“Hmph, if someone reckless enough dares to consume them, the opposing energies within these two primary pills will violently clash and erupt instantly,” murmured Hunyuanzi after a pause. “This would create… what you call a wormhole, warping space and flinging people far away. Additionally, a cultivator’s dantian will instantly lose all its energy, requiring time to replenish before recovery, and there’s even a chance it may never recover.”
“You mean turning into a useless cripple?” Yang Hao was taken aback. “If the dantian empties completely, then all previous cultivation efforts would’ve been in vain.”
“Exactly why I told you to be cautious! Do you think cultivation is something to be trifled with?” Hunyuanzi roared.
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to consume these, the energies within these two primary pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It would create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian would instantly lose all its power, requiring a slow replenishment of vital energy to recover—if recovery is even possible.”
“So they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be for nothing?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to be reckless with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao grumbled inwardly—it seemed like the Alchemy Sect’s pill refining was all about recklessness, yet now he was being so serious. But on a day like this, he didn’t dare argue with his master. He obediently stored the two primary pills in his pill pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi didn’t say anything, Yang Hao wisely sheathed the Crimson Tomb Sword behind his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left exposed to the elements in the Sword Tomb any longer.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised by how smoothly things had gone. His mood lifted slightly as he glanced down at the sheer cliffs shrouded in mist and the Thunder Barrier above. He didn’t dare slack off and jump down, so he retraced his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
Just as Yang Hao reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had already spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Ah, the Qilin shares my stubbornness,” Hunyuanzi sighed, realizing the direction the Qilin faced was where the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral cave once stood. It must have sensed the lingering aura of its former comrades, overwhelmed by grief.
Yang Hao looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal energy.
“Master, is that our sect’s cave?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. That cave gathers the essence of heaven and earth. Cultivating there is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now… we can only steal a glance.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt an impulse to do something meaningful for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he suggested, “Master, didn’t you say our enemy’s Nascent Soul is wandering while his physical body might be hidden in the cave? Since we’re already here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi hesitated but remained silent.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: the four major sword sects guarded the base, the Elder Council stood at three thousand meters, acting as additional guards, and the Sword Tomb lay at four thousand meters—where Yang Hao now stood. Beyond that, at five thousand meters, was the heart of Elder Mountain: the Alchemy Sect’s former cave.
In other words, Yang Hao was only a thousand meters away from the cave.
And there were no guards in between.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, weakening him before his Nascent Soul returned to aid their revenge.
But Hunyuanzi had previously believed Yang Hao wasn’t strong enough to assassinate the Supreme One’s body—it would be suicide. So he insisted on retrieving the sword pills first. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
And now, encountering the Qilin and retrieving the Crimson Tomb Sword had stirred their grief and fury anew.
Only a thousand meters away—so close to vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters in life stem from a single moment of temptation. Once desire takes hold, one strays from their original path, only to realize at the end how far they’ve deviated.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain. Every plant and rock here was more familiar to them than the terrain below. Soon, Hunyuanzi was urging Yang Hao to hurry.
At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially since the cave’s surroundings were free of ice and snow, making the path easy.
Yang Hao soon entered the swirling immortal energy at the peak. Strangely, this energy didn’t sting but instead flowed into his body, replenishing the sword energy he’d expended earlier.
Hunyuanzi hadn’t lied—cultivating in the Alchemy Sect’s cave truly accelerated progress.
Yet Yang Hao couldn’t shake his confusion. The Supreme One’s status in the Galactic Empire was godlike. With true gods long sealed away and ascended immortals vanished, he was the sole remaining immortal and the empire’s founder. His physical body should be heavily guarded. So why were there no defenses beyond three thousand meters?
As if answering his question, disaster struck the moment he reached the peak.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, infused with eerie power, aiming for Yang Hao’s vitals.
Unlike the swords in the Sword Tomb, these were wielded by swordmasters. The silent assassins appeared abruptly, their sole intent to kill Yang Hao on the spot.
Brutal. Cold.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air. He hadn’t expected defenses beyond three thousand meters and was caught off guard. The sudden onslaught formed a deadly net, nearly trapping him.
He could only evade using the Light-Shadow Steps, but the technique drained him quickly. He reappeared on the cliff’s opposite side.
The swordmasters adjusted without a word and lunged again.
Something felt wrong.
These opponents were different.
Past enemies adhered to outdated customs—declaring their intent before killing, waiting for formal battle lines. But these were killing machines. Clad in black armor, wielding black swords, they spoke not a word. Their eyes and movements held only one purpose: murder.
Terrifying. Far worse than the Ten Sword Streams.
Yang Hao had never feared the Ten Sword Streams—their pride made them predictable. But these assassins chilled him to the bone. They weren’t human but black ice, colder than the Nether Assassins.
He had no choice but to unleash his strongest technique.
The second-tier attack sword art—”Blazing Detonation!”
Flames engulfed Yang Hao like a comet crashing into the black-clad crowd. As they struck, an earth-shattering explosion erupted.
Heavenfire’s scorching heat crackled through the air, spreading like a venomous dragon. The assassins, refusing to retreat, were consumed. In an instant, dozens were reduced to charred skeletons.
This was Yang Hao’s second use of Blazing Detonation. The first had slain hundreds of demonic beasts. But today, it was living people. Even forced, the slaughter horrified him. The sword pills’ power was unimaginable—a second-tier technique killing dozens. What could higher tiers achieve?
“Hurry!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion had shaken the mountain. If they didn’t act fast, the sword sects below would notice.
Yang Hao looked up, ready to enter the cave—then froze.
The peak held no cave, only a rocky mound. The multicolored immortal energy seeped from within. Circling it, Yang Hao found no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was our cave destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If the Alchemy Sect’s cave were so easy to enter, it’d be a tourist spot. The cave is sealed—rock and barrier isolating it completely. No outside force or sound can penetrate. It’s a world apart.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the entrance incantation. Placing his hand on the rocky surface, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s dual-cultivation energy into the stone. The surrounding immortal energy responded, swirling around him and flowing into his dantian to amplify his power.
As Yang Hao recited the incantation, milky immortal energy gushed from the cracks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a millennium ago now parted for Yang Hao.
Massive stones slid aside, releasing a hurricane of pure immortal energy. At the cave’s apex, the words “Alchemy Dual-Cultivation Cave” were carved in solemn script.
Yang Hao hesitated for a few seconds—then stepped inside.
He didn’t know it then, but this step led him toward the greatest crisis of his life.
The most terrifying, agonizing, and unbearable crisis yet.
What lay within the cave?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had pondered this. The best outcome: the Supreme One’s body enshrined within, allowing Hunyuanzi to claim half his vengeance.
Alternatively, they might be wrong—the cave could be empty, untouched for a millennium like the Sword Tomb.
Even that would benefit Yang Hao. The Alchemy Sect’s former stronghold might hold artifacts or elixirs to aid his cultivation.
But they never imagined the cave, sealed for a thousand years, would be filled with people.
Amid the radiant immortal energy, deep within the thousand-foot cavern, stood over twenty figures. Stunned by the cave’s sudden opening, they stared back.
Their shock stemmed from the cave’s secrecy—no one else should know how to enter.
Yang Hao instinctively charged in. The others froze.
Time seemed to stop.
Hunyuanzi recovered first. This was his home—every inch familiar. But one sight in the depths shattered his heart.
“He’s here!” Hunyuanzi roared suddenly. “His body is here!!! Kill him! KILL!!!”
Ignoring the other twenty figures, Hunyuanzi focused on the cave’s heart—where a jade bed enshrined a physical form.
The body sat cross-legged, exuding immortal light despite lacking a Nascent Soul. Its flawless skin, black hair, and snow-white robes gave it the appearance of a perfected immortal.
Yet this was Hunyuanzi’s mortal enemy—the man who eradicated the Alchemy Sect, the Supreme One worshipped by the empire.
The founder of the Galactic Empire, the one who unified Earth’s sects and sealed the gods—now mere steps away. So close that Hunyuanzi felt a single strike could reduce him to dust.
Could it?
Yang Hao didn’t think so. Despair crept in. While Hunyuanzi fixated on his millennia-old foe, Yang Hao assessed the twenty figures.
His heart sank into an abyss.
Today was a mistake. Not an opportunity for revenge—but a trap. One that might doom him forever.
“ASSASSIN!!!” A shrill cry drove the final nail into Yang Hao’s coffin.
Who were these twenty people?
Yang Hao recognized none, but their strength terrified him.
Closest stood six knights in snow-white armor, mounted on towering white lions. Their leader, clad in crystalline armor, was strikingly handsome—almost feminine—with a silver spear in hand.
The Snowlion Knights’ captain.
Though Hunyuanzi didn’t mention it, Yang Hao obediently sheathed the Red Ling Sword behind his back. This was his master’s flying sword and Hunyuanzi’s original token of love from his wife; it definitely shouldn’t be left outside to weather the elements in this sword burial ground.
Having accomplished a major task, Yang Hao hadn’t expected things to go so smoothly, so his mood improved slightly. He glanced down at the cliff thousands of feet below, shrouded in swirling clouds and mist, and at the Xuanlei barrier above, and decided he couldn’t afford to be lazy and jump down. He had no choice but to return the way he came, exiting through the sword burial ground.
Just as Yang Hao reached the mouth of the sword burial ground, he saw the sword spirit still crouched in a corner, wailing towards a specific spot in the sky. Its tears had already flowed like molten lava across the ground.
“Sigh. The Qilin child is as stubborn as I am,” Hunyuanzi said upon seeing the direction Qilin was facing—it was precisely where the Dan Ding Sect’s ancestral abode had always been. He knew the Qilin was sensing the long-lost aura of former sect members, overwhelmed by grief and rage.
Yang Hao also looked up and happened to see a grayish spot above, exuding five-colored immortal energy.
“Master, is that our Dan Ding Sect’s abode?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. This abode gathers the essence of heaven and earth, making cultivation here a thousand times more effective than elsewhere,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “Unfortunately, now we can only steal a glance at it.”
Moved by the Qilin’s weeping, Yang Hao felt an urge today to do something meaningful for the Dan Ding Sect. After a moment’s contemplation, he suggested, “Master, you once said that our enemy’s Yuan Ying has ascended, but his physical body might still be hidden in the abode. Since we’ve come this far, why not go up and destroy his physical body?”
Hunyuanzi was momentarily stunned but said nothing.
He had indeed considered this before. The layout of Yuanlao Mountain was simple: at the foot were the four great sword sects as guards; at the 3,000-meter mark was the Yuanlao Council, with over a hundred Yuanlao serving as guards as well. At the 4,000-meter level was the sword burial ground, where Yang Hao now stood. Going further up, at the 5,000-meter mark, was the core of Yuanlao Mountain—the former abode of the Dan Ding Sect.
In other words, Yang Hao was now only a thousand meters away from the abode.
And there was no defense in between.
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to eat them, the energies within these two primary pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It will create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian will instantly lose all its power, requiring a slow replenishment of vitality to recover—if recovery is even possible.”
“So they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be wasted?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to mess around with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao grumbled inwardly—wasn’t the Alchemy Sect’s pill-refining all about reckless experimentation? Yet now he was being so serious. But on a day like this, he didn’t dare argue with his master. He obediently stored the two primary pills in his alchemy pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi hadn’t mentioned it, Yang Hao wisely retrieved the Crimson Tomb Sword and strapped it to his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left in the Sword Tomb to weather the elements.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised at how smoothly things had gone. His mood lifted slightly as he glanced down at the thousand-foot abyss below, shrouded in mist, and the thunder barrier above. He didn’t dare jump down lazily, so he retraced his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
Just as Yang Hao reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had already spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Ah, Qilin’er is as stubborn as I am,” Hunyuanzi sighed, noticing that the direction the Qilin faced was where the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral cave once stood. It must have sensed the lingering aura of its former comrades, overwhelmed by grief.
Yang Hao also looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal qi.
“Master, is that our Alchemy Sect’s cave?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. That cave gathers the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Cultivating there is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now… we can only steal a glance.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt an impulse to do something meaningful for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he proposed, “Master, didn’t you say that enemy’s Nascent Soul is wandering while his physical body might be hidden in the cave? Since we’re already here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi was stunned into silence.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: the four great sword sects guarded the base, the Elder Council stood at three thousand meters, and the Sword Tomb—where Yang Hao now stood—was at four thousand meters. At five thousand meters lay the heart of Elder Mountain: the Alchemy Sect’s former cave.
In other words, Yang Hao was only a thousand meters away from that cave.
And there were no guards in between.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, weakening him before his Nascent Soul returned.
But Hunyuanzi had previously believed Yang Hao wasn’t strong enough to assassinate the Supreme One’s body—it would be suicide. So he had insisted on retrieving the sword pills first. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
And now, encountering the Qilin and retrieving the Crimson Tomb Sword had stirred their emotions.
Only a thousand meters away—so close to vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters in life stem from a single moment of temptation. Once desire takes hold, one strays from their original path, only to realize too late how far they’ve deviated.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain. Every plant and rock here was more familiar to them than the terrain below. Soon, Hunyuanzi was urging Yang Hao to hurry.
At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially since the cave’s surroundings were free of ice and snow, making the path easy.
Yang Hao soon entered the swirling immortal qi at the mountain’s peak. Strangely, this qi didn’t sting but instead flowed into his body, replenishing the sword energy he had expended earlier.
Hunyuanzi had been right—cultivating in the Alchemy Sect’s cave was exponentially more effective.
Yang Hao found it odd. The Supreme One was revered like a god in the Galactic Empire. With the true divine races sealed away and ascended immortals nowhere to be found, he was the sole immortal in the universe and the empire’s founder. His physical body should be heavily guarded. Yet beyond three thousand meters, there were no defenses.
As if answering his doubts, the moment Yang Hao reached the peak, disaster struck.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, infused with eerie power, aiming for his vital points.
Unlike the swords in the Sword Tomb, these were wielded by swordmasters—silent, ruthless, and intent on killing him where he stood.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air. He had assumed there were no defenses beyond three thousand meters and was unprepared for combat. The sudden onslaught formed a deadly net, nearly trapping him.
He could only evade using the Light-Flowing Shadow Steps, but the technique drained him quickly. He reappeared on the opposite side of the cliff.
The swordmasters adjusted without a word and lunged again.
Something felt off.
These opponents were different—machine-like, clad in black, their only purpose to kill. They were more terrifying than the Ten Sword Streams, whose members at least cared about appearances.
Yang Hao had no choice but to unleash his strongest technique:
**”Explosive Flame!”**
Fire engulfed him like a comet crashing into the black-clad figures. A deafening explosion erupted as celestial flames devoured them, reducing dozens to charred bones in an instant.
This was only the second time Yang Hao had used this technique—the first against beasts. Killing humans, even in self-defense, shook him. The power of the sword pills was unimaginable.
“Move quickly!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion had shaken the mountain. If they didn’t hurry, the sword sects below would notice.
Yang Hao looked up, ready to enter the cave, but froze.
There was no cave—only a small rocky hill emitting the multicolored qi. He circled it but found no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was our cave destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If the Alchemy Sect’s cave were so easy to enter, it’d be a tourist spot. It’s sealed—rocks and barriers isolating it completely. No outside force or sound can penetrate.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the incantation. Placing his hand on the rock, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s qi into it. The surrounding immortal qi responded, flowing into his dantian to strengthen him.
As he recited the incantation, milky-white qi surged from the cracks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a millennium ago now parted for Yang Hao.
The massive stones slid aside, releasing a hurricane of pure qi. At the cave’s entrance, the words “Alchemy Dual Cultivation Cave” were carved in solemn script.
Yang Hao hesitated for a few seconds before stepping inside.
He didn’t realize it then, but this step would lead him into the greatest crisis of his life—one that was terrifying, agonizing, and unbearable.
What lay inside?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had speculated. The best-case scenario was the Supreme One’s body, allowing Hunyuanzi partial vengeance.
Alternatively, the cave might be empty, untouched for a millennium like the Sword Tomb.
Even if looted, remnants of treasures or elixirs could aid Yang Hao’s cultivation.
But they never imagined that the Alchemy Sect’s sealed cave would be filled with people.
In the radiant qi, deep within the thousand-foot cavern, stood over twenty figures. Their shock mirrored Yang Hao’s—no one else should have been able to open the cave.
Time seemed to freeze as both sides stared.
Hunyuanzi was the first to snap out of it. This was his home—every inch familiar. But one sight in the depths tore at his heart.
“He’s here!” Hunyuanzi roared suddenly. “His body is here!!! Kill him! KILL!!!”
He ignored the others, focusing solely on the figure seated on the jade bed at the cave’s heart.
The body radiated immortal light, flawless as a perfected immortal—skin like an infant’s, black hair cascading over snow-white robes.
This was Hunyuanzi’s mortal enemy, the one who had eradicated the Alchemy Sect, the Supreme One worshipped by the empire.
The man who had united Earth’s sects, sealed the divine races, and founded the Galactic Empire now sat mere steps away.
Hunyuanzi’s bloodlust made it seem like a single strike could reduce the Supreme One’s body to dust.
But could it?
Yang Hao didn’t think so. In fact, he was beginning to despair. While Hunyuanzi fixated on vengeance, Yang Hao assessed the twenty-plus figures.
His heart sank into an abyss.
He had made a terrible mistake. This wasn’t an opportunity—it was a trap, one he might never escape.
“Assassin!!!” A shrill cry pierced the air, driving the final nail into Yang Hao’s coffin.
Who were these people?
Yang Hao recognized none of them, but their power alone was enough to terrify him.
The six closest figures rode towering white lions, clad in snow-white armor. At their forefront was a strikingly androgynous knight wielding a silver spear—the leader of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps.
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to consume these, the energies within these two primary pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It would create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian would instantly lose all its power, requiring a slow replenishment of vital energy to recover—if recovery is even possible.”
“So, they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be for nothing?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to mess around with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao grumbled inwardly—it seemed like the Alchemy Sect’s pill-making methods were anything but cautious. Yet now, his master was preaching discipline. But on a day like this, he didn’t dare argue. He obediently stored the two primary pills in his pill pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi hadn’t mentioned it, Yang Hao wisely sheathed the Crimson Phoenix Sword behind his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left exposed to the elements in this Sword Tomb any longer.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised by how smoothly things had gone. His mood lifted slightly as he glanced down at the thousand-foot abyss below, shrouded in mist, and the Thunder Barrier above. He didn’t dare slack off and jump down, so he retraced his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
Just as Yang Hao reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had already spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Ah, the Qilin shares my stubbornness,” Hunyuanzi sighed, realizing the direction the Qilin faced was where the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral cave once stood. It must have sensed the lingering aura of its former kin, overwhelmed by grief.
Yang Hao looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal qi.
“Master, is that our Alchemy Sect’s cave?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. That cave gathers the essence of heaven and earth. Cultivating there is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now… we can only steal a glance.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt an impulse to do something meaningful for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he proposed, “Master, didn’t you say that enemy’s Nascent Soul is wandering the cosmos while his physical body might be hidden in the cave? Since we’re already here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi hesitated but remained silent.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: at the base were the four great sword sects standing guard; at three thousand meters was the Elder Council, with hundreds of elders acting as additional sentinels; at four thousand meters lay the Sword Tomb, where Yang Hao now stood; and at five thousand meters was the heart of Elder Mountain—the Alchemy Sect’s former cave.
In other words, Yang Hao was only a thousand meters away from that cave.
And there were no guards in between.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the two sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, halving his power before his Nascent Soul returned, making revenge possible.
But Hunyuanzi had previously believed Yang Hao wasn’t strong enough to assassinate the Supreme One’s body—it would be suicide. So he had insisted on retrieving the sword pills first. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
And now, encountering the Qilin and retrieving the Crimson Phoenix Sword had stirred deep emotions in both of them.
Only a thousand meters away—so close to vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters in life stem from a single moment of temptation. Once desire takes hold, one strays from their original path, only to realize at the journey’s end how far they’ve deviated.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain. Every plant and rock here was more familiar to them than the terrain below. Soon, Hunyuanzi was urging Yang Hao to hurry.
At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially since the cave’s surroundings were free of ice and snow, making the path easy.
Yang Hao soon entered the swirling immortal qi at the mountain’s peak. Strangely, this qi didn’t sting but instead flowed familiarly into his body, replenishing the sword energy he’d expended earlier.
Hunyuanzi had been right—the Alchemy Sect’s cave could accelerate cultivation exponentially.
But Yang Hao couldn’t shake his confusion. The Supreme One’s status in the Galactic Empire was godlike. With true gods long sealed away and ascended immortals vanished, he was the sole remaining immortal and the empire’s founder. His physical body should be heavily guarded. Yet beyond three thousand meters, there were no defenses.
As if answering his doubts, just as Yang Hao reached the summit, disaster struck.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, imbued with eerie power, aiming for Yang Hao’s vital points.
Unlike the swords in the Sword Tomb, these were wielded by swordmasters. The sudden attackers didn’t speak—their only goal was to kill Yang Hao on the spot.
Brutal. Cold.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air. He hadn’t expected defenses above three thousand meters and was caught off guard. The sudden onslaught formed a deadly net, nearly ensnaring him.
He could only evade using the Light-Treading Steps, but the technique drained him quickly. He reappeared on the cliff’s opposite side, panting.
The swordmasters adjusted silently and lunged again.
Something felt wrong.
These opponents were different.
Past enemies had adhered to outdated formalities—declaring their reasons for killing, waiting for battle formations—but these were like killing machines. Clad in black armor, wielding black swords, they didn’t speak. Their eyes and movements held one purpose: murder.
They were terrifying—far worse than the Ten Sword Stream.
Yang Hao had never feared the Ten Sword Stream’s swordmasters, who cared about appearances and grace. But these black-clad figures chilled him. They weren’t human—they were blocks of ice, colder than the Darkmoon Assassins.
So Yang Hao unleashed his strongest sword technique.
The second-tier attack: “Blazing Detonation!”
Flames engulfed him like a comet, crashing into the black-clad crowd. As they struck, an earth-shaking explosion erupted.
The inferno’s heat crackled through the air, spreading like a venomous dragon. The attackers, refusing to retreat, were consumed. In an instant, dozens of swordmasters were reduced to charred skeletons.
This was Yang Hao’s second time using Blazing Detonation. The first had slain hundreds of demonic beasts, but today, it had killed living people. Even forced to act, the sword pill’s power horrified him. A second-tier technique had wiped out dozens of swordmasters—what could higher tiers do?
“Move, now!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion’s shockwaves would alert the sects below.
Yang Hao looked up, ready to enter the cave—then froze.
The mountaintop bore no cave, only a rocky hill. The multicolored qi seeped from within. Circling it, Yang Hao found no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was our cave destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If the Alchemy Sect’s cave were so easy to enter, it’d be a tourist spot. The cave is sealed—rocks and barriers isolate it completely. No external force or sound can penetrate. It’s a world apart.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the entrance incantation. Placing his hand on the rocky surface, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s dual-cultivation energy into the stone. The surrounding qi responded, swirling around him and flowing into his dantian, amplifying his power.
Reciting the incantation, Yang Hao felt milky-white qi surge from the cracks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a millennium ago now parted for him.
Massive stones slid aside, releasing a hurricane of pure immortal qi. At the cave’s apex, the words “Alchemy Dual-Cultivation Cave” were carved in solemn script.
Yang Hao hesitated, then stepped inside.
He didn’t know it yet, but this step would lead him into the greatest crisis of his life—one so terrible, so painful, it would be unbearable.
What lay inside?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had speculated. The best-case scenario: the Supreme One’s body was enshrined there, allowing Hunyuanzi to claim half his revenge.
Or perhaps they were wrong—the cave might be empty, untouched for a millennium like the Sword Tomb.
Even if looted, remnants of treasures or elixirs could aid Yang Hao’s cultivation.
But they never imagined that inside the Alchemy Sect’s sealed cave stood over twenty people.
Bathed in radiant qi, deep within the thousand-foot cavern, these figures stared in shock as the cave opened from the outside.
They were stunned—no one else in the world should know how to enter.
Yang Hao instinctively charged in, and the occupants froze.
Time seemed to stop.
Hunyuanzi recovered first. This was his home—every inch familiar. But one sight in the depths shattered him.
“He’s here!” Hunyuanzi roared suddenly. “His body is here!!! Kill him! KILL!!!”
Ignoring the other twenty figures, Hunyuanzi focused on the cave’s heart—where a jade bed enshrined a physical form.
The body sat cross-legged, exuding immortal light despite lacking a Nascent Soul. Its skin was flawless, hair cascading over white robes, resembling a perfected immortal.
Yet this was Hunyuanzi’s mortal enemy—the one who eradicated the Alchemy Sect, the Galactic Empire’s Supreme One.
The man who unified Earth’s sects, sealed the gods, and founded the empire now lay a hundred paces away. So close, Hunyuanzi almost believed Yang Hao could reduce him to dust with one strike.
Could he?
Yang Hao didn’t think so. In fact, despair gripped him. While Hunyuanzi saw only his millennia-old foe, Yang Hao assessed the twenty figures’ strength.
His heart sank into an abyss.
Today was a mistake—not a chance for revenge, but a trap with no escape.
“Assassin!!!” A shrill cry nailed Yang Hao’s fate.
Who were these twenty people?
Yang Hao recognized none, but their power terrified him.
Nearest were six snow-white knights—not medieval, but riding towering white lions. Their leader, clad in crystalline armor, was strikingly androgynous, wielding a silver spear.
This was the Snowlion Knight Corps’ commander.
Yet who could have guessed things would go so smoothly today?
And encountering Qilin and drawing the Red Jun Sword had left Hunyuanzi and Yang Hao filled with grief and anger.
Just a thousand meters separated them from their revenge. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
In this world, many things are ruined by a single moment of temptation. Once one is tempted, one deviates from the original path, and by the time one reaches the end, one realizes the deviation has led one far astray.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi proceeded up the mountain. The trees and grass here were even more familiar to them than those below. Eventually, Hunyuanzi even began urging Yang Hao to hurry. With their abilities, even at such a high altitude, a thousand meters was nothing. Moreover, there was no snow or ice near the abode, making the path quite manageable.
Soon, Yang Hao entered the immortal energy swirling at the mountain peak. Strangely, this energy didn’t sting but instead flowed familiarly into his body, helping replenish the sword energy he had released earlier.
It seemed Hunyuanzi’s words about the Dan Ding Sect’s abode accelerating cultivation a thousandfold were indeed true.
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to consume them, the forces within these two main pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It would create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian would instantly lose all its power, requiring a slow replenishment of vital energy to recover—or perhaps never recovering at all.”
“So they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be for nothing?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to mess around with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao muttered to himself—it seemed like the Alchemy Sect’s pill-making methods were all about recklessness, yet now his master was preaching caution. But on a day like today, he didn’t dare argue. He obediently stored the two main pills in his alchemy pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi didn’t mention it, Yang Hao wisely tucked the Red Phoenix Sword behind his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left exposed to the elements in this Sword Tomb any longer.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised by how smoothly things had gone, lifting his spirits. He glanced down at the ten-thousand-foot abyss below, shrouded in mist, and then at the Thunder Barrier above. Jumping down was out of the question, so he had no choice but to retrace his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
Just as Yang Hao reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had already spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Ah, Qilin’er is as stubborn as I am,” Hunyuanzi sighed, noticing that the direction the Qilin faced was where the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral cave had always been. It must have sensed the lingering aura of its former comrades, overwhelmed by grief.
Yang Hao also looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal energy.
“Master, is that our sect’s cave?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. That cave gathers the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Cultivating there is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now… we can only steal a glance.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt an impulse to do something meaningful for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he suggested, “Master, didn’t you say that our enemy’s Nascent Soul is wandering while his physical body might be hidden in the cave? Since we’re already here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi was stunned into silence.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: the four major sword sects guarded the base, the Elder Council resided at three thousand meters, acting as additional protectors, and the Sword Tomb—where Yang Hao now stood—was at four thousand meters. Beyond that, at five thousand meters, lay the heart of Elder Mountain: the Alchemy Sect’s former cave.
In other words, Yang Hao was only a thousand meters away from that cave.
And there were no guards in between.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Both Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, weakening him before his Nascent Soul returned, making revenge possible.
But Hunyuanzi had previously believed Yang Hao wasn’t strong enough to assassinate the Supreme One’s body—it would be suicide. So he had insisted on retrieving the sword pills first. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
And now, encountering the Qilin and retrieving the Red Phoenix Sword had stirred deep emotions in both of them.
Only a thousand meters away—so close to vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters in life stem from a single moment of temptation. Once desire takes hold, one strays from the original path, only to realize at the end how far they’ve deviated.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain. Every plant and rock here was more familiar to them than the terrain below. Soon, Hunyuanzi was urging Yang Hao to hurry.
At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially since the cave’s surroundings were free of ice and snow, making the path easy.
Yang Hao soon entered the swirling immortal energy at the mountain’s peak. Strangely, this energy didn’t sting but instead flowed into his body, replenishing the sword energy he had expended earlier.
Hunyuanzi had been right—cultivating in the Alchemy Sect’s cave truly accelerated progress.
But Yang Hao couldn’t shake his confusion. The Supreme One’s status in the Galactic Empire was godlike. With the true gods sealed away and ascended immortals long gone, he was the only remaining immortal and the empire’s founder. His physical body should be heavily guarded. Yet beyond three thousand meters, there had been no defenses.
As if answering his doubts, the moment Yang Hao reached the peak, disaster struck.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, carrying strange energy as they aimed for Yang Hao’s vital points.
Unlike the swords in the Sword Tomb, which belonged to the Sword Master and lacked power, these were wielded by swordmasters themselves. The silent attackers had only one goal: to kill Yang Hao on the spot.
Brutal. Cold.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air. He had assumed there were no defenses above three thousand meters and was unprepared for combat. The sudden onslaught formed a deadly net, nearly trapping him.
He could only evade using the Light Shadow Steps, but the technique drained him quickly. He reappeared on the other side of the cliff, panting.
The swordmasters adjusted without a word, charging again.
Something felt off.
These opponents were different.
Previous enemies—whether swordmasters or martial artists—had adhered to outdated formalities, announcing their reasons before killing or waiting for both sides to prepare.
But these men were like killing machines. Clad in black armor with black swords, they didn’t speak. Their eyes and movements had one purpose: murder.
They were terrifying—far worse than the Ten Sword Stream.
Yang Hao had never feared the Ten Sword Stream’s swordmasters, who cared about appearances and graceful techniques. But these black-clad warriors chilled him to the bone. They felt less like people and more like blocks of ice—colder than the Dark Assassins.
So Yang Hao unleashed his strongest sword technique.
The second-tier attack skill: **”Explosive Surge!”**
Flames engulfed him as he plummeted like a comet into the black-clad crowd. The moment their swords struck, an earth-shattering explosion erupted.
The scorching heat of celestial fire crackled through the air, spreading like a venomous dragon. The attackers, refusing to retreat, were consumed. In an instant, dozens of swordmasters were reduced to blackened skeletons.
This was Yang Hao’s second time using Explosive Surge. The first had slain a hundred demonic beasts. But today, it was living people. Even in self-defense, the power of the sword pills horrified him. A second-tier technique had killed dozens of swordmasters—what could higher-tier skills do?
“Move quickly!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion had shaken the mountain. If they didn’t hurry, the sects below would notice.
Yang Hao looked up, ready to enter the cave—then froze.
There was no cave at the peak. Only a small, rocky hill. The multicolored immortal energy seeped from within it. Yang Hao circled but found no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was our cave destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If the Alchemy Sect’s cave were that easy to enter, it’d be a tourist spot. The cave is sealed—rocks and barriers make it impenetrable. No outside force can breach it, not even sound. It’s a completely isolated world.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the incantation to open the cave. Placing his hand on the rocky surface, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s energy into the stone. The surrounding immortal energy responded, swirling around him and flowing into his dantian to strengthen him.
As Yang Hao recited the incantation, milky-white immortal energy gushed from the cracks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a millennium ago now parted for Yang Hao.
The massive rocks slid aside, releasing a hurricane of pure immortal energy. At the cave’s entrance, the words “Alchemy Dual Cultivation Cave” were still carved in ancient script.
Yang Hao hesitated for a few seconds before stepping inside.
He didn’t know it yet, but this step would lead him into the greatest crisis of his life.
The most terrifying, painful, and unbearable crisis yet.
What lay inside the cave?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had speculated. The best-case scenario was the Supreme One’s body, allowing Hunyuanzi to exact half his revenge.
Or perhaps they were wrong—maybe the cave was empty, untouched for a thousand years like the Sword Tomb.
Even then, as the Alchemy Sect’s former stronghold, there might be treasures or elixirs left behind, aiding Yang Hao’s future cultivation.
But they never imagined that the Alchemy Sect’s sealed cave, closed for a millennium, would be filled with people.
Amid the dense immortal energy, deep within the thousand-foot cave, stood over twenty individuals. When the cave opened from the outside, they were equally shocked.
Their surprise was understandable—this cave’s entrance should have been impossible for anyone else to unlock.
Yang Hao instinctively rushed in, and the people inside froze.
Time seemed to stop as both sides stared at each other.
The standoff didn’t last. Hunyuanzi snapped out of it first—this was his home. Every inch was familiar, especially one sight deep inside that tore at his heart.
“He’s here!” Hunyuanzi suddenly roared. “His body is here!!! Kill him! KILL!!!”
Hunyuanzi ignored the other twenty people, focusing solely on the cave’s depths. On a jade ice bed rested a physical body.
The body sat cross-legged, radiating immortal light despite lacking a Nascent Soul. Its appearance was flawless—smooth as a baby’s skin, long black hair cascading over snow-white robes. It looked like a perfected immortal in middle age.
But this was the man who had destroyed the Alchemy Sect a thousand years ago. The Supreme One—the empire’s founder, the immortal who had unified Earth’s sects, sealed the gods, and built the Galactic Empire.
Now, this legendary figure’s body was mere steps away from Yang Hao. So close that Hunyuanzi almost believed a single strike could reduce it to dust.
Could it really?
Yang Hao didn’t think so. In fact, he was beginning to despair. While Hunyuanzi saw only his millennia-old enemy, Yang Hao took in the cave’s full scene—and the strength of those twenty individuals.
His heart sank into an abyss.
He knew he had made a terrible mistake. This wasn’t an opportunity for revenge—it was a trap. One that would leave him with no chance of escape.
“Assassin!!!” A shrill cry pierced the air, driving a fatal nail into Yang Hao’s heart.
Who were these twenty people in the cave?
Yang Hao recognized none of them, but their power alone was enough to terrify him.
Closest to him were six knights in snow-white armor. In this era, knights were rare, but these rode towering white lions. Their leader, clad in crystalline armor, had delicate features—almost feminine—and held a silver spear.
This was the Snow Lion Cavalry’s captain.
As if to answer Yang Hao’s question, an unexpected incident occurred just as he reached the summit.
Dozens of swords appeared from nowhere, carrying strange energy, and stabbed toward Yang Hao’s vital points.
These swords were different from those in the sword burial ground. The swords there were all Yuanlao swords—numerous but not very powerful. But these swords were wielded by sword masters. Dozens of sword masters suddenly appeared without a word, their sole aim being to kill Yang Hao instantly.
Fierce and ruthless.
Yang Hao vanished into the air. He had assumed there would be no defenses above 3,000 meters, so he wasn’t mentally prepared for a fight. The sudden appearance of so many killers formed a deadly net, nearly killing him.
Yang Hao could only dodge using his Light Flow Shadow Steps, but soon reappeared on the other side of the cliff. This divine technique consumed a lot of energy and could only be sustained briefly.
The dozens of sword masters, realizing their first strike had missed, still didn’t speak. They adjusted their direction and attacked Yang Hao again.
At this moment, Yang Hao felt something was off.
His opponents seemed different from any he had encountered before.
In the past, whenever Yang Hao faced sword master groups or martial arts groups, they would follow some outdated old rules, such as declaring the reason for killing before attacking, or waiting for both sides to take positions before engaging in battle—utterly outdated.
But the people he faced today were different. His first impression was that they were like killing machines. Each sword master wore black soft armor, and their swords were black as well. They didn’t speak at all, and their eyes and actions had only one purpose—killing.
These were terrifying opponents, much more fearsome than the Ten Sword Streams.
Yang Hao had never feared the Ten Sword Stream sword masters because those people valued appearances and still cared about elegant sword techniques. But the sword masters before him now made Yang Hao feel fear. He felt as if he were facing not living people, but blocks of black ice, colder than the Dark Assassin Corps.
So Yang Hao could only immediately use his strongest sword technique.
The second-tier attack sword technique, “Imminent Explosion!”
Flames surrounded Yang Hao like a comet falling into the crowd of black-clothed figures. As those people risked their lives to attack, a deafening explosion occurred.
The high temperature of the heavenly fire crackled in the air, spreading in all directions like a venomous dragon. Those black-clothed figures attacked without retreating, naturally being engulfed by the flames. Dozens of sword masters were burned into blackened skeletons in an instant.
This was the second time Yang Hao had used the Flame Explosion. The first time, he had killed over a hundred magical beasts, but today he had killed living humans. Even though he was forced to act, Yang Hao couldn’t help feeling shocked. The power unleashed by the sword pill was truly unimaginable. Just a second-tier sword technique could kill dozens of sword masters in one strike. How much more terrifying would higher-level techniques be?
“Alright, hurry up and act!” Hunyuanzi urged, snapping Yang Hao out of his daze. The massive explosion had already shaken the mountain. If they didn’t act quickly, the sword sects below would soon detect something amiss.
Yang Hao looked up, intending to enter the abode, but was stunned.
Where was the Dan Ding Sect’s abode at the mountain peak? There was only a small hill-like rock formation here. The five-colored immortal energy swirling earlier had all leaked from this rocky hill. Yang Hao circled around it but found no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Could our abode have been blown up?”
Hunyuanzi burst into laughter. “If the Dan Ding Sect’s abode were that easy to enter, it would have become a tourist attraction. This abode is usually sealed, with rocks and barriers completely isolating it. External forces can’t penetrate it, and not even sound can enter. It’s entirely separated into two different worlds.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the incantation to enter the abode. Yang Hao followed the instructions, placing his hand on the rock wall of the hill and slowly infusing the Dan Ding Sect’s true energy into the stone. Indeed, the swirling immortal energy around responded, gathering around Yang Hao and flowing into his dantian to enhance his true energy.
Yang Hao recited the incantation again.
Suddenly, a stream of milky-white immortal energy gushed from the crevices of the rocks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a thousand years ago finally opened for Yang Hao as well. The massive stone blocks slowly moved aside, and thick, pure immortal energy surged toward Yang Hao like a hurricane. At the top of the abode, the solemn characters “Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Abode” were still carved.
Yang Hao stood stunned for a few seconds before instinctively taking a step into the abode.
He didn’t know that this step was leading him into the greatest crisis of his life.
The most terrifying, the most painful, and the most unbearable crisis.
What was inside the abode?
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to eat these, the forces within these two main pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It would create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian would instantly lose all its power, requiring a slow replenishment of vitality to recover—if recovery is even possible at all.”
“So they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be wasted?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to mess around with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao grumbled inwardly—it seemed like the Alchemy Sect’s pill refining was all about reckless experimentation, yet now he was being lectured on seriousness. But on a day like today, he didn’t dare argue with his master. He obediently stored the two main pills in his alchemy pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi hadn’t mentioned it, Yang Hao wisely sheathed the Crimson Tomb Sword behind his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left exposed to the elements in this Sword Tomb any longer.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised by how smoothly things had gone. His mood lightened as he glanced down at the thousand-foot abyss below, shrouded in mist, and the thunder barrier above. He didn’t dare slack off and jump down recklessly, so he retraced his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
As he reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had already spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Ah, Qilin’er is as stubborn as I am,” Hunyuanzi sighed, realizing the direction the Qilin faced was where the Alchemy Sect’s ancestral cave once stood. It must have sensed the lingering aura of its former comrades, overwhelmed by grief.
Yang Hao looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal energy.
“Master, is that our Alchemy Sect’s cave?” Yang Hao asked.
“Indeed. That cave gathers the essence of heaven and earth. Cultivating there is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now, we can only steal a glance from afar.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt an urge to do something meaningful for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he proposed, “Master, didn’t you say that enemy’s primordial spirit is wandering while his physical body might still be hidden in the cave? Since we’re already here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi hesitated but remained silent.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: the four major sword sects guarded the base, the Elder Council resided at the three-thousand-meter mark, and the Sword Tomb—where Yang Hao now stood—was at four thousand meters. Beyond that, at five thousand meters, lay the heart of Elder Mountain: the Alchemy Sect’s former cave.
Yang Hao was now just a thousand meters away from that cave.
And there were no guards in between.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Both Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, stripping him of half his power before his primordial spirit returned.
But Hunyuanzi had previously believed Yang Hao wasn’t yet strong enough to assassinate the Supreme One’s body—it would be suicide. So he had insisted on retrieving the sword pills first. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
Now, encountering the Qilin and retrieving the Crimson Tomb Sword had reignited their grief and fury.
Only a thousand meters away—so close to vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters in life stem from a single impulsive decision. Once desire takes hold, one strays from their original path, only realizing at the end how far they’ve deviated.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain. Every blade of grass, every tree here was more familiar to them than anything below. Soon, Hunyuanzi was urging Yang Hao to hurry.
At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially since the cave’s surroundings were free of ice and snow, making the path easy.
Yang Hao soon entered the swirling immortal energy at the peak. Strangely, this energy didn’t sting but instead flowed into his body, replenishing the sword energy he’d expended earlier.
Hunyuanzi hadn’t lied—the Alchemy Sect’s cave truly accelerated cultivation.
Yet Yang Hao found it odd. The Supreme One was revered like a god in the Galactic Empire. With the true divine races sealed away and ascended immortals long gone, he was the sole remaining immortal and the empire’s founder. His physical body should be heavily guarded. So why were there no defenses beyond the three-thousand-meter mark?
As if answering his doubts, an ambush struck the moment he reached the peak.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, imbued with eerie power, aiming for Yang Hao’s vital points.
Unlike the Sword Tomb’s ownerless flying swords, these were wielded by swordmasters. The silent assassins appeared without warning, their sole intent to kill Yang Hao on the spot.
Brutal. Cold.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air. He hadn’t expected defenses beyond three thousand meters and was caught off guard. The sudden onslaught formed a deadly net, nearly ensnaring him.
Only the Light-Flowing Shadow Steps saved him, but the technique drained him quickly. He reappeared on the cliff’s opposite side.
The swordmasters adjusted without a word and lunged again.
Something felt off.
These opponents were different—unlike the rigid, rule-bound swordmasters Yang Hao had faced before, these were killing machines. Clad in black armor, wielding black swords, they moved with a singular purpose: murder.
They terrified Yang Hao more than the Ten Sword Streams ever had.
He had no choice but to unleash his strongest technique.
The second-tier offensive sword art—”Blazing Detonation!”
Flames engulfed Yang Hao like a comet, crashing into the black-clad assassins. A cataclysmic explosion erupted as they struck.
The inferno’s heat crackled through the air, spreading like a venomous dragon. The assassins, refusing to retreat, were consumed instantly, reduced to charred skeletons.
This was Yang Hao’s second time using Blazing Detonation. The first had slain hundreds of demonic beasts—this time, living people. Even in self-defense, the sword pill’s power horrified him. A second-tier technique had killed dozens of swordmasters. What could higher-tier techniques achieve?
“Move, now!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion’s shockwaves would alert the sects below.
Yang Hao looked up, ready to enter the cave—but froze.
The peak held no cave, only a rocky mound leaking multicolored immortal energy. There was no entrance.
“What’s going on?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was our cave destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If the Alchemy Sect’s cave were so easily accessible, it’d be a tourist spot. The cave is sealed—rock and barrier isolating it completely. No outside force, not even sound, can penetrate. It’s a world apart.”
Hunyuanzi taught Yang Hao the entrance incantation. Placing his hand on the rocky mound, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s dual-cultivation energy into the stone. The immortal energy responded, swirling around him and flowing into his dantian.
As he recited the incantation, milky-white energy surged from the cracks. The door that had opened for Hunyuanzi a millennium ago now parted for Yang Hao.
The massive stones slid aside, releasing a hurricane of pure immortal energy. At the cave’s apex, the words “Alchemy Dual-Cultivation Cave” were carved in solemn script.
Yang Hao hesitated, then stepped inside.
He didn’t realize it then, but this step led him toward the greatest crisis of his life—one that would be terrifying, agonizing, and unbearable.
What lay inside?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had speculated. The best-case scenario: the Supreme One’s body, allowing Hunyuanzi to exact half his revenge.
Or perhaps they were wrong—the cave might be empty, untouched for a millennium like the Sword Tomb.
Even if looted, remnants of treasures or elixirs could aid Yang Hao’s cultivation.
But they never imagined the Alchemy Sect’s sealed cave would be filled with people.
Amid the radiant immortal energy, deep within the thousand-foot cavern, stood over twenty figures. Stunned by the cave’s sudden opening, they stared back.
Yang Hao froze.
So did they.
The standoff lasted only moments before Hunyuanzi snapped back to reality. This was his home—every inch familiar. One sight in particular tore at his soul.
“He’s here!” Hunyuanzi roared. “His body is here!!! Kill him! KILL!!!”
Ignoring the others, Hunyuanzi focused on the cave’s depths, where a jade bed held a seated figure.
The body radiated immortal light, flawless as an infant’s skin, draped in snow-white robes, black hair cascading over its shoulders. A perfected immortal in appearance.
Yet this was Hunyuanzi’s mortal enemy—the man who had eradicated the Alchemy Sect, the Supreme One worshipped by the empire.
The founder of the Galactic Empire, the one who unified Earth’s sects and sealed the divine races—his physical form was now a mere hundred paces away.
Could Yang Hao really destroy it with a single strike?
Yang Hao doubted it. Despair crept in. While Hunyuanzi fixated on vengeance, Yang Hao assessed the twenty-odd figures in the cave.
His heart sank into an abyss.
He had made a terrible mistake. This wasn’t an opportunity—it was a trap, one he might never escape.
“Assassin!!!” A shrill cry pierced the air, sealing Yang Hao’s fate.
Who were these people?
Yang Hao recognized none, but their power alone was terrifying.
Nearest were six snow-white knights astride towering lions. Their leader, clad in crystalline armor, wielded a silver spear—the Snowlion Knight Regiment’s captain.
(Note: The translation continues beyond this point, but due to length constraints, it has been truncated. The full translation would follow the same style, maintaining the original’s tone, pacing, and nuances while adapting cultural references for clarity in English.)
Of course, there was also the possibility that their judgment was wrong, and the abode contained nothing at all. Or perhaps, over the past thousand years, this abode, like the sword burial ground, had remained completely untouched.
This would still benefit Yang Hao, as it was the Dan Ding Sect’s ancestral home. Even if it had been raided, there might still be some treasures or spiritual herbs left, which would greatly aid his future cultivation.
But they had never imagined that inside the Dan Ding Dual Cultivation Sect’s abode, which had been sealed for a thousand years, there were actually people.
Within the thick, radiant immortal energy, deep within the abode’s expanse of a thousand feet, stood over twenty people. When they saw the abode being opened from the outside, they were also startled.
Their shock was natural, for the abode’s secrecy meant that, in this world, no one else should have been able to open it.
Yang Hao instinctively rushed into this forbidden area, while the people inside were also momentarily stunned.
The two groups stood frozen, as if time had stopped.
This situation didn’t last long. Hunyuanzi was the first to regain his senses. After all, this was his old home, every inch familiar to him. Especially the scene deep within the abode, which caused him unbearable anguish.
“He’s really here!” Hunyuanzi suddenly roared. “He’s here! His physical body is here!!! Kill him! Kill!!!”
Hunyuanzi completely ignored the other twenty or so people standing in the abode and fixed his gaze on the farthest depths, where a physical body was enshrined on a bed of cold jade ice.
This physical body sat cross-legged on the bed. Though clearly lacking the aura of a Yuan Ying, it still radiated immortal energy, majestic and awe-inspiring. The body’s exterior was refined and complete, its skin as delicate as a baby’s, with long black hair cascading over its shoulders, dressed in white robes as pure as snow. It looked exactly like a middle-aged immortal who had achieved ultimate cultivation.
“Hmph, if anyone dares to be reckless enough to consume them, the forces within these two main pills will collide and explode instantly,” Hunyuanzi mused for a moment. “It will create… what you call a wormhole, distorting space and flinging the person far, far away. Moreover, the cultivator’s dantian will instantly lose all its energy, requiring a slow replenishment of vitality to recover—or they might never recover at all.”
“You mean they’d become a cripple?” Yang Hao froze for a second. “If the dantian is emptied, wouldn’t all their previous training be for nothing?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to be cautious. Cultivation isn’t something to mess around with!” Hunyuanzi roared.
Yang Hao muttered to himself, thinking that the Alchemy Sect’s pill-making methods seemed pretty reckless too. But today wasn’t the day to argue with his master, so he obediently stored the two main pills in his alchemy pouch, securing them carefully.
Though Hunyuanzi didn’t mention it, Yang Hao wisely sheathed the Red Phoenix Sword behind his back. This was his master’s wife’s flying sword, a token of love from Hunyuanzi’s past. It couldn’t be left exposed to the elements in the Sword Tomb any longer.
Having accomplished his mission, Yang Hao was surprised by how smoothly things had gone, lifting his spirits. He glanced down at the thousand-foot cliff shrouded in mist and the thunder barrier above. Jumping down wasn’t an option, so he had to retrace his steps through the Sword Tomb’s exit.
As Yang Hao reached the entrance, he saw the Sword Spirit still curled up in a corner, wailing at a spot in the sky. Its tears had spread like molten lava across the ground.
“Sigh. The Qilin is as stubborn as I am,” Hunyuanzi remarked, noticing the direction the Qilin faced—the Alchemy Sect’s former cave abode. It was grieving the lost presence of its brethren.
Yang Hao looked up and spotted a gray area shimmering with multicolored immortal energy. “Master, is that our Alchemy Sect’s cave abode?” he asked.
“Indeed. This cave gathers the essence of heaven and earth. Cultivating here is a thousand times more effective than anywhere else,” Hunyuanzi sighed. “But now, we can only steal a glance.”
Moved by the Qilin’s sorrow, Yang Hao felt a sudden urge to do something for the Alchemy Sect. After a moment’s thought, he proposed, “Master, didn’t you say the enemy’s Nascent Soul is wandering while his physical body might be hidden in the cave? Since we’re here, why not go up and destroy it?”
Hunyuanzi hesitated but remained silent.
He had considered this before. The layout of Elder Mountain was simple: guarded by the Four Great Sword Sects at the base, the Elder Council at three thousand meters, and the Sword Tomb at four thousand meters—where Yang Hao now stood. Five thousand meters up was the heart of Elder Mountain, the Alchemy Sect’s former cave abode.
Yang Hao was now just a thousand meters away from it, with no defenses in between.
This was a rare opportunity. Both Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had risked coming to Earth not just for the sword pills but also to destroy the Supreme One’s body, halving his power upon his return and avenging their sect.
But Hunyuanzi had previously deemed Yang Hao too weak for such a mission, insisting they focus on retrieving the sword pills. Neither had expected today’s mission to go so smoothly.
Now, with the Qilin’s grief and the Red Phoenix Sword in hand, their resolve wavered. A mere thousand meters stood between them and vengeance. Though silent, Hunyuanzi was tempted.
Most disasters stem from a moment’s temptation. Once desire takes hold, one strays from their path, only realizing their mistake at the journey’s end.
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi began ascending the mountain, familiar with every blade of grass. Soon, Hunyuanzi urged Yang Hao to hurry. At their level, a thousand meters was nothing, especially with the cave’s vicinity free of ice and snow.
Yang Hao soon entered the immortal energy swirling at the peak. Strangely, this energy didn’t harm him but instead replenished his expended sword energy, proving Hunyuanzi’s claim about the cave’s benefits.
Yang Hao found it odd. The Supreme One, revered as a god in the Galactic Empire, should have his body heavily guarded. Yet beyond three thousand meters, there were no defenses.
As if answering his doubts, an ambush struck as he reached the peak.
Dozens of swords materialized from nowhere, aimed at his vitals with eerie precision. Unlike the Sword Tomb’s ownerless blades, these were wielded by silent, black-clad swordsmen whose sole intent was to kill.
Yang Hao vanished into thin air, unprepared for the sudden attack. The assassins’ coordinated strikes formed a deadly net, forcing him to rely on his Light Shadow Steps to evade. But the technique was draining, offering only brief respite.
The swordsmen adjusted without a word, relentless in their pursuit.
Yang Hao sensed something amiss. These foes were unlike any he’d faced—no pre-battle speeches, no honor-bound rules. They were killing machines, colder than the Dark Moon Assassins.
Fear gripped him. These weren’t opponents but blocks of black ice, devoid of humanity.
He unleashed his strongest technique: the second-tier attack sword, “Flame Burst!”
Fire engulfed him like a comet, crashing into the assassins. The ensuing explosion incinerated them instantly, leaving only charred bones.
This was his second use of Flame Burst—first against beasts, now against men. The power terrified him. If a second-tier technique could do this, what horrors lay in higher tiers?
“Move quickly!” Hunyuanzi snapped Yang Hao out of his daze. The explosion would alert the sects below.
Yang Hao looked up, expecting the cave abode, but found only a rocky hill emitting the immortal energy. There was no entrance.
“Where’s the cave?” Yang Hao scratched his head. “Was it destroyed?”
Hunyuanzi laughed. “If it were that easy to enter, it’d be a tourist spot. The cave is sealed by rock and barriers, impervious to outside forces—even sound.”
He taught Yang Hao the entrance incantation. Placing his hand on the rock, Yang Hao channeled the Alchemy Sect’s energy, drawing the immortal essence into his dantian.
As he chanted, milky energy erupted from the rocks. The door that once opened for Hunyuanzi now parted for Yang Hao, revealing the Alchemy Dual Cultivation Cave, its name carved above.
Yang Hao hesitated, then stepped inside.
Little did he know, this step would lead him into the greatest crisis of his life—one that was terrifying, painful, and unbearable.
What lay within?
Yang Hao and Hunyuanzi had speculated. The best-case scenario: the Supreme One’s body, allowing half their revenge. Worst case: an empty cave or remnants of the sect’s treasures.
But they never imagined the cave, sealed for a millennium, would be filled with people.
Amid the radiant energy stood over twenty figures, stunned by the intrusion. Their shock mirrored Yang Hao’s—no one else should know how to open the cave.
Time seemed to freeze as both sides stared.
Hunyuanzi recovered first, his gaze locking onto the cave’s depths. “He’s here!” he roared. “His body is here! Kill him! KILL!!”
Ignoring the others, Hunyuanzi focused on the figure seated on a jade bed—a man with flawless skin, black hair, and snow-white robes, exuding an aura of perfection.
This was the Supreme One, Hunyuanzi’s nemesis, the destroyer of the Alchemy Sect, the founder of the Galactic Empire.
Just a hundred steps away, his body seemed within reach, vulnerable to a single strike.
But Yang Hao saw the truth. The twenty figures in the cave weren’t just bystanders—they were powerhouses, their strength chilling him to the core.
This wasn’t an opportunity for revenge but a trap, one that would leave him with no escape.
“Assassin!!” a voice shrieked, sealing Yang Hao’s fate.
Who were these people?
Yang Hao recognized none, but their might was undeniable.
Nearest were six knights in white, riding majestic lions. Their leader, clad in crystal armor, was strikingly androgynous, wielding a silver spear—the captain of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps.
The others? Their identities were irrelevant. Their collective power was enough to doom Yang Hao.
Today, he had walked into his own demise.
This physical body’s owner had unified Earth’s cultivation sects, sealed and restrained the divine race, and created the legendary feat of establishing the Galactic Empire. Such a legendary great immortal was now only a hundred steps away from Yang Hao, so close that Hunyuanzi had an illusion—as if with just one sword strike, Yang Hao could reduce this immortal’s physical body to dust.
Was it really possible?
Yang Hao didn’t think so. In fact, he had already begun to despair. In Hunyuanzi’s eyes, there was only his thousand-year-old enemy. But Yang Hao had already seen everything inside the abode, clearly assessing the strength of those twenty or so people.
Yang Hao’s heart sank, plunging into an abyss with no bottom.
He knew he had come at the wrong time. He had come at a terribly wrong time. This was not a good opportunity for revenge, but a trap—a real one that would leave him with no chance of recovery.
“Intruder!!!” A sharp scream pierced the air, driving another nail of doom into Yang Hao’s heart.
Who were the twenty-odd people inside the abode?
Yang Hao didn’t recognize any of them, but the power radiating from these strangers was enough to make him tremble with fear.
The nearest were six knights clad in snow-white armor. In this age, there were naturally no knights of old, but these few rode tall, white lions. The one at the forefront wore a suit of snow-white crystal armor, with rosy lips and white teeth, a very beautiful face, and a tall, straight figure, slightly effeminate in appearance. This knight, wielding a silver spear, was the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps.
This was the most elite and special unit within the royal guard—the Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry. They claimed to be the last knights in the world, riding upon rare mystical beasts known as Snow Night Star Lions. Due to the rarity of these creatures, these knights held status akin to dragon riders.
The Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry had been present when Yang Hao defeated the Beast Heart Sword Group. The knight clad in crystalline white armor leading them today was none other than their commander, Lan Ling. A mere glance revealed that this commander possessed strength nearly equal to a sword saint, and the knights behind him had already surpassed the level of grand sword masters.
Yet, this was merely the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry stood a group of eight black-clad swordsmen. These swordsmen, just like those Yang Hao had encountered previously, had cold expressions and eyes filled only with the gleam of murder. They were emotionless, heartless creatures whose sole purpose was to kill.
These eight black-cloaked swordsmen were not particularly fearsome; the real terror lay in their leader—a robed old man dressed in black, his robe embroidered with the imperial crest. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his hands were hidden within his sleeves, giving the impression that he might cough violently at the slightest chill, collapsing at any moment.
Yet Yang Hao felt an immense fear toward this old man, a fear far surpassing his dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry and the black-cloaked assassins combined. The reason was simple—Yang Hao could not even begin to fathom the old man’s strength. He seemed like a swirling mass of black mist, or a black hole devouring all light, emitting no trace of power whatsoever. The absence of any detectable energy only made him more unfathomable.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the royal guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there watching. The leader today, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the captain of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this captain already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad swordsmen. These swordsmen, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold expressions and eyes filled only with murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad swordsmen are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the royal insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified—his fear of this old man far exceeds the combined dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, or a black hole that devours light, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks any martial skill. Not even the presiding elders, nor even the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has always remained hidden within the palace.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat power, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another person—one bathed in light.
This man wears military attire adorned with royal insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense that it is almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this radiant man remained motionless. He continued to face away from the entrance, prostrating himself in worship before the Supreme One on the jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have despaired. Because even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could at least escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay deeper inside—around the Supreme One’s physical body stood nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with enlightenment, having long achieved mastery in their cultivation.
The nine presiding elders of the Elder Council.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe after the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of power in the Galactic Empire—all of them had appeared in this cave, right before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a man in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The voice threw the entire cave into chaos.
That was none other than Elder Blackwind, one of the nine presiding elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who was now shouting “Assassin!” the loudest, feigning the most shock and alarm among everyone present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword, the treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao was appointed to Earth, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly conveyed a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed for the time being.
This message forced the nine presiding elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beastheart Sword Regiment in one fell swoop and even taking their four dragons for himself was another.
This was beyond bold—it was outright defiance of the Elder Council.
The nine presiding elders could no longer endure it and prepared to move against Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the ten directors of the Merchant Guild, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders.
From then on, things spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before a million nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s top sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were completely marginalized, and the Elder Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders finally decided to ignore the Supreme One’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Guild’s ten directors, his death at the hands of the presiding elders would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the guild. Killing one of their directors was tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole support the Merchant Guild had given him.
Thus, the presiding elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be clearly in the wrong, so egregiously that the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor even protect themselves.
This was a scheme to kill two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind used Yang Hao’s secret noble contacts to spread news of the elders’ excursion, drawing him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he was as good as dead—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Guild, would applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was bitter. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he really were a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his secret noble contacts? It had all been deliberately leaked by the enemy.
The Elder Council’s collective outing? With all nine presiding elders here, the rest of the council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was impeccable.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward. Shadowmoon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a deadly trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait to lure Yang Hao in—they were determined to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadowmoon shot forward like a phantom. This was the first-tier sword technique of assassination—”Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One outright; he only hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
But Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfolding a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single spear thrust, “Blood Ambush” was completely shattered. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the nine elders’ theatrical performance and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, shooting toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes turned to dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions nearby to retreat. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes flickered with spiritual light. His spear trembled, and several solid milky-white energy beams emerged. Then, his silver spear split into twelve, clashing with Yang Hao’s Shadowmoon.
Boom!!
Shadowmoon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that instant, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy beams had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild directors’ slip of the tongue—they had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire had far more than three, with many hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a striking viper.
Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way—not a spear before him, but an endless, energy-rich galaxy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Twisting his body, Yang Hao deliberately left an opening, allowing the spear to pierce his shoulder. A chunk of flesh tore away with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to charge forward, breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense while Lan Ling’s spear was still extended.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. To Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s physical form. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The radiant old man, still calmly worshiping the Supreme One amid the chaos, blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the golden-glowing elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The nine presiding elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many important figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng hadn’t wanted to intervene. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was heading straight for the exalted figure at the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme One’s body remained motionless, utterly unconcerned about the assassination attempt—despite having shouted “Assassin!” the loudest earlier.
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, and sent it crashing toward the mighty Flame Dragon.
For this man was none other than Qin Feng, the most mysterious and formidable expert in the Galactic Empire, and the supreme commander of the imperial guards who had remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having lived within the palace for decades without ever revealing his strength, Qin Feng had trained an elite guard force of immense power—so powerful that even the Ten Sword Streams dared not provoke them lightly.
Known as the Empire’s foremost secret expert, no one would ever dare to question his abilities.
Behind Qin Feng stood another figure, one bathed in radiant light.
This figure wore full military regalia, adorned with imperial insignias from head to toe. A slender longsword hung at his waist, and though he appeared slightly younger than Qin Feng, streaks of gray already laced his hair.
Yet this man was the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng was a black hole emitting no light, this man radiated brilliance like the sun itself, his body exuding actual glowing auras so intense they were nearly blinding.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is extremely scarce in number. As a result, these knights hold a status as lofty as dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader clad in snow-crystal white armor is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying ones—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than he is of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad assassins combined. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare to assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander Qin Feng, who has always remained hidden within the palace.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, to the point where even the Ten Sword Schools dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare to doubt him.
Behind Qin Feng stands another person—a man bathed in light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though his hair is already streaked with gray.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense that it’s nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this radiant figure remained motionless. He continued to stand with his back to the entrance, bowing reverently toward the Supreme One’s jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle any disturbance behind him without fail.
If Yang Hao had only seen these people up to this point, he might not have felt despair. Even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could still escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay deeper inside—around the Supreme One’s physical body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery, having long achieved great cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe after the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all of them were now present in this cave, standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a black-clad figure, suddenly shouted:
“Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who was now shouting “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated shock and alarm among everyone present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Corps, on Saint Bear Star and seized the Gravity Sword—the treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed for the time being.
This message forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Corps and even taking their four dragons for himself?
That was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it. They prepared to move against Yang Hao.
But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Grand Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were completely marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was more than half ruined by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders finally decided to ignore the Supreme One’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Grand Directors, the elders could easily kill him, but the inevitable backlash from the Merchant Alliance—losing a director—would be tantamount to declaring all-out war.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master corps, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole support the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would set a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into certain death while ensuring he was the one at fault, with a mistake so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even protect themselves.
A trap that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ travels to lure him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, he was doomed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was bitter. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all nine elders here, the rest of the Council could perish for all they cared.
And these nine fiends, standing there, still had the gall to act shocked and cry “Assassin!”—what a flawless performance.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s physical form.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, meaning they were determined to kill him.
If death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
Shadow Moon streaked forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One outright. He only hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
A single spear thrust shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the elders’ theatrical shock and strike before they could react.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat several steps. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move—unless he was on par with Sword Saints like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes flickered with spiritual light. His spear trembled, and several solid milky-white energy beams emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the empire had far more than three, with many others hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear shot toward Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent.
For an instant, Yang Hao saw not a spear but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich river of stars stretching from Lan Ling’s hand to his throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing shriek.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to surge forward, breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense while Lan Ling’s spear was still extended.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s body. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another obstacle—the radiant old man, still calmly bowing to the Supreme One despite the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward this luminous figure.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a lowly scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward the most revered figure present. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine elders beside the Supreme One’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, which he then thrust toward the oncoming Flame Dragon.
Each time he bowed, golden light surged from his body. He remained utterly focused, undisturbed by whatever chaos unfolded behind him, fully confident that Qin Feng would handle any threat.
If Yang Hao had only encountered these people, he might not have felt completely hopeless. Even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could still attempt to flee.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the imperial guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding atop a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, whose numbers are extremely scarce. Thus, these knights hold a status as lofty as dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. The leader today, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures, whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man clad in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than the combined threat of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare to assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as radiant as the sun, his body overflowing with brilliance, making it nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cavern, shocking everyone present, this luminous figure remained unmoved. He continued to stand with his back to the entrance, devoutly bowing before the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed.
Each bow caused golden light to surge from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle any disturbances behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have despaired. Even if he couldn’t defeat these opponents, he could still escape.
But the true horror lay deeper—around the Supreme Sovereign’s body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine most powerful figures in the universe aside from the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all now stood before Yang Hao in this cavern.
And then—
One of them, a man in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cavern into chaos.
That was none other than Elder Blackwind, one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he feigned shock upon seeing Yang Hao break through the cavern’s sealed door, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now shouted “Assassin!” the loudest, pretending to be the most shocked and outraged among them.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment, on Saint Bear Star and seized the Gravity Sword, a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth for his assignment, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao’s temporary reprieve.
This forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects, establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples en masse. Not only that, he annihilated the Beastheart Sword Regiment in one fell swoop and even took control of their four dragons.
This was beyond audacious—it was outright defiance of the Council’s authority.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the Council Elders.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged merchants to duels, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s strategy of controlling star systems through noble influence was largely dismantled by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme Sovereign’s decree and kill Yang Hao once and for all.
But now, it was slightly too late.
As a Director of the Merchant Alliance, Yang Hao was no longer an easy target. While the Council Elders could kill him effortlessly, doing so would provoke the full retaliation of the Merchant Alliance. Killing one of their Directors would be tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the Council pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole protection the Merchant Alliance provided.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they devised a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into a situation where his death was inevitable, and where his actions would be so egregious that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor defend themselves.
This was a scheme to kill two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s connections with the secretive noble faction, leaking false information about the Council’s movements to lure him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cavern, he would be doomed—and after his death, even the Merchant Alliance would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitor who dared defy the heavens.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were a pig, he should have realized by now that he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from the secret noble faction? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could perish for all they cared.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned to flee now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a millennium ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, its power surging to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
If death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, he would at least have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon streaked forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign. He only hoped to tear through the defenses ahead with overwhelming force.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cavern. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, blocking Yang Hao’s path.
With a single thrust, the knight shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With his shout, Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength, like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed with spiritual light. With a flick of his spear, several solid milky-white energy beams appeared, and his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing against Shadow Moon.
Boom!
Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance Directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire harbored far more Sword Saints than publicly known, with many hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear lunged like a venomous snake, aimed straight for Yang Hao’s throat.
For an instant, Yang Hao saw not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless river of stars brimming with boundless energy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand, reaching inexorably for Yang Hao’s neck.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to surge forward, slipping past the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defenses while Lan Ling’s spear was still extended.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s body. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cavern, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another obstacle—the radiant old man, still serenely bowing to the Supreme Sovereign despite the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be aimed directly at this luminous figure.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling toward the most revered figure present. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Grand Council Elders standing motionless beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body, utterly unconcerned despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng clasped his hands, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, and struck toward the oncoming Flame Dragon.
The Nine Executive Elders of the Senate.
All of them had gathered here.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast called the Snow Night Star Lion. Due to their extreme rarity, these knights hold a status as lofty as dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was there observing the battle. The leader today, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
And this is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, all have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man clad in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad assassins combined. Because Yang Hao simply cannot gauge this old man’s strength. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest hint of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Great Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—a man bathed in light.
This man wears full military regalia, his attire adorned with imperial insignias, and carries a slender, long sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, his body radiating brilliance so intense that it’s almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this radiant man remained motionless. He continued to face away from the entrance, prostrating himself before the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed.
With each prostration, thick golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay deeper inside—around the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery, their cultivation long perfected.
The Nine Great Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe aside from the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme figures of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all of them had appeared in this cave, right before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a black-clad figure, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Great Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting “Assassin!” louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Corps, on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—the treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao had taken the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Great Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao’s temporary reprieve.
This message forced the Nine Great Council Elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Great Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Corps and even taming their four dragons for his own use was another.
This was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Great Council Elders could no longer tolerate it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Great Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Great Sword Schools were completely marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao’s actions.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders finally decided to disregard the Supreme Sovereign’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Great Directors, his death at the hands of the Council would inevitably provoke a full-scale retaliation from the merchants. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master corps, gave even the Council pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the only thing the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be unmistakably in the wrong, so egregiously that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even defend themselves without difficulty.
This was a two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind exploited the nobles in Yang Hao’s secret faction, leaking false news of the Council’s excursion to lure him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, he was as good as dead—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy with bitterness. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he really were a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his secret noble faction? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all nine elders present, the rest of the Council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was as good as finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget about destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait, meaning they were dead set on killing Yang Hao.
If death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, it would at least be partial vengeance for the Alchemy Sword School.
Shadow Moon transformed into a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single spear thrust, “Blood Ambush” was utterly shattered. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
Yet Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, shooting toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat several steps. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move unless he had Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes flickered with spiritual light. His spear trembled, and several tangible milky-white energy beams emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire had far more than three, with many others hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a striking viper.
For a moment, Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way itself—not a spear, but an endless river of stars brimming with infinite energy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to surge forward. While Lan Ling’s spear was still extended, he broke through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s body. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another man.
The radiant old man, still prostrating himself before the Supreme Sovereign despite the chaos, now blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the golden-glowing elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The Nine Great Council Elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many important figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to act. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward the most revered figure present. Qin Feng had no choice but to intervene.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Great Council Elders standing beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the revered one’s safety, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, summoning a dense black sphere in his palms, then hurled it toward the raging Flame Dragon.
Even more shocking—
One of them, dressed in black, suddenly cried out, “Assassin!!!” His voice sent the entire cave into chaos.
Of course, this was Elder Heifeng, one of the Nine Executive Elders. Upon witnessing Yang Hao actually breaking through the cave’s sealed entrance, Elder Heifeng feigned momentary shock, but inside, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap, meticulously laid especially for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this entrapment was none other than Heifeng himself, the one now shouting the loudest, appearing the most shocked and horrified among all present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delke, the leader of the Demon Bear Gang on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—the sacred treasure of the Heifeng Sword Sect. Delke was Heifeng’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been bestowed upon him by Heifeng himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Heifeng Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Streams plummeted, and their influence waned significantly. Thus, Heifeng harbored deep hatred toward Yang Hao.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold expressions and eyes filled only with murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet, Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen combined. Because Yang Hao cannot discern this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a black hole that devours light, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him all the more unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—a man bathed in light.
Dressed in military attire adorned with imperial insignias and wielding a slender sword, this man appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though his hair is already streaked with gray.
Yet, he is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as radiant as the sun, his body overflowing with brilliance to the point where it is almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this luminous figure remained unmoved. He continued to kneel with his back to the entrance, paying homage to the Supreme One on the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting completely that Qin Feng would handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still escape.
But the true horror lay deeper inside—around the Supreme One’s body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe after the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of power in the Galactic Empire—all stood before Yang Hao in this cave.
And then—
One of them, a man in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao break through the cave’s sealed entrance, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting louder than anyone else about an assassin.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao to be spared for the time being.
This message forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beastheart Sword Regiment and even taking their four dragons for himself was beyond audacious—it was outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. However, for some reason, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Guild, elevating his status to rival that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was largely dismantled by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme One’s decree and kill Yang Hao once and for all.
But by now, it was already too late. Yang Hao had become a Director of the Merchant Guild. While the Council Elders could easily kill him, doing so would provoke the full retaliation of the Merchant Guild. Killing one of their Directors would be tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master regiments, forced even the Council Elders to tread carefully.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing provided by the Merchant Guild.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they devised a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable situation, where he would be the one at fault, committing an offense so grave that even the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor protect themselves.
This was a two-birds-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind used Yang Hao’s noble informants to spread news of the Council’s movements, luring him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he would be doomed—and after his death, even the Merchant Guild would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitorous assassin who dared defy the heavens.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he would have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could perish for all they cared.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned to flee now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before being effortlessly slain by the Council Elders.
Just as the Supreme One had obliterated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadowmoon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill Yang Hao.
Since death was inevitable, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadowmoon shot forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One; he only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, blocking Yang Hao’s path.
With a single thrust, “Blood Ambush” was shattered. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike targeted Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed. His spear trembled, releasing tangible milky-white energy. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing with Shadowmoon.
Boom!
Shadowmoon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been hiding his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild Directors’ slip of the tongue—they had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire had far more than three, with many simply concealing their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent.
For a moment, Yang Hao saw not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-filled expanse stretching before him.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to charge forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s form. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another—the radiant old man, still kneeling in worship, undisturbed by the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be aimed directly at him.
Qin Feng sighed.
As the Empire’s oldest fox, he recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many important figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling toward the most revered figure in the cave. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Grand Council Elders standing beside the Supreme One’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, which he then thrust toward the raging Flame Dragon.
This message had forced the Nine Executive Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he launched repeated attacks against the Ten Sword Streams. Establishing the Dan Ding Sword Sect and recruiting aristocratic youths was bad enough, but he even annihilated the Beast Heart Sword Group entirely and recruited their four Dragon Swordsmen.
This was outright audacity—utter disregard for the authority of the Elders.
Finally, the Nine Executive Elders could no longer endure it and decided to eliminate Yang Hao. However, unexpectedly, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Councilors of the Merchant Guild, his status nearly rivaling that of the Elders.
Subsequently, events spiraled further out of the Elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants to duels and displayed his might before millions of aristocrats, ultimately establishing the Dan Ding Sword Sect as the Empire’s premier sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Streams were now completely marginalized, and the Senate’s long-standing strategy of controlling various star systems through the nobility was severely undermined.
This was truly intolerable.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in snow-white crystal armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
And this is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, all have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, almost sickly, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than he is of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins combined. Because Yang Hao simply cannot gauge this old man’s strength. He is like a swirling black mist, or a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare to assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the presiding elders, nor even the Supreme Sovereign himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, yet the imperial guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Great Sword Schools dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare to doubt him.
Behind Qin Feng stands another person—a man bathed in light.
This man is clad in military attire, his garments adorned with imperial insignias, and he carries a slender, long sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light whatsoever, this man is as dazzling as the sun, his body radiating brilliance so intense that it is almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this radiant man remained utterly unmoved. He continued to stand with his back to the entrance, paying reverent homage to the Supreme Sovereign lying upon the jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light would surge from his body. His mind was wholly focused, utterly convinced that Qin Feng would handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not yet have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still flee.
But the truly exaggerated part lay even deeper—around the Supreme Sovereign’s body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with harmony, their cultivation long since perfected.
The Nine Presiding Elders of the Elder Council.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe aside from the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of power in the Galactic Empire—all of them had appeared in this cave, all of them standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
Then one of them, a man clad in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!” His voice threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Presiding Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he feigned shock for a moment, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who now stood there shouting “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated shock and alarm among all present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—the treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School—from his hands. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s status within the Ten Great Sword Schools had plummeted, its influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored a deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed for the time being.
This message forced the Nine Presiding Elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Great Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment in one fell swoop and even taking their four dragons for himself?
This was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Elder Council.
The Nine Presiding Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to move against Yang Hao. Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Great Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders themselves.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the position of the empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Great Sword Schools were thoroughly marginalized, and the Elder Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy’s various star systems was more than half ruined by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders finally decided to disregard the Supreme Sovereign’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die, no matter what.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Great Directors, his death at the hands of the presiding elders would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the alliance. Killing one of their directors was tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with its forty sword master regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him. And that was the only thing the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the presiding elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would set a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable death, with his own actions providing the justification. His mistake would have to be so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even protect itself.
This was a high-stakes gambit with two objectives.
Elder Blackwind exploited the nobles in Yang Hao’s secret chamber, leaking false news of the elders’ excursion to lure him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, his fate would be sealed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying, treasonous assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt like an utter fool—no, worse than a fool.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now he would have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his secret chamber nobles? A deliberate leak.
The Elder Council’s collective outing? With all nine presiding elders here, the rest of the council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, still shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had, a thousand years ago, annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword stroke.
So in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one so reckless even he found it absurd.
He lunged forward.
The Shadow Moon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on this—he would destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait to lure him in—they were determined to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
The Shadow Moon became a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead with sheer force.
But Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, the spear shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—the moment he did, death would be his only outcome. He had to take advantage of the nine elders’ theatrics and catch them off guard.
So before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, shooting toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With that single word—“Break!”—Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into powder.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura so fierce that even five nearby Snow Night Star Lions recoiled several steps. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move—unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength, like Situ Hai.
A glimmer of spiritual light flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. With a flick of his spear, several tangible milky-white energy beams appeared—and then his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
The Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
At that moment, Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. In that single exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting instant, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. Clearly, the empire harbored far more than three Sword Saints. Many were simply hiding their strength for some purpose.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear, like a venomous snake, shot straight for Yang Hao’s throat.
For a moment, Yang Hao thought he saw the Milky Way—as if what stretched before him wasn’t a spear, but an endless, energy-rich galaxy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand all the way to Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized a golden opportunity. As Lan Ling’s spear thrust forward, Yang Hao surged past the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defenses.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
But Yang Hao dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was that immortal’s form. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, it would be worth it.
Yet between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The radiant old man, still serenely worshiping the Supreme Sovereign despite the chaos, blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting straight toward the light-drenched elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long seen through this trap. That the Nine Presiding Elders would stoop to such a crude scheme, dragging so many key figures into it, was beneath contempt.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Originally, Qin Feng had no intention of intervening. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward that revered figure at the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the revered one’s safety, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, and a dense black mass coalesced in his palms. He thrust it toward the raging Flame Dragon.
But now, killing Yang Hao was somewhat delayed. By this point, Yang Hao had already become one of the Merchant Guild’s Ten Councilors. While the Elders could easily eliminate him, such an act would undoubtedly provoke a full-scale retaliation from the Merchant Guild. Killing one of their councilors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Guild.
Individually, the Elders feared no one in the Empire, but the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with its forty sword groups, made even the Elders hesitate.
Yang Hao himself was not the real threat—it was the power behind him, the only thing the Merchant Guild had given him.
Thus, the Elders resolved not to kill him openly but to set a deadly trap, luring Yang Hao into a situation from which he could never escape. This trap had to be one where Yang Hao appeared to be the aggressor, and his transgression had to be grave enough that even the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor protect itself.
This was a cunning plan with a double purpose.
Elder Heifeng used one of Yang Hao’s secret noble contacts to leak false information about the Elders’ movements, luring Yang Hao here. He was fully aware that once Yang Hao stepped into the Dan Ding Sect’s cave palace, he was doomed. Even the Merchant Guild and the entire world would applaud his death.
For Yang Hao would be branded as an assassin—an unforgivable traitor.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if Yang Hao were truly a pig, by this point, he should have realized he had fallen into an inescapable abyss.
That so-called secret noble tip-off was nothing but a ruse.
That so-called group outing of the Senate—now that the Nine Executive Elders were all present, it hardly mattered if the rest of the Senate perished.
These nine fiends stood there, feigning shock and crying “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions, their acting skills impeccable.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the royal guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare beast called the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beast Heart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. The leader today, the knight in snow-white crystal armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold expressions and eyes filled only with murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
The eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the royal insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough from the cold wind at any moment and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than the combined fear he feels for the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad assassins. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, or a black hole that devours light, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the presiding elders, nor even the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—Qin Feng, the commander of the imperial guards, who has always remained hidden within the palace.
For decades, he has resided in the palace, never once making a move. Yet the imperial guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question that.
Behind Qin Feng stands another person—one bathed in light.
This man wears a military uniform adorned with royal insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though his hair is already streaked with gray.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense that it’s almost impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this radiant figure remained motionless. He continued to stand with his back to the cave entrance, paying homage to the Supreme One on the jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light would surge from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle anything that might happen behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay deeper inside—around the Supreme One’s body stood nine individuals, dressed in various colors, their faces glowing with harmony, their cultivation long perfected.
The nine presiding elders of the Elder Council.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe, second only to the Supreme One—the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—had all appeared in this cave, standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a man in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!” His voice threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Black Wind—one of the nine presiding elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he pretended to be stunned for a moment, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Black Wind, who was now shouting “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated shock and alarm among everyone present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Corps on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—the treasured heirloom of the Black Wind Sword Sect—from him. Delk was Elder Black Wind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder.
After Yang Hao took the sword, the Black Wind Sword Sect’s status within the Ten Sword Sects plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Black Wind harbored an intense hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to take up his post, Elder Black Wind had strongly advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed for the time being.
This message forced the nine presiding elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beast Heart Sword Corps and even taking their four dragons for himself was another.
This was sheer audacity—so audacious that it bordered on outright defiance of the Elder Council.
The nine presiding elders could no longer tolerate it and prepared to take action against Yang Hao. But somehow, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the ten directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the position of the empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were completely marginalized, and the Elder Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao.
This was the last straw.
The presiding elders finally decided to disregard the Supreme One’s spiritual command and kill Yang Hao at all costs.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s ten directors, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the alliance. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master corps, forced even the presiding elders to tread carefully.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—the real danger lay in the forces backing him, the only thing the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the presiding elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be clearly in the wrong, with an offense so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even protect themselves.
This was a two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Black Wind used Yang Hao’s secret chamber nobles to spread news of the elders’ excursion, drawing Yang Hao here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he would be doomed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his secret chamber nobles? It had all been deliberately leaked by the enemy.
The Elder Council’s collective outing? With all nine presiding elders here, the rest of the council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget about destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward, Shadow Moon howling as it ascended to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait to lure Yang Hao in—they were determined to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon transformed into a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Assault.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One outright. He only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead.
But Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang! Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfolding a sacred force before Yang Hao.
With a single spear thrust, “Blood Assault” was completely shattered. Yang Hao’s sword hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop. The moment he paused, death would be his only outcome. He had to take advantage of the nine elders’ theatrical performance and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks from “Blood Assault” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” the three ice spikes Yang Hao had condensed with his spiritual power disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Assault,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move—unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
A glimmer of light flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. His spear trembled, and several tangible milky-white energy strands appeared. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
At that moment, Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that single exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along. He was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting instant, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the empire had far more than three Sword Saints; many were simply hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear shot toward Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent striking from its den.
For a moment, Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way—as if what stretched before him wasn’t a spear, but an endless, energy-rich galaxy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Twisting his body, Yang Hao deliberately left an opening, allowing the spear to pierce his shoulder. A chunk of flesh tore away with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized a golden opportunity. He surged forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of Yang Hao’s injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s form. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The radiant old man, undisturbed by the chaos outside, continued his worship of the Supreme One—right in Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward this golden-glowing figure.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the empire’s oldest fox, he had long seen through this trap. The nine presiding elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Originally, Qin Feng had no intention of intervening. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was heading straight for that revered figure. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme One’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite having shouted “Assassin!” the loudest earlier.
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, and a dense black mass formed in his palms. He then sent it crashing toward the ferocious Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast called the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beast Heart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than the regiment’s commander, Lan Ling. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These swordsmen, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, all have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what is truly fearsome is their leader, an old man clad in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing fit.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than the combined dread he feels toward the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks any martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, to the point where even the Ten Sword Schools dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question that.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brightly as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense that it is nearly blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this radiant man remained unmoved. He continued to face away from the cave entrance, prostrating himself before the Supreme One’s jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. Even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could at least escape.
But the true horror lay deeper—around the Supreme One’s body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound enlightenment, masters who had long achieved greatness.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe besides the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all stood in this cave, all before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a man in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry sent the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Black Wind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he feigned shock, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Black Wind, who now screamed “Assassin!” louder than anyone else, pretending to be the most shocked and horrified.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Black Wind Sword School that Delk had wielded. Delk was Elder Black Wind’s disciple, and the sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Black Wind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Black Wind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Black Wind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly sent a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed—for now.
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but he went on to annihilate the Beast Heart Sword Regiment and even took control of their four dragons for himself.
This was sheer audacity—so bold that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s top sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were marginalized, and the Council’s strategy of controlling star systems through the nobility was largely dismantled by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme One’s decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As a Merchant Alliance Director, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the Alliance. The elders could easily kill him, but the consequences—war with the Merchant Alliance—were too severe.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole protection the Merchant Alliance had granted him.
Thus, the elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a death trap—one where he would be unmistakably in the wrong, so gravely that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor defend themselves.
A scheme that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Black Wind used Yang Hao’s noble informants to spread word of the elders’ movements, drawing him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, he was doomed—and after his death, even the Merchant Alliance would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitorous, heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were truly a fool, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The noble informant’s tip? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s collective outing? With all nine elders here, the rest of the Council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it far before the elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a millennium ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
The Shadow Moon howled, its power surging to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
If death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, he would at least have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
The Shadow Moon shot forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One; he only hoped to tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, blocking Yang Hao’s path.
A single spear thrust shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop. Pausing meant certain death. He had to exploit the elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its killing intent so fierce that even five Snow Night Star Lions nearby recoiled. This time, the strike targeted Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he had Sword Saint-level strength, like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed. His spear trembled, and several solid milky-white energy beams appeared. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!
The Shadow Moon dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. Lan Ling’s milky-white energy beams in that strike had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been hiding his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire had far more than three, with many simply concealing their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent.
Yang Hao saw not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich river stretching toward him.
The silver streak from Lan Ling’s hand aimed straight for his throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hiss.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the chance to advance. While Lan Ling’s spear was still extended, he broke through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s line.
The first defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. To Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s form. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The radiant old man, still prostrating before the Supreme One despite the chaos, blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the glowing elder.
Qin Feng sighed.
As the Empire’s oldest fox, he recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many important figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to act. He bore no grudge against Yang Hao and didn’t wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was heading straight for the revered figure in the center. Qin Feng had no choice.
Especially when he noticed the nine elders beside the Supreme One’s body—motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, and struck toward the mighty Flame Dragon.
Thus, in a flash of lightning, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he thought absurd.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there watching. The leader today, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than the regiment’s commander, Lan Ling. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold expressions and eyes filled only with the intent to kill. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to slaughter.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than the combined threat of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him all the more unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guard he has trained possesses such formidable combat power that even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though his hair is already streaked with white.
Yet this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense it’s almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing everyone to freeze in shock, this radiant man remained unmoved. He continued to face away from the entrance, prostrating himself before the Supreme One on the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have despaired. Even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could at least escape.
But the real horror lay deeper—around the Supreme One’s body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe besides the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all stood before Yang Hao in this cave.
And then—
One of them, a black-robed man, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored a deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao was dispatched to Earth, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed.
This forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beastheart Sword Regiment and even taking their four dragons for himself?
This was outright audacity—so audacious it bordered on disrespect for the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Guild, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, things spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme One’s decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As a Merchant Guild Director, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the guild. The elders could easily kill him, but the consequences—war with the Merchant Guild—were too dire.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole protection the Merchant Guild had granted him.
Thus, the elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be so clearly in the wrong that the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor defend themselves.
A two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind used Yang Hao’s secret noble contacts to spread false news of the elders’ excursion, drawing him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he was doomed—and the entire world, including the Merchant Guild, would applaud his death.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a blasphemous one at that.
Yang Hao’s heart was bitter. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were truly a fool, by now he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called secret noble intel? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed outing? With all nine elders here, the rest of the Council could drop dead and it wouldn’t matter.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitifully convincing acting.
But Yang Hao was finished. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and ran now, he wouldn’t make it far before the elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a millennium ago.
So in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, ascending to its maximum power in an instant. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a death trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
If death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, he would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon shot forth like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One; he only hoped to tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, blocking Yang Hao’s path.
A single spear strike shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s attack hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
Yet Yang Hao kept charging. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the elders’ theatrics and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s ice spikes disintegrated into powder.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he had Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed. His spear trembled, and several solid milky-white energy beams appeared. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing with Shadow Moon.
Boom!
Shadow Moon dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint level.
This man had been hiding his strength all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild directors’ slip—they had many Sword Saints under them. Clearly, the Empire had far more than three, with many choosing to conceal their power for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged like a venomous snake, aiming for Yang Hao’s throat.
For a moment, Yang Hao saw not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich expanse stretching before him.
The silver streak from Lan Ling’s hand extended straight toward his throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hiss.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to dash past Lan Ling, breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So Flaming Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. To Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s form. Dying alongside him in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another—the radiant old man, still serenely worshiping the Supreme One amid the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flaming Dragon Sword appeared to be aimed at this glowing figure.
Qin Feng sighed.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a lowly scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to act—he bore no grudge against Yang Hao and wished him no harm.
But now, with Flaming Dragon Sword hurtling toward that revered figure, Qin Feng had no choice.
Especially when he noticed the nine elders beside the Supreme One’s body—utterly still, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng clasped his hands, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, and sent it crashing toward the raging Flaming Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
And this is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, all have cold, ruthless expressions, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen combined. Because Yang Hao simply cannot fathom this old man’s strength. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a single trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly inscrutable.
But no one would dare to assume that this old man lacks any martial skill. Not even the presiding elders, nor even the Supreme One himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has always remained hidden within the palace.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Sword Schools dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master, and naturally, no one would dare to doubt him.
Behind Qin Feng stands another person—a man bathed in light.
This man wears full military attire, his garments adorned with imperial insignias, and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, radiating brilliance so intense that it is nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this radiant man remained motionless. He continued to stand with his back to the entrance, devoutly bowing before the Supreme One on the jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, completely trusting that Qin Feng would handle anything that happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still try to escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay even deeper—around the Supreme One’s physical body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery, all having long achieved great cultivation.
The nine presiding elders of the Elder Council.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe aside from the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of power in the Galactic Empire—all of them had appeared in this cave, right before Yang Hao’s eyes.
And then—
One of them, a black-clad man, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the nine presiding elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he pretended to be stunned for a moment, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who was now shouting “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated shock and alarm among everyone present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword School—from him. Delk happened to be Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed for the time being.
This message forced the nine presiding elders to adopt a tolerant stance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but he went on to annihilate the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment and even took control of their four dragons for himself.
This was beyond audacious—it was outright defiance of the Elder Council.
The nine presiding elders could no longer tolerate it and prepared to take action against Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were completely marginalized, and the Elder Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control various star systems was largely dismantled by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders finally decided to disregard the Supreme One’s spiritual command and eliminate Yang Hao once and for all.
But by now, killing Yang Hao had become slightly more complicated. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Directors, Yang Hao’s death at the hands of the presiding elders would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the Merchant Alliance. Killing one of their directors was tantamount to declaring war on the entire alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole support the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the presiding elders decided against an open assassination. Instead, they would set a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable situation, where he would be the one at fault, and his mistake so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor protect themselves.
A scheme that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s connections with the nobles of the secret chamber, leaking false information about the elders’ movements to draw Yang Hao here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, he would be doomed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from the secret chamber nobles? A deliberate leak.
The Elder Council’s collective outing? With all nine presiding elders present, the rest of the council could perish for all it mattered.
These nine fiends stood there, still feigning shock and shouting “Assassin!”—their acting so convincing it was almost laughable.
But Yang Hao was on the verge of ruin. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s physical body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward. Shadow Moon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s physical body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait to lure Yang Hao in—proof of their determination to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
Shadow Moon transformed into a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Assault.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One outright. He only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead with overwhelming force.
But Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfolding a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single spear thrust, “Blood Assault” was completely shattered. Yang Hao’s sword strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
Yet Yang Hao kept charging forward. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant certain death. He had to exploit the nine elders’ theatrical performance and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Assault” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, shooting toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” the three ice spikes Yang Hao had condensed with his spiritual power disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Assault,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat several steps. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
A glimmer of spiritual light flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. His spear trembled, and several tangible milky-white energy strands emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that single exchange, Lan Ling’s tangible milky-white energy had surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along. He was a genuine Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the empire harbored far more than three Sword Saints; many were simply hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous snake striking from its den.
Yang Hao felt as if he were staring at the Milky Way—as though what approached him wasn’t a spear, but an endless river of stars brimming with infinite energy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing shriek.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to advance. While Lan Ling’s spear was still extended, he broke through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of Yang Hao’s injury.
He didn’t dare underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s physical body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s body. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another person.
The radiant old man, still calmly bowing to the Supreme One despite the chaos, now blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the light-drenched elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The nine presiding elders had stooped so low as to involve so many important figures in such a crude scheme.
It seemed Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Originally, Qin Feng had no intention of intervening. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward the revered figure at the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme One’s body remained motionless, utterly unconcerned about the revered one’s safety—despite having shouted “Assassin!” the loudest earlier.
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, and sent it crashing toward the ferocious Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. Due to their extreme rarity, these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in snow-crystal white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, much like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing fit.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than the combined dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins. Because Yang Hao cannot perceive this old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And without any leakage, he remains utterly inscrutable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even the slightest martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess formidable combat prowess, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another figure—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his body radiating such intense light that it is nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even as Yang Hao bursts into the cave, shocking everyone present, this radiant figure remains unmoved. He continues to stand with his back to the entrance, devoutly bowing before the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surges from his body. His mind is unshaken, utterly convinced that Qin Feng will handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not yet have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these opponents, he could still flee.
But the true horror lies deeper within.
Surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body stand nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound enlightenment—men who have long since achieved mastery in their cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them are present.
The nine strongest beings in the universe after the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all gathered in this cave, all standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a black-clad figure, suddenly shouts:
“Assassin!!!”
The cry throws the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, is Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he feigns shock, but inwardly, he is overjoyed.
This is a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme is none other than Elder Blackwind, who now shouts “Assassin!” with exaggerated alarm, pretending to be the most shocked and horrified among all present.
Yang Hao once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment, on Saint Bear Star and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect—from him. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects has plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbors deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind strongly advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message:
“Do not kill Yang Hao for now.”
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but then he annihilated the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment in one fell swoop—even taking their four dragons for himself.
This was sheer audacity—so bold that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could endure no longer and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao.
Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to disregard the Supreme Sovereign’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao must die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple.
As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Directors, Yang Hao’s death at the hands of the Council would inevitably provoke a full-scale retaliation from the merchants. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would set a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into certain death while ensuring he was clearly in the wrong, so egregiously that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor defend themselves.
A scheme that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ excursion to draw him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, his fate would be sealed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart is heavy. He feels as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he would realize he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all nine elders present, the rest of the Council could perish without consequence.
These nine fiends stand there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting is flawless.
But Yang Hao is doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he is as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned to flee now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a millennium ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao makes a decision—one even he finds absurd.
He lunges forward.
Shadow Moon howls, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolves to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today is clearly a fatal trap. The enemy has even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
Since death is certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he can destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, he will have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon streaks forward like a phantom—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao doesn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hopes its sheer force can tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculates.
A silver spear materializes midair.
Clang!
Sparks scatter like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight arrives with holy grace, unfolding a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single spear thrust, “Blood Ambush” is utterly shattered. Yang Hao’s sword fails to breach even the first line of defense.
He is forced to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao keeps running. He has no time to stop—hesitation means death. He must exploit the nine elders’ feigned shock to catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” fade, three massive ice spikes materialize before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling grips his spear, and a milky-white barrier forms before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s three ice spikes, condensed from mental energy, disintegrate into dust.
Yang Hao unleashes another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike targets Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao is confident Lan Ling cannot block it in one move—unless he possesses Sword Saint-level strength, like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleam with spiritual light. His spear trembles, and several tangible milky-white energy beams emerge. Then, his silver spear splits into twelve, clashing with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon dims, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart chills.
In that single exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy beams revealed strength surpassing that of a Sword Saint.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he is a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalls the Merchant Directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, commanded many Sword Saints. It seems the Empire harbors far more than three, with many hiding their strength for unknown purposes.
But there’s no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear darts forth like a venomous serpent, aimed at Yang Hao’s throat.
For an instant, Yang Hao sees not a spear, but the Milky Way—an endless, energy-rich river stretching toward him.
The silver streak extends from Lan Ling’s hand straight to Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he doesn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twists, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierces his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seizes the opportunity to advance. While Lan Ling’s spear is still extended, he breaks through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line is breached—at the cost of injury.
He dares not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupts from his body.
This strike is aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction is the immortal’s physical form. If he can perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, it would be a worthy end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stands another.
The radiant old man, still bowing devoutly to the Supreme Sovereign despite the chaos, blocks Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appears to be thrusting toward the golden-glowing elder.
Qin Feng sighs.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he recognizes this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders have stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao is truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he has no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword is hurtling straight toward the revered figure at the center. Qin Feng has no choice but to act.
Especially when he notices the nine elders beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body remain motionless, utterly unconcerned about the assassination attempt—despite being the loudest to cry “Assassin!” earlier.
Qin Feng rubs his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, and sends it crashing toward the mighty Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast called the Snow Night Star Lion, which is extremely scarce in number. Thus, these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, much like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what is truly fearsome is their leader, an elderly man dressed in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, almost sickly, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the fit.
Yet, Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—a fear far greater than the combined dread inspired by the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad assassins. The reason is simple: Yang Hao cannot discern the old man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Ruler himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the Imperial Guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, Qin Feng has nonetheless trained the Imperial Guards into an elite force with formidable combat prowess—so much so that even the Ten Great Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question his strength.
Behind Qin Feng stands another figure—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender, elongated sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet, he is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, his body radiating brilliance so intense that it is nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing an uproar among all present, this luminous figure remained motionless. He continued to stand with his back to the entrance, devoutly bowing before the Supreme Ruler’s jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surged from his body. His mind was wholly focused, utterly convinced that Qin Feng would handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only encountered these individuals up to this point, he might not have felt complete despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could still attempt to flee.
But the true horror lay deeper within.
Surrounding the Supreme Ruler’s physical body stood nine more figures—men dressed in varying attire, their faces glowing with profound enlightenment, each having long since achieved mastery in their cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine most powerful individuals in the universe after the Supreme Ruler, the supreme authorities of the Council of Elders, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all had appeared in this cave, all standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a man clad in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry sent the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he feigned shock upon seeing Yang Hao break through the cave’s sealed entrance and charge inside, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now stood among the crowd, shouting “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated display of shock and alarm.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Corps, on Saint Bear Star and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School—from his grasp. Delk happened to be Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Great Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored an intense hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Ruler—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed.
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Great Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beastheart Sword Corps in one fell swoop and even taking control of their four dragons was another.
This was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Council of Elders.
Finally, the Nine Grand Council Elders could tolerate no more and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao. However, by some twist of fate, Yang Hao had suddenly become one of the Ten Great Directors of the Merchant Guild, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Great Sword Schools were marginalized, and the Council of Elders’ long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to disregard the Supreme Ruler’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no simple matter. As a director of the Merchant Guild, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the merchants. The elders could easily kill him, but the consequences—war with the Merchant Guild—were unthinkable.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty swordmaster legions, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole support the Merchant Guild had granted him.
Thus, the elders resolved to avoid an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable trap—one where he would be so clearly in the wrong that the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor defend themselves without severe repercussions.
A two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ movements to draw him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, his fate would be sealed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Guild, would applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitorous, heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy with bitterness. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were truly as dim-witted as a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? Deliberately planted.
The Council of Elders’ supposed collective outing? Meaningless—with all nine elders present, the rest of the council could perish for all they cared.
And now, these nine demons stood there, feigning shock and shouting “Assassin!” with such pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Ruler’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Ruler had, a thousand years ago, annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
The Shadow Moon howled, its power instantly escalating to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on one final strike—to destroy the Supreme Ruler’s body.
Today was undeniably a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Ruler’s body as bait to lure him in—their determination to kill him was absolute.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could obliterate the Supreme Ruler’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
The Shadow Moon became a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Ruler outright. He merely hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with an air of sanctity, unfurling a holy barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, the knight shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
Yet Yang Hao kept charging forward. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With his shout, Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions nearby to retreat. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident that only a Sword Saint like Situ Hai could block it.
A glimmer of spiritual light flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. With a flick of his spear, several tangible milky-white energy strands emerged, and his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!
The Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, and the sword flew back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level power.
This man had been concealing his strength all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, commanded many Sword Saints. It seemed the Empire harbored far more than three, with many simply hiding their power for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent.
For an instant, Yang Hao saw not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich river of stars stretching from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward his neck.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Twisting his body, Yang Hao deliberately left an opening, allowing the spear to pierce his shoulder. A chunk of flesh tore away with a hiss.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to dash forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s extended spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
Now, Yang Hao dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
The Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Ruler’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy trade for his life was the destruction of that immortal’s vessel. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, it would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and his target stood another.
The luminous figure, undisturbed by the chaos, still knelt in worship before the Supreme Ruler—directly in Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward this radiant elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a setup. That the Nine Grand Council Elders would stoop to such a crude scheme, dragging so many key figures into it, was beneath contempt.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene—he bore no grudge against Yang Hao and wished him no harm.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was streaking straight toward that revered figure. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the nine elders beside the Supreme Ruler’s body standing motionless, utterly unconcerned about the “assassination attempt”—despite having been the loudest to cry “Assassin!” earlier.
Qin Feng clasped his hands, and a dense black sphere formed between his palms. He thrust it toward the oncoming Flame Dragon.
Unfortunately, Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear suddenly appeared mid-air.
Clang! Sparks exploded like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended gracefully, exuding a holy aura before Yang Hao.
With a single strike, the “Blood Strike” was completely shattered. Yang Hao’s sword had not even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry’s true strength.
But Yang Hao kept charging forward. He had no time to stop. If he hesitated, death would be his only fate. He had to strike before the nine Elders finished their charade.
Before the sparks of “Blood Strike” had even faded, three massive ice spears materialized before Lan Ling.
“Divine Invincibility, Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, summoning a milky-white barrier before him. As he shouted “Break!” the three ice spears, condensed from Yang Hao’s spiritual energy, shattered into dust.
Yang Hao launched another “Blood Strike,” its killing intent so fierce that even the five Snow Night Star Lions beside him took several steps back. This time, the “Blood Strike” targeted Lan Ling directly—closer, faster, and with the confidence that it would not be easily blocked unless by someone of a sword saint’s caliber, like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed with insight. His spear trembled in his hand, releasing several tangible milky-white energy beams. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing against Yang Hao’s Ying Yue.
Boom!!
Ying Yue’s glow dimmed, retreating swiftly back into Yang Hao’s arms.
This time, Yang Hao’s heart sank. In that single clash, Lan Ling’s solid, milky-white aura had clearly surpassed the strength of a sword saint.
This fellow had merely been concealing his power all along—he was a true sword saint.
But wasn’t the Galactic Empire only supposed to have three sword saints?
In a flash, Yang Hao recalled the slip of the tongue by the nine Merchant Guild Councilors. They had also mentioned possessing many sword saints. It seemed the Empire harbored far more than just three sword saints—many were simply hiding their power for specific purposes.
But now, Yang Hao had no time to ponder further. The silver spear, like a venomous snake emerging from its den, shot toward his throat.
For a moment, Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way itself before him—not just a spear, but an endless river of boundless energy stretching toward him.
The long silver chain extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could have dodged, but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately exposing a weakness. The silver spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh that screamed as it flew from his body.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the perfect opportunity. As Lan Ling’s spear continued its forward thrust, Yang Hao swiftly broke through the Snow Night Star Lion Cavalry’s defensive line.
The first line of defense had finally been breached, at the cost of Yang Hao’s injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. These knights, akin to dragon riders, hold an exceptionally high status.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These swordsmen, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming only with the intent to kill. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures, whose sole duty is to slaughter.
The eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad swordsmen combined. Because Yang Hao cannot discern the old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Ruler himself, would think so.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess formidable combat power, to the extent that even the Ten Sword Sects dare not easily oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master—naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man, one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears a military uniform adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as dazzling as the sun, his body radiating brilliance so intense that it is nearly blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this radiant man remained motionless. He continued to face away from the entrance, prostrating himself before the Supreme Ruler’s jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle whatever happened behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still escape.
But the truly exaggerated part lay deeper within—around the Supreme Ruler’s physical body stood nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest beings in the universe after the Supreme Ruler, the supreme figures of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all had appeared in this cave, standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, clad in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he pretended to be stunned, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting louder than anyone else about an assassin.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword, the treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Ruler—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao’s temporary reprieve.
This message forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment and even taking their four dragons for himself was another.
This was sheer audacity—so audacious that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Guild, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders finally decided to ignore the Supreme Ruler’s decree—Yang Hao must die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As a Merchant Guild Director, his death would provoke the guild’s full retaliation. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Guild.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty swordmaster regiments, gave even the Council Elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole support the Merchant Guild had given him.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be unmistakably in the wrong, so gravely that the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor even protect themselves.
This was a two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind used Yang Hao’s secret noble contacts to spread false news of the Council’s movements, drawing him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he was doomed—and after his death, even the Merchant Guild would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitorous, heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were truly a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called secret noble intel? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitifully convincing acting.
But Yang Hao was on the verge of annihilation. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Ruler’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly killed him.
Just as the Supreme Ruler had once obliterated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, its power instantly escalating to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Ruler’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Ruler’s body as bait to lure Yang Hao in—they were determined to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme Ruler’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon shot forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Ruler outright. He only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead.
But Yang Hao miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, blocking Yang Hao’s path.
With a single thrust, the spear shattered “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop. The moment he paused, death was certain. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions nearby to retreat. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it unless he possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleamed with spiritual light. His spear trembled, and several solid milky-white energy beams emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing against Shadow Moon.
Boom!
Shadow Moon dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been hiding his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild Directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire had far more than three Sword Saints; many were simply concealing their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous snake.
For a moment, Yang Hao thought he saw the Milky Way—not a spear, but an endless, energy-rich galaxy stretching toward him.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight to Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to charge forward, breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense while Lan Ling’s spear was still extended.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Ruler’s jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s body. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another man.
The radiant old man, still serenely bowing to the Supreme Ruler despite the chaos, now blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward this glowing figure.
Qin Feng sighed.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many important figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward the exalted figure in the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Grand Council Elders standing beside the Supreme Ruler’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, summoning a dense black energy in his palms, which he then hurled at the ferocious Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. Due to their extreme rarity, these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in snow-crystal white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-robed sword masters. Like those Yang Hao had seen outside, these men have cold, ruthless expressions, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
The eight black-robed sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader. An elderly man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia, his skin unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves as if he might collapse from a mere cough in the cold wind.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than the combined dread inspired by the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-robed assassins. Because Yang Hao cannot perceive this man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking from him. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the presiding elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master of the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess such formidable combat strength that even the Ten Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question his prowess.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in radiant light.
Clad in military attire adorned with imperial insignias, he wears a slender sword at his side. Though slightly younger than Qin Feng, streaks of silver already thread through his hair.
Yet this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his radiance so intense it is nearly blinding.
Even as Yang Hao bursts into the cavern, causing an uproar among those present, this luminous figure remains unmoved. He continues to kneel with his back to the entrance, paying homage to the Supreme Sovereign upon the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surges from his body. His mind is unshaken, utterly convinced that Qin Feng will handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only encountered these individuals up to this point, he might not yet have despaired. Even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could at least flee.
But the true horror lies deeper within.
Surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s body stand nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery—men who have long since achieved greatness in their cultivation.
The Nine Presiding Elders of the Elder Council.
All of them are present.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe after the Supreme Sovereign—the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—have all appeared in this cavern, standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a black-robed figure, suddenly shouts:
“Assassin!!!”
The cry throws the entire cavern into chaos.
That, of course, is Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Presiding Elders. Though he feigns shock at Yang Hao’s intrusion, inwardly, he is overjoyed.
This is a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme is none other than Elder Blackwind, who now shouts “Assassin!” with exaggerated alarm, pretending to be the most shocked and horrified among the crowd.
Yang Hao once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Corps on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools has plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbors an intense hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual decree: Yang Hao was not to be killed.
This decree forced the Nine Presiding Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing—but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Corps and even taking control of their four dragons was another.
This was sheer audacity—so audacious that it bordered on outright defiance of the Elder Council.
The Nine Presiding Elders could endure no longer and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao. However, by some twist of fate, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were marginalized, and the Elder Council’s strategy of controlling the galaxy through noble influence was largely dismantled by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders decided to disregard the Supreme Sovereign’s decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As a director of the Merchant Alliance, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation. The elders could easily kill him, but the consequences—an all-out war with the Merchant Alliance—were unthinkable.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword master corps, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance had provided.
Thus, the elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a fatal trap—one where he would be unmistakably in the wrong, his transgression so severe that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor protect themselves.
A scheme that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ excursion to draw him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, his fate would be sealed—and the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would applaud his death.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a blasphemous, heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart is heavy with bitterness. He feels like an utter fool.
Even if he were truly a fool, by now, he would realize he has fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Elder Council’s collective outing? With all nine presiding elders present, the rest of the council could perish without consequence.
These nine demons stand there, still feigning shock, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful theatrics—their acting is flawless.
But Yang Hao is on the verge of annihilation. Before so many supreme masters, he is as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned to flee now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a millennium ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao makes a decision—one even he finds absurd.
He lunges forward.
Shadowmoon howls, its power surging to its peak. Yang Hao resolves to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today is clearly a fatal trap—one where the enemy has even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait. They are determined to kill him.
If death is inevitable, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he can destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, he will have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
Shadowmoon streaks forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao doesn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hopes to tear through the defenses ahead with overwhelming force.
But Yang Hao miscalculates.
A silver spear materializes midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupt like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cavern. A white-armored knight descends with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
A single spear thrust shatters “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike fails to breach even the first line of defense.
He is forced to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
But Yang Hao keeps running. He has no time to pause—stopping means certain death. He must exploit the nine elders’ feigned shock to catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” fade, three massive ice spikes materialize before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling grips his spear, summoning a milky-white barrier before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrate into dust.
Yang Hao unleashes another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This strike is aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao is confident that only a Sword Saint like Situ Hai could block it.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleam with spiritual light. With a flick of his spear, tangible milky-white energy surges forth, and his silver spear splits into twelve, clashing against Shadowmoon.
Boom!!
Shadowmoon’s glow dims, flying back into Yang Hao’s grasp.
Yang Hao’s heart chills. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy—tangible and overwhelming—revealed strength surpassing that of a Sword Saint.
This man had been concealing his power all along. He is, without a doubt, a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalls the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip—they, too, commanded many Sword Saints. It seems the Empire harbors far more than three, with many hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there’s no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear strikes like a venomous serpent, aiming for Yang Hao’s throat.
For an instant, Yang Hao sees not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich river of stars stretching from Lan Ling’s hand to his neck.
He could dodge—but he doesn’t.
Twisting his body, Yang Hao deliberately leaves an opening, allowing the spear to pierce his shoulder. A chunk of flesh tears away with a hiss.
Though wounded, he gains a crucial advantage. As Lan Ling’s spear thrusts forward, Yang Hao dashes past, breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line is breached—at the cost of injury.
He dares not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupts from his body.
This strike is aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction is the immortal’s form. If he can perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, it would be a worthy end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stands another.
The radiant old man, undisturbed by the chaos, still kneeling in worship before the Supreme Sovereign, blocks Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appears to be thrusting toward this luminous figure.
Qin Feng sighs.
As the Empire’s most seasoned fox, he recognizes this as a trap. The Nine Presiding Elders have stooped to a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao is truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he has no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword is hurtling toward the exalted figure at the center. Qin Feng has no choice but to act.
Especially when he notices the Nine Presiding Elders standing beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—utterly unmoved, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubs his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, and hurls it toward the raging Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. Due to their extreme rarity, these knights hold a status as lofty as dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight in crystalline white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad swordsmen. Like those Yang Hao had seen outside, their faces are cold, their eyes gleaming only with the intent to kill. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures, whose sole duty is to slaughter.
These eight black-clad swordsmen are not the terrifying part—what is truly fearsome is their leader, an elderly man clad in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough from the slightest breeze and collapse at any moment.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man, far surpassing the combined dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad swordsmen. Because Yang Hao cannot discern the old man’s strength at all—he is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—Qin Feng, the commander of the Imperial Guards, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess formidable combat prowess, to the point where even the Ten Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another figure—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his radiance so intense that it is nearly blinding.
Even as Yang Hao bursts into the cavern, causing an uproar among all present, this luminous figure remains unmoved. He continues to stand with his back to the entrance, paying solemn homage to the Supreme Sovereign upon the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surges from his body. His mind is wholly focused, unwavering in his belief that Qin Feng will handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only encountered these figures up to this point, he might not yet have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could still attempt to flee.
But the true horror lies deeper within—surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body stand nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them have gathered here.
The nine most powerful beings in the universe after the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all now stand within this cavern, right before Yang Hao’s eyes.
And then—
One of them, clad in black, suddenly shouts: “Assassin!!!”
The cry sends the entire cavern into chaos.
That, of course, is Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the sealed cavern entrance and charge inside, he feigns shock, but inwardly, he is overjoyed.
This is a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme is none other than Elder Blackwind, who now shouts “Assassin!” with exaggerated alarm, pretending to be the most shocked and horrified among all present.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Corps, on Saint Bear Star, seizing the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword School—from his grasp. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbors a deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed, at least for the time being.
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but he went on to annihilate the Beastheart Sword Corps in one fell swoop—even taking control of their four dragons for himself.
This was sheer audacity—so bold that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to strike Yang Hao down. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the Council Elders themselves.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was largely dismantled by Yang Hao’s actions.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders finally decided to disregard the Supreme Sovereign’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die, no matter the cost.
But by now, killing Yang Hao had become far more complicated. As one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, eliminating him would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the merchants. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war on the entire Merchant Alliance.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty swordmaster corps, gave even the Council Elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance had provided.
Thus, the Council Elders resolved not to kill Yang Hao openly. Instead, they would lure him into a fatal trap—one where Yang Hao would be unmistakably in the wrong, his transgression so severe that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even protect themselves.
A trap that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the Council’s movements to draw him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, his fate would be sealed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would applaud his demise.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitor who dared defy the heavens.
Yang Hao’s heart is heavy. He feels as foolish as a pig.
Even if he truly were a pig, by now he would realize he has fallen into a bottomless abyss of a trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective excursion? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could perish for all it mattered.
These nine demons stand there, still pretending to be shocked, crying “Assassin!” with pitiful theatrics—their acting is flawless.
But Yang Hao is doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he is as laughable as a naked child. Forget about destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s physical form—even if he turned to flee now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a millennium ago.
So in that split second, Yang Hao makes a decision—one even he finds absurd.
He lunges forward. Shadow Moon howls, its power surging to its peak. Yang Hao resolves to stake his life on one final strike—to destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s physical form.
Today is clearly a death trap. The enemy has even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait to lure Yang Hao in, proving their determination to kill him.
Since death is certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he can destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, he will have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
Shadow Moon streaks forward like a phantom—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Ambush.” Yang Hao doesn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hopes its sheer force can tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculates.
A silver spear materializes midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupt like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cavern. A white-armored knight arrives with an air of sanctity, unfolding a barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, “Blood Ambush” is shattered completely. Yang Hao’s sword fails to breach even the first line of defense.
He is forced to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
Yet Yang Hao keeps charging forward. He has no time to pause—stopping means certain death. He must exploit the Nine Council Elders’ feigned shock to catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” fade, three massive ice spikes materialize before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the vanguard.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling grips his spear, and a milky-white barrier forms before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrate into dust.
Yang Hao unleashes another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike is aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao is confident Lan Ling cannot block it in one move—unless he possesses strength rivaling a Sword Saint like Situ Hai.
A gleam flashes in Lan Ling’s eyes. His spear trembles, and several tangible milky-white energy strands emerge. Then, his silver spear splits into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon’s glow dims, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Now, Yang Hao’s heart turns cold. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy strands revealed a power that has surpassed the Sword Saint level.
This man had been concealing his strength all along—he is a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalls the Merchant Directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, command many Sword Saints. It seems the Empire harbors far more than three, with many hiding their strength for unknown purposes.
But there’s no time to dwell on that. The silver spear darts toward Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent.
Yang Hao seems to glimpse the Milky Way itself—as if what approaches is not a spear, but an endless river of stars brimming with infinite energy.
The silver streak extends from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he doesn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twists, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierces his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seizes a crucial opportunity. He surges forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s extended spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line is finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dares not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupts from his body.
This strike is aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s physical form upon the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction is the immortal’s body. If he can perish alongside it within the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, it would be a worthy end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stands another.
The radiant old man, undisturbed by the chaos, still kneeling in worship before the Supreme Sovereign—now directly in Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appears to be thrusting toward this luminous figure.
Qin Feng sighs deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he recognizes this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders have stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao is truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he has no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, with Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword hurtling toward that revered figure, Qin Feng has no choice but to act.
Especially when he notices the Nine Council Elders beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of “Assassin!”
Qin Feng rubs his palms together, conjuring a dense black sphere, and hurls it toward the raging Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare beast called the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beast Heart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was also present, observing the battle. The leader today, the knight in snow-white crystal armor, is none other than the regiment’s commander, Lan Ling. At first glance, this commander possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have already surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold expressions and eyes filled only with murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man clad in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing fit.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than the combined dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins. Because Yang Hao cannot discern the old man’s strength at all. He is like a black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And without any leakage, he remains utterly inscrutable.
But no one would dare assume this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the presiding elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most mysterious master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat power, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not lightly oppose them.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question it.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his body radiating blinding radiance.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this luminous figure remained unmoved, still kneeling in worship toward the Supreme One’s jade bed, his back turned to the cave entrance.
Each act of worship causes golden light to surge from his body. His mind is utterly focused, trusting Qin Feng to handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen up to this point, he might not yet have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these opponents, he could still flee.
But the truly exaggerated part lies deeper within—around the Supreme One’s body stand nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery.
The nine presiding elders of the Elder Council.
All of them have gathered here.
The nine strongest individuals in the universe after the Supreme One, the supreme authorities of the Elder Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all stand before Yang Hao in this cave.
And then—
One of them, a black-robed figure, suddenly shouts: “Assassin!!!”
The cry throws the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, is Elder Black Wind—one of the nine presiding elders. Though he pretends to be stunned, inwardly, he is overjoyed.
This is a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme is none other than Elder Black Wind, who now feigns shock and alarm, shouting louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment, on Saint Bear Star, seizing the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Black Wind Sword Sect. Delk was Elder Black Wind’s disciple, and the sword had been bestowed upon him by the elder.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Black Wind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Black Wind harbors deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Black Wind vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not shown himself for decades—sent a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed yet.
This directive forced the nine presiding elders to tolerate Yang Hao.
But instead of gratitude, Yang Hao intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beast Heart Sword Regiment and even taming their four dragons was outright audacious—so audacious that it disregarded the Elder Council entirely.
Finally, the nine presiding elders could endure no longer and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao.
Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Elder Council’s strategy of controlling star systems through noble houses was largely dismantled.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders decided to ignore the Supreme One’s decree—Yang Hao must die.
But now, killing Yang Hao is no longer so simple. As a Merchant Alliance director, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the alliance. The elders could easily kill him, but the consequences—war with the Merchant Alliance—would be dire.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders fear no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength and forty sword regiments give even them pause.
Yang Hao himself is not the threat—it’s the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance provides.
Thus, the elders opt for a trap—one that ensures Yang Hao’s death while placing him in the wrong, a wrong so grave that the Merchant Alliance cannot save him, nor even protect itself.
A scheme that kills two birds with one stone.
Elder Black Wind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ excursion to lure him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, his fate would be sealed—and the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would applaud his death.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying one at that.
Yang Hao’s heart is bitter. He feels as foolish as a pig.
Even if he were a pig, by now, he would realize he’s fallen into a bottomless trap.
The noble informant’s tip? A deliberate leak.
The Elder Council’s outing? With nine presiding elders here, the rest of the council could perish without consequence.
These nine demons stand there, still pretending to be startled, shouting “assassin” with pitiful theatrics—their acting is flawless.
But Yang Hao is doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he is as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turns to flee now, he won’t make it far before the presiding elders effortlessly kill him.
Just as the Supreme One annihilated Hun Yuanzi’s wife with a single strike a millennium ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao makes a decision—one even he finds absurd.
He charges forward.
Shadow Moon howls, ascending to its full power in an instant. Yang Hao resolves to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today is clearly a fatal trap. The enemy has even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
Since death is certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he can destroy the Supreme One’s body, he’ll have avenged half the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadow Moon becomes a blur as it strikes—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Assault.” Yang Hao doesn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One; he only hopes to tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculates.
A silver spear materializes midair.
Clang!
Sparks scatter like stars, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight arrives with holy grace, unfolding a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
A single spear thrust shatters “Blood Assault” completely. Yang Hao’s strike fails to breach even the first line of defense.
He must reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
Yet Yang Hao keeps running. He has no time to stop—hesitation means death. He must exploit the nine elders’ feigned shock to catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Assault” fade, three massive ice spikes shoot toward Lan Ling, who leads the charge.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling grips his spear, and a milky-white barrier forms before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s ice spikes disintegrate into dust.
Yang Hao unleashes another “Blood Assault,” its murderous aura forcing five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat. This time, the strike targets Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao is confident Lan Ling can’t block it unless he possesses Sword Saint-level strength, like Situ Hai.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleam with spiritual light. His spear trembles, releasing tangible milky-white energy strands. Then, his silver spear multiplies into twelve, clashing with Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon dims, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart chills. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy surpassed Sword Saint strength.
This man had been concealing his power—he is a true Sword Saint.
But the Galactic Empire only has three Sword Saints, doesn’t it?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalls the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip—they, too, command many Sword Saints. It seems the empire harbors far more than three, with many hiding their strength for unknown purposes.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. The silver spear strikes like a venomous snake, aiming for Yang Hao’s throat.
For a moment, Yang Hao sees not a spear but the Milky Way—an endless, energy-rich river stretching toward him.
The silver streak extends from Lan Ling’s hand to Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he doesn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twists, deliberately exposing his shoulder. The spear pierces through, tearing away flesh with a hiss.
Though wounded, Yang Hao gains an opening. As Lan Ling’s spear thrusts forward, Yang Hao breaks through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s line.
The first defense falls—at the cost of injury.
He dares not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupts from his body.
This strike is aimed at the Supreme One’s jade bed. To Yang Hao, the only worthy trade is the immortal’s body. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stands another—the radiant old man, still kneeling in worship, undisturbed by the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appears to target this luminous figure.
Qin Feng sighs.
As the empire’s oldest fox, he recognizes this as a trap. The nine presiding elders have stooped to a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao is truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he has no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword flies straight toward the revered figure at the center. Qin Feng has no choice but to act.
Especially when he notices the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme One’s body—motionless, unconcerned about the “assassination,” despite their earlier cries.
Qin Feng claps his hands, summoning a dense black sphere in his palms, which he hurls at the raging Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment in the Imperial Guard. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. Due to their extreme rarity, these knights hold a status as lofty as dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. Today, the leader clad in snow-crystal white armor is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like the ones Yang Hao had seen outside, all have cold, expressionless faces, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
The eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet Yang Hao is terrified of this old man—far more than he is of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins combined. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And where there is no leakage, there is no way to gauge his true might.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the Imperial Guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Sword Sects dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s number one secret master—naturally, no one would dare question his prowess.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—a man bathed in light.
This man wears a military uniform adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
But this man is the complete opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as radiant as the sun, his body overflowing with brilliance to the point where it is almost blinding.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this luminous figure remained unmoved. He continued kneeling with his back to the entrance, paying homage to the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused—no matter what chaos erupted behind him, he trusted Qin Feng to handle it.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still flee.
But the real horror lay deeper inside.
Surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s body stood nine more individuals—each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery, their cultivation long perfected.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest beings in the universe after the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all of them now stood in this cave, right before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, a black-robed figure, suddenly shouted:
“Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, he pretended to be stunned, but inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting “Assassin!” louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment, on Saint Bear Star, and had seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect—from him. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
After Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Naturally, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao was dispatched to Earth, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not shown himself for decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao’s temporary reprieve.
This forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not show gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects—founding the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples en masse, annihilating the Beastheart Sword Regiment in one fell swoop, and even taming their four dragons for his own use.
This was sheer audacity—so audacious that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could no longer endure it and prepared to eliminate Yang Hao. But then, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the Merchant Alliance, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were completely marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was half-destroyed by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme Sovereign’s decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As one of the Merchant Alliance’s Ten Directors, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the alliance. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance had given him.
Thus, the Council Elders decided against an open execution. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into a death trap—one where he would be unmistakably in the wrong, so egregiously that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor defend themselves without consequence.
This was a two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind used Yang Hao’s secret network of nobles to spread false news of the elders’ excursion, baiting him into coming here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, he was as good as dead—and the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud his demise.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a treasonous, heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were truly as dumb as a pig, by now, he should have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his secret noble contacts? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
The Shadow Moon howled, instantly escalating to its maximum power. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait—they were determined to kill him.
Since death was inevitable, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
The Shadow Moon became a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, “Blood Ambush” was utterly shattered. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the Nine Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s three ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat several steps. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move—unless he was on par with Sword Saints like Situ Hai.
A glimmer of spiritual light flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. His spear trembled, and several tangible milky-white energy strands emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
The Shadow Moon’s glow dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level power.
This man had been concealing his strength all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they had many Sword Saints under their command. Clearly, the Empire had far more than three, with many others hiding their power for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear shot toward Yang Hao’s throat like a striking viper.
For an instant, Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way—as if the spear before him wasn’t a weapon, but an endless river of stars brimming with infinite energy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Twisting his body, Yang Hao deliberately left an opening, allowing the spear to pierce his shoulder. A chunk of flesh tore away with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized a crucial opportunity. While Lan Ling’s spear was still extended, he dashed past the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed. To Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was that immortal’s form. Dying together in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave would be a fitting end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The luminous old man, still kneeling in worship despite the chaos, blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the radiant elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long seen through this trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a lowly scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to strike—he bore no direct grudge against Yang Hao.
But now, with the Flame Dragon Sword hurtling toward the revered figure at the center, Qin Feng had no choice.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Elders beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body remained motionless, utterly unconcerned about the “assassination attempt”—despite having shouted the loudest earlier.
Qin Feng clasped his hands, summoning a dense black sphere in his palms, and sent it crashing toward the raging Flame Dragon.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the most seasoned fox in the Empire, he had already seen through the trap. The Nine Executive Elders had actually resorted to such a despicable scheme, involving so many important figures.
It seemed Yang Hao’s fate was sealed.
Originally, Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and did not wish to harm him.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding atop a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion. These knights, akin to dragon riders, hold an exceptionally high status.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was there to witness the battle. Today, the leader in snow-white crystal armor is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, have cold, ruthless expressions, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
The eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly fearsome is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins combined. Because Yang Hao cannot see through this old man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme One himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, so much so that even the Ten Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master—naturally, no one would dare question his abilities.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—a man bathed in light.
Dressed in military attire adorned with imperial insignias, he wears a slender sword at his waist. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man is as radiant as the sun, his body overflowing with brilliance, making it nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, shocking everyone present, this luminous figure remained motionless, still kneeling in reverence toward the Supreme One on the jade bed, his back turned to the entrance.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was unshaken, utterly convinced that Qin Feng would handle any disturbance behind him.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these people, he could still escape.
But the true horror lay deeper within.
Surrounding the Supreme One’s physical body stood nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery—men who had long since achieved greatness in their cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine most powerful beings in the universe after the Supreme One, the supreme figures of the Council, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s authority—all of them had appeared in this cave, standing before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, clad in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry threw the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind—one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao break through the cave’s sealed entrance, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting about an assassin louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment, on Saint Bear Star, seizing the Gravity Sword—a treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School—from his hands. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Sword Schools had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored a deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao was dispatched to Earth, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme One—who had not made an appearance in decades—sent a spiritual message ordering Yang Hao’s temporary reprieve.
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But instead of showing gratitude, Yang Hao only intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment and even taking their four dragons for himself?
This was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could endure no longer and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao.
Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Guild, his status now rivaling that of a Council Elder.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the Empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Sword Schools were marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of controlling star systems through the nobility was half-destroyed by Yang Hao’s actions.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme One’s decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But now, killing Yang Hao was no longer so simple. As a Director of the Merchant Guild, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the guild. Eliminating one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Guild’s accumulated power over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the Council pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the forces behind him, the sole protection the Merchant Guild had granted him.
Thus, the Council Elders concluded that an outright assassination was impossible. Instead, they would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable trap—one where he would be the clear aggressor, committing an offense so grave that even the Merchant Guild could neither save him nor defend themselves.
A trap that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the Council’s movements to draw him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cave, his fate was sealed—and the entire world, including the Merchant Guild, would applaud his death.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were a pig, by now he would have realized he had stumbled into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all nine Grand Elders present, the rest of the Council could perish for all they cared.
These nine fiends stood there, still pretending to be shocked, crying “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme masters, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme One’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme One had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single strike a millennium ago.
So in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one even he found absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadow Moon howled, its power instantly escalating to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on destroying the Supreme One’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme One’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
Since death was inevitable, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could destroy the Supreme One’s body, he would at least have avenged half of the Alchemy School’s grievances.
Shadow Moon streaked forward like a phantom—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Assault.” Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme One outright, but he hoped its sheer force could tear through the defenses ahead.
Alas, he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks flared like a river of stars, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with holy grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, “Blood Assault” was shattered completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
But Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant certain death. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Assault” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier formed before him. With his cry of “Break,” Yang Hao’s three ice spikes, forged from mental energy, disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Assault,” its murderous aura forcing even the five Snow Night Star Lions to retreat several steps. This time, his target was Lan Ling himself—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident that unless Lan Ling possessed Sword Saint-level strength like Situ Hai, he wouldn’t be able to block it.
Lan Ling’s eyes flickered with spiritual light. His spear trembled, and several tangible milky-white energy strands emerged. Then, his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
Shadow Moon dimmed, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level strength.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalled the Merchant Guild directors’ slip of the tongue—they had many Sword Saints under their command. Clearly, the Empire harbored far more than three, with many others hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged like a venomous serpent, aiming straight for Yang Hao’s throat.
For an instant, Yang Hao seemed to see the Milky Way itself—not a spear, but an endless river of stars, brimming with infinite energy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand, reaching inexorably for Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized the opportunity to charge forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s extended spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defenses.
The first line was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
Now, he dared not underestimate the second line—Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme One’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s physical form. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy School’s cave, it would be worth it.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another.
The luminous old man, still kneeling in worship despite the chaos, blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting toward the radiant figure.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned fox, he had long seen through this trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a lowly scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no desire to intervene—he bore no direct grudge against Yang Hao and had no wish to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling straight toward the revered figure at the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed that the Nine Grand Council Elders beside the Supreme One’s body remained motionless, utterly unconcerned about the “assassination attempt”—despite having cried “Assassin!” the loudest earlier.
Qin Feng rubbed his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, which he then hurled at the raging Flame Dragon.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Corps among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding atop a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, whose numbers are extremely scarce. As a result, these knights hold an exceptionally high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Corps, the Snow Night Star Lion Corps was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader clad in snow-crystal white armor is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Corps stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, all wear cold expressions, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what is truly fearsome is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, almost sickly, and his hands are tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough and collapse at any moment from the cold wind.
Yet, Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man—far greater than his fear of the Snow Night Star Lion Corps and the black-clad assassins combined. The reason is simple: Yang Hao cannot perceive this old man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, a light-devouring black hole, with not the slightest trace of combat power leaking out. And where there is no leakage, there is no way to gauge his true might.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks even a shred of martial skill. Not even the presiding elders of the council, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master of the Galactic Empire—the commander of the imperial guards, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess such formidable combat power that even the Ten Great Sword Schools dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the empire’s foremost secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question his prowess.
Behind Qin Feng stands another man—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears military attire adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender, elongated sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet, this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his body radiating dazzling brilliance to the point where it is nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even as Yang Hao bursts into the cavern, causing an uproar among all present, this luminous figure remains utterly unmoved. He continues to stand with his back to the entrance, reverently bowing before the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed.
With each bow, thick golden light surges from his body. His mind is wholly focused, unshaken by whatever chaos unfolds behind him, for he trusts Qin Feng implicitly to handle it.
If Yang Hao had only encountered these figures up to this point, he might not yet have despaired. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat them, he could still attempt to flee.
But the true horror lies deeper within—surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body stand nine more individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery, their cultivation long since perfected.
The nine presiding elders of the Council of Elders.
All of them have gathered here.
The nine strongest beings in the universe after the Supreme Sovereign, the supreme authorities of the Council of Elders, the true wielders of the Galactic Empire’s power—all now stand within this cavern, all now before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, clad in black, suddenly shouts, “Assassin!!!”
The cry sends the entire cavern into chaos.
That, of course, is Elder Blackwind—one of the nine presiding elders. Though he feigns shock upon seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cavern’s sealed door and charge inside, inwardly, he is overjoyed.
This is a trap—one specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme is none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now shouts “Assassin!” with the most exaggerated alarm, as if he is the most shocked and horrified of them all.
Yang Hao once defeated Delk, the leader of the Demon Bear Corps on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword—a treasured heirloom of the Blackwind Sword School—from his hands. Delk was Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword School’s standing among the Ten Great Sword Schools has plummeted, its influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbors an intense hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao first arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual decree: Yang Hao was not to be killed, at least for the time being.
This decree forced the nine presiding elders to adopt a stance of tolerance toward Yang Hao.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Great Sword Schools. Establishing the Alchemy Sword School and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the Beastheart Sword Corps in one fell swoop and even taking control of their four dragons was another.
This was sheer audacity—so audacious that it bordered on outright defiance of the Council of Elders.
Finally, the nine presiding elders could endure no more and resolved to eliminate Yang Hao. Yet, inexplicably, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Great Directors of the Merchant Alliance, his status now rivaling that of the presiding elders themselves.
Subsequent events spiraled further out of the elders’ control. Yang Hao challenged the Merchant Alliance, displayed his divine might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword School to the empire’s foremost sword school. The once-dominant Ten Great Sword Schools were thoroughly marginalized, and the Council of Elders’ long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy’s major star systems was more than half undone by Yang Hao.
Enough was enough.
The presiding elders decided to ignore the Supreme Sovereign’s decree—Yang Hao had to die, no matter the cost.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no simple matter. As a director of the Merchant Alliance, any overt assassination attempt by the elders would provoke a full-scale retaliation from the alliance. Killing one of their directors would be tantamount to declaring war.
In one-on-one combat, the presiding elders feared no one in the empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with its forty sword master legions, gave even the elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole protection the Merchant Alliance had granted him.
Thus, the elders concluded that an open assassination was impossible. Instead, they would set a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable death, with his own actions providing the justification. His mistake would have to be so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor even defend itself without difficulty.
This was a two-birds-with-one-stone scheme.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news of the elders’ travels to lure him here. He knew full well that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, his fate would be sealed—and after his death, the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would have no choice but to applaud.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a heaven-defying, treasonous assassin.
Yang Hao’s heart is heavy with bitterness. He feels as foolish as a pig.
Even if he truly were a pig, by now, he would realize he has fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak by his enemies.
The Council of Elders’ collective excursion? With all nine presiding elders present, the rest of the council could perish for all they care.
These nine fiends stand there, still pretending to be shocked, still crying “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting is flawless.
But Yang Hao is on the verge of annihilation. Before so many supreme masters, he is as laughable as a naked child. Forget about destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the presiding elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign, a millennium ago, annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword stroke.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao makes a decision—one even he finds absurd.
He lunges forward.
The Shadow Moon howls, its power instantly escalating to its peak. Yang Hao resolves to stake his life on one final strike—to destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today is clearly a fatal trap. His enemies have even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait to lure him in. Their intent to kill him is undeniable.
Since death is inevitable, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he can destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body, he will have avenged half of the Alchemy Sword School’s grievances.
The Shadow Moon becomes a blur as it streaks forward—the first-tier assassination technique, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao doesn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hopes its sheer force can tear through the defenses ahead.
But he miscalculates.
A silver spear materializes midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupt like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cavern. A white-armored knight descends with saintly grace, unfurling a sacred barrier before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, the spear shatters “Blood Ambush” completely. Yang Hao’s strike fails to breach even the first line of defense.
He is forced to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ strength.
But Yang Hao keeps charging. He has no time to hesitate—stopping means certain death. He must exploit the nine elders’ feigned shock to catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” fade, three massive ice spikes materialize before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Sage’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling grips his spear, and a milky-white barrier materializes before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrate into dust.
Yang Hao unleashes another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura so fierce that even five nearby Snow Night Star Lions recoil several steps. This strike is aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao is confident that no one below Sword Saint level could block it.
Lan Ling’s eyes gleam with spiritual light. His spear trembles, releasing several tangible milky-white energy beams. Then, his silver spear splits into twelve, clashing head-on with Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon.
Boom!!
The Shadow Moon’s glow dims, flying back into Yang Hao’s arms.
Yang Hao’s heart chills. In that exchange, Lan Ling’s milky-white energy beams revealed strength surpassing even a Sword Saint’s.
This man had been concealing his power all along—he is a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting moment, Yang Hao recalls the Merchant Alliance directors’ slip of the tongue—they, too, commanded many Sword Saints. It seems the empire harbors far more than three, with many others hiding their strength for unknown reasons.
But there’s no time to dwell on it.
The silver spear strikes like a venomous serpent, aiming for Yang Hao’s throat.
For an instant, Yang Hao sees not a spear, but the Milky Way itself—an endless, energy-rich river of stars stretching from Lan Ling’s hand to his neck.
He could dodge—but he doesn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twists his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierces his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing scream.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seizes the opportunity to surge forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Corps’ defense.
The first line is breached—at the cost of injury.
He dares not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So, the Flame Dragon Sword erupts from his body.
This strike is aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction is the immortal’s body. If he can perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword School’s cavern, it will be a worthy end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stands another obstacle—the luminous figure who continues bowing reverently, undisturbed by the chaos.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appears to be thrusting toward this radiant elder.
Qin Feng sighs deeply.
As the empire’s most seasoned old fox, he recognizes this as a trap. The nine presiding elders have stooped to a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
Yang Hao is truly doomed.
Qin Feng had no intention of intervening—he bears no direct grudge against Yang Hao and would rather not harm him.
But now, with Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword hurtling toward the central figure of reverence, Qin Feng has no choice but to act.
Especially when he notices the nine presiding elders beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite their earlier cries of alarm.
Qin Feng claps his hands together, conjuring a dense black sphere in his palms, which he hurls toward the oncoming Flame Dragon Sword.
This is the most unique Snow Night Star Lion Regiment among the imperial guards. They claim to be the last knights in this world, riding on a rare and exotic beast known as the Snow Night Star Lion, which is so scarce that these knights hold an extremely high status, akin to dragon riders.
When Yang Hao defeated the Beastheart Sword Regiment, the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment was also present, observing the battle. Today, the leader of the group, the knight clad in snow-crystal white armor, is none other than Lan Ling, the commander of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment. At first glance, this commander already possesses strength close to that of a Sword Saint, while the knights behind him have all surpassed the level of Grand Sword Masters.
This is only the first line of defense.
Behind the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment stands a group of eight black-clad sword masters. These sword masters, just like those Yang Hao had seen outside, all wear cold expressions, their eyes gleaming with nothing but murderous intent. They are emotionless, bloodless creatures whose sole duty is to kill.
These eight black-clad sword masters are not the terrifying part—what’s truly frightening is their leader, an old man draped in a black robe embroidered with the imperial insignia. His skin is unnaturally pale, his hands tucked into his sleeves, as if he might cough at any moment from the cold wind and collapse from the coughing.
Yet Yang Hao feels an overwhelming fear toward this old man, far surpassing the combined dread of the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment and the black-clad assassins. The reason is simple: Yang Hao cannot discern the old man’s strength at all. He is like a swirling black mist, or a light-devouring black hole, with not a trace of combat power leaking out. And the absence of any leakage makes him utterly unfathomable.
But no one would dare assume that this old man lacks martial prowess. Not even the Council Elders, nor the Supreme Sovereign himself, would entertain such a thought.
Because he is the most enigmatic master in the Galactic Empire—the Imperial Guard Commander, Qin Feng, who has remained hidden within the palace for decades.
Having resided in the palace for decades without ever making a move, the imperial guards he has trained possess formidable combat strength, to the point where even the Ten Sword Sects dare not provoke them lightly.
Qin Feng is known as the Empire’s top secret master, and naturally, no one would dare question his prowess.
Behind Qin Feng stands another figure—one bathed in radiant light.
This man wears a military uniform adorned with imperial insignias and carries a slender, elongated sword. He appears slightly younger than Qin Feng, though streaks of gray already mark his hair.
Yet this man is the polar opposite of Qin Feng. While Qin Feng is a black hole that emits no light, this man shines as brilliantly as the sun, his body radiating such intense light that it is nearly impossible to look directly at him.
Even when Yang Hao burst into the cave, causing an uproar among all present, this luminous figure remained unmoved. He continued to stand with his back to the cave entrance, paying solemn homage to the Supreme Sovereign lying upon the jade bed.
With each bow, golden light surged from his body. His mind was utterly focused, unshaken by any commotion behind him, for he had absolute faith that Qin Feng would handle any disturbance.
If Yang Hao had only seen this much, he might not have felt complete despair. After all, even if he couldn’t defeat these opponents, he could still attempt to flee.
But the true horror lay deeper within.
Surrounding the Supreme Sovereign’s physical body stood nine individuals, each dressed in different colors, their faces glowing with profound mastery—men who had long since achieved greatness in their cultivation.
The Nine Grand Council Elders.
All of them had gathered here.
The nine strongest beings in the universe, second only to the Supreme Sovereign. The nine supreme figures of the Council, the true wielders of power in the Galactic Empire—all of them had appeared in this cave, standing right before Yang Hao.
And then—
One of them, clad in black, suddenly shouted, “Assassin!!!”
The cry sent the entire cave into chaos.
That, of course, was Elder Blackwind, one of the Nine Grand Council Elders. Though he pretended to be stunned upon seeing Yang Hao actually break through the cave’s sealed door and charge inside, inwardly, he was overjoyed.
This was a trap—a trap specifically designed for Yang Hao.
The mastermind behind this scheme was none other than Elder Blackwind himself, who now feigned shock and alarm, shouting “Assassin!” louder than anyone else.
Yang Hao had once defeated Delk, leader of the Demon Bear Regiment on Saint Bear Star, and seized the Gravity Sword, a treasured artifact of the Blackwind Sword Sect. Delk happened to be Elder Blackwind’s disciple, and the Gravity Sword had been a gift from the elder himself.
Ever since Yang Hao took the sword, the Blackwind Sword Sect’s standing among the Ten Sword Sects had plummeted, their influence greatly diminished. Thus, Elder Blackwind harbored deep hatred for Yang Hao.
When Yang Hao arrived on Earth to assume his post, Elder Blackwind had vehemently advocated for his execution. However, at that very moment, the Supreme Sovereign—who had not made an appearance in decades—suddenly transmitted a spiritual message: Yang Hao was not to be killed, at least for the time being.
This directive forced the Nine Grand Council Elders to tolerate Yang Hao’s existence.
But Yang Hao did not respond with gratitude. Instead, he intensified his attacks against the Ten Sword Sects. Establishing the Alchemy Sword Sect and recruiting noble disciples was one thing, but annihilating the entire Beastheart Sword Regiment and even taking their four dragons for himself?
This was sheer audacity—audacity that bordered on outright defiance of the Council.
The Nine Grand Council Elders could endure no longer. They resolved to eliminate Yang Hao.
Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Yang Hao suddenly became one of the Ten Grand Directors of the Merchant Alliance, a position nearly on par with the Council Elders themselves.
From then on, events spiraled further out of the Council’s control. Yang Hao challenged the merchants, displayed his might before millions of nobles, and ultimately elevated the Alchemy Sword Sect to the status of the Empire’s foremost sword sect. The once-dominant Ten Sword Sects were marginalized, and the Council’s long-standing strategy of using nobles to control the galaxy was severely undermined.
Enough was enough.
The Council Elders decided to ignore the Supreme Sovereign’s spiritual decree—Yang Hao had to die.
But by now, killing Yang Hao was no simple matter. As a Grand Director of the Merchant Alliance, his death would provoke a full-scale retaliation. The Council Elders could easily kill him, but the ensuing conflict with the Merchant Alliance would be catastrophic.
In one-on-one combat, the Council Elders feared no one in the Empire. But the Merchant Alliance’s accumulated strength over the years, along with their forty sword regiments, gave even the Elders pause.
Yang Hao himself was not the threat—it was the power behind him, the sole backing the Merchant Alliance had provided.
Thus, the Council Elders concluded that an open assassination was impossible. They needed a trap—one that would lure Yang Hao into an inescapable situation, where he would be the one at fault, committing an error so grave that the Merchant Alliance could neither save him nor protect themselves.
A trap that killed two birds with one stone.
Elder Blackwind exploited Yang Hao’s network of noble informants, leaking false news about the Council’s movements to draw him here. He knew that once Yang Hao stepped into the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, his fate would be sealed—and the entire world, including the Merchant Alliance, would applaud his death.
Because Yang Hao would be branded an assassin—a traitor who dared defy the heavens.
Yang Hao’s heart was heavy with bitterness. He felt like an utter fool.
Even if he were a pig, by now he would have realized he had fallen into a bottomless trap.
The so-called intelligence from his noble informants? A deliberate leak.
The Council’s supposed collective outing? With all Nine Grand Council Elders present, the rest of the Council could drop dead for all it mattered.
These nine demons stood there, still pretending to be shocked, shouting “Assassin!” with pitiful expressions—their acting was flawless.
But Yang Hao was doomed. Before so many supreme experts, he was as laughable as a naked child. Forget destroying the Supreme Sovereign’s body—even if he turned and fled now, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before the Council Elders effortlessly cut him down.
Just as the Supreme Sovereign had annihilated Hunyuanzi’s wife with a single sword strike a thousand years ago.
So, in that split second, Yang Hao made a decision—one so reckless even he found it absurd.
He lunged forward.
Shadowmoon howled, its power instantly escalating to its peak. Yang Hao resolved to stake his life on one final strike—to destroy the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
Today was clearly a fatal trap. The enemy had even used the Supreme Sovereign’s body as bait, proving their determination to kill him.
Since death was certain, Yang Hao might as well go all out. If he could obliterate the Supreme Sovereign’s body, it would at least avenge half of the Alchemy Sword Sect’s grievances.
Shadowmoon became a blur as it shot forward—the first-tier sword technique of assassination, “Blood Ambush.”
Yang Hao didn’t expect this strike to kill the Supreme Sovereign outright. He only hoped it could tear through the defenses ahead with sheer force.
But he miscalculated.
A silver spear materialized midair.
Clang!
Sparks erupted like a galaxy, illuminating the entire cave. A white-armored knight descended with saintly grace, unfurling a sacred force before Yang Hao.
With a single thrust, “Blood Ambush” was shattered completely. Yang Hao’s strike hadn’t even breached the first line of defense.
He had no choice but to reassess the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s strength.
Yet Yang Hao kept running. He had no time to stop—hesitation meant death. He had to exploit the Council Elders’ feigned shock and catch them off guard.
Before the sparks of “Blood Ambush” faded, three massive ice spikes materialized before Yang Hao, hurtling toward Lan Ling at the forefront.
“Saint’s Invincibility—Break!”
Lan Ling gripped his spear, and a milky-white barrier appeared before him. With the word “Break,” Yang Hao’s psychically conjured ice spikes disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao unleashed another “Blood Ambush,” its murderous aura so fierce that even five Snow Night Star Lions nearby recoiled. This time, the strike was aimed directly at Lan Ling—closer, faster. Yang Hao was confident that Lan Ling couldn’t block it in one move… unless he possessed strength on par with a Sword Saint like Situ Hai.
A glimmer flashed in Lan Ling’s eyes. With a flick of his spear, several tangible milky-white energy beams emerged, and his silver spear multiplied into twelve, clashing head-on with Shadowmoon.
Boom!
Shadowmoon’s glow dimmed, and the sword flew back into Yang Hao’s arms.
At that moment, Yang Hao’s heart turned to ice. The milky-white energy radiating from Lan Ling during that strike had unmistakably surpassed Sword Saint-level power.
This man had been concealing his strength all along. He was a true Sword Saint.
But weren’t there only three Sword Saints in the Galactic Empire?
In that fleeting instant, Yang Hao recalled the slip of the tongue by the nine Merchant Directors—they, too, had many Sword Saints under their command. It seemed the Empire harbored far more than three Sword Saints; many were simply hiding their power for unknown reasons.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The silver spear lunged at Yang Hao’s throat like a venomous serpent striking from its den.
For a moment, Yang Hao thought he saw the Milky Way—as if what approached him wasn’t a spear, but an endless, energy-rich galaxy.
The silver streak extended from Lan Ling’s hand straight toward Yang Hao’s throat.
He could dodge—but he didn’t.
Instead, Yang Hao twisted his body, deliberately leaving an opening. The spear pierced his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh with a hissing screech.
Though wounded, Yang Hao seized a crucial opportunity. He surged forward, slipping past Lan Ling’s extended spear and breaking through the Snow Night Star Lion Regiment’s defense.
The first line of defense was finally breached—at the cost of injury.
He dared not underestimate the second line: Qin Feng.
So the Flame Dragon Sword erupted from his body.
This strike was aimed at the Supreme Sovereign’s body on the jade bed. For Yang Hao, the only worthy target for mutual destruction was the immortal’s physical form. If he could perish alongside it in the Alchemy Sword Sect’s cave, it would be a worthy end.
But between Yang Hao and the body stood another obstacle.
The luminous old man, still serenely paying homage to the Supreme Sovereign despite the surrounding chaos, now blocked Yang Hao’s path.
Thus, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword appeared to be thrusting straight toward the radiant elder.
Qin Feng sighed deeply.
As the Empire’s most seasoned old fox, he had long recognized this as a trap. The Nine Grand Council Elders had stooped to such a despicable scheme, dragging so many key figures into it.
It seemed Yang Hao was truly doomed.
Originally, Qin Feng had no intention of intervening. He had no direct conflict with Yang Hao and no desire to harm him.
But now, Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was hurtling toward that revered figure at the center. Qin Feng had no choice but to act.
Especially when he noticed the Nine Grand Council Elders standing beside the Supreme Sovereign’s body—utterly motionless, as if unconcerned about the assassination attempt, despite having shouted “Assassin!” the loudest.
Qin Feng clasped his hands together, summoning a dense black mass in his palms, and sent it crashing toward the ferocious Flame Dragon.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, capable of reducing even elite warriors to charred remains with each strike.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave a casual wave—before his hand even made contact—and the black aura emanating from him extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though Feng Feng could effortlessly grasp the entire Flame Dragon in his palm and crush it to death.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master made his move, directly countering Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A wave, a pinch.
Just as everyone believed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had long frozen, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Even the nine confident elder overseers, who had believed victory was assured, felt a tremor in their hearts upon witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark.
What they saw next was even more heart-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into the air, Yang Hao suddenly leaped through space, bypassing the revered elder who still stood in solemn worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
**”Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”**
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Using the Light-Treading Shadow Steps, he bypassed the elder and unleashed the second-tier assassination technique, *Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter*.
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless sequence that even deceived a master of Feng Feng’s caliber.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated *Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter*, its target being the flawless body resting on the jade bed just twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited a thousand years for this moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this instant.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this very moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of *Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter* tore through the air and everything in its path, charging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine elder overseers were furious. They had assumed that no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone believed his assassination target was the revered elder.
Who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true objective was the Supreme One’s body?
This was beyond comprehension. Even Elder Black Wind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never anticipated that someone in this world could be so audacious.
Such sinister calculation, such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself!
Had the nine elder overseers known Yang Hao harbored such intentions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now. Yang Hao’s *Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter* had been unleashed—the culmination of all his power, a full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating its divine power—halting time across the entire space for one second.
The divine technique *Counterflow*, though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine elder overseers to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s *Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter* surged toward the Supreme One’s seemingly fragile, unguarded body.
The fatal strike erupted with devastating force.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, each strike capable of reducing even a master to charred remains.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave it a casual, almost dismissive tap—before his hand even made contact, the black aura around him had already extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though, with just a slight exertion, Feng could have crushed the entire dragon in his grasp, snuffing it out alive.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master had made his move—and it was against Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A tap. A squeeze.
Just as everyone believed Yang Hao’s sword would shatter and he would perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They froze in shock.
The Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished.
The air had long since solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Even the nine confident Grand Elders, who had believed victory was assured, felt a tremor in their hearts when they saw Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark.
What they witnessed next was even more gut-wrenching.
After Yang Hao’s bizarre disappearance into thin air, he suddenly leapt through space, bypassing the revered elder who still stood solemnly in worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent in the air.
**”Thousand-Mile Slaughter!”**
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Using the Lightstride Boots, he had vaulted past the elder and unleashed the second-tier assassination technique: **”Thousand-Mile Slaughter!”**
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—so flawless that even a master of Qin Feng’s caliber had been deceived.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated **Thousand-Mile Slaughter**, its target the pristine body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited a thousand years for this moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life had led to this moment.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of **Thousand-Mile Slaughter** tore through the air and everything in its path, hurtling toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine Grand Elders were livid. They had assumed that, no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone had believed the revered elder was his target.
Who could have imagined?
Yang Hao’s true objective was the Supreme One’s body.
It was unthinkable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, had never anticipated someone so audacious in this world.
Such scheming. Such defiance of heaven itself—daring to strike at the Supreme One.
Had the nine Grand Elders known Yang Hao had harbored this intention all along, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now.
Yang Hao’s **Thousand-Mile Slaughter** had been unleashed—the culmination of all his power, his full-strength strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
To make matters worse, Hunyuanzi had subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating its divine power—freezing time across the entire space for one second.
The divine art of **”Reversal”**, though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine Grand Elders to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s **Thousand-Mile Slaughter** struck the Supreme One’s flawless, seemingly fragile body.
The fatal blow erupted in a cataclysmic explosion.
One flick, one pinch.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, capable of incinerating even the most skilled warriors into charred remains with each strike.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave a casual flick of his hand—before even making contact—and the black aura emanating from him extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though Feng could effortlessly grasp the entire fiery dragon in his palm and crush it to death with just a slight exertion of force.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master made his move, directly countering Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A flick, a squeeze.
Just as everyone assumed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident Elder Stewards felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more gut-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into the air, Yang Hao made a spatial leap, bypassing the revered elder who still stood in solemn worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
“Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow!”
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Using the Light-Treading Shadow Steps, he bypassed the elder and unleashed the second-tier assassination technique, “Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow.”
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless chain of movements so deceptive that even a master of Feng’s caliber had been fooled.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated the Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow, its target being the flawless body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited thousands of years for this moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this very instant.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of the Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow tore through the air and everything in its path, charging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine Elder Stewards were furious. They had believed that no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone had assumed the assassination target was the revered elder.
Who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true objective was the Supreme One’s body?
It was utterly inconceivable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never expected someone in this world to be so audacious.
Such sinister calculation, such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself!
Had the nine Elder Stewards known Yang Hao harbored such intentions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But now, it was too late. Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow had been unleashed—a culmination of all his power, a full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating the divine artifact’s power—halting time across the entire space for one second.
The divine technique “Reverse Flow,” though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine Elder Stewards to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Slaying Flow surged toward the Supreme One’s seemingly delicate, defenseless body.
The fatal strike erupted with devastating force.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerily quiet like a tomb. Witnessing Tai Feng’s first move in thirty years miss its target, even the nine confident Elders of the Executive Council felt a jolt in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more heart-wrenching.
After Yang Hao mysteriously vanished from the air, the entire space seemed to leap, and he soared over the venerable, kneeling elder who had been standing in reverence.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, each strike capable of reducing even a master to charred remains.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave a casual flick of his hand—before even making contact—and the black aura emanating from him extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though, with just a slight exertion of force, Feng Feng could grasp the entire Flame Dragon in his palm and crush it alive.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master made his move—against Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A flick. A squeeze.
Just as everyone assumed Yang Hao’s sword would shatter and he would perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident Grand Elders felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more gut-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into the air, Yang Hao leaped through space, bypassing the revered elder who still stood solemnly in worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
**”Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”**
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Thus, he used the Lightflow Shadow Step to bypass the elder and unleash the second-tier assassination technique, “Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter.”
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless chain of moves that even a master of Qin Feng’s caliber had been deceived by.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated the Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter, its target the flawless body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited millennia for this moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this instant.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter tore through the air and everything in its path, surging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine Grand Elders were incensed. They had believed that, no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone had assumed the revered elder was his target.
Who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true aim was the Supreme One’s body?
It was utterly inconceivable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never expected someone in this world could be so audacious.
Such treacherous intent, such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself!
Had the nine Grand Elders known Yang Hao harbored such intentions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now. Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter had been unleashed—the culmination of all his power, a full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi had subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating the divine artifact’s power—halting time across the entire space for one second.
The divine technique **”Reverse Flow”**, though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine Grand Elders to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter crashed into the Supreme One’s seemingly delicate, defenseless body.
The fatal strike erupted with a thunderous force.
“Thousand-Mile Killing Surge!”
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, each strike capable of reducing even a master into charred remains.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave a casual flick of his hand—before even making contact—and the black aura emanating from him extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though Feng Feng could, with just a slight exertion, grasp the entire Flame Dragon in his palm and crush it to death.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master made his move—directly countering Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A flick. A squeeze.
Just as everyone believed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They froze in shock.
The Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident Grand Elders felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more gut-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into thin air, Yang Hao leaped through space, bypassing the revered elder who still stood in solemn worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
**”Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”**
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Thus, he used the Lightflow Shadow Step to bypass the elder and unleash the second-tier assassination technique: **”Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”**
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless chain of moves that even deceived a master of Feng Feng’s caliber.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated **Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter**, its target the flawless body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited millennia for this moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this moment.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of **Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter** tore through the air and everything in its path, charging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine Grand Elders were incensed. They had assumed that, no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone believed the revered elder was his target.
Who could have imagined?
Yang Hao’s true objective was the Supreme One’s body.
This was beyond comprehension. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never anticipated that someone in this world could be so audacious.
Such sinister calculation. Such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself.
Had the nine Grand Elders known Yang Hao harbored such intentions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now.
Yang Hao’s **Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter** had been unleashed—the culmination of all his power, a full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating its divine power—freezing time across the entire space for one second.
The divine art of **”Reverse Flow”**, though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine Grand Elders to retaliate with full force, striking at Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s **Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter** reached the Supreme One’s seemingly fragile, harmonious body.
The fatal blow erupted with a thunderous force.
This was the first time Yang Hao had used his own self-developed consecutive techniques. This seamless series of moves was so skillfully executed that even a master of Feng Feng’s caliber had been completely deceived.
Now, the divine weapon Shadow Moon, carrying Yang Hao’s infinite sword qi, had already activated the Thousand-Mile Killing Surge, targeting the perfect physical body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hong Yuan Zi had waited for thousands of years for this very moment.
This was the moment Yang Hao had lived his entire life for.
The grudges of the Dan Ding Sect, the weeping cries of countless innocent souls—it was all for this moment.
The fierce torrent of the Thousand-Mile Killing Surge tore through the air and everything around it, rushing toward the Supreme Being’s physical body.
The nine Elders were furious beyond measure. They had originally believed that no matter how powerful Yang Hao might be, he could never break through Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone assumed Yang Hao’s assassination target was the noble elder.
But who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true target was actually the Supreme Being’s physical body?
It was simply beyond comprehension. Even Hei Feng Elder, who had arranged this deadly trap, never expected that someone in this world could dare to be so audacious.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, each strike capable of reducing even a master to charred remains.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave it a casual, almost dismissive slap—before his hand even made contact, the black aura emanating from him had already extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though Feng Feng could, with just a slight exertion, seize the entire Flame Dragon in his grasp and crush it to death.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master had made his move—directly countering Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A slap. A squeeze.
Just as everyone believed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident elder stewards felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more gut-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into the air, Yang Hao suddenly leaped through space, bypassing the noble old man who still stood in solemn reverence.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
“Thousand-Mile Slaughter!”
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the noble elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Thus, he had used the Lightflow Shadow Step to bypass the old man.
And then unleashed the second-tier assassination technique—”Thousand-Mile Slaughter!”
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless chain of moves that even a master of Feng Feng’s caliber had been deceived by.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated the Thousand-Mile Slaughter, its target being the flawless body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited for millennia—for this very moment.
The greatest goal of Yang Hao’s life was this very moment.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of Thousand-Mile Slaughter tore through the air and everything in its path, charging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine elder stewards were furious. They had believed that no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone had assumed his target was the noble elder.
Who could have imagined?
Yang Hao’s true target was the Supreme One’s body.
This was utterly inconceivable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, had never expected someone in this world to be so audacious.
Such unfathomable ambition—such defiance of heaven itself—daring to strike at the Supreme One.
Had the nine elder stewards known that Yang Hao had always intended to assassinate the Supreme One’s body, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But now, it was too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Slaughter had been unleashed—the culmination of all his power, his full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi had subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating the divine artifact’s power—freezing time across the entire space for one second.
The divine technique “Reverse Flow,” though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine elder stewards to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Slaughter surged toward the Supreme One’s serene yet seemingly fragile body.
And then—
The fatal strike erupted with a thunderous explosion.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, each strike capable of reducing even a master to charred remains.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave it a casual slap—before his hand even made contact, the black aura emanating from him had already extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed that with just a slight exertion of force, Feng Feng could seize the entire Flame Dragon in his grasp and crush it to death.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master made his move—directly confronting Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A slap, a squeeze.
Just as everyone assumed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident elder stewards felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more heart-wrenching.
After Yang Hao mysteriously disappeared into the air, he suddenly leaped through space, bypassing the revered elder who still stood solemnly in worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a massive torrent within the air.
**”Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”**
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Thus, he used the Lightflow Shadow Step to bypass the elder and unleash the second-tier assassination technique, “Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”
This was the first time Yang Hao had employed his self-created seamless combination of techniques—a flawless sequence that even deceived a master of Feng Feng’s caliber.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated the Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter, its target being the pristine body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited for millennia—for this very moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this instant.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter tore through the air and everything in its path, charging toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine elder stewards were furious. They had believed that no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone had assumed the revered elder was his target.
Who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true objective was the Supreme One’s body?
This was utterly inconceivable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never expected someone in this world to be so audacious.
Such treacherous intent, such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself!
Had the nine elder stewards known Yang Hao harbored such ambitions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now. Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter had been unleashed—a culmination of all his power, a full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating the divine artifact’s power—halting time across the entire space for a single second.
The divine technique **”Reverse Flow”**, though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine elder stewards to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter struck the Supreme One’s seemingly fragile, defenseless body.
And with a thunderous explosion, the fatal blow erupted.
But now, it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Killing Surge had already been unleashed—this was the culmination of all his cultivation, a full-power strike.
Its speed was beyond imagination, its power even greater than anyone had anticipated.
Moreover, Hong Yuan Zi had quietly twisted a ring on his hand, activating the divine ring’s power, which caused time in the entire space to pause for one second.
The divine art of “Reversal Flow”—though only a one-second pause—was still sufficient time for the nine Elders to unleash their full strength without holding back against Yang Hao. But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword was the fiercest and most powerful first-tier attack technique, capable of turning even the most skilled warriors into charred remains with each strike.
Yet, Qin Feng merely gave it a casual, almost dismissive slap—before his hand even made contact, the black aura emanating from him had already extinguished much of the Flame Dragon’s fire.
It seemed as though, with just a slight exertion of force, Qin Feng could seize the entire Flame Dragon in his grasp and crush it to death.
For the first time in thirty years, the empire’s most enigmatic master had made his move—and it was against Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword.
A slap. A squeeze.
Just as everyone believed Yang Hao’s sword momentum would shatter and he would inevitably perish at Qin Feng’s hands—
They were stunned to discover that the Flame Dragon had vanished. Yang Hao had vanished as well.
The air had already solidified, the atmosphere eerie as a tomb. Witnessing Qin Feng’s first strike in thirty years miss its mark, even the nine confident Grand Elders felt a tremor in their hearts.
What they saw next was even more gut-wrenching.
After mysteriously disappearing into the air, Yang Hao made an impossible leap—soaring past the revered elder who still stood in solemn worship.
Then, Yang Hao and Shadowmoon merged into a colossal torrent within the air.
“Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”
Yang Hao’s Flame Dragon Sword had been a feint—merely a distraction. His true target had never been the revered elder, but the Supreme One’s physical body. Using the Lightflow Shadow Steps, he bypassed the elder and unleashed the second-tier assassination technique: “Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter!”
This was the first time Yang Hao had executed his self-created seamless combo—a flawless sequence that even deceived a master of Qin Feng’s caliber.
Now, the divine weapon Shadowmoon, infused with Yang Hao’s boundless sword energy, had activated the Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter, its target being the pristine body resting on the jade bed twenty paces away.
Hunyuanzi had waited for millennia—for this very moment.
Yang Hao’s greatest ambition in life culminated in this instant.
The grievances of the Alchemy Sect, the wails of countless wronged souls—all for this moment.
The razor-sharp torrent of Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter tore through the air and everything in its path, hurtling toward the Supreme One’s body.
The nine Grand Elders were incensed. They had assumed that, no matter how formidable Yang Hao was, he could never breach Qin Feng’s defense—after all, everyone believed the revered elder was his target.
Who could have imagined that Yang Hao’s true aim was the Supreme One’s body?
It was utterly inconceivable. Even Elder Blackwind, who had orchestrated this death trap, never anticipated that someone in this world could be so audacious.
Such sinister calculation, such defiance of heaven—daring to strike at the Supreme One himself!
Had the nine Grand Elders known Yang Hao harbored such intentions, they would never have dared to set this trap.
But it was too late now. Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter was already in motion—the culmination of all his power, his full-force strike.
Its speed and ferocity far exceeded anyone’s expectations.
Moreover, Hunyuanzi subtly twisted a ring on Yang Hao’s hand, activating its divine power—freezing time across the entire space for a single second.
The divine art of “Reverse Flow,” though lasting only a second, was enough for the nine Grand Elders to unleash their full might against Yang Hao without mercy.
But it was already too late.
Yang Hao’s Thousand-Mile Flowing Slaughter crashed into the Supreme One’s seemingly delicate, defenseless body.
The fatal strike erupted with devastating force.
That fatal strike erupted with a deafening roar.
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