Yun Wanqing snapped out of her daze, the last glimmer of hope in her eyes finally extinguished. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the Red Feather Fan, her voice trembling but resolute.

“We’re going too!”

Daoist Wangya nodded grimly. The two of them followed closely, stepping into the closing spatial rift.

Space warped and shifted, depositing them in a desolate wilderness.

Not far ahead, a high-speed chase was unfolding. Xia Xuanyin was hunting down the fleeing black-robed figure, his speed clearly superior. As he flew, the Emperor relentlessly tossed out golden, pestle-shaped artifacts.

Each golden spike that fell acted like a divine anchor, nailing itself into the void and locking down the surrounding space.

The White Venerable’s movement technique was bizarre and ghostly, but under the layers of spatial confinement, he was slowing down. He tried to take another step, but his figure merely flickered, unable to truly pierce the blockade.

“You have nowhere left to run!” Xia Xuanyin’s icy voice rang out like a final judgment.

The White Venerable slowly turned around. His white mask faced the three pursuers, the eyes behind it cold and indifferent.

Yun Wanqing steadied herself, her gaze fixed intently on him. “Take off your mask.”

The White Venerable remained silent for a moment before his voice filtered through the mask, dripping with disdain. “You? You aren’t worthy.”

Daoist Wangya took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart. “Fellow Daoist, stop this. Turn back now. Perhaps it isn’t too late.”

“Turn back?” The White Venerable let out a self-mocking sneer. “Save your hypocrisy, Wangya. After all these years, you’re still absolute trash.”

Xia Xuanyin didn’t waste words. The Imperial Aura around him surged like a physical tide, a crushing pressure descending upon the White Venerable like a falling mountain. The air itself seemed to solidify under the weight of his authority.

Yun Wanqing stared at the figure—so familiar, yet so terrifyingly alien. Seeing the inhuman indifference in his eyes, the last shred of fantasy in her heart shattered.

She slowly raised the Red Feather Fan, her voice terrifyingly calm.

“No need for words. Let our strength decide the truth. Whoever he used to be… it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Her tone was crisp and frigid. “He is nothing but a puppet dancing on the strings of [Desire].”

Before her voice could even fade—

A vicious glint exploded in the White Venerable’s eyes. Ignoring Xia Xuanyin and Wangya entirely, he launched himself forward like a specter. A pitch-black water sword materialized in his hand, radiating bone-chilling killing intent as he thrust it straight at Yun Wanqing’s throat.

The strike was ruthless, decisive, and devoid of hesitation. He intended to erase the woman he had once vowed to cherish!

“Watch out!”

Daoist Wangya’s pupils constricted. Being closest to Yun Wanqing, he reacted on instinct, flashing forward to intercept the blow with his own blade.

CLANG!

The water sword slammed into Wangya’s defense, erupting with violent force. Wangya grunted, the impact sending him staggering back several steps.

But the White Venerable didn’t stop. Failing to kill in one hit, he didn’t retreat but advanced! With a flick of his wrist, his blade snaked around Wangya’s guard, stabbing once more toward Yun Wanqing’s heart.

The speed was blinding, the intent pure ice.

“Audacity!”

Xia Xuanyin roared. He stepped in, the Imperial Jade Seal in his hand smashing down to deflect the sword and shielding Yun Wanqing behind him.

“To be so utterly devoid of humanity,” Xia Xuanyin growled, his face dark. “I intend to see exactly what kind of face hides behind that mask!”

Meanwhile, back at the chaotic plaza.

The duel between Li Fuxi and Wangchuan had reached a fever pitch. Every collision between her twin spirit swords and his golden sword qi triggered shockwaves that plowed deep furrows into the stone floor.

As the battle raged, Zhang Xian noticed something disturbing. Wisps of white mist were beginning to rise from the ground, actively merging into Daoist Qianji and his puppets.

“Life Essence!”

Zhang Xian’s expression tightened. This was the pure energy distilled from the stolen lifespans of mortals. The enemy was using it to rapidly replenish their spirit and repair damage. No wonder they could fight with such endless stamina.

However, Zhang Xian wasn’t exactly poor.

His gaze swept across the battlefield. He saw Xia Chengyan locked in a stalemate with Daoist Qianji’s main body, a chaotic mix of golden flames and black puppet qi exploding between them.

Without hesitation, Zhang Xian pulled a jade bottle from his Storage Ring. With a flick of his finger, the bottle shot toward the prince like a meteor.

“Brother Xia, catch!”

Xia Chengyan, in the middle of parrying a strike, snatched the bottle out of the air. He swept it with his Divine Sense and nearly fell out of the sky.

The bottle was stuffed to the brim with Earth-Grade Spirit Recovery Pills. Every single one was perfect, round, and glowing with potency.

“Holy sh*t!”

Xia Chengyan couldn’t help but curse out loud.

He was one of the Central Continent’s Ten Outstanding Youths! A core disciple of the Tianyuan Alliance! The Crown Prince of the Great Xia Dynasty! And even he usually only popped High-Grade pills sparingly.

Who the hell hands out Earth-Grade pills by the bottle? Compared to this guy, the Prince felt like a country bumpkin who had never seen real money.

“You’re a badass, Brother Zhang!”

Xia Chengyan’s morale skyrocketed. With this bottle, he could grind the old bastard Qianji down until the end of time. He popped a pill into his mouth immediately.

BOOM.

Spiritual power rushed through his meridians like a flooding river, instantly refilling his reserves.

On the other side of the plaza, the melee between Zhiyin and Qianji’s puppet army was even more brutal. Puppets from both sides were being torn apart in a grinder of metal and flesh.

Zhang Xian watched calmly. Whenever one of Zhiyin’s clones was destroyed, he would swoop in to retrieve the core—waste not, want not.

But whenever he saw one of Qianji’s “flesh-and-blood” puppets get destroyed, he immediately summoned a bolt of lightning to vaporize the remains into ash, preventing any recovery.

Seeing the enemy numbers dwindling but still fighting with suicidal ferocity, Zhang Xian made a move.

Four puppet clones—identical to his main body—materialized instantly.

“Go!”

Zhang Xian gave a low shout. The four clones scattered like ghosts. As they moved, their hands blurred, tossing dozens of talismans into the air.

It looked like celestial maidens scattering flowers—except the flowers were high-explosive lightning talismans.

In an instant, thunderclouds choked the sky above the plaza. A forest of lightning bolts crashed down, hammering the enemy puppets.

“Hmph, cheap parlor tricks!” Daoist Qianji sneered, dodging Xia Chengyan’s attacks while micromanaging his puppets to evade the lightning. “Did you think my puppets were sitting ducks?”

Zhang Xian ignored him. He just kept making it rain.

Finally, one of the flesh-and-blood puppets showed a microscopic hesitation while dodging.

That tiny opening was enough. A bolt of lightning grazed its shoulder.

ZZZT!

Sparks exploded, and the puppet’s body seized up, paralyzed by the electric shock.

“Not good!” Daoist Qianji’s pupils shrank.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three thicker bolts of lightning locked onto the paralyzed target instantly, hammering down with pinpoint precision.

“Wang Pan!” Qianji shouted urgently.

The massive Wang Pan puppet reacted with incredible speed, conjuring a thick, earthy-yellow light shield over the frozen puppet’s head.

But he was a step too slow.

The first two bolts shattered the hastily formed shield. The third bolt slammed into the puppet without resistance.

Then came the fourth. Then the fifth.

Under the relentless bombardment, the Golden Core peak puppet didn’t just break—it was vaporized, leaving not even a speck of dust behind.