The arrows, blazing with thick flames, accumulated from fire, anger, and hatred, turned into black ominous flames in the air. With an unstoppable momentum, they surged toward Wu Yi once again.
The four elder stewards stepped forward and intercepted the attack. Yet an endless wave of heat, like a vengeful ghost, wrapped around them. The black flames were even fiercer than before; the moment they made contact, they began to devour the defenders themselves.
Even more despairing was the fact that Yang Hao’s Shadow Moon had already transformed into a thousand-mile killing surge, rushing toward them.
The most powerful assassination technique in history, driven by a peak Sage Domain expert and powered by the millennium sword pill of the Alchemy Sect, was aimed at tearing apart the elder stewards blocking the path.
This time, the stewards no longer dared to underestimate him. At least three completely uninjured senior stewards summoned their magical treasures, including even a divine artifact, to block the Shadow Moon.
But ten consecutive fireballs from the flame explosion rained down on the elder stewards’ heads.
Even Tiance, known for his flawless calculations, hadn’t expected Yang Hao to unleash so many deadly techniques at once. He risked his life, pouring all his power into containing the explosion’s force to just around himself.
But half of the steward’s body had already been blown to pieces, and his life was nearly gone.
For the first time, an elder steward had been gravely injured before their eyes, and the entire Elder Council erupted in shock and horror.
But Yang Hao, like a moth rushing into flames, flew straight into the midst of the elder stewards.
“I’ll kill you!!” Heifeng and Rong Li, furious beyond measure, immediately surrounded him.
But what awaited them was an endless torrent of fire principles. The most powerful black ominous flames in the known world poured out from Yang Hao’s body. Yang Hao had become a god of fire, singing a desolate ancient song. Each step he took elevated the flames to even greater heights.
The eight elder stewards were surrounded by these flames, trapped in a desperate situation.
The three hundred elders wanted to turn back and rescue them, but were held back by Hede’s group and the Longyou Legion.
All they could see were eight figures swaying within the flames, unable to hear any sounds or sense any power fluctuations. Yang Hao’s inferno had formed a domain of his own, a realm where others could not interfere.
Could it be that the Elder Council, which had lasted for centuries, was truly about to fall? Could it be that the stewards, hailed as the peak of the universe, would be destroyed in these flames, by the hands of Yang Hao alone?
They were disciples of the Supreme One, the strongest among the elders. To kill them, one must first understand why they became the strongest.
Suddenly, within the flames, the eight of them erupted with light. It was the power imprinted on their souls. This power, fused together, was like the first glimmer of light at the dawn of creation, yet carried an indescribable brilliance.
These lights were brief but mighty. When they shot forth, they cleansed the eight men’s surroundings and completely extinguished the ominous flames.
Yang Hao was like a disarmed warrior, exposed before the eight. At least five stewards, combining their strength for a single strike, overwhelmed Yang Hao, who had already exhausted all his techniques. He spat out a long stream of blood and flew through the air.
But even so, Yang Hao laughed wildly: “Situ Hai, I’m better than you. It took eight people to bring me down!!”
Situ Hai, barely breathing, looked at Yang Hao—still like a mischievous child yet filled with heroic spirit—and smiled at the corner of his lips.
Thus, the climactic battle between the eight elder stewards and Yang Hao ended in mutual destruction. The outcome was Yang Hao severely wounded and three stewards gravely injured. Comparatively, the Elder Council suffered even more. Now, only Wu Yi remained unscathed.
But don’t forget, from the beginning until now, the Elder Council had always held the advantage.
Three hundred elders and eight stewards, in both number and strength, had overwhelming superiority. The only support the Longyou Pavilion had relied on was the personal abilities of Situ Hai and Yang Hao.
But those abilities had now been pushed to their limit. The remaining outcome seemed unchanged.
Wu Yi was blackened and scorched all over, though his main body had not suffered serious injury. He looked back and saw his side in a pitiful state, far from their usual graceful demeanor when killing.
Wu Yi gnashed his teeth in fury, pointing at Yang Hao, who was slowly rising: “I will kill you, kill everyone here. None of you can escape. Not a single soul can escape the wrath of the elders.”
“But then, who can escape Yang Hao’s wrath?” Yang Hao wiped the blood from his lips. In his eyes was a smile—genuine, not a bitter one born from despair, but a confident one, as if he were looking down from the clouds upon all beings.
Hede’s group, like rays of light, stood beside Yang Hao. The experts of the Dan Ding Sect were destined to be recorded in history.
“Kill!! Kill!!” Wu Yi, with his hair disheveled, screamed wildly.
The three hundred elders unleashed their attacks, and the Longyou Legion fell like wheat before the scythe.
“Hede!” Yang Hao shouted.
Hede swung his axe with all his might at the empty space before him. The slash, as merciless as a lover’s final farewell, cut through space itself.
Hede’s entire being was drained by that single strike.
A massive wormhole, accompanied by violent fluctuations, appeared. Through the transparent yet distorted view of the wormhole, the other side of space was revealed—the Dan Ding Sect’s sanctuary—and facing Yang Hao directly was the Zun’s physical body.
Yang Hao drew his bow, the炎融弓 fully drawn with the怒焰箭 brimming with power, ready to be released. The arrow’s tip pointed straight at the至尊’s body.
Translation:
Yang Hao drew back his bow, the Flame-Forged Bow fully tensioned with the Wrathfire Arrow radiating with immense power, ready to be unleashed. The arrow’s tip was aimed directly at the Supreme Sovereign’s body.
The wind stopped. Time froze.
Everything came to a standstill.
No command was needed; the elders could no longer raise their swords.
There were gods in this world, but those gods were imprisoned. The ones who imprisoned them had become the sole god. The elders worshipped with all their hearts the divine being on the other side of the wormhole—the one Yang Hao’s fiery arrow was aimed at.
The Supreme One!
The master of the universe, an unsurpassable supreme throne. Even the Nine Elder Stewards could only kneel before him.
Yet now, Yang Hao was pointing the most powerful divine artifact in the universe at him.
Who dares move?
Who dares not fear?
Yang Hao said something even more chilling: “I’m injured. I can’t hold on much longer.”
Indeed, Yang Hao’s hands trembled. He looked weak, seemingly on the verge of collapse from blood loss.
Wu Yi’s lips were cracked, his teeth biting into his lip. He desperately wanted to say:
“If you can’t hold on, just lower the bow.”
But that was obviously impossible. If Yang Hao couldn’t hold on any longer, the only option left was to release the bowstring and fire the arrow—the very same flame arrow that had required four stewards to intercept—directly at the至尊’s unprotected and unguarded physical body.
Wu Yi even had the urge to kneel and beg him.
Yet Yang Hao remained calm. The situation today was a deadly trap, certain death. Only by placing oneself in a desperate situation could one find a path to survival. His fingers firmly gripped the bowstring. Even though the Master repeatedly urged him to release it, even using the authority of a teacher to compel him, Yang Hao did not obey. For the first time, he defied his teacher.
Because Yang Hao had a responsibility. The ring the old Sword Saint placed on his finger was a duty—an inheritance spanning five thousand years. This legacy was not merely the passing down of power, but also the responsibility to protect the concealed Longyou Pavilion and the unseen潜龙s.
Yang Hao could fire, but he could not fire—not yet.
In the most exhausted, weakest voice, he advised Wu Yi: “Master, today’s battle has tired us all.”
Indeed, they were tired. The ground was littered with the wounded. Even among the Eight Elder Stewards, seven were injured, including the barely alive Tiance Elder. Today’s battle had brought the Elder Council to their limit. They had paid the price and nearly crushed the Longyou Pavilion’s final defenses.
But they were tired.
“Go back,” Yang Hao continued, “there will be other days.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Wu Yi asked—a question often posed to Yang Hao.
“I do,” Yang Hao replied. “I am the heir of the Dan Ding Sect, the leader of the Longyou Pavilion. This is what I must do.”
Wu Yi’s pupils contracted, his eyes blazing with fury. Yet Yang Hao remained calm, stable—almost like an unshakable sculpture.
Finally, Wu Yi understood. The situation had completely changed. Yang Hao had played his final card, and it was an unbeatable one. No matter what price the elders were willing to pay, the Zunzhi (Supreme Sovereign) was the Elder Council’s absolute bottom line. Even if all three hundred elders were to perish and the Nine Stewards were to fall, the Zunzhi must not be allowed to fall. The destruction of the Zunzhi’s physical body would mean the collapse of the Elder Council’s entire foundation and the complete upheaval of the universe’s order.
Wu Yi turned his head. The wind just happened to pass through the forest, through the bare branches. He looked at Situ Hai, bleeding profusely, his body reduced to a pile of meat. He saw the sword masters of the Longyou Legion sitting on the ground, supporting each other, their blood mingling, making them seem like one.
Wu Yi also saw the elders’ dazed eyes. He understood—the battle was lost. Though the enemy had narrowly won, the Elder Council had still lost.
To lose was to admit it.
Wu Yi, weary, waved his hand. The elders trembled, some disbelieving, yet forced to believe.
The few still capable elder stewards sighed deeply, gathered together, and formed a mobile barrier. When brilliant light erupted from the barrier, the three hundred elders and eight stewards vanished, leaving behind pools of blood and an entire ruined star system, ultimately returning empty-handed.
But before leaving, Elder Wu Yi looked at Yang Hao and said: “Young man, don’t forget—there’s still tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Yang Hao nodded. “Every tomorrow is the beginning of another bloody battle.”
As Situ Hai slumped down, the cold wind passed through the hole in his chest, swirling inside his body, yet he no longer felt pain. Before him, everything allowed Situ Hai to relax, to finally lay down the burden on his shoulders. Comfortably, he sank onto the grass, calling Yang Hao and the others with his gaze.
Everyone could see—this was Situ Hai’s final moment.
Once a young, unrivaled genius swordsman, now an aging man heading toward death. His sword remained, his sword intent remained. In his eyes, all sword techniques in the world were but children’s toys.
Situ Hai had grasped the ultimate sword principles. He was the god of swordsmanship, unmatched, the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
But he was dying.
His shattered body could no longer support his weight.
Situ Hai asked Longyun: “Who am I?”
Longyun slammed his broadsword into the ground and roared: “You are Situ Hai, the universe’s greatest wandering swordsman.”
“And I am also your friend, your brother,” Situ Hai laughed. “I never seduced your wife. Longyun, your wife came to me, but I didn’t take her. All these years, perhaps she has been waiting for you to find her.”
Longyun’s expression changed greatly: “You didn’t…”
“I didn’t,” Situ Hai nodded. “Except for Chang Rong, I never had another woman.”
Longyun inhaled deeply, his eyes revealing regret—the most irreparable regret in the world. Longyun could have kept this friend, could have kept his wife, but jealousy-fueled anger had robbed him of the chance for a second chance.
Situ Hai’s gaze wandered and fell upon Hede. The old bear stood there, nearly as tall as the seated Situ Hai. Situ Hai smiled: “Old friend…”
“Old friend,” tears filled Hede’s eyes.
“I really miss those days. We were invincible together.” Situ Hai laughed, coughing out a few mouthfuls of blood.
“We still are invincible,” Hede reached out, wanting to grasp Situ Hai’s fading life, but in vain. “You are invincible.”
“The world is so unjust. We were both wounded, yet you returned to the Holy Domain peak so early. I’ve only arrived here now,” Situ Hai sighed. “It’s too late, isn’t it? Far too late.”
“I had help,” Hede said.
“I was always alone,” Situ Hai bitterly shook his head. “Old bear, will you help me?”
Hede trembled. He closed his eyes, but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. This old sage, who thought his tears had long dried up, saved one final drop for today.
He gripped his axe, stomped the ground, and finally nodded: “Yes, I will help you.”
Situ Hai was satisfied. Then he turned to Yang Hao, raising his hand with difficulty.
He grasped Yang Hao’s hand, the one wearing the black ring. To Yang Hao’s surprise, Situ Hai didn’t say anything, but instead a surge of power flowed from Situ Hai’s fingertips into Yang Hao’s body.
Caught off guard, Yang Hao soon felt the power and thoughts settle into his brain and body like finding a new home.
Yang Hao had to bite his lip to prevent himself from crying out in grief. He had sensed it—the power, the Ling Nian—was the ultimate sword principle that Situ Hai had only barely grasped in his final moments. It was Situ Hai’s entire ability, an inheritance passed from one generation’s genius to the next.
And the secret of the Longyou Pavilion, the activation of the hidden barrier—Situ Hai had fully passed it all to Yang Hao.
So many secrets indeed needed no words.
When the inheritance was complete, Yang Hao was nearly overwhelmed with sorrow: “Why? Situ Hai? Why?”
Why give all this to Yang Hao? Why hand over everything gained through a lifetime to a young man?
Situ Hai didn’t answer. He simply let his hand drop, flipping his palm to draw a brilliant arc in the air: “The sword… is still in hand!”
“Hah!!” Elder Hede roared like thunder, and with one axe stroke, severed Situ Hai’s head.
Thus died the greatest sword saint in the world.
The cold wind howled twice, then vanished into the forest’s corner. The sun had already set.
Yang Hao suppressed his grief and said to Hede: “Take everyone, take the Longyou Legion back to the spaceship first. I still have something to do.”
Hede nodded and went to assist Qing Li and the others. Although still alive, these sword masters were severely wounded and required time to recover.
Kan Ling, fearing Yang Hao might be too heartbroken, took his hand.
“It’s okay,” Yang Hao patted her face. “I’ll be back soon.”
Beneath the gravitational cabin of the Endship, the group quickly vanished beyond the atmosphere. Yang Hao used his spiritual awareness to scan the entire planet, confirming that no one else remained alive.
He released a flame from his fingertip, engulfing Situ Hai’s body. The fire wrapped around the bloodied, mangled corpse, consuming every inch of it.
“What a pity,” Hunyuanzi also sighed.
Yang Hao’s eyes were filled with sorrow as he gazed at the flames. This was the fire he had least wanted to see. Possessing both fire and sword principles, yet Yang Hao felt no joy.
As Situ Hai’s body burned into ashes, a faint trace of life suddenly emerged from behind. This was the key to the secret barrier of the core Longyou group. The barrier had almost no gaps, only this one, serving as the key to opening it. To conceal this, Situ Hai had shielded his body over it. Only when the corpse was burned to ash could anyone discover that there was a secret barrier on this planet.
Naturally, no one would know what lay inside this barrier.
Using the method Situ Hai had transmitted in his final moments, Yang Hao opened the barrier woven from over ten secret techniques.
A secret that had spanned countless centuries—the true secret of the Longyou Pavilion—finally revealed itself before his eyes.
As Yang Hao stepped through the colorful, radiant gate, he could hardly believe his eyes.
Inside the barrier sat two hundred people—two hundred individuals of different ages and races.
The only thing they had in common was that all two hundred had already reached the Saint realm level.
Two hundred sword saints, two hundred experts of the Holy Domain—this was the true power of the Longyou Pavilion, the true inheritance passed down by the old sword saint and Situ Hai to Yang Hao.
When the Longyou Pavilion star system was under attack, these people did not appear.
When the Longyou Legion was nearly wiped out, these people did not appear.
Even when Situ Hai was killed, they did not appear.
Because these were the Qianlong—the true Qianlong. “Never seen unless summoned.”
Yang Hao was shocked. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could watch their comrades die and still remain seated, not even emitting the slightest spiritual fluctuation.
“Situ Hai is dead,” Yang Hao, after his shock, grew angry. If these people had acted earlier, even if they couldn’t turn the tide, they could at least inflict heavy losses on the Elder Council.
Yang Hao’s voice merely caused everyone to look at him. But these people, whether old or young, remained as cold as iron, only looking at Yang Hao—and the black ring on his finger.
“Why didn’t you act earlier?” Yang Hao raised his voice, growing even more displeased. “Situ Hai died—died to protect you. Why didn’t you rush out and fight the elders to the death? Doesn’t the Qianlong have any passion left in their hearts?”
An old man asked: “Who are you?”
“I am Yang Hao, the new inheritor of the Longyou Pavilion.”
“Oh! So you’re Yang Hao!” The old man exclaimed in surprise, and the two hundred Saint Domain experts, who had previously been silent, couldn’t help but turn their gazes toward the young man standing before them, eager to catch a glimpse of this suddenly risen immortal warrior.
Moreover, Yang Hao was now the leader of the Longyou Pavilion, able to command any of them. With such a force at his disposal, Yang Hao had become the strongest power outside the Elder Council.
“Why didn’t you attack earlier?” Yang Hao persisted. Situ Hai’s death had hurt him deeply.
“Had any of us been outside, none would have rushed out to save him,” the old man said. “Because Situ Hai was a dead warrior, and everyone outside was also a dead warrior. Their only mission was to protect the true hidden dragon. Their duty was to ensure that the Longyou Pavilion never perished—an eternal secret spanning five thousand years…”
“Is hiding like a turtle the secret to surviving five thousand years?” Yang Hao was furious. These people’s thinking was too far from his own.
“If we had rushed out earlier, what would have happened?” the old man asked.
Yang Hao hesitated for a moment: “Perhaps the Elder Council would have lost seventy percent of their forces. I could have at least killed two stewards. Situ Hai… he might not have died.”
“And then?”
Even hesitating, Yang Hao had to admit: “You might have all been wiped out.”
“Exactly,” the old man nodded. “The secret to the Longyou Pavilion’s five-thousand-year survival lies precisely here. Everyone here has experienced the greatest failures the world has to offer. We no longer desire failure. Therefore, we will not engage in futile endeavors. True passion is nothing more than the helplessness of a hero at the end of his road.”
“So Situ Hai was your ‘si shi’, sacrificing his life to ensure your survival?”
“No,” the old man said sorrowfully. “Situ Hai only bought us some time. If you hadn’t appeared, we would still have died.”
“How did you know I would come?” Yang Hao asked, puzzled.
“We didn’t,” the old man said. “But one thing all failures understand is that battles often turn at the last moment. Thus, the loyal warriors of the Qianlong will hold until the end.”
“What is the meaning of your survival? What was the meaning of Situ Hai being a dead warrior? Was it merely for the Longyou Pavilion to survive another thousand years?” Yang Hao asked heavily.
“The final battle,” the old man knelt before Yang Hao, and the two hundred Qianlong warriors knelt as well. “Leader, the final battle is when we will pour out all our blood and passion. The Qianlong will not sacrifice in vain. We are all waiting for that day.”
Yang Hao understood. Suddenly, he understood everything.
These people before him had once, like Hunyuanzi, charged into revenge and slaughter with passion, only to end up with their families destroyed. Therefore, the current潜龙 (Qianlong) were silent, withdrawn. But silence was not forever. This silence was meant to be exchanged for a future eruption. In the final battle, these individuals would pour out all their passion, using every ounce of their strength to repay those who had died for them.
“Never seen unless summoned.”
As Yang Hao prepared to leave the barrier, the two hundred spoke in unison.
“The sword…” Yang Hao waved his hand. “is still in hand.”
“The sword is still in hand!!”
This was the response of the Qianlong.
In the 67th year of the Emperor’s Era, the Longyou Pavilion star system was destroyed under the full force of the Elder Council. Over 1,500 planets lost their energy. The Longyou Pavilion suffered heavy losses, with over half of the Eight Longyou Legions destroyed. The universe’s greatest wandering swordsman, Situ Hai, perished. On the other side, the Elder Council also paid a heavy price—about fifty elders died, seven elder stewards were injured, and the Tiance Elder was critically wounded, nearly unable to recover.
On the surface, the Elder Council’s operation seemed a great success—the Longyou Pavilion had been crushed. Yet beneath the calm, undercurrents surged. The true forces of the universe had already inherited their legacy. The balance between Yang Hao and the Elder Council was subtly shifting.
The final battle against the Elder Mountain was imminent.
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