Golden blood, vivid and tragic, surged high into the air, scattering in dazzling droplets like molten gold, painting the sky with its brilliance.
This was the blood of a Golden Crow!
The so-called Golden Crow, a three-legged avian with feathers of radiant gold, descended from an ancient lineage of innate celestial birds, possessing incomparable might.
“Jin Yang… is wounded!” The hearts of those within the immortal sect trembled in shock. Never had they imagined that Golden Crow blood would stain the heavens—their young prodigy had suffered a grievous blow.
It must be known that the *Heaven-Scorching Immortal Incineration Art* was a renowned celestial technique, its power so immense that, once unleashed, it could incinerate the four seas and set the heavens ablaze. At its peak, even true immortals could be refined to ash.
True to its name, it was no empty boast—it stood as one of the supreme techniques of the ages!
Yet now, Jin Yang had faltered, suffering a devastating wound. His shoulder bled freely, revealing golden bone beneath the gruesome gash, nearly cleaved in half.
“It’s not that the *Heaven-Scorching Immortal Incineration Art* is weak—it was interrupted before Jin Yang could fully unleash it. That lower realm warrior is formidable!” The youth clad in violet-gold battle armor spoke, the mist obscuring his face dissipating to reveal sharp brows and an imposing aura.
That Jin Yang had nearly met his end, his golden blood spilling freely, was a chilling sight. A prodigy of the immortal domain, reduced to such a state—how humiliating!
The White Peacock Fairy produced a jade vial containing a luminous, emerald-hued nectar, offering it to Jin Yang to treat his wound.
Yet, he refused!
Jin Yang stood firm, his golden pupils blazing with fury, flames erupting from his gaze, scorching the void itself.
The sight was terrifying—the heavens trembled as a colossal Golden Crow manifested behind him, roaring to the skies like a primordial beast rather than a celestial bird, shaking the world.
Jin Yang couldn’t comprehend it. How had this youth suddenly erupted with such monstrous power, unleashing force many times greater than before in an instant?
He had been in the midst of channeling the *Heaven-Scorching Immortal Incineration Art*, yet his foe had struck with overwhelming might in a flash—defying all logic.
Greater power required greater preparation—yet this opponent had shattered that rule, multiplying his strength in an instant, a nightmare for any adversary.
That Jin Yang still lived was testament to his genius. To survive such a devastating strike, akin to the combined assault of multiple warriors, was nothing short of miraculous.
Especially when it had come without warning.
“So this is the pinnacle of the lower realm’s youth? Truly formidable. I admit I gravely underestimated you,” Jin Yang spoke, his voice cold.
He scrutinized Shi Hao, activating the *Golden Crow Heavenly Eye*—a vertical pupil appearing on his brow, shimmering with divine radiance, golden light seething within.
“You must be the strongest human youth of the lower realm, no?” Jin Yang reasoned. Surely, not just anyone could wound him so.
“You think too much. The lower realm has many experts—I haven’t met them all. Who can say?” Shi Hao feigned humility, subtly undermining his foe’s pride.
“Hah…”
Jin Yang laughed, his voice laced with frost and killing intent. He refused to admit defeat—not when he hadn’t even fully unleashed his ultimate technique!
Shi Hao met his gaze. “What other tricks do you have? Any legendary immortal arts? Show me.”
This wasn’t recklessness—he sought to gauge the depths of the immortal domain’s power, to witness their might firsthand.
From a single prodigy, he could glean much.
Now, Shi Hao stood at his peak. The blood in his chest blazed like a miniature sun, dense bone scripts swirling within, ready to be unleashed in an instant.
“*Golden Crow Scorches the Heavens!*”
Jin Yang roared, his body swelling as if to burst, golden blood seeping from his pores, rendering him a statue of molten gold.
Fearing another devastating strike from Shi Hao, he sacrificed his essence blood to complete his technique in haste.
**BOOM!**
The terror was absolute. Golden Crow blood ignited, fueling the *Heaven-Scorching Immortal Incineration Art*, flames devouring the heavens as if to reduce the world to cinders.
Legends spoke of an era when the Golden Crow clan’s supreme expert incinerated realms, slaughtering countless peerless experts, dominating all beneath the sky.
This was but a fragment of the art’s dread legacy.
Now, that ancient myth seemed to manifest—flames surged, the heavens cracked, melting into rivers of magma.
To scorch all existence—this was the *Heaven-Scorching Immortal Incineration Art*, a technique to erase the world itself.
Yet, despite its fury, Shi Hao stood firm. His *Wheel Sea*—the vortex of power in his abdomen—erupted, gates of energy flaring open, forming a shield of light.
A perfect circle, woven from yin and yang, threaded with lightning, encasing him in an impervious defense.
A flawless sphere, embodying the Dao itself!
For a fleeting moment, the *Wheel Sea* radiated with the essence of life and death, nearly untouchable by all laws.
Brief, yet sufficient for Shi Hao to dissect the intricacies of his foe’s technique, to grasp the pinnacle of immortal-domain power.
He was testing himself, risking his life to understand the depths of celestial might.
Then—he struck.
A simple slash, his arm gleaming like a blade, cleaving through the inferno.
Flames capable of immolating immortals dimmed, suppressed by overwhelming force, flickering into nothingness.
“*Breaking the Dao with sheer strength?*”
The White Peacock Fairy and others gasped. Shi Hao’s method was primal—when power reached an apex, even the most profound arts could be shattered.
**SPLAT!**
This time, Jin Yang’s arm was nearly severed, a chunk of flesh falling away, horrifying to behold.
**THUD!**
As the flesh struck the ground, it transformed—a fragment of a Golden Crow’s wing, golden feathers and blood gleaming.
Shi Hao had struck with precision, not to kill, but to claim a prize.
After all, this was the immortal domain. Slaughter would invite the wrath of elders—a disaster best avoided.
“Ah—!”
Jin Yang snarled, pain secondary to humiliation. Defeat, again! Unacceptable!
Behind him, the others stared, dumbfounded.
For the human youth moved with practiced ease, swiftly gathering the Golden Crow flesh—collecting golden blood, plucking feathers, preserving the meat—before stashing it all away.
“You—!” Jin Yang’s face darkened with rage. Was this brat treating him as prey?
In the immortal domain, who dared hunt the Golden Crow clan?
Shi Hao smacked his forehead. “Ah, my apologies. I forgot—this isn’t the lower realm. Out there, resources are scarce. Wasting nothing is habit. Do you… want it back?”
Jin Yang’s jaw clenched, veins bulging. Could he demand it back? No—utterly humiliating.
A cold snort was his only reply.
“I hear Golden Crows regenerate swiftly. A little wound like this is nothing, right?” Shi Hao grinned, making no move to return his spoils.
The violet-gold armored youth and the White Peacock Fairy exchanged glances. This audacious whelp had just claimed Golden Crow meat as trophy!
“I admit your strength. But to flaunt your barbaric ways in the immortal domain, to insult my clan—this battle isn’t over!” Jin Yang declared.
Pride refused defeat. A lower realm savage, once beneath his notice, had bested him—unbearable!
“Heh.” Shi Hao smirked. He had never underestimated his foe. Each clash had been lethal—a single misstep, and death would follow.
This was no weakling—this was a true Golden Crow prodigy.
“*Golden Crow’s Cry—The Fall of Emperors!*”
Jin Yang’s roar shook the heavens. Golden qi erupted from his crown, painting the sky with auspicious light, as if an ancient realm descended to envelop them.
If *Golden Crow Scorches the Heavens* was the prelude, this was the true forbidden art—a lost ancient technique of unparalleled might.
Legends whispered of an era when emperors fell to the mournful cry of a Golden Crow, shaking the cosmos.
Now, that era seemed to return—the world dimmed, time itself unraveling.
Shi Hao’s hair stood on end. For the first time, true dread gripped him. This technique was lethal—demanding his utmost focus.
“Jin Yang, **cease!**”
A voice thundered from afar, a streak of light piercing the ancient realm, dispelling the *Fall of Emperors* illusion.
“Uncle!” Jin Yang cried.
“Your cultivation is insufficient. Forcing this technique will destroy you. Admit defeat.” The man’s voice echoed, though he did not appear.
And so, the battle ended.
The distant figure vanished, leaving only silence in his wake.
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