How could the young kings from the foreign realm not be furious? The youth in the arena was casually calling for “next”—was this sheer arrogance, a blatant disregard for them?!
To them, such indifference, such contempt, was nothing short of an insult. Who dared to treat them so lightly, summoning them as if they were mere playthings?
“I will kill him!” the Serpent Yaksha hissed, his silver body gleaming as strands of glyphs flickered around him.
Except for the increasingly anxious Golden Demon Bird, the other young kings all glared coldly. That man was far too insolent—he needed a lesson carved into his bones, a brutal execution!
The blood on the ground was thick, crimson tinged with pale gold—the remnants of the foreign king who had just fallen.
After his death, his true form was revealed—a golden ram. No wonder his face had been goat-like, with a pair of horns atop his head. His golden fur shimmered brilliantly, and his flesh exuded astonishing innate spiritual essence.
His twelve arms had transformed into powerful ram legs, sturdy and formidable.
Yet now, it lay broken, shattered by Shi Hao’s devastating blows, leaving only a mutilated corpse emitting faint golden light, sprawled across the battlefield.
Just like the Mantis Centipede before, torn apart by Shi Hao’s onslaught, its flesh and blood scattered everywhere.
“Gather this ram and that centipede for me,” Shi Hao ordered, speaking to the golden ant and Cao Yusheng behind him.
The group was momentarily stunned, but quickly recalled his temperament and fell silent—they knew exactly why he wanted them preserved.
“I will kill you!” the Serpent Yaksha roared first.
“If given the chance, I will slaughter him!” declared a young king clad in white robes. He stood with an imposing presence, the space around him distorting, causing others to tread carefully in his presence.
Clearly, his status was extraordinary. Even among kings, there were hierarchies, and this being was a cut above—like a sovereign descending upon the mortal world, commanding awe.
“No one has ever dared to threaten or belittle us. He must die!” another voice chimed in.
“Next!” Shi Hao uttered no other words—just those three, resounding across the sky.
The cultivators from the other side of the world paled. The young kings’ eyes blazed with fury, their long hair whipping about as their auras surged menacingly.
As for those from the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, they exhaled deeply, as if they had just consumed a divine fruit—every pore in their bodies relaxed, an overwhelming sense of relief washing over them.
From the start of the battle until now, their side had suffered loss after loss, one heroic figure after another falling, the atmosphere suffocatingly grim.
But now, with Shi Hao’s two consecutive victories, the tide had turned. The oppressive gloom was swept away, replaced by a surge of exhilaration.
Some couldn’t help but shout, cheering Shi Hao on.
“Huang, you’re unstoppable! Slay them all—avenge the fallen!”
…
Shi Hao’s gaze locked onto the frontlines. His greatest desire was to kill the Serpent Yaksha and the Golden Bird, hoping they would step forward willingly—for the victor had the right to choose.
Just as he had remained on the battlefield after two victories, he could also choose to withdraw.
“Never has anyone dared to act so arrogantly before us. He must be executed swiftly—his head severed!”
Among the foreign kings, the white-robed youth spoke again. His status was high, and as he spoke, others nodded in agreement.
At that moment, the Immortal Tortoise Shell fragments glowed, swirling with chaotic energy before one piece shot out—selecting Shi Hao’s opponent.
“Hmm?”
Everyone was stunned. The fragment had landed before the white-robed youth—choosing him.
Many exchanged glances, their expressions shifting. Fate had indeed granted him this opportunity to face the youth known as Huang.
“Excellent. Heaven’s will favors me. Even the heavens decree that I shall execute him!” the white-robed youth declared coldly.
He strode forward, his robes billowing, his body radiating blinding light—like a war god awakening, descending upon the mortal realm.
“Kill him!”
As he moved, the foreign youths clamored, urging him to crush Shi Hao with overwhelming force, to assert his invincibility.
Shi Hao’s gaze remained calm as he watched the approaching figure.
This youth was flawless, even his shoes and socks pristine white—a peerlessly handsome man, like a child of destiny!
With each step, the earth trembled, mountains cracked, and boulders shattered, their fragments piercing the clouds.
A radiant halo enveloped him, dazzling yet terrifying—like an immortal entity stepping forth.
“Meeting me is your misfortune. I grant you death!” the youth declared, staring straight at Shi Hao.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, the shell fragment corresponding to this youth glowed, revealing astonishing glyphs.
At the same time, the fragment linked to Shi Hao also trembled, displaying strange symbols—though they vanished almost instantly.
“What does this mean?” Shi Hao was puzzled—this was the first time such an anomaly had occurred.
“Those words are the surname of an unparalleled existence!” someone from the other side gasped.
Why was this happening?
The young kings shuddered, baffled.
“Zhan Feng’s mother is a descendant of that unparalleled existence. He carries a portion of that clan’s true blood!” an elder from the foreign realm explained.
The white-robed youth was named Zhan Feng. His maternal lineage was terrifying—even the strongest of their realm dared not speak of it lightly.
The crowd was stunned. Was this manifestation due to the true blood within Zhan Feng?
“To be precise, his maternal grandmother hailed from that clan. Thus, he possesses one-quarter of that bloodline,” someone murmured.
Even Shi Hao, who had been solely focused on battle, was taken aback. What kind of clan could command such reverence?
At the same time, his heart clenched. The surname’s appearance on the shell fragment, though fleeting, hinted at something—would he be entangled with it in the future?
Earlier, when the Immortal Tortoise Shell was invoked, some had speculated that the chosen opponents were not just random—there was fate, even “clan destiny” at play.
“Your origins seem unusual. Are you someone significant?” Shi Hao asked bluntly, without preamble.
This was rare for him—his usual approach was to slaughter his way through, sparing no words for his enemies.
“I bear one-quarter of the Anlan Clan’s true blood!” Zhan Feng declared coldly.
His pride was unmistakable. At the mention of “Anlan,” a flash of brilliance crossed his eyes—pride.
“One-quarter true blood, and you’re this arrogant?” Shi Hao scoffed, baffled.
“Audacious!” Not only Zhan Feng, but others behind him also roared in outrage.
Clearly, that surname held an extraordinary power—one that many revered and would not tolerate being slighted.
“Is the Anlan Clan so formidable, so remarkable?” Shi Hao muttered.
Yet the moment he uttered “Anlan,” a surge of murderous intent tore through the sky.
Shi Hao’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared into the void.
A golden spear, capable of piercing all things, materialized—its faint glow radiating an overwhelming, annihilating aura.
This was terrifying. Merely invoking a clan’s name had summoned such an apparition—a golden spear.
Shi Hao sensed that calling this name could manifest such phenomena for certain beings.
“The power of a true name. That existence still lives, still watches over the cosmos!” The Great Elder from the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths sighed, his expression grave.
“Who is that?” someone asked.
“An unparalleled being, terrifying beyond imagination. Uttering his name is akin to invoking his true self—his weapon and power can partially manifest,” the Great Elder explained.
Such a being was truly fearsome.
Now, Shi Hao understood the weight of the Anlan name.
Yet, he remained unfazed, staring at the white-robed youth. “One-quarter true blood, and you’re proud of that?”
Many from the foreign realm remained silent, their gazes icy.
The Anlan Clan was fearsome, but its members were few. Zhan Feng’s one-quarter bloodline was already remarkable.
For ages, no youth from the Anlan ancestral lands had stepped into the world.
“It is your ignorance that blinds you. You will pay for your disrespect!” Zhan Feng spat coldly.
“Anlan,” Shi Hao murmured again—and the spear reappeared, as if ready to split the cosmos.
The weapon was horrifying, yet also strangely familiar.
“Wait—” Suddenly, he remembered.
In the underground immortal manor of the Heavenly Deity Academy, he had witnessed the remnants of the golden ant’s father—one of the Ten Fiends.
The golden-haired man had shown Shi Hao his final moments—battling against supreme beings, wounded and bleeding.
The most vivid memory was of a golden spear tearing through the universe, piercing the ant’s body in one strike.
“That spear… it’s the same one!” Shi Hao’s expression darkened completely.
“The Anlan Clan tolerates no blasphemy. Your disrespect shall be repaid in blood!” Zhan Feng roared.
The mere mention of “Anlan” could summon such power—this was the might of an unparalleled being from the foreign realm.
Rumors said even the master of the Immortal-Refining Pot possessed such authority.
“Even if you had pure blood, I’d slaughter you all the same—no mercy!” Shi Hao retorted fiercely.
“Insolence!” Zhan Feng bellowed, launching his attack. To him, “pure blood” was an insult—implying he was inferior.
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