As Daoist Qianji spoke, several more formidable puppets stepped out of the void to flank him. His laughter grated against the stone ruins, filled with arrogant pride.

“I am a legion,” he declared, spreading his arms. “I control a thousand puppets and enact ten thousand techniques. One man is enough to crush an entire Sect. Today, I will show you children the true Dao of Puppetry.”

Li Fuxi didn’t blink. She stared fixedly at the puppet of Master Wangchuan, which radiated a terrifying Nascent Soul aura despite its stiff movements. Behind it stood the towering figure of her Senior Brother, Wang Pan, channeling the [Profound Yellow Mountain-Suppressing Stele].

Killing intent boiled in her veins, so thick it was nearly tangible.

Zhang Xian sensed the sheer power radiating from her and inwardly nodded. Master has advanced to Dual Heavenly Spiritual Roots and broke through to the eighth level of Golden Core. She’s a completely different beast now.

He glanced at Zhiyin. “Supervisor Zhiyin, what’s the status of the other fronts?”

Zhiyin scanned the battlefield, her expression calm. “Stable. Elder Qing Shi and Long Zhi from the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect have breached the Imperial Mausoleum’s outer perimeter and are assaulting the core. His Majesty and Lin Xiaozhu are commanding the center. We only need to focus on the enemy in front of us.”

As the last syllable left her lips, her body blurred.

Fwip-fwip-fwip!

She split instantly into thirteen identical clones! Excluding her main body, Zhiyin One, the clones—numbered Two through Fourteen—were all peak Golden Core puppets. The fourteen figures scattered instantly, an invisible control field locking down the battlefield.

The puppet war was about to erupt.

Suddenly, the towering puppet of Wang Pan opened its mouth. The voice was low, muffled, and distorted, yet it carried a trace of eerie, heartbreaking familiarity.

“Junior Sister… you’ve grown stronger.”

Li Fuxi froze.

Immediately after, the Nascent Soul-level puppet of Wangchuan slowly turned its head. Its empty eyes bored into Li Fuxi as it spoke in a halting, mechanical rasp.

“You… are… quite good…”

“Do not listen,” Zhiyin warned sharply. “They are dead. Their Dao is extinguished. The Old Demon is using residual memory fragments to destabilize your mind.”

Li Fuxi took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was colder than profound ice.

“I know.”

Daoist Qianji let out a piercing cackle. “Destabilize? Please. I disdain such cheap tricks. I preserved their memories and combat instincts for optimization. It allows them to exert greater strength… and makes the game far more entertaining.”

He glanced at the Wangchuan puppet with a look of genuine regret. “It’s a pity about this material, though. The swordsman’s soul was severely damaged before death. Incomplete. He can’t unleash 100% of his original power. Otherwise, he would have been the perfect tool.”

Zhang Xian took a deep breath, quickly assigning roles. “That Nascent Soul puppet was refined using the core I lost. He hasn’t fully mastered it yet. Master and I will handle him and the big guy.”

He turned to the others. “Zhiyin, Brother Xia—can you handle Qianji’s main body and his mob?”

“Easy money!” Xia Chengyan grinned, his fighting spirit blazing. He pointed his Crimson Flame Sword at the villain. “Old fart, get ready to meet your maker!”

Li Fuxi closed her eyes.

When she opened them a second later, the pain, hesitation, and grief were gone. All that remained was pure, crystalline resolve.

“This is why I came.”

BOOM!

She launched herself forward, transforming into a streak of sword-light that tore through the air, charging fearlessly at Wangchuan. Zhang Xian followed close behind, wind element spiraling around him to match her speed.

The battlefield exploded into chaos.

On the left, Zhiyin’s thirteen clones moved in a terrifyingly synchronized dance, intercepting the dozens of peak Golden Core puppets controlled by Qianji. It was a storm of precision versus brute force—shields clashed, spells detonated, and spiritual light blinded the eye.

On the right, Xia Chengyan and Zhiyin One dove straight for Daoist Qianji.

Qianji wasn’t a frontline fighter, but his Third Stage Nascent Soul cultivation gave him deep reserves. He drifted like smoke through the ruins, dodging Xia Chengyan’s scorching strikes while multitasking like a supercomputer.

He commanded his elite puppets to intercept.

General Han Lie’s puppet spun his wrought-iron spear, his attacks heavy and sweeping, forcing Xia Chengyan to parry or be crushed. Meanwhile, the Star Concealment puppet laid down annoying starlight formations that slowed their movement and drained their qi.

“Damn it, stop running!” Xia Chengyan roared, his sword clashing with Han Lie’s spear. He and Zhiyin were locked in a high-speed dogfight, unable to pin down the slippery puppeteer.

In the center, the most intense duel unfolded.

Li Fuxi’s dual swords stabbed straight for Wangchuan’s brow. Her Dual Heavenly Spiritual Roots erupted at full power—Water imbued her strikes with bone-chilling cold, while Metal gave them unstoppable penetration.

The Wangchuan puppet moved stiffly, but his muscle memory was flawless. He had no sword, so he used his fingers.

Shing!

He thrust two fingers forward, and a condensed beam of golden sword qi shot out—the signature move of the Spirit Sword Peak, the [Heavenly Palace Azure Cloud Sword]!

CLANG!!!

Ice-blue sword light collided with golden sword qi.

Li Fuxi swayed but didn’t retreat an inch. Her style shifted. She fused the dense, fluid agility of the [Cloud Mist Sword Scripture] with the majestic power of the [Heavenly Palace Azure Cloud Sword].

Her blade work became a masterpiece. One moment it was a churning sea of clouds, pervasive and formless; the next, it was a thunderbolt, heavy and unstoppable.

Zhang Xian watched, stunned. He had worried she would falter fighting her loved ones. Instead, she was channeling her grief into power. With peak Golden Core cultivation, she was fighting a Nascent Soul puppet to a standstill.

Master has grown up, Zhang Xian thought, feeling a surge of relief.

He turned his attention to his own target: the Wang Pan puppet.

But Wang Pan seemed to have learned his lesson.

Unlike their previous encounter where the earth-attribute puppet tanked everything face-first, this time, Wang Pan adopted an incredibly shameless “kite” strategy.

The moment Zhang Xian raised a Spirit Treasure, Wang Pan sprinted backward, maintaining a strict safety distance.

Zhang Xian tried to close the gap. Wang Pan ran.

Zhang Xian stopped. Wang Pan stopped, turned around, and chucked a [Profound Yellow Mountain-Suppressing Stele] at him from downtown to harass him, or jumped in to block a stray shot for Wangchuan.

“Mao Zedong tactics? Really?” Zhang Xian cursed. ‘Enemy advances, we retreat; enemy retreats, we harass.’

It wasn’t just Wang Pan. Zhang Xian realized with growing frustration that everyone was avoiding him.

Even Daoist Qianji, who was busy fighting the Prince, and the Wangchuan puppet locked in combat with Li Fuxi, would instinctively flinch and widen the gap whenever they sensed Zhang Xian getting too close.

They knew.

They knew he was a walking nuke who solved problems by detonating high-grade artifacts.

“Hey! You cowards!” Zhang Xian yelled, shaking a glowing talisman in the air. “Come fight me! Stop running!”

He had a backpack full of bombs and unlimited funds, but nobody wanted to play. He stood there, awkwardly chasing Wang Pan in circles while the rest of the battlefield raged in an epic clash of steel and magic.