. As if seeing Yang Hao here at this moment was the most natural thing in the world—as if it had all been planned long ago, and Yang Hao was simply fulfilling his role by appearing now to stand with them.
“Those who shed blood with me today are my brothers!” This was how Yang Hao addressed the disciples of the Yan Clan.
Brothers—it was because they were brothers that they had endured so bitterly until now. Months of bloody battles, struggling through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, had finally led them to Yang Hao’s arrival.
“From now on, no matter how much suffering there is, I will bear it alone.” These words, though unspoken, were written plainly in Yang Hao’s expression.
And so, those few people in the distance took deep breaths and simply sat down in the blood to rest. Even the four dragons folded their wings, raised their heads, and stopped paying attention to their surroundings.
The hundreds of seemingly unkillable Yan Clan disciples were casually ignored.
The dragons’ slanted eyes clearly conveyed: “If there’s any trouble, take it up with the guy who just showed up.”
The leader of the Yan Clan was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected the Alchemy Sect to have outside reinforcements. To avoid further complications, he could only temporarily overlook the two men Yang Hao had killed.
“Young man,” he said with a tone that mixed courtesy with threat, “the Alchemy Sect has been declared a heretical faction by the Elder Council. We are carrying out their orders to execute them. If you don’t want to offend the Elder Council, leave now.” He was confident—after all, few in the empire dared to defy the Elder Council.
Little did he know, several such people were standing right in front of him.
Yang Hao shook his head vigorously. “I want to leave. I really do.”
“Then why don’t you?” The leader spoke as if he genuinely cared for Yang Hao’s well-being.
“I can’t,” Yang Hao sighed regretfully. “Because of them.” He pointed at the four people sitting and resting, who were now giving him sidelong glances.
“They are traitors of the Alchemy Sect, soon to be executed!”
“I know,” Yang Hao agreed. “But if they’re clearly at a disadvantage, why are they still resisting? Why not run?”
“Because they’re waiting for someone,” the Yan Clan leader sneered. “Someone who will never come.”
“I see.” Yang Hao recalled Shadowmoon, which had been circling in the sky.
“If you understand, then leave quickly. I don’t want to kill an innocent man.” Though the leader spoke with feigned mercy, he was eager to see Yang Hao gone.
“I still can’t leave.” Yang Hao laughed heartily.
“You won’t leave?” The Yan Clan leader began signaling to his men. A group of disciples surrounded Yang Hao, certain he would soon join the piles of corpses. “You really won’t leave?”
“Because—” Yang Hao’s voice suddenly rose, brimming with boundless power. Surging flames enveloped him and Shadowmoon, making him appear like a blazing inferno. Yet, his godlike voice still emerged from the flames:
“Because I am the one they’ve been waiting for!”
Before the words even faded, the Three Flaming Swords descended like divine punishment upon the Yan Clan disciples. The flames clung to their bodies like shadows. No matter how they resisted or what ointments they applied, none could escape the judgment of the fire.
“Those who kill my brothers—” Yang Hao strolled casually among the crowd. “—die!”
“Those who attack my sect—die.” His steps were calm, but flames erupted from his footprints. These flames were no longer just the power of the Three Flaming Swords—they carried the essence of the Ember Bow strapped to his back.
“Those who harm my disciples—die!”
These three declarations of death were like execution orders stamped onto the bodies of the Yan Clan. The flames trapped them in an inescapable prison.
The Yan Clan leader and his disciples could only frantically apply ointments and muster their clan’s techniques to resist the relentless burning.
Yang Hao walked leisurely through the flames and the crowd, Shadowmoon dancing in the sky above him, spewing astonishing fire.
“You’re Yang Hao!” The Yan Clan leader finally recognized the man before him. “You’re actually Yang Hao!”
His words were like the first domino in the collapse of morale. The surrounding disciples began to scream in terror.
“Yang Hao is back! The Alchemy Sect’s Yang Hao is here!”
“The Undying War God! We’re doomed!”
“Damn the Elder Council! They sent us to our deaths!”
To them, Yang Hao was nothing less than a reaper of lives. Facing him meant certain death, no matter how many stood against him.
Except for one particularly reckless individual.
The Yan Clan leader retreated while roaring, “So what if you’re Yang Hao? I don’t believe you’re truly undying! We are the unkillable clan! We are the true Undying War Gods!”
His words briefly rallied his disciples. Though Yang Hao’s Three Flaming Swords had created a sea of fire, the flames hadn’t burned them—thanks to the Yan Clan’s miraculous ointments, which protected their bodies.
But the question remained: Who was truly unkillable? The answer would soon be clear.
The Yan Clan leader and a few bold disciples lunged at Yang Hao with their swords—only to slash through empty air. Yang Hao’s afterimage shattered under their blades, while his true form hovered high above.
Coldly surveying the inferno below, Yang Hao gripped the Ember Bow. Though he couldn’t yet draw the divine bow, it housed the soul and divine spark of the Fire God. The mysteries of fire flowed through the bow’s icy frame into Yang Hao’s mind.
With pride, he declared to the ant-like enemies below:
“You claim to be unkillable, but I am the true god. So—die!”
As Yang Hao uttered those final words, infinite fire mysteries erupted from the Ember Bow. The Fire God’s soul let out a piercing howl, transforming the flames.
The fire became a malevolent blaze—ten meters tall, devouring everything it touched. This was no ordinary fire. If primal flames represented life, this malevolent fire embodied death.
The flames turned black, erupting from the mouths of the Yan Clan disciples.
This time, the “unkillable” met their end. They writhed and screamed in the flames, but the malevolent fire’s power was divine retribution—far beyond mortal resistance.
The black inferno was both divine punishment and the culmination of the Fire God’s millennia of wrath.
The unkillable clan finally died as they deserved.
The all-consuming flames erased all traces of the battle at the Alchemy Sect’s gates. The mountains of corpses and rivers of blood were reduced to ash, scattered by the scorching winds.
Were it not for the lingering hellish heat, no one would believe this pristine ground had witnessed three months of brutal warfare—where countless lives were lost, and the Alchemy Sect teetered on the brink of destruction.
Thankfully, Yang Hao arrived at the final moment.
After slaughtering two hundred Yan Clan swordsmen in one breath, Yang Hao walked across the scorched earth toward Lan Ling and the others.
There were no tearful reunions. They simply looked at each other and smiled.
“You’re here,” Long Yun nodded.
“I’m here,” Yang Hao replied sheepishly. “A bit late.”
“Not too bad,” Long Yun said. “We’re all still alive.”
The disciples of the Alchemy Sect’s inner hall, the members of the Hao Sword Regiment—brothers who had fought alongside Yang Hao through life and death—had survived. But no one knew the hardships they’d endured, the countless battles they’d fought to stay alive.
Without even a word to Lan Ling, Yang Hao entered the Alchemy Sect. Inside, the wounded lay strewn across the ground, barely clinging to life. When they saw Yang Hao, they thought they were dreaming.
“Regiment Leader? Is it really you?”
Only when Yang Hao stood before them, letting them touch his face, did they believe it was real.
“The Regiment Leader is back! The Regiment Leader is back!”
In an instant, the fallen rallied. They had endured unimaginable suffering, clinging to life with their last breath, just to wait for Yang Hao.
Their faith was not in vain.
Yang Hao took a deep breath to steady himself. The scene was far worse than he’d imagined. Never in the Alchemy Sect’s history had they faced such devastation.
The fifty disciples Yang Hao had brought quickly distributed refined elixirs. Those on the brink of death began meditating to recover their strength.
Yang Hao moved among them, channeling energy to heal the critically wounded. At the peak of the Saint Realm, his energy reserves were boundless.
Soon, sweat beaded on his forehead. Long Yun and Xie Fengjian approached, seemingly with something to say.
Yang Hao waved them off and spoke first:
“From today onward, every member of the Alchemy Sect’s inner hall and the Hao Sword Regiment must carry three months’ worth of elixirs. This can’t happen again.”
Old Zhuge, who handled logistics, acknowledged the order.
“What’s the situation at the palace?” Yang Hao asked before Long Yun could speak.
Xie Fengjian frowned. After the crisis here was resolved, he’d contacted the Merchant Guild for updates.
“Ghost Elder, one of the Nine Grand Elders, has set up a Dragon-Trapping Formation. Thirty-six Ghost Envoys have created a barrier—now, the imperial city can only be entered, not exited.”
“Old Qin Feng didn’t do anything?” Yang Hao found that hard to believe. Qin Feng was a formidable expert.
“The Imperial Guards charged over a hundred times. Casualties likely exceeded ten thousand, but the Ghost Envoys remain unharmed.” Xie Fengjian smiled bitterly. “Ghost Elder boasted that even if multiple Grand Elders joined forces, they couldn’t break the barrier. Only the Emperor himself might stand a chance.”
Yang Hao pursed his lips. His thoughts were complicated. The Emperor wasn’t as important to him as his Alchemy Sect brothers, but now, the Emperor was a key ally against the Elder Council. If the Emperor and Qin Feng fell, Yang Hao would stand alone.
“What’s the Merchant Guild doing?”
Xie Fengjian looked pained. “The Merchant Guild’s situation is even worse. They’re overwhelmed. Though Earth is the main battleground, the Elder Council’s true forces aren’t here. Aside from Ghost Elder overseeing the imperial city, Earth’s main threats are the Ten Sword Schools. The Elder Council’s real strength—three hundred elders and eight Grand Elders—have left Earth.”
“They’re not on Earth?” This surprised Yang Hao. “What are those old bastards doing at a time like this?”
Xie Fengjian lowered his voice. “The Merchant Guild’s forty swordsman regiments are stationed at outposts along the galaxy’s edge. But now, each regiment is pinned down by suddenly appearing elders.
“Also, the elite forces the Guild secretly trained in recent years are being hunted by the Grand Elders.”
“Elite forces?” Yang Hao scoffed. Though he sat on the Guild’s council, he knew less about these secrets than Xie Fengjian.
“The Guild secretly trained a group of Saint-Realm experts. They thought it was hidden, but the Elder Council knew all along. Now, the Council has set up two traps—the Dragon-Trapping Formation and the slaughter here—to tie up our forces while their main strength hunts those elites.”
“Can they hold out?” Yang Hao asked.
Xie Fengjian’s expression darkened. “We lost contact a month ago. Their fate is unknown.”
Yang Hao nodded. He understood Xie Fengjian’s concern. Saint-Realm experts weren’t easily cultivated. Even someone like Xie Fengjian, who’d just entered the Saint Realm, had undergone rigorous selection and training. Doing so under the Elder Council’s nose was even harder. Those elites were the Guild’s trump card, built at great cost.
“What do the councilors want me to do?”
Though Yang Hao had little respect for the Guild’s nine elders, he was still one of the ten CEOs. With disaster looming, he had to contribute.
Xie Fengjian glanced around. Though the Alchemy Sect had suffered, their situation was better than others’. The inner hall disciples had been on the brink due to lack of elixirs. Now, with Yang Hao’s supply, they’d soon recover—strong enough to face multiple sword schools.
He proudly declared to the enemy below, like insignificant ants, “You claim to be immortal, but I am the true god. So… die!”
As Yang Hao shouted the last two words, infinite fire principles radiated from the Yan Rong Bow. Zhurong’s soul let out a piercing scream, and the firestorm suddenly changed.
The flames turned into ominous fire, rising ten meters high, wrapping everything it could reach. This was the fiercest fire since the beginning of creation, completely opposite in nature to the Primordial Flame.
If the Primordial Flame represented life, then this ominous fire represented death.
Eventually, the flames turned black, spewing from the mouths of the Flame Clan disciples.
This time, those who claimed to be immortal finally met their end. They screamed frantically in the flames, twisting and rolling, but the power of the ominous fire was like divine judgment—completely beyond what ordinary mortals could resist.
The black fire was divine punishment, the accumulated ferocity of Zhurong over thousands of years.
The immortal clan finally met their deserved fate in these flames.
This massive inferno burned away all traces of the battle at the Pill Sect’s gate, turning the mountains of corpses and seas of blood into ashes, swept away cleanly by the final scorching winds.
If not for the hellish heat lingering, no one might believe that such a pure place had seen three months of bloody fighting. So many lives had been lost here, and the fate of the Pill Sect had been hanging by a thread.
Fortunately, Yang Hao arrived at the very last moment.
After killing two hundred sword masters of the Ji Clan in one breath, Yang Hao walked toward Lan Ling and the others, stepping on the still-hot ground.
There was no imagined excitement or tears. They simply looked at each other and smiled.
“You came,” Long Yun nodded.
“I came,” Yang Hao said a bit awkwardly. “I came late.”
“Not bad,” Long Yun said. “We’re all still alive.”
Inside the Pill Sect, the inner disciples, members of the Hao Sword Group, brothers who had once fought and bled with Yang Hao, were all still alive. Yet no one knew how hard they had struggled, how many battles they had endured.
Before Yang Hao could even speak a word to Lan Ling, he entered the Pill Sect. Inside, people were lying on the ground in a mess, barely alive. When they saw Yang Hao, they thought they were dreaming.
“Captain? Is it really you?”
When Yang Hao reached them and they touched his face with their hands, they finally believed everything was real: “The captain is back! The captain is back!”
In an instant, everyone who had been lying down found new strength. They had endured with their last breath of energy, waiting for Yang Hao’s arrival.
They had not waited in vain. Everyone’s trust in Yang Hao had not been wasted.
Yang Hao needed to take a deep breath to calm himself. The scene here was too tragic—Yang Hao hadn’t even dared to imagine it could be this bad. Since the founding of the Pill Sect, they had never faced such a situation.
Yang Hao’s fifty disciples quickly distributed the prepared pills. Those disciples who had nearly died began to sit in meditation to recover their energy after taking the pills.
Yang Hao walked around, and whenever he found someone in critical condition, he would help them recover by channeling his energy. After all, Yang Hao had now reached the peak of the Saint Domain, with more than enough internal energy to spare.
Within a short time, sweat had already appeared on his forehead. Long Yun and Xie Fengting approached, seeming to have something to say.
Yang Hao waved his hand and spoke first: “Starting today, every member of the Pill Sect’s inner circle and the Hao Sword Group must have a three-month supply of pills. This situation must never happen again.”
Zhuge Jian, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. Such internal affairs had always been handled by Old Man Zhuge.
“What about the palace?” Yang Hao asked before Long Yun could speak.
Xie Fengting frowned. After the crisis here had been resolved, he had already contacted the Merchant Guild to learn some information.
“Ghost Elder from the Nine Elder Council acted, setting up a Dragon-Imprisoning Formation. A total of thirty-six Ghost Shades set up barriers. Now the imperial city is a place you can enter but never leave.”
“Hasn’t Old Feng done anything?” Yang Hao found it hard to believe. That Qin Feng was an incredible expert.
He is none other than the leader of these enemies.
When Yang Hao stepped forward, the few people standing in the distance amidst the blood had already spotted him.
Long Yun, Lan Ling, Xie Fengjian, Maya, and the four Windrider Dragons all seemed frozen by magic, their gazes fixed on Yang Hao, completely oblivious to the blood still flowing from their wounds.
They had even forgotten that they were facing hundreds of powerful foes, with the lives of thousands of their brothers hanging in the balance behind them.
Yet, none of them showed any signs of overwhelming joy. It was as if seeing Yang Hao here at this moment was the most natural thing in the world—as if it had all been planned long ago, and Yang Hao was simply fulfilling his role by appearing now to stand with them.
“Those who shed blood with me today are my brothers!” This was how Yang Hao had addressed the disciples of the Yan Clan.
Brothers—it was because they were brothers that they had endured until now. Months of bloody battles, struggling through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, had finally led them to this moment when Yang Hao arrived.
“From now on, no matter how much suffering there is, I will bear it all on my shoulders.” Though Yang Hao didn’t say these words aloud, they were written plainly in his expression.
And so, the group on the other side took a few deep breaths and simply sat down in the blood to rest. Even the four dragons folded their wings, raised their heads, and stopped paying attention to their surroundings.
The hundreds of seemingly unkillable disciples of the Yan Clan were casually ignored.
The dragons’ slanted eyes clearly conveyed a message: *If there’s any trouble, go find the guy who just showed up.*
The leader of the Yan Clan was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected the Danding Sect to have reinforcements. To avoid unnecessary complications, he could only temporarily overlook the two men Yang Hao had just killed.
“Young man, the Danding Sect has been declared a heretical faction by the Elder Council. We are carrying out their orders of execution. If you don’t wish to offend the Elder Council, leave immediately.” His words were polite but laced with threat. The leader was confident—after all, there were few in the empire who dared defy the Elder Council.
Little did he know, several of those very people were standing right in front of him.
Yang Hao shook his head vigorously. “I want to leave. I really do.”
“Then why don’t you?” The leader spoke kindly, almost as if he were genuinely concerned for Yang Hao.
“I can’t,” Yang Hao sighed regretfully. “Because of them.” He pointed at the four people sitting and resting, who were now giving him sidelong glances.
“They are rebels of the Danding Sect, destined for execution at any moment!”
“I know,” Yang Hao agreed. “But if they’re clearly at a disadvantage, why are they still resisting? Why aren’t they running?”
“Because they’re waiting for someone,” the Yan Clan leader sneered. “Someone who will never come.”
“I see.” Yang Hao recalled Shadowmoon, which had been circling in the sky.
“If you understand, then leave quickly. I don’t want to kill an innocent man.” Though the leader spoke with feigned mercy, he was inwardly eager for Yang Hao to scram.
“I still can’t leave.” Yang Hao burst into laughter.
“You won’t leave?” The Yan Clan leader began signaling to his men behind him. A group of Yan disciples surrounded Yang Hao, certain that he would soon become another corpse in the pile. “You really won’t leave?”
“Because—” Yang Hao’s voice suddenly rose, brimming with boundless power. Surging flames enveloped him and Shadowmoon, turning him into a blazing inferno. Yet, his godlike voice still emerged from the flames:
“Because I am the one they’ve been waiting for!”
Before the words even faded, the *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames* descended like divine punishment upon the heads of the Yan Clan disciples. The flames clung to their bodies like shadows—no matter how they resisted or what ointments they applied, none could escape the judgment of the fire.
“Those who kill my brothers,” Yang Hao strolled casually through the crowd, “die!”
“Those who attack my sect, die.” Each step he took left behind a trail of erupting flames. These were no longer just the power of the *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames*—they carried the essence of the *Yan Rong Bow* strapped to Yang Hao’s back.
“Those who harm my disciples, die!”
These three declarations of death were like execution orders stamped onto the bodies of the Yan Clan. The flames had already trapped them in an inescapable prison.
The Yan Clan leader and his disciples could only frantically apply ointments and muster their sect’s techniques to resist the relentless burning.
Yang Hao walked leisurely through the flames and the crowd, Shadowmoon dancing in the sky above him, spewing astonishing fire.
“You’re Yang Hao!” The Yan Clan leader finally recognized the man before him. “You’re actually Yang Hao!”
His words were like the first domino in the collapse of their morale. The disciples around him began screaming in terror.
“Yang Hao is back! The Danding Sect’s Yang Hao is here!”
“The Undying War God! We’re doomed!”
“Damn the Elder Council! They sent us to our deaths!”
In their eyes, Yang Hao was nothing short of a reaper of lives. Whoever faced him, no matter how many, was destined for death.
Except for one particularly reckless individual.
The Yan Clan leader retreated while roaring, “So what if you’re Yang Hao? I don’t believe you’re truly undying! *We* are the unkillable clan! *We* are the true Undying War Gods!”
His words did bring a flicker of clarity to his disciples. Though Yang Hao’s *Three Swords of the Sea of Flames* had created a vast sea of fire, the flames hadn’t actually burned them—the Yan Clan’s miraculous ointments were still protecting their bodies.
But the question remained: Who was truly unkillable? The answer would soon be clear.
The Yan Clan leader and a few bold disciples lunged at Yang Hao with their swords.
But they struck only air. Yang Hao’s afterimage shattered under their blades, while his real body had already ascended into the sky.
Coldly observing the chaos below, Yang Hao gripped the *Yan Rong Bow* with one hand. Though he couldn’t fully draw the divine bow now, it still contained the soul and divine essence of the Fire God. All the mysteries of fire flowed through the bow’s icy frame into Yang Hao’s mind.
Proudly, he declared to the ant-like enemies below:
“You claim to be unkillable, but *I* am the true god. So… die!”
As Yang Hao uttered those final words, infinite fire mysteries erupted from the *Yan Rong Bow*. The Fire God’s soul let out a piercing howl, transforming the flames into something far more sinister.
The fire became *malicious flames*—ten-meter-high infernos that engulfed everything in their path with unstoppable fury. This was the most terrifying fire since the dawn of creation, the polar opposite of the *Primordial Flame*.
If the *Primordial Flame* represented life, then these *malicious flames* represented death.
The fire eventually turned black, erupting from the mouths of the Yan Clan disciples.
This time, the so-called “unkillable” people finally met their doom. They shrieked and writhed in the flames, but the power of the *malicious flames* was divine retribution—something no mortal could withstand.
The black inferno was both divine punishment and the culmination of the Fire God’s millennia of wrath.
The unkillable clan had finally met their rightful end in these flames.
The overwhelming blaze incinerated every trace of the battle at the Danding Sect’s gates. The mountains of corpses and rivers of blood were reduced to ashes, scattered by the scorching winds until nothing remained.
Were it not for the lingering hellish heat, no one would believe that this pristine place had once been the site of a three-month bloodbath—where countless lives had been lost, and the fate of the Danding Sect had hung by a thread.
Thankfully, Yang Hao had arrived at the final moment.
After slaughtering all two hundred Yan Clan swordsmen in one breath, Yang Hao walked across the scorched ground toward Lan Ling and the others.
There were no tearful reunions as one might expect. The group simply looked at each other and smiled.
“You’re here,” Long Yun nodded.
“I’m here,” Yang Hao replied sheepishly. “A bit late.”
“Not too bad,” Long Yun said. “We’re all still alive.”
The disciples of the Danding Sect’s inner hall, the members of the Hao Sword Regiment—brothers who had fought alongside Yang Hao through life and death—were all still breathing. But no one knew just how hard they had struggled to survive, how many battles they had endured.
Before Yang Hao could even exchange a word with Lan Ling, he entered the Danding Sect’s inner hall. The wounded lay everywhere, barely clinging to life. When they saw Yang Hao, they thought they were dreaming.
“Regiment Leader? Is it really you?”
Only when Yang Hao stood before them, letting them touch his face, did they believe it was real.
“The Regiment Leader is back! The Regiment Leader is back!”
In an instant, all the fallen disciples rallied. They had endured unimaginable suffering, clinging to life with their last breath, just waiting for Yang Hao’s return.
Their faith had not been in vain.
Yang Hao had to take a deep breath to steady himself. The scene before him was far worse than he had imagined. Never in the Danding Sect’s history had they faced such devastation.
The fifty disciples Yang Hao had brought quickly distributed the prepared elixirs. Those on the brink of death began meditating to restore their energy.
Yang Hao moved among them, transferring his energy to heal those in critical condition. Having reached the peak of the Saint Realm, he had more than enough energy to spare.
Soon, sweat beaded on his forehead. Long Yun and Xie Fengjian approached, seemingly with something to say.
But Yang Hao spoke first. “From today onward, every member of the Danding Sect’s inner hall and the Hao Sword Regiment must carry three months’ worth of elixirs. We can’t let this happen again.”
Zhuge Jian, who handled internal affairs, acknowledged the order.
“What’s the situation at the palace?” Yang Hao asked before Long Yun could speak.
Xie Fengjian frowned. After the crisis here had been resolved, he had contacted the Merchant Guild and learned some troubling news.
“Ghost Elder, one of the Nine Grand Elders, has set up a *Dragon-Trapping Formation*. Thirty-six *Ghost You* have created a barrier around the imperial city—no one can leave.”
“Old Man Qin Feng didn’t do anything?” Yang Hao found that hard to believe. Qin Feng was a formidable expert.
“The Imperial Guards have charged over a hundred times, with casualties likely exceeding ten thousand, but the *Ghost You* remain unharmed,” Xie Fengjian said bitterly. “Rumor has it Ghost Elder boasted that even if several Grand Elders joined forces, they couldn’t break the *Thirty-Six Ghost You Barrier*. Only the Emperor himself stands a chance.”
Yang Hao pressed his lips together. His thoughts were complicated. The Emperor wasn’t as important to him as his Danding brothers, but now, the Emperor was a key ally against the Elder Council. If the Emperor and Qin Feng fell, Yang Hao would be left standing alone.
“What’s the Merchant Guild doing?”
Xie Fengjian’s expression darkened. “The Merchant Guild is in even worse shape. Right now, it’s complete chaos. Though Earth is the main battleground, the Elder Council’s true forces aren’t even here. Aside from Ghost Elder overseeing the imperial city, Earth’s main forces are just the swordsmen from the Ten Sword Schools. The Elder Council’s real strength—three hundred elders and eight Grand Elders—have left Earth.”
“They’re not on Earth?” This surprised Yang Hao. “Where did those old bastards go at a time like this?”
Xie Fengjian lowered his voice. “The Merchant Guild’s forty swordsman regiments are stationed at outposts along the galaxy’s edge. But now, each regiment is being suppressed by suddenly appearing elders, unable to move.”
“Also, the elite forces the Guild secretly trained in recent years are being hunted down by the Grand Elders.”
“Elite forces?” Yang Hao scoffed. Though he held a seat as one of the Ten Great Directors, he knew less about these secrets than Xie Fengjian.
“The Guild has been secretly nurturing a group of Saint-Realm experts. They thought no one knew, but the Elder Council had been aware all along. Now, the Council has set up two traps—*Annihilation* and *Dragon-Trapping*—to pin down our forces while their main strength hunts those elites.”
“Can they hold out?” Yang Hao asked.
Xie Fengjian’s face darkened further. “We lost contact a month ago. Their fate is unknown.”
“I see.” Yang Hao nodded. He understood Xie Fengjian’s concern. Saint-Realm experts weren’t easy to cultivate—even someone like Xie Fengjian, who had just entered the Saint Realm, had undergone rigorous selection and training. Doing all this under the Elder Council’s nose made it even harder. These elites were likely the Merchant Guild’s last-ditch secret weapon.
“What do the Directors want me to do?”
Though Yang Hao had little respect for the Guild’s nine old men, he was still one of the Ten Directors. With disaster looming, he had to contribute.
Xie Fengjian glanced around. Though the Danding Sect had suffered greatly, their situation was still better than most. The inner hall disciples had been on the brink of death due to lack of elixirs, but now that Yang Hao had returned with a fresh supply, they would soon regain their strength—enough to challenge several sword sects if necessary.
Yang Hao pursed his lips. His thoughts were complicated. The old emperor, of course, wasn’t as important as his brothers in the Pill Sect to warrant risking his life. But now, the emperor was an ally against the Elder Council. If Emperor Yinglie and Qin Feng were really eliminated, Yang Hao would be left alone and vulnerable.
“What is the Merchant Guild doing?”
Xie Fengting looked troubled: “The Merchant Guild is in an even worse situation. They’re in complete chaos now. Don’t be fooled by the fierce battles on Earth that have drawn everyone’s attention. The main force of the Elder Council has never been on Earth. Besides the Ghost Elder guarding the imperial city, the main military force on Earth is just the sword masters under the Ten Sword Streams. The real main force of the Elder Council—the three hundred elders and eight executive elders—have all gone beyond Earth.”
“Not on Earth?” This surprised Yang Hao. “What are those old guys doing, running off at a critical moment?”
Xie Fengting lowered his voice, gritting his teeth: “The forty sword master groups under the Merchant Guild are stationed at several outposts beyond the Milky Way. But now, each sword master group is suddenly being suppressed by elders appearing out of nowhere, unable to move.
Additionally, the high-level experts cultivated by the Guild in recent years are now being hunted by the executive elders.”
“Experts?” Yang Hao sneered. Although he held one of the Ten Director seats, he knew less about these secrets than Xie Fengting.
“In recent years, the Merchant Guild secretly cultivated a group of Saint Domain-level experts, thinking no one knew. But who would have guessed that the Elder Council had already found out. This time, the Elder Council set up two plans—the Slaughter and the Dragon Imprisonment—to tie up our forces, while their main force probably went to hunt down these experts.”
“Can they hold out?” Yang Hao asked.
Xie Fengting’s face darkened: “We’ve lost contact with them. A month ago, all communication was cut off. Their fate is unknown.”
“Oh!” Yang Hao nodded. He understood Xie Fengting’s feelings well. Saint Domain-level experts weren’t easy to cultivate casually. Even someone like Xie Fengting, who had just entered the Saint Domain, required countless selections and training. Particularly doing this secretly under the Elder Council’s watchful eyes made it even harder. This group of Saint Domain experts was probably the Merchant Guild’s secret weapon, cultivated at great expense.
“What do the Directors want me to do?”
Although Yang Hao wasn’t fond of the nine old men in the Guild, after all, he was technically one of the ten CEOs. Now that a great crisis had arrived, he had to contribute something.
Xie Fengting said, “The board has discussed it. Our top priority now is rescuing His Majesty the Emperor. If the elders push too hard and actually kill the emperor, the anti-senate forces will scatter and fight individually, eventually being defeated one by one.”
Yang Hao nodded. Rescuing the emperor was what everyone expected, and seemingly, no one else would do it except him. Besides, the emperor was technically Yang Hao’s future father-in-law. If he let his future father-in-law die without lifting a finger, where could he possibly show his face?
“Alright, alright, I always get the worst jobs. I’ll rest tonight, and tomorrow I’ll take Lanling to the Imperial Palace to check things out.”
At the mention of Lanling, Long Yun and Xie Fengting exchanged glances.
Long Yun said awkwardly, “We were just about to talk to you about that.”
“What’s wrong?” Yang Hao sensed something was off. He looked around and realized Lanling seemed to be missing. Just earlier during the battle with the Yan Sect disciples, Lanling had still been there, covered in blood, gazing at Yang Hao with a complicated expression.
Long Yun pulled Yang Hao toward the sword sect’s manor, walking all the way to the Dragon Towers—the four tall towers reaching into the clouds. Yang Hao had specially built them for the four Windgliding Dragons. Normally, the four dragons lived atop these towers. But today, at the base of one of the towers, there was an extra mound of earth, solemnly sitting there like a grave.
“What is this?” Yang Hao asked, puzzled. This mound was over a meter high, suggesting whatever was buried inside must be quite large.
“It’s Xueyexing Lion,” Long Yun sighed. “Lanling’s Xueyexing Lion has died in battle.”
“What?” Yang Hao was so shocked his eyes widened. He certainly remembered that flying lion, its silver-white fur gleaming, standing proudly among the clouds. Only when Lanling approached would it kneel halfway and rub its head against her neck.
But more often than not, the Xueyexing Lion was a proud and sacred creature that no one could approach.
As a member of the Xueyexing Lion Corps, a rider’s mount was their most loyal friend, someone worth protecting with one’s life.
Yet Lanling’s Xueyexing Lion was buried beneath the Dragon Tower.
Long Yun patted Yang Hao’s shoulder. “Lanling has been at the Danding Sword Sect with us, fighting in bloodshed for so long. Without her, this place would’ve been wiped out already. She rarely speaks, and when injured, she just bandages herself. Half a month ago, Lanling’s Xueyexing Lion died in battle. She fought like a madwoman for days and nights straight before finally burying her mount here.”
Yang Hao was momentarily stunned. He squatted down and gently touched the thick mound of earth on the grave, as if he could feel the woman’s sorrow, her tears mixing into the soil.
To others, Lanling was an icy beauty, and even in front of Yang Hao, she stubbornly kept her distance. But Yang Hao knew, deep down, Lanling’s heart was soft—not only toward the one she loved, but also toward her companions.
“Don’t betray such a good woman,” Long Yun reminded him.
Yang Hao didn’t know what to say. If he recalled their relationship, perhaps Yang Hao had been the more proactive one. On the surface, it seemed Yang Hao cared more for Lanling.
But was that really the case?
Suddenly, Yang Hao realized in his heart, Lanling was someone worth loving, but not his everything. Yet what had he ever done for her?
It was Lanling who had stayed on Zhinao Star, fighting alongside him against the great Celestial Transformation Art. It was Lanling who had defied her master, Qin Feng, in the palace to rescue him. And it was again Lanling who had taken care of the Danding Sect disciples when Yang Hao left.
Perhaps, in Lanling’s heart, Yang Hao already was her everything.
She never said it—she simply showed it through her actions.
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