“What’s the other half?”
Even Nine-Eyes Heavenly King grew curious.
“Zhang Ruochen hasn’t gone all out yet,” Xia Wenshin said.
“How’s that possible? An Eight-Step Saint King fighting the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son to this degree is already astounding—how could he still be holding back?” the long-faced Emperor’s Daughter exclaimed.
Xia Wenshin replied, “In the Eastern Region Holy City, I saw Zhang Ruochen fight. He possesses a supreme holy artefact.”
Silence fell over the cultivators atop the white bone mountain.
An Eight-Step Saint King wielding a supreme holy artefact could pose a threat to a Dao Domain expert even in direct combat.
And this Eight-Step Saint King was the spacetime heir, Zhang Ruochen.
“With space and time powers, Zhang Ruochen is nearly invincible. Add a supreme holy artefact, and he can attack or retreat at will,” Nine-Eyes Heavenly King mused with a smile. “This battle’s getting more interesting. It seems Zhang Ruochen is indeed a real test for the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son.”
Emperor’s Son Yun countered, “The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s cultivation far outstrips Zhang Ruochen’s—he holds the upper hand.”
Those present, having reached their current realms, were no ordinary beings.
They knew true strength stemmed from personal cultivation. Relying on external tools or techniques might grant temporary advantage, but it was ultimately inferior.
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son touched the blood mark on his cheek, his gaze turning razor-sharp. He couldn’t help glancing toward the white bone mountain, as if sensing Emperor’s Son Yun, Nine-Eyes Heavenly King, and the others mocking and scorning him. Injured by an Eight-Step Saint King—unacceptable.
Zhang Ruochen noticed, following his gaze to the distant white cloud.
“You’re strong, but from now on, you’ll have no more chances.”
Humiliated, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son roared in fury, “All Things as Soldiers!”
A golden mark flared at his brow, emitting a blinding, sun-like radiance. Wherever the light touched, the ground turned metallic.
Rocks, plants, streams, soil—all transformed into gold and rose, forming twelve golden giants.
Each exuded an aura rivaling a Dao Domain cultivator.
Even without the Gate of Destiny’s suppression, defeating these twelve would be near impossible for Zhang Ruochen. With his strength reduced four or fivefold, it was a Herculean task.
“His combat power rivals Blood Bee Shura King with her swarm—a fearsome foe. And could there be even stronger Undying Blood Clan experts lurking nearby?”
Zhang Ruochen used a grand spatial shift, appearing dozens of li away, racing toward the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan.
“Think you can escape that easily?”
“Turn Stone to Gold.”
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son pointed, and a mountain over a thousand meters ahead morphed into metal, lifting off and hurtling toward Zhang Ruochen.
The strike sealed his path and forced him back.
Zhang Ruochen stepped onto the metal mountain, ascending swiftly to its peak before leaping over a hundred li, entering the zone of ancient divine inscriptions.
Though fragmented, these inscriptions retained formidable power, keeping the Undying Blood Clan experts at bay outside the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan.
“You’re not getting away!”
“Boom!”
“Boom!”
…
Six golden figures crashed from the sky, landing ahead of Zhang Ruochen, kicking up thick clouds of dust.
As the dust settled, six golden giants stood at calculated intervals, blocking all escape routes.
Behind him, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son approached with the other six golden giants.
“Your maximum spatial shift is about a hundred li, right? Keep fleeing toward the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan, and no matter how you shift, a golden warrior will reach you in a blink. You can’t shift again that fast.”
“And while you face one, attacks from me and the others will already land.”
“Even as the spacetime heir, you’re trapped today.”
The Gate of Destiny loomed behind the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son, steel chains coiling around him, his brow aglow with golden light. Each step toward Zhang Ruochen sounded like a tolling death knell.
Zhang Ruochen smiled. “Who said I’m escaping? I retreated to the edge of the divine inscription array to keep your allies from interfering. More precisely, I don’t want anyone saving you when I kill you.”
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s eyes narrowed, then he smirked. “Trying to scare me? Psychological tactics? Useless when the cultivation gap is this wide. I’ll end this fight now.”
“Swish.”
He thrust his palm forward, and the chain snaked out.
A golden beam shot from his brow, melting rocks and soil into golden rivers.
Zhang Ruochen smiled faintly, forming a sword gesture with his right hand. The Chenyuan Ancient Sword flew out, clashing with the chain before slicing along it toward the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son.
The Azure Sky Pagoda rose, hovering above Zhang Ruochen, radiating supreme power to shield him.
“Bang, bang.”
The chain, the golden beam, and the golden warriors’ attacks were all blocked by the supreme force, unable to breach the pagoda’s defence for the moment.
On the white bone mountain, the emperors and emperor’s daughters who knew of Zhang Ruochen’s supreme holy artefact frowned in confusion.
“Zhang Ruochen’s using it for defence? Is he that afraid of dying?”
“He’s a fool. If I were him, I’d attack with it—only a supreme holy artefact could harm the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son. Defence? Heh, it might hold for a while, but with his Eight-Step Saint King realm, he can’t sustain it forever—it’ll break eventually.”
“The outcome’s clear. Divine Son Xia, you misjudged this time.”
Xia Wenshin said, “It’s too early to conclude. Didn’t you see Zhang Ruochen send a sword to attack?”
“You think the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son can’t block a sword from an Eight-Step Saint King? Even with a sword soul, Zhang Ruochen has no chance against him,” an emperor retorted.
Xia Wenshin fell silent, his eyes fixed on the sword flying toward the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son.
The Chenyuan Ancient Sword trailed a long arc of light, spinning with countless sharp sword qi swirling around it like a black rain, targeting the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s vital points.
“Ignorant—this attack is useless against me. But this sword’s quality seems decent—I’ll take it!”
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son laughed, pressing five fingers downward. A surge of holy power shattered the sword qi into nothingness.
This alone could terrify countless Dao Domain experts.
“Soldier Summoning Art.”
He cast a mysterious saint technique, seizing the Chenyuan Ancient Sword and suppressing it in his palm.
The sword trembled fiercely but couldn’t break free.
“A holy sword forged from creation material—perfect! It might evolve into a supreme holy artefact someday,” the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son said, thrilled.
Seeing his delight, Zhang Ruochen’s lips curled. “You dare take the spacetime heir’s sword? Too careless.”
“What do you mean?”
Instinct screamed danger. The next moment, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son shuddered, a wave of weakness flooding his body.
“Bang, bang.”
Too weak to maintain control, the twelve golden warriors exploded into golden dust.
The Chenyuan Ancient Sword broke free, ringing with a “zheng” as it flew back to Zhang Ruochen’s hand. Sword in grip, he shifted spatially, appearing beside the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son.
“It’s time power… you slashed my lifespan with it… it was on the sword…”
Furious but aware he couldn’t match Zhang Ruochen now, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son slapped a talisman on himself and retreated swiftly.
“Not bad—you figured it out quick. Your battle experience is impressive,” Zhang Ruochen said, slashing horizontally.
Before the Emperor’s Son could escape, the sword bisected him, blood spraying.
Yet the Undying Blood Clan’s perverse vitality kept him alive.
Zhang Ruochen rushed forward to finish him.
On the white bone mountain, a smile graced Xia Wenshin’s handsome face. “So that’s Zhang Ruochen’s trump card. The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son has some skill—he forced out Zhang Ruochen’s hand.”
Xia Wenshin flicked his finger, and the God-Extinguishing Cross Shield flew out, expanding into a hundred-zhang crucifix, bathing miles in blood-red light.
Divine patterns flowed across it, faintly revealing a god nailed to the cross, divine blood streaming like rivers through sky and earth.
“Rumble.”
The shield plunged into the ground beside Zhang Ruochen, dust billowing.
Space froze.
The Chenyuan Ancient Sword, an inch from the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s brow, halted. Zhang Ruochen stood petrified, statue-like.
“The spacetime heir frozen in space—how laughable, just like Saint Monk Xumi. A master of space and time, yet banished to the river of time. Haha!” Nine-Eyes Heavenly King roared with laughter.
