“Do you think our Sky Mending Pavilion has no one left? We have returned, ready for a decisive battle—to annihilate all invaders!” The returning warriors roared, each activating their divine treasures as they charged forward. Figures swarmed from all directions, leading groups of elite fighters to reinforce the sacred land. The morale of the Sky Mending Pavilion, once low, now surged as former disciples returned, igniting a fervor that drove them into fierce combat against their enemies.
The great battle erupted. In the sky, divine rain fell like shimmering petals, a breathtakingly beautiful sight, while the earth below was drenched in blood.
“Ling Tian Hou stands here! Who dares to violate my sect?!” A towering figure clad in silver armor streaked across the battlefield, unstoppable. With a single glyph, swathes of enemies exploded into crimson mist.
“Ling Tian Hou, instead of enjoying your noble title and ruling your domain, you meddle here? Beware—you might lose your life!” A savage roar echoed as a massive crow, pitch-black and spanning dozens of meters, unleashed ominous cries and billowing dark light. A mature avian expert, it had already cleared a battlefield, leading its kin to bathe in the divine rain.
“Insolent! A mere crow dares to act arrogantly here? Die!” Ling Tian Hou bellowed, drawing a colossal bow. He nocked a massive arrow, pulled the string taut, and—*shhh!*—released it. The arrow streaked like a silver comet, piercing the heavens as it homed in on the crow.
The crow screeched, spewing black flames that transformed into glyphs to incinerate the arrow. Yet, the arrow blazed with silver symbols, extinguishing the dark fire and continuing unimpeded.
*Thud!* The silver arrow pierced the crow’s body, causing it to explode in a shower of blood. A single arrow had slain a primordial descendant—Ling Tian Hou’s terrifying might sent shivers through all witnesses. In an instant, the battlefield cleared, none daring to oppose him.
“Qishan Clan’s Patriarch is here! All who dare invade our sacred land—show no mercy!” An elder, wrathful as a lion, soared through the air, wielding a treasure seal. With a flick of his wrist, the seal expanded into a mountain-sized colossus and crashed down. The earth shattered beneath its weight, crushing enemies into pulp.
“Kill them all!” The battle cries shook the heavens. Countless Sky Mending Pavilion disciples, drenched in blood from their arduous journey, joined the fray. The land was littered with enemies, and the war raged everywhere. Eyes burned with fury—whether renowned experts or ordinary warriors, all from the sacred land fought with fearless resolve.
The sacred land boiled with war. The Sky Mending Pavilion’s disciples were overwhelmed with emotion, tears welling in their eyes. Whether they had left a century ago or mere decades prior, their return stirred a profound sense of belonging. Even the Thunder Ancestor Mu Yan and Elder Liu fought with renewed vigor, targeting monstrous patriarchs.
“The Sky Mending Pavilion is finished! Their guardian spirit is dying—what else do they have left? With so many great forces united, this land is doomed to become scorched earth. Let us end this swiftly!” A monstrous elder, a true patriarch with few rivals, sneered. He bore deep grudges against the sect and rarely appeared in the world.
“You think you can decide our fate?!” A radiant sun rose, blindingly bright—a figure glowing with divine light, illuminating the sacred land with terrifying majesty.
“It’s the War King!” Gasps spread. His reputation was fearsome, earned through countless battles. Once a disciple of the Sky Mending Pavilion, he had returned.
His power was undeniable. With a mere gesture, glyphs surged like an ocean, forcing the monstrous elder to cough blood and stagger.
“Die!” The elder spat out a foot-long sword, shimmering with iridescent light. Forged from an ancient beast’s fang, it was indestructible—capable of cleaving mountains.
*Clang!* Yet the War King fearlessly struck the blade with his fingers. The emerald weapon trembled, its glyphs flickering, nearly falling from the sky.
“Perish!” The elder infused the sword with his essence, intensifying its glow like a divine river.
*Clang! Clang! Clang!* The War King’s fingers hammered the weapon relentlessly, his supreme glyphs shaking the heavens. A nearby hill split from the shockwaves.
*Crack!* The emerald sword shattered under his strikes—a priceless treasure destroyed.
The elder howled in madness. This weapon, refined over a lifetime, was now ruined. Blood sprayed from his lips.
“I’ll fight you to the death!”
“Then die!” The War King, radiant as the sun, advanced mercilessly.
*Boom!* His fist unleashed divine power, scattering the elder’s techniques before blasting him into the sky—where he exploded.
Absolute dominance. The War King’s might was peerless, befitting his legend of once contending for the imperial throne.
“Senior Brother, it’s been years!” The War King fought his way deep into the sacred land, reuniting with the Pavilion Master.
The title “Senior Brother” brought a pang of nostalgia. The Pavilion Master’s heart swelled—the War King had only trained here for a decade before leaving for the Stone Kingdom. Yet, he had returned in their darkest hour.
“Even with reinforcements, you cannot change fate! The Divine Vine is dying—what hope do you have?!” A silver flood dragon roared, its massive form charging forward. A primordial descendant with deep hatred, it had slaughtered many.
The Pavilion Master said nothing. Transforming into a streak of light, he struck the dragon with thunderous force, scorching its scales.
Nearby warriors gasped—this was no ordinary beast, yet it was instantly crippled.
The War King moved on, battling elsewhere.
Enraged, the dragon unleashed divine light, attempting to suppress the Pavilion Master while lunging with its powerful physique to tear him apart.
*Whoosh!* Golden wings unfurled from the Pavilion Master’s back, stirring gales and thunder. He transformed—into a colossal golden bird.
“A Divine Roc technique! He’s mastered transformation!” Many cried out in awe.
The golden roc dove, its talons seizing the dragon. With a mighty tear—*splash!*—blood and light erupted.
The dragon writhed but could not escape, torn apart in a gruesome end.
All trembled. Freed from rescuing disciples, the Pavilion Master was a nightmare for enemy elites.
The Sky Mending Pavilion stood united, fighting valiantly despite heavy losses.
“Is this struggle futile?” A dazzling golden figure emerged—humanoid but covered in golden fur, exuding overwhelming terror.
“A Golden Beast!” Panic spread. This creature hailed from the mythical Divine Mountain—a servant of the gods. Its presence signaled the heavens’ verdict: the sacred land’s fate was sealed.
Above, laughter echoed. The Devourer spread its wings, sensing the guardian spirit’s exhaustion.
“The divine seed is mine! You can no longer protect this land!” The Qiong Qi’s cold voice dripped with killing intent.
*Boom!* The sky erupted with light. The Divine Vine, now withered and yellowed, revealed itself—only a green gourd retained vitality.
*Splat!* Blood rained as the vine struck the Devourer, plucking its feathers.
*Swoosh!* The gourd unleashed chaotic sword light, wounding a humanoid being from Yi Mountain.
*Roar!* The Qiong Qi bellowed in pain as the vine’s whip nearly shattered its bones.
The vine, engulfed in light, spoke softly: “Farewell.”
“Guardian Spirit!” The sacred land wailed in grief.
“Clinging to life for so long—you should have died sooner!” The Devourer sneered, snapping a brittle vine with its claws.
“With your body spent, how will you fight? You won’t even dissolve into light—I’ll grind you into powder and consume you!” The Qiong Qi roared.
The vine remained calm, gazing at the ruined courtyard below—its birthplace, now its grave.
“Guardian Spirit!” The sect’s disciples wept, their hearts torn by rage and sorrow.
The Little Rascal howled, his newfound sense of belonging shattered. Clutching a broken sword and a small pagoda, he fought desperately, yearning to join the celestial battle.
*Hum!* The broken sword glowed. A disheveled old man materialized—his skull impaled by an ancient sword, black blood oozing.
The Ghost Elder had appeared—visible to all this time. Taking the broken sword, he caressed it, then erupted in fury, soaring skyward.
*Splat!* The Devourer’s claw, which had snapped the vine, was severed. Blood gushed.
All were stunned. This spectral figure was unimaginably powerful—and had emerged without warning.
As the Divine Vine burned into divine rain, the Ghost Elder spoke hollowly: “You kept your vow—guarding this land until death.”
“Who are you?!” The Devourer raged, reattaching its claw as it dove.
*Roar!* The gray-haired elder howled like a demon, reversing the skies’ momentum.
The Devourer recoiled, evading the overwhelming killing intent.
“You planted me… gave me life…” The vine murmured, fading into the light as it gazed at the sword-pierced elder.
And then—it was gone.
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