The entire forbidden domain outside the courtyard was illuminated by the overwhelming silver radiance of a magical artifact.
The Saintess Zhen Tu’s lifebound artifact was a silver ritual bell.
Under the full power of a Divine Transformation cultivator, spiritual energy condensed into a towering phantom of the bell, crashing down toward the Cloakless Sword Formation with earth-shaking force.
Due to the sheer vastness of its energy and the enormity of the phantom, the very fabric of space trembled precariously. The bell’s descent appeared unnaturally slow, an eerie and surreal sight.
Around the phantom, layers of mist-like veils swirled—turbulent, torn vortices of spiritual energy.
"Wuuu—hong—"
The force was terrifying.
Within the sword formation, countless blades stood upright, their tips pointing outward.
The shockwave arrived first, and where the sword tips met it, they seemed to hold up a curtain of rain.
Ten thousand points of silver light shattered.
Breath was stolen, vision blinded.
Amidst this dazzling realm ruled by silver radiance, a streak of red suddenly unfurled.
Luo Luo sat in her wheelchair, the sword in her hand igniting with spiritual flames.
Thread by thread, strand by strand, the firelight flowed like water, spilling over the blade.
With a soft "hong" of flame, the Autumn Water Sword’s body instantly turned crimson-hot, transforming into a blade of flowing fire.
Wu Xie’s chest ached faintly where her old sword wound lay.
Last time, Luo Luo had only been at the Golden Core stage, wielding an utterly ordinary sword.
Yet she had nearly run her through.
Now, Luo Luo had mastered the Daoist arts of the Nascent Soul stage, and the sword in her hand was clearly no longer mundane.
If this strike landed, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Wu Xie was currently maintaining the Golden Light Seal Formation and had no means to defend herself.
A glance to the side confirmed that Zhen Tu, who was supposed to be guarding her, was still entangled in battle with those insignificant ants.
Before Wu Xie could think further, Luo Luo’s flaming sword thrust forward with explosive force!
Wu Xie’s pupils contracted sharply. In that split second, a thought flashed through her mind—If I’m severely injured, the formation will collapse anyway.
In that case…
Without hesitation, Wu Xie abandoned her hand seals, teleported, and vanished from her spot.
"Pfft!"
With the formation’s master suddenly withdrawing, the subordinates flanking her on both sides couldn’t withstand the abrupt surge of pressure. Blood sprayed from their mouths as their bodies crumpled.
The Eight Trigrams Golden Seal dimmed abruptly!
This was the moment Luo Luo had been waiting for. Her injuries were so severe that she couldn’t possibly execute another lethal strike—her earlier display had been a bluff to force Wu Xie into abandoning the formation.
Her eyes sharpened, and her sword stance shifted.
The Autumn Water Sword abruptly curved midair, shooting straight toward the Eight Trigrams Formation.
At the same time, Wu Xie reappeared amidst the silver-lit sky.
Her gaze darkened, lips pressing into a thin line—I’ve been tricked!
"Did you truly believe this would be enough to break my Divine Palace’s grand formation?" Wu Xie sneered, voice icy with fury. "How utterly foolish!"
Even as she spoke, she prepared to teleport and strike Luo Luo dead with a single palm strike.
Luo Luo paid her no mind.
The Autumn Water Sword, now a streak of blazing light, closed in on the golden Eight Trigrams Formation. At the same time, the Long Sky Sword, which had fallen at the Divine Lord’s feet, let out a resonant hum and shot toward Autumn Water outside the formation.
With a fiery chime, Long Sky’s blade flickered—igniting with identical flowing flames.
"Hong!"
The two swords raced toward each other, tips aligned. Inside and outside the formation, the scene mirrored itself perfectly.
A brilliant scarlet glow erupted, dazzling and fierce, dyeing the entire world red in an instant.
The two streaks of flame drew closer, the air distorting into layers of breathtaking crimson—pale pink, peach, rose, ruby, true red, deep crimson, and wine-dark scarlet.
Luo Luo sang loudly: "Autumn Water and Long Sky merge as one~"
Wu Xie froze. "..."
That was horrendous. Never sing again.
She realized that nothing she did now could stop what was unfolding. Killing Luo Luo wouldn’t change a thing.
All she could do was wait for two events to occur simultaneously.
Autumn Water and Long Sky would unite, piercing the Eight Trigrams Golden Seal.
The phantom bell would descend, colliding with the Cloakless Sword Formation.
"BOOM—"
Deafening noise was followed by a shrill ringing in the ears.
To Luo Luo, the world had become an ocean—turbulent waves tossing her body like driftwood, as if she had dissolved into the currents herself.
What surged wildly was spiritual energy.
Boundless, overwhelming, as though it cost nothing to expend.
The sound of snapping blades echoed one after another. The sword formation withered rapidly, like an oil-paper umbrella shredded by a storm, leaving only broken ribs behind.
Amidst the white-noise tinnitus, no sounds of vomiting blood could be heard—after being struck by such force, there was no need for blood. The damage was beyond that.
The formation’s core, flickering with soul-blood radiance, dimmed at a visible pace.
The bodies of those within the formation stood frozen like statues.
In the blink of an eye, the collective glow representing their life forces was on the verge of extinguishing.
Luo Luo whipped her head around!
Her wavering vision swept over the scene—once-familiar, lively faces now ashen with death.
Their laughter still echoed in her ears. The warmth of the bonfire, the charred aroma of roasted chicken, the figures chasing and play-fighting—all still vivid in her memory.
They had formed a fragile human wall to help her uphold justice.
They had staked their lives, using the Cloakless Sword Formation to shield her from Saintess Zhen Tu.
She had only just begun to understand a new kind of emotion, had only just found a place that felt like home.
She had learned to cherish them—so why must she lose them now?
Luo Luo stared fixedly at the dying soul-light of the formation, her jaw clenched painfully, fingers digging deep into her palms.
Do something, Luo Luo. Hurry, do something!
"Though we have no robes, we share our garments..."
"Though we have no robes, we share our garments..."
A faint, crisp shattering sound came from beside her.
Where the two swords had merged, the unyielding golden seal of the Eight Trigrams Formation began to crack, spiderweb fissures spreading across its surface.
A battle maniac like Li Zhaoye would never let such an opportunity slip.
"Li Zhaoye!" Luo Luo steadied herself. "You have to be quick!"
With a forceful push against her wheelchair, she flung herself forward with all her strength, diving into the dying sword formation.
Hand seals formed. Soul-blood poured out. She slammed her palm into the formation’s core with desperate force.
"Though we have no robes, we share our garments..."
The Cloakless Sword Formation—if one lived, all lived.
Dizziness assailed Luo Luo. Black spots swam across her vision.
She could feel her life force draining away at a terrifying speed.
I can’t… hold on… much longer…
Adding her own life to the scales, buying the others a few more breaths.
Each inhale grew labored, her chest burning as though she were drowning.
Her head spun.
She could no longer see Li Zhaoye’s figure clearly.
Laughing, she sang off-key: "Though we… have no robes..."
Her voice was hoarse and broken—utterly awful.
Thud.
A pale hand closed around the Long Sky Sword.
A sinister aura billowed behind him like a dark monarch’s cloak.
His other hand still clutched the Nether Spider, pressed against his forehead. Its swollen red abdomen heaved, multiple eyes rolling back, eight legs twitching uncontrollably.
From his throat came inhuman roars—agonized, enraged, brimming with malice.
"It" was trapped within this vessel, and this vessel was mercilessly inflicting torment upon itself.
Even a mindless thing could feel pain.
"It" instinctively recoiled, relinquishing control of the body in retreat.
The hand gripping the sword suddenly trembled.
He flung the ghostly woman aside with a backhanded motion, fingers curling into claws as he clenched the empty air.
The scattered threads of sealing magic streaked back through the formation, their metallic hum unceasing as they pierced his flesh one after another, coiling around his organs and carving into his bones.
His face still bore the inhuman expression of "It."
His bloodstained lips stretched nearly to his ears, pitch-black pupils trembling violently in their sockets as he let out a maniacal laugh and drove his elbow into the weak point of the golden sigil.
"Boom!"
A shockwave of razor-sharp energy erupted.
Wu Xie was too late to intervene—the Eight Trigrams Formation shattered, and two rows of the Divine Palace’s formation-bearers fell dead on the spot.
"Damn it!"
Wu Xie and Zhen Tu exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with horror.
For countless ages, the Divine Palace had maintained absolute control over the Divine Sovereign—never once had there been an accident.
Yet now, under their watch as Holy Maidens, disaster struck repeatedly, one calamity after another.
Wu Xie’s voice was icy. "If we don’t resolve this today, we’ll be condemned as sinners for all eternity."
Zhen Tu lowered her gaze. "No matter what, the witnesses must be silenced."
A silent understanding passed between them.
Even if the Divine Sovereign truly escaped and plunged the world into chaos, the truth—that their own string of failures had caused it—must never reach the ears of the living.
"Especially you," Zhen Tu spat. "If you’d just strangled that little bastard back then, none of this would’ve happened!"
Wu Xie pressed her lips together, silent.
She had thought about it.
But that infant had been too healthy, too full of life, crying with such shameless vigor.
When she pushed him into the river, he slipped through her fingers like a fish, his strength unnatural for a newborn.
She instinctively cast a spell at him—only to strike the riverbed’s piled infant bones instead.
The sight of those tiny limbs and skulls surging to the surface had sent a chill down her spine, and fear of unseen karmic retribution stayed her hand.
So she let the child swim away.
As they spoke, the two Holy Maidens launched a joint assault on Li Zhaoye.
His grin remained, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, his dark eyes flickering between madness and cold calculation.
He was moving toward the Swordless Formation.
"It’s trying to save them!"
Moving in perfect sync, they flanked him, avoiding direct confrontation—only stalling.
Another breath, and those trapped in the formation would perish.
Including Luo Luo.
Li Zhaoye attempted to teleport, but "It" resisted. His stance was flawless, yet his body nearly tripped mid-motion.
Enraged, he grabbed the ghostly woman and plunged her into his own forehead.
"Aaaargh—!"
A scream unlike anything human tore from his throat as tendrils of black energy erupted from his body like demonic claws, writhing wildly around him.
Every wisp shrieked in overlapping, ear-splitting cacophony.
Even the Holy Maidens dared not face it head-on, twisting aside as the sonic assault ripped past.
Then Li Zhaoye—eyes blood-red—blinked out of existence, reappearing elsewhere.
Still gripping the ghostly woman, still draining his own mind.
"Whimper—"
A stray sealing thread, caught in the ruins of the Eight Trigrams Formation, yanked taut like a kite string, suspending him mid-air.
He didn’t flinch. He walked forward.
The seal snapped.
A spray of blood.
In that instant, the Swordless Formation’s soul-light guttered out.
His gaze locked onto one person.
She sat slumped between her senior sisters, head tilted back, smiling up at him.
Her smile was too sweet—so sweet it turned his mouth bitter.
Slowly, she blinked once.
The extinguished soul-light flickered, stubbornly igniting one last, barely visible spark.
As that ember seared into his vision, her eyes closed.
His body hunched slightly as "It" thrashed against him, pinning him in place. The two Holy Maidens closed in silently.
Li Zhaoye’s lips curled.
"Fine. Let’s all die together."
His whisper sent chills down their spines.
The wind died.
Darkness seeped into the surroundings, thick with killing intent—cold, razor-edged, biting into their skin like needles.
The battle hung on a knife’s edge.
"Thud!"
A small, wizened figure tumbled down from the courtyard wall.
Like a drop of water hitting boiling oil, every lethal focus snapped onto him.
The old man scrambled on all fours, darting straight into the dying Swordless Formation.
Rolling up his sleeve, he slashed his wrist and let his starlit soul-blood drip into the formation’s core.
His left hand formed a seal.
Grinning toothlessly, he sang in a cracked voice: "Who says we have no robes~ Who says we have no robes~"
The nearly extinguished soul-light wavered—then brightened.
The old man’s sparse gray hair fell out in clumps.
"Dammit!" He patted his bald spot, cursing. "A thousand years of health cultivation—wasted!"
Wu Xie recognized him.
"Daoist Feng Guanhai." Her composure frayed. "Why are you here?"
The old man grimaced. "Blame my bad luck! Snuck some meat and wine, took a nap—woke up to this mess!"
With his aid, the formation’s soul-light grew steadier.
A weak voice rose from the crowd: "Knew it… those missing chicken butts…"
Wu Xie swayed, dizzy. "Elder, you need not involve yourself."
Feng Guanhai shrugged. "Can’t help it. Young Luo saved my son’s life. If she’d died out of sight, I’d just burn some paper money for her every festival—call it even. But she’s dying right in front of me. If I don’t act, my conscience won’t rest. And us righteous cultivators? We hate unsettled karma."
Wu Xie shut her eyes. "How do you know the Taixuan Sect’s sword formation?!"
Feng Guanhai’s face darkened. "Because Qin Wuyi—the one who invented this damn thing—was my lover! Hmph! That brat Chen Xuanyi only got her legacy by sheer luck… Become a Daoist Sovereign? In his next life, maybe!"
Muttering, he added, "Pretty boy… just a pretty boy… What was Qin Wuyi thinking? Blind, I tell you!"
Luo Luo, barely conscious, caught the tail end of this ancient gossip.
Qin Wuyi—the Taixuan Sect’s previous Daoist Sovereign, Chen Xuanyi’s senior sister—had died young, leaving few records.
Her gaze drifted back to Li Zhaoye, hovering mid-air.
He narrowed his eyes, exuding sudden, lazy amusement.
Luo Luo smiled faintly, then turned to the old man.
He glared at her. She shrank under his scrutiny.
"Hmph!" He huffed. "Consider my debt repaid! Don’t you dare ask me for spirit stones later!"
Luo Luo: "…"
Before she could speak, he added, "And don’t expect me to help you fight these two hags!"
Luo Luo: "…"
Finally, it clicked. "You’re… Elder Feng Guanhai?"
Feng Baiyan had once said that after saving Jiang Ling, she could demand anything from his father.
So… her grand promise to Li Zhaoye—"mountains of spirit stones and pills in the future"—had truly been… just a fantasy.
Feng Guanhai nodded. "Good!"
He withdrew his palm from the heart of the formation, sealing the wound with a flick of spiritual energy—not a single drop of soul blood wasted.
Xu Junzhu struggled to his feet and bowed solemnly. "Thank you, Senior, for saving my life!"
"Enough, enough," Feng Guanhai waved him off. "You youngsters, with all your formalities—just like Lingxue. Annoying!"
Xu Junzhu: "..."
Feng Guanhai snorted. "I'm leaving. You lot can keep fighting to the death for all I care."
True to his word, he wobbled to his feet, slipped on his straw sandals, and prepared to teleport away.
Then—the ground beneath them trembled.
"Hmm… what now?"
The golden Eight Trigrams seal that had once enveloped the sky and earth shattered completely.
Without its master to sustain it, the massive formation collapsed with a deafening roar, its immense spiritual energy crashing down like a hammer through fragile paper.
The earth convulsed, splitting apart as it caved in.
"Bad news," Wu Xie said grimly. "We need to leave. Now."
Zhen Tu frowned. "But the Divine Master hasn’t—"
Too late.
This forbidden underworld domain had originally been the second trial ground after the preliminary rounds, supported by a grand formation.
After the incident at the Divine Seal Temple, the place was abandoned—but the foundational formation beneath had yet to be dismantled.
Now, the golden seal’s descent shattered not only the surface but also the formation below.
Luo Luo’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Before her, surreal scenes flickered past.
This had been meant as a trial of the heart, its setting modeled after the imperial capital. Towers and palaces swept by, adorned with intricate carvings and gilded splendor.
Fragrant beauties lingered in the air, while noble suitors tossed fruits into passing carriages.
A mesmerizing vision of prosperity.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion tore through the illusion, and everything around them began to collapse.
It was nothing short of the heavens splitting and the earth cracking open.
Everyone present felt as though they stood on a ship shattered by monstrous waves, the abyss yawning beneath them.
This catastrophe was beyond mortal intervention.
Li Zhaoye flashed to Luo Luo’s side, gripping her arm.
The sensation of freefall lessened.
Before she could speak, he flung out sealing threads, tethering their half-dead sectmates like kites.
With a sharp tug, he guided them through the chaos—dodging plummeting rubble, collapsing walls, and entire streets.
The entire space was falling.
The Divine Palace’s holy maiden paled.
Feng Guanhai cursed loudly.
Li Zhaoye, having no memory of kite-flying, found the experience rather novel.
The disciples of the Supreme Mystery Sect gradually caught their breath. Though badly injured, their survival lifted their spirits.
After all, fortune favors those who cheat death.
One swaying "kite" cheered, "Eldest Brother is invincible! Eldest Brother is peerless! Little Sister is invincible too! Little Sister is also peerless!"
Another chimed in, "Eldest Brother’s a legend! Throwing his own corpse, stabbing his own brain, playing with his own threads—what a madman!"
Li Zhaoye: "..."
What kind of praise is that?
Then—a vast silhouette emerged from the abyss below.
A suffocating aura rose, thick with dread and oppression.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," Feng Guanhai spat, eyes wide. "Pang Yue, that useless fool! He was supposed to repair the Divine Seal Temple, and this is how he patches the leaks?!"
The chubby "kite" Zhao Yu floating beside him asked, "So… what does that mean?"
"What does it mean?" Feng Guanhai roared. "It means this old man and all you clattering baggage are about to drop straight into the Divine Seal Temple!"
"Eh?" Zhao Yu blinked. "The temple’s this close?"
Feng Guanhai couldn’t be bothered to explain.
The Divine Seal Temple existed beyond the mortal realm, straddling reality and illusion. These juniors, with their shallow cultivation, wouldn’t understand.
But one thing was certain—if they didn’t escape soon, even a Dao Lord like him might not make it out alive.
In the span of a breath, the massive obsidian temple complex loomed before them.
HUMMM—
A strange ripple of energy pulsed outward.
The formation that had served as the temple’s "patch" dragged them all down into its depths.
A silencing curse swept through the group instantly.
Feng Guanhai and Li Zhaoye moved in perfect sync—one muted all sound, the other hauled everyone along.
When they landed, not a single noise escaped.
Before them stretched an ancient, towering temple complex.
All around, colossal "statues" loomed—monsters and demons, frozen in time.
The group exchanged terrified glances.
Surviving disaster… only to face greater horrors?!
