The saying “enemies meeting face-to-face ignite with fury” couldn’t have been more apt at this moment.
Shang Ziyan’s expression flickered but quickly steadied. Here at the Merit General Station, he couldn’t touch Zhang Ruochen. Some rules were inviolable—even his master, Yan God, couldn’t shield him from the consequences.
“Zhang Ruochen, what brings you to Tianquan Star? Fleeing Kunlun Realm?” Sihan smirked.
Last time, he and Master Shenya had teamed up to seize the Eastern Region, only for Zhang Ruochen to ruin their plans. That grudge still burned, and with recent gains in Kunlun boosting his strength and confidence, he was eager to settle the score.
Zhang Ruochen glanced at him coolly. “A defeated lackey has no right to question my affairs.”
“Who’re you calling a lackey? Without those ancient inscriptions, I’d crush you like a mosquito,” Sihan retorted.
Zhang Ruochen remained unruffled. “If ‘ifs’ counted, you’d have a point. Talk big when you actually pull it off.”
“Zhang Ruochen!”
Sihan’s fists clenched, eyes blazing with fury.
To be mocked so publicly—unacceptable! If he ever caught Zhang Ruochen, he’d rip out his saint soul and torment it for millennia to quench his hatred.
“Ignore him. Let’s exchange our merit points,” Shang Ziyan said calmly, cutting off Sihan’s escalation.
Bickering here was pointless—just a spectacle for others.
In a different setting, words wouldn’t be needed—just action.
His mission in Kunlun was clear: kill Zhang Ruochen.
To him, Zhang Ruochen was a grasshopper past its season, with days numbered.
Sihan snorted heavily, retracting his glare and following Shang Ziyan into the Merit Exchange Hall.
Daxi King stayed silent, her gaze evasive, trailing behind.
Zhang Ruochen’s eyes lingered on her, a faint, peculiar smile curling his lips.
He could sense the flame insects still lingered in her body, unexpelled—his leverage over her intact.
“Interesting, very interesting,” he murmured with a smile, stepping into the hall.
“Zhang Ruochen’s got guts, crossing Shang Ziyan like that.”
“You don’t know? He and Shang Ziyan have been at odds forever—a showdown’s inevitable.”
“Shang Ziyan’s the Merit Temple’s leader, Yan God’s disciple, backed by Paradise Realm. Zhang Ruochen can’t win.”
“Don’t underestimate him—Time-Space Successor, Moon Goddess’s envoy, Chi Yao’s fiancé. His titles match Shang Ziyan’s. He’s faced countless dangers since rising and survived every time. His life’s tough as nails.”
Their clash with Paradise Realm’s faction sparked a buzz—onlookers eager for drama.
Inside, two lists caught Zhang Ruochen’s eye: the Saint Merit List and the Saint King Merit List.
Once, his feats in the Ancestral Spirit Realm had topped the Saint list, surpassing Thousand-Star Maiden.
Now a Ninth-Step Saint King, his focus shifted to the Saint King list.
Ranking there wasn’t easy—requiring at least a billion merit points, earned by slaying numerous Hell Realm Saint Kings.
Heaven Realm’s elite Saint Kings flooded Kunlun for this chance at fame.
“Shang Ziyan’s already on the Saint King list—he must’ve killed plenty in the merit battlefields,” Zhang Ruochen noted, a glint in his eyes as he scanned the rankings.
Daxi King, Huanji, and Sihan were listed too—impressive.
Per the Merit Temple’s rules: killing a Half-Saint yielded 10 to 1,000 points; a Saint, 1,000 to 100,000; a Saint King, 100,000 to 10 million—scaled by strength.
To rank on Heaven Realm’s Saint King list meant felling a hundred top-tier Saint Kings.
Such difficulty ensured only seasoned veterans—centuries or millennia old—made the cut.
Shang Ziyan’s points exceeded 1.8 billion—a hefty sum.
As he exchanged merits, his total climbed past 2 billion, boosting his rank.
Zhang Ruochen stepped forward to do the same.
Exchanging was simple: a drop of Hell Realm blood or a wisp of saint soul sufficed.
He produced a jade vial, pouring out drops of blood.
“Never set foot in a merit battlefield—how many could he have killed?” Sihan sneered.
“Don’t be so sure. Plenty of Hell Realm infiltrators roam Kunlun—maybe he stumbled on a squad,” another chimed in, dripping with sarcasm.
Sihan laughed. “True—maybe these points will land him on the Saint King list!”
“Who’s aiming for that?”
“A joke! Zhang Ruochen hasn’t touched a merit battlefield—where’d he get a billion points?”
“Sure, Hell Realm infiltrators are scattered across Kunlun, but they’re not easy pickings.”
“No big battles reported lately—he couldn’t have racked up that much.”
“What’s Zhang Ruochen anyway? A coward who skips merit battlefields.”
“Calling him Kunlun’s war god? That’s a laugh.”
Voices rose, dismissive and mocking—many from rival factions.
“Hahaha, well said—some people are pure cowards!” Sihan guffawed, his mood soaring, earlier gloom forgotten.
Coming here, Zhang Ruochen was begging for humiliation.
Zhang Ruochen stayed calm, ignoring the din.
As he poured more blood, his merit points surged.
At first, the crowd laughed, awaiting a flop.
But soon, their grins faded, replaced by stunned expressions.
One vial emptied, his points hit 600 million—a hefty figure.
It silenced many—no one with less had the right to scoff.
Sihan’s face twitched, but he pressed on. “Just 600 million? That’s nothing—far from the Saint King list.”
He’d never acknowledge Zhang Ruochen, especially with his own points dwarfing that total.
Daxi King frowned, eyes fixed on Zhang Ruochen. Something felt off—his calm unnerved her.
Sure enough, under countless stares, he drew a second vial, pouring more blood.
“700 million.”
“800 million.”
“900 million.”
Mouths gaped as the numbers soared.
“Gulp—1 billion.”
A swallow echoed—someone clearly rattled.
Yet the tally didn’t stop.
“How’s this possible?” Sihan’s eyes bulged, rejecting the sight.
Daxi King shook her head—Zhang Ruochen, as expected, loved defying odds.
Even Shang Ziyan’s composure cracked.
“2 billion—and still climbing?”
A trembling voice broke the silence.
Shang Ziyan’s face darkened. He’d fought tooth and nail in the merit battlefield for 2 billion, only to be overtaken by someone who’d never set foot there.
Moments ago, he’d mocked Zhang Ruochen—now the slap stung.
“3.5 billion—hiss.”
As Zhang Ruochen’s total settled, gasps filled the hall.
Such a haul was beyond most dreams.
Someone noted the blood drops—hundreds of thousands—an equally staggering count.
“Outside merit battlefields, where could he kill so many Hell Realm foes? And it’s all Undying Blood Clan blood.”
Puzzlement reigned.
“Undying Blood Clan?”
A spark flashed in Shang Ziyan’s eyes.
“Zhang Ruochen, the Undying Blood Clan besieging the Nether King’s sword tomb—they’re wiped out, aren’t they? Impressive, silently crushing hundreds of thousands,” Shang Ziyan said, voice low.
“No way! An army of that size, led by divine sons, completely annihilated?” Someone objected.
The Blood Clan’s assault on the sword tomb wasn’t secret—many knew.
But its depth deterred involvement.
Logically, this shouldn’t happen.
If true, it was terrifying—enough to shake Kunlun Realm.
All eyes turned to Zhang Ruochen, awaiting his response.
