The middle-aged Daoist nun turned and fled, stepping onto a bronze lotus as she sped away at incredible speed. The strength of her opponent had far exceeded her expectations—if she continued fighting, she would likely perish here.
“Weren’t you here to demand justice? Why flee in such panic?” Shi Hao’s voice echoed across the sky.
For a Venerable One, fleeing was already humiliating, especially after suffering a crushing defeat at the hands of a mere teenager. Now, being mocked like this, she nearly turned back in a desperate counterattack. But survival was paramount. She had already lost, and turning back now would only invite greater suffering.
Fortunately, she had managed to retrieve her severed arm and pressed it against the wound, applying spiritual medicine. With time, it would heal.
“Shhiiing!”
A golden sword beam slashed through the heavens, splitting the sky like a dazzling bolt of lightning in the eyes of the imperial capital’s onlookers. But to the Daoist nun, it was the shackle of death itself, about to ensnare her. She spat blood, burning her essence to accelerate her escape.
She had arrived with arrogance, calling him “Little Stone” with condescension, looking down upon the entire Stone Nation. Yet now, she had fallen to such a state—proof of life’s unpredictable twists.
Blood dripped from her shoulder as she frantically shifted positions, barely dodging the sword strike. But the boy behind her was relentless, unleashing a storm of sword beams that filled the sky with golden radiance, like a monstrous lotus blooming across the heavens.
No matter how she accelerated or changed direction, she couldn’t evade them all. One strike rumbled like a descending true dragon, its boundless golden light surging toward her back. Terror seized her, but it was too late to dodge—sword beams filled every direction.
A flash of dark light—she summoned the tortoise shell again, its surface covered in dense symbols, shielding her back. This was a divine artifact left by an ancient sacred tortoise, an unparalleled defensive treasure of the Heaven Mending Sect.
Yet, as the sword beams struck, the shell’s glow dimmed rapidly, cracks spreading until—
“Clang!”
Another sword beam landed, and the shell trembled with a crisp sound, its aura flaring like burning flames before—
“Boom!”
The priceless treasure shattered into hundreds of fragments, obliterated from existence.
The Daoist nun screamed in anguish—this was her most treasured artifact, yet it couldn’t withstand that golden divine sword. She coughed blood, her back mangled by the exploding shards, bones visible beneath torn flesh.
The imperial capital watched in stunned silence. A Venerable One had been grievously wounded by Little Stone, nearly slain on the spot—what terrifying might!
If Shi Hao’s earlier feat of single-handedly challenging the three sects’ experts and driving them away was a legend, today’s battle was nothing short of a miracle.
At just fifteen, he had achieved such earth-shattering feats—what heights would he reach in the future? It was unimaginable. Perhaps he would truly shake the annals of history.
Only a few understood that Shi Hao relied on the imperial dragon qi. Yet even so, his prowess was breathtaking—not every emperor could wield such power.
The three sects’ cultivators were deeply unsettled. This Little Stone was a terrifying foe, a future force none could restrain.
“Next time, think twice before coming back,” Shi Hao called from the sky, stopping at the city’s edge. He had nearly slain her.
Beyond the city, his imperial dragon qi weakened rapidly. Pursuing further would be unwise. Still, he thrust out one last sword beam—a golden arc piercing the heavens, so brilliant it stunned all who saw it.
The Daoist nun shrieked as the beam tore through her, leaving a bloody hole.
“You… just wait! I’ll take your head to avenge my Profound Shield!” she spat blood, her eyes dark with hatred, her earlier composure gone.
“Let this emperor divine your fate—your days are numbered. You’ll never return to the Heaven Mending Sect,” Shi Hao declared.
Furious, the Daoist nun turned and fled, unable to bear another moment in his presence.
Silence gripped the capital. Such a battle was mythic—a fifteen-year-old defeating a Venerable One would shake the world in any era.
Soon, the city erupted in deafening cheers. The title “Emperor” was chanted by many, and the imperial dragon qi surged. Shi Hao could feel strands of essence pouring into the palace from the void, enveloping him in a misty aura. The imperial seal in his arms grew even more radiant.
He flicked the golden war sword, its blade ringing with peerless sharpness—one of the two mightiest artifacts in the treasury, capable of shattering even divine tortoise shells.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty, on mastering divine techniques!” Peng Jiu cheered.
“Long live the Emperor!” the generals roared, followed by the soldiers, their voices shaking the heavens.
Shi Hao nodded and vanished into the central palace, taking his throne. Deep in thought, he murmured, “As expected, a Venerable came. But they won’t dare send too many.”
He knew that even sects like Heaven Mending, with connections to the upper realm, wouldn’t act recklessly in these turbulent times. The upper realm’s power players were numerous, and some might even oppose them.
“What a pity—just a bit more, and that nun would’ve been slain,” Peng Jiu lamented.
Soon, the War King and others entered, both exhilarated and worried. The three sects’ experts had arrived, and more Venerables would follow. Could Shi Hao alone withstand them?
“Don’t worry,” Shi Hao said calmly, dismissing most retainers but keeping the War King and Peng Jiu.
“There might be quite a show,” he grinned, his teeth gleaming—youthful and carefree, shedding his imperial solemnity.
Baffled, the two followed him to the ancestral altar, which he activated. Like a water mirror, it displayed distant scenes.
“Ah! Your Majesty left a surveillance array far away, viewable through the altar,” they realized.
Outside the capital, the Daoist nun landed in a mountain range, smashing a peak to dust in her fury. Humiliated before countless eyes, hunted down by a boy—it was a century’s worth of shame.
Many of the three sects’ experts had entered the city, but the strongest remained outside. The nun returned to her sect’s camp, bandaged her wounds, and drank tea to calm herself.
Finally composed, she asked her disciples, “Any traces of Yue Chan?”
“Elder, we traced her to a ruined land, where faint divine fluctuations remain,” they reported.
“Yue Chan… her talent is peerless, descended from the upper realm. If she’s lost, none can bear the blame,” the nun muttered, rising. “I’ll investigate personally.”
The dried-up lake, shattered earth, and scorched mountains spoke of devastation. The nun’s expression darkened.
“The remnants of the God-Slaying Array’s thunder formation… Yue Chan set this. Even Little Stone shouldn’t have survived—how did he live while she vanished?”
Puzzled, she probed the area with her divine sense, seeking clues.
“Hmm? Something’s off here…”
Back in the palace, Shi Hao grinned. “Just as I divined—it’s coming true.”
The War King and Peng Jiu exchanged confused glances.
“The show’s about to start,” Shi Hao said cheerfully.
Suddenly, radiant light erupted from the ruins, engulfing the area. The nun screamed, struggling with all her might, but the luminous net tightened, its symbols crushing her.
Her disciples disintegrated instantly.
“That damned brat! He set this trap!” she raged, realizing Shi Hao’s earlier “divination” was a taunt.
She had walked right into his snare.
The symbols pressed down, her body crumbling. Her fleeing soul was obliterated by a divine beam.
In the palace, the two men stared, stunned. A Venerable had died so ignominiously.
After a long pause, they burst into laughter.
“It’s not over yet. Let’s go take a look,” Shi Hao said, his grin almost mischievous.
They traveled through a spatial passage to the site. Shi Hao meticulously erased traces and reinforced the formation.
“Only used once—what a waste. I was hoping to ‘divine’ a few more fates,” he chuckled.
The two finally understood his earlier expression—this emperor was utterly shameless.
This formation was designed specifically for Venerables. Ordinary people wouldn’t trigger it.
Soon, they returned.
Back in the palace, Shi Hao laughed heartily. He didn’t expect immediate results, but sooner or later, someone else would step into his trap.
“Your Majesty, the three sects are mobilizing outside the city. Multiple Venerable auras detected—they’re preparing to enter Stone Capital,” a scout reported.
The palace tensed.
“Let them come,” Shi Hao waved dismissively.
The War King and Peng Jiu looked grim. A full-scale assault would be catastrophic.
“Why fear? We should rejoice!” Shi Hao laughed, gesturing at the palace. “The formations are ready, altered just for them. The more Venerables that come, the better—two or three deaths would be boring.”
The two men could only laugh helplessly. Their emperor was truly… something else.
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