“Sword Nine.”
Zhang Ruochen’s gaze sharpened as he poured every ounce of his strength into a single strike.
Radiant sword light clashed with blazing flames, a destructive aura spreading as if to annihilate everything.
Were they not within the sword tomb, the collision might have sunk tens of thousands of li of land.
Great Saint-level battles could easily topple stars.
For any major world, a clash between Great Saints was a catastrophic event.
Countless streams of purgatory fire splashed outward, raining down as scorching fire that melted all it touched.
“How’d it go?”
Xiang Chunan and the others turned their eyes to Zhang Ruochen, eager to know the outcome.
Zhang Ruochen stood firm, gripping the Sky-Soaring Sword, staring at Xue Tu. One sleeve was gone, burned to ash by the purgatory fire.
Across from him, Xue Tu’s face was ashen, a single strand of hair drifting down, severed by sword qi.
On the surface, he held a slight edge, yet he felt no satisfaction. A being he deemed an ant had cut his hair—what if it had been closer? Could it have wounded him?
“Bang.”
A torrent of wild purgatory fire surged from Xue Tu’s body, flooding the sky.
The severed strand ignited, turning to ash in an instant.
The Inferno Purgatory Tower quaked violently, countless intricate inscriptions flaring with brilliant light, faint traces of divine power seeping out, nearly solidifying the space.
In the void beyond, stars might have already fallen.
“Hiss.”
Everyone in the sword tomb shivered, scalps tingling.
Though no wind blew, they felt a chilling breeze laced with the stench of blood, as if a purgatory were descending upon the world.
Legend held that the Inferno Purgatory Tower housed a purgatory realm within—capable of suppressing and refining even gods.
Indeed, it had once pinned a deity, leaving lingering divine power.
Supreme sacred artifacts capable of slaying gods possessed unimaginable might, rare even across countless worlds.
Zhang Ruochen’s expression grew solemn as he drew as much power as he could from the sixteen ancestral souls, simultaneously invoking the Rules of Truth.
Though the sword tomb suppressed the Path of Truth, it still offered some effect—even doubling his strength could be pivotal.
Xue Tu’s next strike was no trifling matter; Zhang Ruochen had to go all out or suffer a grievous loss.
He unleashed the *True One Thunder-Fire Sword Technique*, filling the heavens with thunder and flame.
This technique suited him perfectly: his mental power excelled in lightning arts, and he wielded the Pure Extinguishing Divine Fire at the Ministerial Flame level.
Coupled with his prodigious swordsmanship talent, mastering the *True One Thunder-Fire Sword Technique* had been effortless, its essence fully grasped.
Thankfully, his potent Pure Extinguishing Divine Fire granted strong resistance to purgatory fire—otherwise, this battle would be far bleaker.
“Boom.”
The collision of their titanic forces shook the entire sword tomb.
Zhang Ruochen staggered back several li, dissipating the incoming shockwave.
The Inferno Tower’s flames sputtered, some inscriptions dimming as its aura weakened noticeably.
Xue Tu’s face darkened further. He’d expected to dispatch Zhang Ruochen with ease, but the situation defied his predictions.
“Let’s see how many rounds you can last against me with those borrowed spirits,” Xue Tu sneered, launching another assault.
No matter how strong external power was, it couldn’t endure—sustained attacks would soon break Zhang Ruochen.
“You’re formidable, but defeating me in the sword tomb is impossible,” Zhang Ruochen replied, brushing dust off himself as he gripped the Sky-Soaring Sword horizontally.
A sword domain formed of countless sword qi materialized around him.
In the distance, thick blood mist rolled into the sword tomb, revealing powerful Undying Blood Clan figures.
The Nine-Eyed Heavenly King crossed his arms, snorting, “He calls us useless, yet he’s stalled by Zhang Ruochen too.”
Xia Wenzin’s long hair fluttered as he gazed at the battlefield with a smile, “Both Xue Tu and Zhang Ruochen, bolstered by sixteen sword saint souls, wield power to rival Great Saints. We’d best not interfere.”
A Great Saint’s strike wasn’t something to take lightly.
Entering their fray now would be like facing two Great Saints at once—a death sentence.
The towering Wangqiu Divine Son spoke, “If we distract Zhang Ruochen, Xue Tu might win faster.”
Xia Wenzin’s gaze swept over Bao Lie, Ji Fanxin, and the others, “Then pick your opponents.”
“I’ll go first.”
The Nine-Eyed Heavenly King, simmering with rage, yearned for a cataclysmic fight.
His wings unfurled like twin blood clouds, lifting him into the air. His right palm extended, and a three-zhang-wide beam shot from the eye in his hand.
Before it struck, a fierce wind roared, kicking up dust and debris before Bao Lie and Ji Fanxin.
“Roar.”
Bao Lie bellowed, unleashing a fist imprint.
It morphed into a massive nebula leopard, vivid and immense, scattering starlight in its wake.
“Boom.”
Their clash rocked the heavens and earth.
Nearby volcanoes crumbled, lava surging from the depths, painting hundreds of li crimson.
The Nine-Eyed Heavenly King swooped above Bao Lie, laughing as another beam lanced from his eye.
Ji Fanxin drew a translucent purple petal, pinching it between her fingers, “Daring to trespass here—Nine-Eyed Heavenly King, you’re too arrogant.”
“Whoosh—”
The petal flew, splitting into two, then four, then eight… until it became a rain of petals.
This wasn’t mere decoration but a mental attack.
A single petal could wound mind and soul.
Yet before reaching the Heavenly King, an aura redirected them into a torrent, veering aside.
Xia Wenzin, his blood-red hair flowing, wielded a bamboo scroll to capture every petal.
“The famed Hundred Flower Fairy—truly breathtaking,” he said, eyeing Ji Fanxin with admiration.
“Careful—she even bested the Nether Immortal. Roses have thorns; don’t prick yourself,” the Nine-Eyed Heavenly King quipped mid-battle with Bao Lie.
Instantly, Xia Wenzin and Ji Fanxin struck, their speed blinding as they vanished from sight.
Led by Wangqiu Divine Son, the remaining emperor offspring and the Undying Blood Clan army swarmed toward Xiang Chunan and the others.
“Whoosh.”
Zhenmiao Little Taoist hurled seven divine seat planets, aligning them in distinct positions. Array inscriptions flared, forming a ninth-grade formation.
With the array, aided by Xiang Chunan, Da Sikong, and Er Sikong, they barely held off Wangqiu and his forces.
Only Shi Qiankun abstained, gazing afar as a Blood Clan contingent raced toward Cold Fire Mountain.
“No—Cold Fire Mountain is where Zhang Ruochen’s forging a body for the Abyss Ancient Sword. It mustn’t fall to them.”
He affixed a talisman to his chest, enveloping himself in white light, and sped off.
Catching the contingent, Shi Qiankun unleashed Blood-Suppressing and Mountain-Linking Talismans, slaying over seven hundred saint-realm Blood Clan cultivators, pinning them beneath stone peaks.
Atop Cold Fire Mountain, he wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling in relief.
“Talismans that counter the Undying Blood Clan—may I see one?” a sinister voice echoed.
Shi Qiankun’s face paled.
A wisp of black mist materialized, coalescing into the Nether Immortal.
One moment at the base, the next on the mountainside.
Knowing he was no match, Shi Qiankun leapt into the mountain’s core.
“Heh, beyond the *Star Chart*, there’s an unexpected bonus.”
The Nether Immortal pursued, seeking the *Star Chart*.
“Hmm? This Cold Fire Mountain seems odd.”
He stomped lightly, a rumble echoing as cracks split the mountain, revealing its interior.
Within, the Abyss Ancient Sword hovered beneath the Sundial, a black-clad youth resembling Zhang Ruochen perched atop it, laboring to form a body.
His form flickered between solid and ethereal.
After years, the sword spirit’s body was nearing completion.
Shi Qiankun stood opposite, staring up at the descending Nether Immortal with a despairing sigh.
The enemy was too strong—resistance was futile.
The Nether Immortal stood straight, hands clasped behind him, studying the Sundial’s flowing sound with keen interest.
“Time flows like a shuttle, its sound a stream—what a time treasure.”
His gaze shifted to the Abyss Sword, eyes lighting up, “Oh? A sword forged from Creation Divine Iron, its spirit forming a body. Even without the *Star Chart*, these two treasures make this trip worthwhile. Wonderful, splendid.”
The Abyss Sword Spirit looked up, worry in its eyes, “The Undying Blood Clan attacks the sword tomb, and the Nether Clan joins in—has it fallen?”
The Nether Immortal met its gaze, “I aid them for mutual gain. The tomb’s fall is inevitable—no one can stop this tide.”
“With Zhang Ruochen here, breaking the sword tomb won’t be so easy,” the spirit replied calmly.
The Nether Immortal smirked, arms crossed, “Your master’s weakness makes you a frog in a well. Against Xue Tu, even with the tomb’s advantages, Zhang Ruochen will lose.”
“A good bird chooses its tree. Why follow a doomed man? Serve me—with my power and resources, I’ll make you a peerless divine sword.”
The spirit laughed, “A doomed man… well, not entirely wrong.”
Its calm demeanor and odd smile sparked unease in the Nether Immortal.
“What’s so funny? A mere Seven-Yao Ten-Thousand-Pattern sword spirit—believe I can erase you now and nurture a new one?” His tone chilled.
Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine, hairs standing on end as an unprecedented dread enveloped him, freezing him in place.
“Tap, tap.”
Footsteps approached.
“Who?”
The Nether Immortal whirled, alarmed.
Someone had neared him undetected—a terrifying prospect.
A stunning woman in red emerged from the shadows—tall, with silky black hair, a slender neck, and a lithe waist. Her eyes were icy, her lips crystalline, her face nine-tenths like Chi Yao’s.
Even their auras were strikingly similar.
Before her, any being would feel an instinctive urge to kneel, submit, and worship.
“Empress Chi Yao.”
Shi Qiankun buckled under her presence, dropping to his knees.
“Empress Chi Yao… impossible?”
The Nether Immortal held his breath, eyes wide, unable to believe this was Kunlun Realm’s god.
“No, you’re a sword spirit.”
Not an ordinary cultivator, he soon saw through her.
“Correct. A sword spirit named Blood drop.”
The woman wielded a blood-red sword, stepping forward, unleashing a tidal wave of killing intent toward the Nether Immortal.
Perhaps from devouring countless lives’ blood, her killing aura solidified, conjuring a battlefield of corpses and blood seas before him.
Without striking, her intent formed thousands of swords, hurtling toward him.
His mighty soul seemed on the verge of shredding.
“Nether River Array Chart.”
Suppressing fear, the Nether Immortal gnashed his teeth, deploying a chart that birthed a Nether River world to shield him.
This was his greatest trump card, capable of withstanding three Immortal Great Saint strikes.
But—
“Pfft.”
Her sword flashed into a blood-red streak, piercing the chart and striking his chest.
“Bang.”
The Nether Immortal was flung back, pinned to a rock by the Blood drop Sword, blood gushing.
“How…?”
His eyes bulged, unable to accept this reality.
Below Great Saint, someone had felled him with one strike.
In moments, his blood was drained by the sword, leaving him a shriveled husk.
The woman spared him no glance, her eyes softening as they fixed on the Abyss Sword Spirit.
Blood drop and Abyss—twin lover swords.
Masters might lack emotion, but swords held it deep.
