The following day, inside the sword chamber of the flying vessel, faint arcs of lightning flickered in the air.

Zhang Xian slowly withdrew his energy. The Five Elements Spiritual Light swirling around him receded like a retreating tide, sinking back into his body.

He turned his gaze inward, focusing on his Dantian. Above his perfectly round Golden Core, three spiritual roots—Water, Metal, and Wood—shone like brilliant rivers of stars, radiating the majestic aura unique to Top-Grade Spiritual Roots.

“Golden Core, Eighth Stage.”

Sensing the surging power coursing through his veins, the corner of Zhang Xian’s mouth lifted in satisfaction.

In the Southern Domain, this cultivation speed would be considered absolutely earth-shattering.

Of course, he knew perfectly well that this was largely due to the heaven-defying passive buff from the [Disciple of High Talent Halo]. Every breakthrough and every flash of enlightenment Li Fuxi achieved acted as a propellant, dragging him forward at breakneck speed.

He had a vague premonition that the Ninth Stage of the Golden Core was not far off. When that time came, his Water and Metal dual roots would likely shatter their shackles together, evolving into Heavenly Spiritual Roots. That would be another qualitative leap in power.

Master really is the best.

However, a trace of imperceptible regret surfaced in his heart. The favorability ratings of the three women—Li Fuxi, Yun Wanqing, and Liu Qingxuan—remained stubbornly stuck in the low 80s. They were always just a hair’s breadth away from the critical threshold of 90 points.

Zhang Xian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps they need to undergo some kind of deeply etched, life-or-death trial to completely open their hearts?

He glanced toward the wall separating him from Li Fuxi’s meditation chamber. The delicate relationship they shared—somewhere between master-disciple and Dao Companions—seemed unable to progress further due to a certain unspoken barrier.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Zhang Xian stood up and walked to the center of the training ground.

“Strike!”

With a low shout, he guided his spirit sword, stirring the ambient Spiritual Qi of heaven and earth.

BOOM!

In an instant, a blinding bolt of thunder crashed down. Lightning exploded, electric snakes danced wildly across the floor, scorching the special tiles black.

“The power is still lacking…” Zhang Xian frowned slightly, inspecting the scorch marks.

This was a simplified thunder technique he had reverse-engineered from his memory of Long Zhi’s earth-shattering [Purple Firmament Dragon’s Roar True Words], combined with his own Five Elements foundation. Although it was visually spectacular, it lacked the terrifying density and destructive purity of the original version.

He had been diligently cultivating thunder techniques these past few days for two reasons.

First, to prepare for the Heavenly Tribulation he would inevitably face when impacting the Nascent Soul stage. Tempering the body with lightning and familiarizing oneself with the nature of thunder was the golden rule for surviving Tribulation Transcendence.

Second, thunder naturally restrained all Yin, evil, and filthy things. Although [Desire] was formless, its essence was still rooted in Yin corruption. Mastering a powerful thunder technique would give him a distinct advantage when facing the Seven Emotions Evil Thoughts in the future.

Finishing his set, he slowly lowered his stance, his gaze falling on the spirit sword in his hand, which was still crackling with faint strands of purple electricity.

This was the Lei Yin Sword that Long Zhi, the Dragon Princess, had pawned to him years ago. After he had enhanced it with a Mid-Grade Spirit Treasure Essence, not only had all its damage been repaired, but it had also evolved into a Mid-Grade Spirit Treasure.

Even now, the blade retained the unique spiritual imprint left by Long Zhi.

He recalled the awkward yet earnest expression on her face when she said, “I’ll redeem it once I have the money.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I should find an opportunity to give it back. The look on her face when she sees her familiar, precious sword is… no longer the same shape she remembers… will definitely be priceless.”

“That should trigger another wave of System Returns. Maybe if she’s thin-skinned enough, I can even shame her into teaching me the genuine [Purple Firmament Dragon’s Roar True Words]. I really am a genius.”

Just as Zhang Xian was indulging in his shameless fantasies—

HUM!

The Lei Yin Sword in his hand vibrated violently without warning. The thunder power contained within the blade surged, as if answering a distant yet irresistible summons.

“Hmm?” Zhang Xian was startled, instinctively tightening his grip on the hilt.

The next second—

CLANG!

A clear, piercing sword cry resounded through the chamber. The Lei Yin Sword erupted with blinding light, ripping itself violently from Zhang Xian’s grasp.

Like a streak of purple lightning, it whooshed upward, instantly punching through the multiple defensive layers of the flying vessel’s ceiling. It left behind a scorched, jagged hole as it vanished into the vast sky. The speed was so terrified that even Zhang Xian had no time to react.

“Holy sh*t!”

Zhang Xian stared dumbfounded at the hole in the roof, the cold wind whistling in. “Did… did Long Zhi just recall it remotely? Without even saying hello? That’s just rude!”

Wait. No.

She wouldn’t do that without a reason. A sudden, sharp sense of alarm rose in his chest.

BANG!

The chamber door was thrown open. Li Fuxi rushed in, her face pale with anxiety, her breathing unsteady. She had clearly just been jolted out of deep cultivation.

Zhang Xian assumed she had heard the noise. “Master? About the roof, I’ll ask Zhiyin to fix—”

Li Fuxi interrupted him, her voice trembling with gravity and urgency. “It’s the Lingxu Sword Sect! They’ve issued a Blood-Colored Distress Token—the highest level of emergency. They claim they are under attack by demons and the Sect is on the brink of total annihilation!”

“What?!” Zhang Xian was shaken to the core.

The Yunmiao Sect urgently assembled a strike force of top-tier combatants led by Acting Sect Master Wangya. Unfortunately, the teleportation arrays in the cities surrounding the Lingxu Sword Sect had already been destroyed. The group was forced to travel the long way.

By the time they rushed at breakneck speed to Yujing City, three days had passed.

The scene before them plunged everyone into an icy abyss.

Yujing City, once the second-largest city in the Southern Domain, famous for its white jade foundations and prosperity, had been reduced to a graveyard. The city walls had collapsed. Less than one in ten buildings remained standing. Among the rubble, scorched black marks and dark red bloodstains painted a horrific picture of slaughter.

The air was thick with the heavy, metallic stench of blood.

And beneath that, a familiar, bone-chilling aura—the residual stench of the Seven Emotions Evil Thoughts.

Directly ahead, the iconic Nine-Story Glazed Pagoda of Yujing City had been snapped in half at the waist. Shattered glazed tiles littered the ground, refracting broken light under the setting sun.

Above the ruins of the pagoda, a massive vortex emitting a chaotic five-colored light spun silently. Deep within the vortex, fragmented scenes of broken mountains and rivers were visible. Just as the rumors said, the entrance to the Lingxu Sword Sect’s pocket dimension was directly above the city.

Without hesitation, the group stepped into the vortex.

An even denser, more suffocating aura of death washed over them.

The paradise was gone. The immortal islands that once floated majestically above the sea of clouds had been shattered, their debris crashing down onto the broken earth below. At the edges of the flickering protective formation, traces of a viscous, white slime remained—corrupted Life Essence.

The earth was cracked, the spiritual veins severed. The once-pure spirit springs gushed with filthy blood-water. As far as the eye could see, there were only severed limbs, shattered artifacts, and congealed blood.

There was not a single trace of life.

“This…” Lin Yinyin covered her mouth, her face draining of all color.

Several streaks of light flew toward them rapidly. It was Xia Xuanyin, Old Pavilion Master Yunhe, and Zen Master Ming Kui, a Nascent Soul powerhouse from the Mountain Chan Monastery. They had arrived earlier. Their expressions were dark enough to drip water, radiating a suppressed, volcanic fury.

“What is the situation?” Wangya Zhenren asked, his voice dry.

Xia Xuanyin slowly shook his head.

“No survivors. Not a single one. We found the bodies of Qing Shi Zhenren and the Lingxu Sect Master.” He paused, forcing the words out through grit teeth. “The Sect Master’s Golden Core was shattered, his soul utterly extinguished. Qing Shi Zhenren died fighting… his body was torn to pieces.”