Yan Wushen—a name that struck fear into both the Celestial and Infernal Realms, the epitome of invincibility below Great Saint.
No one expected him to appear at Luoshui now. Was it coincidence, or was he here for Zhang Ruochen?
“Such malevolent energy, turning an awakening divine land into a deathly wasteland. How many lives has he taken?” a cultivator whispered.
“Rumors say Yan Wushen is both righteous and evil. When he falls to his dark side, he slaughters indiscriminately, even Infernal Realm cultivators who cross him,” another said.
“His Extreme Dark Yama Qi grows more terrifying. Stay far back. If you can’t resist, you’ll die in frenzied madness,” warned a third.
Cultivators from both realms retreated instinctively, wary of the sinister Yan Wushen.
Standing atop the blackened earth and inky waters, clad in pitch-black armor, his dark hair flowing, Yan Wushen’s evil aura intensified, like a demon god burdened with heinous sins, dominating the heavens.
In his hand, he held a bloodied figure with a gaping chest wound, life uncertain.
Zhang Ruochen’s expression darkened. “Jiang Yunchong.”
He recognized the man—the enigmatic leader of Tianjue Pavilion, the first awakener he’d met in the Kunlun Realm.
When Lord Shenya attacked Eastern Domain Holy City, Jiang Yunchong had repelled him, later joining Murong Yefeng to grievously wound him.
Jiang Yunchong’s strength was formidable, matching Lord Shenya, a formation master, even before fully recovering.
Zhang Ruochen never imagined meeting him again like this, barely clinging to life.
Yan Wushen’s gaze fixed on Zhang Ruochen. “When I heard you killed the Dark Son, I knew a Saint King worthy of dying by my hand had emerged. So, I came to the Eastern Domain to find you, the Eastern Domain King.”
“I went to Eastern Domain Holy City first, but you weren’t there. Disappointingly, that vast city lacked any notable强者—only he was barely passable.”
“From your look, you know him. Here’s your chance to prove your strength. Defeat me, and I’ll release him. Lose, and I’ll hand him to Moro—you know what that means. As the Heir of Space-Time, don’t disappoint me.”
Zhang Ruochen had heard of Yan Wushen’s recent atrocities, slaughtering billions in the Central Domain. His rampage in Eastern Domain Holy City likely left it blood-soaked.
As Eastern Domain King, inheriting the Torch Order from Chen Yuhua, Yan Wushen’s massacre was a direct challenge.
If Yan Wushen was here, the city’s formations couldn’t stop him. How strong was he?
Suppressing his rage, Zhang Ruochen stayed calm. “Yan Wushen, you want a fight? I’ll give you one. The Eastern Domain is my territory. Anyone who wreaks havoc here will pay.”
“Good. I like your spirit,” Yan Wushen said, nodding.
Ming Yao, holding the shrunken Nether Ancient Curse Furnace, said, “Yan Wushen, this is between our Nether Clan and Zhang Ruochen. Stay out of it.”
Yan Wushen replied coldly, “What I do doesn’t need your permission. Haven’t you two embarrassed yourselves enough?”
Ming Buddha frowned. “Yan Wushen, kill others if you want, but Zhang Ruochen is our target. You can’t interfere.”
The Nether Clan’s honor demanded they defeat Zhang Ruochen themselves, confident in their superiority.
“Boom.”
Yan Wushen’s aura surged, Extreme Dark Yama Qi forming a malevolent demon god shadow behind him.
The heavens darkened, space shattered, and thunder roared, as if divine wrath would unleash apocalyptic punishment.
Rising, Yan Wushen glared at Ming Yao and Ming Buddha. “Want to fight me first?”
“You…” Ming Yao bristled, ready to retort.
Ming Buddha restrained him, transmitting, “Don’t provoke Yan Wushen. If he’s enraged, he’ll do anything. Let him deal with Zhang Ruochen. We’ll watch. As long as Zhang Ruochen dies, our goal is met.”
Recalling Yan Wushen’s ruthless reputation, Ming Yao’s eyes narrowed. After a moment, he calmed, snorting but saying no more.
“So domineering. Rumors are true—when Yan Wushen turns evil, he’s unstoppable. Cross him, and you’re doomed,” a cultivator gasped.
Onlookers shuddered, their fear of Yan Wushen deepening.
With a sleeve flick, Yan Wushen sent distant cultivators flying. Luoshui churned, sweeping the Cyan Sky Saint Dragon, Moyin, and Moro into its depths.
“Boom.”
Weaker cultivators exploded into blood mist, including Infernal Realm ones.
“Those unworthy to be here, get lost. You ants dare watch my fight with Zhang Ruochen?” Yan Wushen’s icy voice echoed.
Terrified, cultivators fled, even Ming Yao and Ming Buddha retreating further.
Zhang Ruochen’s gaze locked onto Yan Wushen.
He’d long heard of Yan Wushen’s legends, and now, facing him in battle, he felt anticipation.
“The Infernal Realm’s strongest below Great Saint, synonym of invincibility. Yan Wushen, let’s see if you’re truly unbeatable,” Zhang Ruochen said, eyes gleaming.
In same-tier battles, he feared no one, not even the legendary Yan Wushen.
“Many thought like you, but they all died by my hand. You’ll join them,” Yan Wushen said.
No one had ever defeated him, nor would they. His invincible belief was unshakable.
Zhang Ruochen said no more, optimizing his state.
Against Yan Wushen, he couldn’t afford carelessness, demanding his all.
Yan Wushen stored Jiang Yunchong, then casually pointed.
Space rippled like a mirror-lake, waves spreading from his fingertip, reshaping the terrain. Mountains rose, encasing Zhang Ruochen.
From above, the land resembled a painting, mountains mirroring the ripples.
“Painting the world, reshaping the cosmos with a finger. Yan Wushen’s spatial mastery is incredible,” Zhang Ruochen thought.
Mobilizing spatial rules, he unleashed spatial force, resonating with the environment.
Silently, the mountains crumbled to dust, scattering.
“Not bad,” Yan Wushen said, smirking evilly, lifting a finger.
The ground surged thousands of zhang, flora, mountains, and rivers rising to the clouds, inverting toward Zhang Ruochen.
A literal world-flip.
Onlookers trembled. Could even Great Saints do this?
Even patrolling angels in outer space exchanged shocked glances.
Zhang Ruochen pressed five fingers skyward, uttering, “Break.”
His hand became a radiant palm-world, fingerprints like mountains, lines like rivers. It clashed with the inverted land, shaking the Eastern Domain.
Looking up, Zhang Ruochen saw the land shatter, mountains and rivers falling, the world in ruin.
“Not bad. Worth my trip to kill you,” Yan Wushen laughed, rubbing his hands.
The falling debris, guided by spatial force, formed a thousand-li-wide orbiting sphere, buzzing with thunder, clouds, and rain, like a nascent world.
Zhang Ruochen targeted a nearby asteroid, pulling it down with spatial force.
It plummeted, blazing through the atmosphere, colliding with Yan Wushen’s sphere.
“Boom.”
The collision darkened the region, fiery debris shooting like meteors.
Amid the devastation, Yan Wushen and Zhang Ruochen stood—one demonic, one divine.
Yan Wushen’s gaze turned serious, finally respecting his opponent.
Zhang Ruochen struck, spatial force at his fingertip, ignoring distance, reaching Yan Wushen.
“Rumble.”
Yan Wushen’s space twisted, collapsing, nearly flattening.
Yan Wushen waved, rippling space like a breeze, dissolving Zhang Ruochen’s attack.
Both moved, their spatial techniques blindingly fast.
“Boom.”
Space shattered, destructive force spreading, a terrifying spectacle.
A true pinnacle duel, both spatial masters, their mastery neck-and-neck.
“Boom.”
Zhang Ruochen reappeared, retreating swiftly.
“Good, but not enough,” Yan Wushen said, attacking.
Zhang Ruochen’s eyes shifted, producing the Secret Tome of Time and Space to amplify his spatial techniques.
With 680,000 spatial rules, he was elite among Saint Kings.
Yet Yan Wushen had over 800,000, not due to greater talent but longer cultivation and deeper foundation.
Given time, Zhang Ruochen was confident he’d surpass 800,000.
For now, the tome bridged the gap.
Extreme Dark Yama Qi poured from Yan Wushen, forming 999 avatars, each potent, rivaling high-level Saint Kings.
“Thousand Hands, Thousand Bodies Yama Technique, a Yama Clan forbidden art, typically mastered only by Great Saints. Yan Wushen is terrifying,” Luo Ji thought, shocked.
Though formed from qi, the avatars wielded immense power, daunting even Immortal Great Saints.
Yan Wushen and his avatars formed identical seals.
A thousand seals merged, creating a thousand-li-long ancient stone bridge in the void, inscribed with three ancient characters: “Naihe Bridge.”
A demonic voice echoed.
Countless writhing soul shadows appeared on the bridge, struggling to break free.
Zhang Ruochen felt a strange force enveloping him, trying to pull his saint soul from his body.
The bridge moved, suppressing him, as soul shadows screeched, rushing forward.
Zhang Ruochen, resolute, unleashed pure white Pure Extinguishing Divine Fire.
Fueled by sacred qi, it formed a fire sea spanning hundreds of li.
“Pure white Emperor-grade fire, achievable only above Hundred-Shackle Realm. How did Zhang Ruochen manage it?” cultivators gasped.
The fire incinerated the soul shadows instantly.
But the bridge resisted, suppressing the flames.
Holding the tome, Zhang Ruochen unleashed second-layer spatial annihilation, merging 680,000 rules into the space, rippling like water.
“Boom.”
Thousands of zhang of space collapsed.
The bridge, despite its power, shattered.
A force struck Zhang Ruochen, forcing him back, blood trickling from his mouth.
Yan Wushen staggered back a step.
“Take my fist,” a thousand Yan Wushens roared.
Each conjured a demon god shadow, wreathed in black flames, as if to burn the world.
The technique weakened Yan Wushen’s main body, but a thousand simultaneous attacks amplified any technique’s power.
Zhang Ruochen’s gaze sharpened. His left leg glowed red, over a million divine rules emerging like crimson chains.
“Let’s test the second seal’s power,” he thought.
Channeling sacred qi, he unleashed divine power, performing Nine Heavens God Step, fully releasing Yan God’s Leg.
Unmatched divine force surged.
Luoshui boiled, evaporating, the land melting into a magma lake.
“Boom.”
The thousand Yan Wushens’ techniques dissolved.
All 999 avatars reeled, while Yan Wushen’s main body held firm.
Zhang Ruochen swayed, his sacred qi drained by the leg’s million rules.
Destruction Golden Sun vibrated, releasing stored sacred qi, refilling him.
“The Golden Sun’s reserves can restore me twice more. I must avoid overusing the leg,” he thought.
The leg’s power was immense but qi-intensive.
The Golden Sun’s storage was limited, and only Seven-Star Divine Ling’s sun leaf ensured rapid recovery if qi wasn’t fully depleted.
“Is Zhang Ruochen’s leg a god’s? Such divine power!”
“It blocked a thousand Yan Wushens’ techniques. He’s defying the heavens.”
“Will Yan Wushen’s invincible streak end?”
“Others might fail, but as the Heir of Space-Time, undefeated in his tier, Zhang Ruochen might dethrone him.”
