“Taking something from me isn’t so easy.”
Zhang Ruochen raised both arms, his bones and muscles crackling like thunder. Thirteen dragon souls and thirteen elephant souls erupted, swirling around him rapidly, forming a palm-force light shell dozens of zhang in diameter.
“Rumble.”
Mountains crashed down, colliding with the light shell, only to be shattered and repelled.
Finally, the chain—thicker than a water barrel—slammed down, fracturing the holy light on the shell’s surface and scattering the thirteen dragon and elephant souls.
It seemed the chain would strike Zhang Ruochen head-on.
“Haha, this chain of mine, forged from Abyssal Cold Iron, is an Eight-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact. I hope it doesn’t turn you to ash in one blow—that’d waste a vat of delicious blood,” the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son laughed.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not that strong.”
Bright lights flared from the apertures on Zhang Ruochen’s arms, unleashing torrents of holy qi that poured into his Fire God Gauntlets and Fire God Armguards.
The gauntlets and armguards ignited, ancient patterns surfacing as they erupted with divine power.
Zhang Ruochen thrust his palms upward, one transforming into a fiery cloud that clashed fiercely with the chain.
A piercing metallic clang echoed through the heavens and earth.
In an instant, the ground beneath Zhang Ruochen blazed, flames dancing even in the air.
“Has he been shattered by the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son already?” the long-faced Emperor’s Daughter mused, peering into the distance.
“Not likely. The spacetime heir’s reputation isn’t so hollow,” another replied.
“Perhaps not. The realm gap is vast—even if he’s a young god, he’d still die.”
…
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son hovered midair, staring at the fiery domain below. His earlier smirk had vanished. As the one directly clashing with Zhang Ruochen, he knew full well that his last strike had been blocked.
“Swish—”
A pillar of light burst from the fire—a golden dragon, its deafening roar shaking the air.
“Is this your mid-tier saint technique?”
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son wasn’t ignorant. From their earlier exchange, he’d recognised the gauntlets and armguards as divine relics, imbued with godly might—not to be underestimated.
Combined with a mid-tier saint technique, how powerful could their super position forces become?
“Dragon Soaring Nine Heavens.”
Zhang Ruochen mobilised all his palm path rules, channeling them into a dragon claw that he slashed outward.
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son, unfazed, swung his chain, radiating intense cold. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, and thick ice crystals spread across the ground.
The chain’s frigid vortex met the dragon claw head-on.
“Boom.”
A violent energy storm erupted, shredding the surrounding earth into fragments with devastating force. The destruction stretched toward the ancient divine inscriptions from the Middle Ages, halted only by their fractured remnants.
“He’s got some skill—facing the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son and still finding a chance to strike back,” Emperor’s Son Yun remarked.
An Emperor’s Daughter sneered, “Ever heard of a cat toying with a mouse? The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son hasn’t unleashed his true power yet. He’s just playing. When the cat decides to eat, one blow will end it.”
Xia Wenshin said, “If the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son truly sees Zhang Ruochen as a mouse, it’s not yet clear who’s the mouse and who’s the cat.”
“What do you mean, Divine Son Xia?”
Xia Wenshin replied calmly, “Keep watching, and you’ll see.”
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son swung his chain, neutralising Zhang Ruochen’s palm strikes, laughing, “If this is all you’ve got, it’s over!”
“Storm Shatter Vortex.”
Countless holy path rules surged from his body, merging with the Eight-Yao Wanwen chain.
The chain spun rapidly, forming a nine-layered vortex. Wind-blade canyons capable of rending the heavens whirled within.
This was a high-grade mid-tier saint technique!
The realm gap was undeniable, and Zhang Ruochen didn’t dare take it lightly. With full focus, he drew on his truth rules, weaving them into his palm technique.
“Dragon-Elephant Ascend to Heaven.”
Both palms struck simultaneously, unleashing sevenfold attack power.
“Rumble.”
The Storm Shatter Vortex collapsed, the clouds and air trembling under the palm force.
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s arm split open, blood gushing as his burly frame shot backward like a cannonball.
Zhang Ruochen pressed his advantage, seizing the chain with one hand and yanking the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son toward him.
Like a kite on a string, the Emperor’s Son flew closer.
But at a hundred zhang away, a sinister grin flashed across his face. His wings flared, and his speed surged several-fold.
“Not good—he’s not as hurt as he seemed. Was he luring me in?” Zhang Ruochen realised.
“Cultivators in the Heavenly Court who’ve mastered the Path of Truth to your level are rare. No wonder an Eight-Step Saint King dares face me.”
The wounds on the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s arm healed in a blink.
“But relying on the Path of Truth for a few times’ attack power? That’s far from enough. Truth has a counter.”
Bloodlight radiated from him as he laughed. “That’s right—truth’s counter is fate. Gate of Destiny, arise!”
Behind him, fate rules coalesced into a faint, shimmering gate.
Under its influence, Zhang Ruochen felt his strength plummet, dropping four or fivefold in moments.
He’d heard from others: the Heavenly Court’s Truth Temple allowed cultivators to amplify their saint techniques’ power several times through the Path of Truth.
The Hell Realm, meanwhile, had the Fate Temple.
The Path of Fate could reduce an opponent’s strength by multiples.
“How can the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son conjure a Gate of Destiny? With it, he can suppress me indefinitely. Truth rules only boost attacks momentarily when casting a technique—and they take time to gather, not instant.”
Zhang Ruochen sensed grave danger. “Is he a disciple of the Fate Temple?”
Only Fate Temple disciples could cultivate the Gate of Destiny, using it to continuously suppress foes.
With it, they could easily slay enemies above their realm.
Truth Temple’s divine disciples could form the “Truth Boundary Form,” a feat beyond other Heavenly Court cultivators.
Nine-Eyes Heavenly King shook his head with a smirk. “To deal with Zhang Ruochen, he’s even using the Gate of Destiny—is that necessary?”
“He’s showing off. Not everyone can cultivate the Gate of Destiny.”
“I think he wants to capture Zhang Ruochen alive, hence the Path of Fate. Looks like Zhang Ruochen’s fate is sealed.”
In a flash, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son, bearing the Gate of Destiny, lunged at Zhang Ruochen, his fist aimed at his chest.
The fist carried an overwhelming wind, giving Zhang Ruochen an unshakable sense of dread—as if a Great Saint had thrown it, capable of shattering the world.
“No—he hasn’t gotten stronger. I’ve weakened!”
Zhang Ruochen didn’t try to muster truth rules to counter—it was too late.
Before he could gather them, the fist would land.
“Bang.”
The punch struck, shattering Zhang Ruochen into pieces.
Yet no joy crossed the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son’s face. He retracted his fist, scanning warily. “Finally using spatial power.”
Zhang Ruochen’s fragmented body dissipated in midair, dissolving into afterimages.
He reappeared above, wielding the Chenyuan Ancient Sword, thrusting downward.
The Martial Realm Emperor’s Son had been on guard. The moment Zhang Ruochen emerged, the chain coiled around him lashed out.
But this wasn’t an ordinary sword strike—it was a time sword technique.
The chain, meant to strike him, slowed as it neared, nearly freezing in place.
“Not good.”
A veteran of countless battles, the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son reacted instantly, employing a mid-tier saint-level footwork technique to dodge.
“Slash.”
The Chenyuan Ancient Sword, aimed for his skull, grazed his cheek instead.
The Hundred-Saint Blood Armour there shattered.
Sword qi left a shallow blood mark on his face.
“Damn it.”
Fury surged in the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son.
An Eight-Step Saint King threatening his life was unthinkable.
Worse, had he not been warned that this human was the spacetime heir Zhang Ruochen, he’d have underestimated him—failing to guard against time and space powers.
Could he have dodged that strike then?
Hundred Illusions Divine Son might indeed have died by Zhang Ruochen’s hand.
The distant emperors and emperor’s daughters gaped in disbelief.
“How? We warned him—did he still underestimate Zhang Ruochen, not expecting spatial power?”
“With his battle experience, such a blunder shouldn’t happen.”
“It’s not a blunder—he nearly lost his life.”
Xia Wenshin said, “You think knowing he’s the spacetime heir guarantees a counter to space and time? It only shows the time and space cultivators you’ve faced weren’t strong enough or skilled enough.”
“Divine Son Xia, do you mean the Martial Realm Emperor’s Son anticipated the attack but couldn’t dodge it?” an Emperor’s Daughter asked.
Xia Wenshin replied, “You’re half right.”
