The sky above Spirit Sword Peak warped and twisted.

When Wang Chuan released the unbridled pressure of a fifth-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, the mountain itself groaned under the weight. The air solidified instantly, crushing down on every inch of space like a physical hammer.

Zhang Xian and Li Fuxi exchanged a glance. Both saw the same grim realization in the other’s eyes: Wang Chuan was far stronger than he had been at the Demon Subjugation Assembly three years ago.

“Xi’er, let’s start with you.”

A cold light exploded in Wang Chuan’s eyes as he lunged. His assessment was brutal and precise: Zhang Xian was a cockroach—an unkillable nuisance with endless defensive treasures. Li Fuxi, however, was a glass cannon. Her swordsmanship was divine, but her defense was fragile. She was the core of their offense.

If she died, Zhang Xian would be nothing more than a turtle waiting to be cracked.

Wang Chuan’s sword light split into thousands of fractals, sealing off every possible escape route for the sword maiden.

Zhang Xian tried to intercept, but Wang Chuan didn’t even look at him. He simply threw out a backhanded palm strike.

BOOM!

The strike carried the vast, oceanic power of a mid-stage Nascent Soul. It was like a mountain collapsing. Zhang Xian’s sword light shattered instantly, and he was swatted out of the air like a fly.

Li Fuxi gritted her teeth. Her spirit sword danced, weaving layers of water curtains as she pushed the [Cloud Mist Sword Scripture] to its absolute limit.

But the gap in cultivation was an impassable chasm.

Amidst the cacophony of metal clashing against metal, a sickening thud resonated.

Li Fuxi couldn’t block it all. A beam of tricky sword qi pierced her defense, tearing into her shoulder. If not for her defensive artifacts flaring to life and neutralizing the bulk of the impact, that single strike would have taken her arm.

She stifled a groan, plummeting from the sky and stumbling several steps before steadying herself on the rocky ground.

Wang Chuan had the upper hand instantly.

Zhang Xian took a deep breath. The [Shadow Flame] burning around him roared to life, the black fire expanding until it nearly consumed him. He was pushing the secret technique to its breaking point, burning resources to forcibly elevate his aura past the shackles of the Golden Core, touching the hem of the Nascent Soul realm.

Li Fuxi looked up at Wang Chuan, who hovered like a descending demon god. Then she glanced at Zhang Xian, who was practically immolating himself with Shadow Flame.

A flash of resolve hardened her gaze.

Without hesitation, she retrieved two pills from her storage ring: a Taichu Creation Pill and an Earth-Grade Spirit Recovery Pill.

She tossed them back and swallowed.

Simultaneously, her hands flew through a series of seals. A violent, scorched-earth energy detonated within her meridians. Her aura skyrocketed like a launched rocket—Half-step Nascent Soul, First Stage, Second Stage.

Piercing blue-gold light radiated from her skin like burning ice.

The cost was astronomical. An unnatural flush stained her cheeks as she overdrew her Life Essence and soul power. Since she had already consumed a [Taichu Creation Pill] three years ago during her “Jade Shattering” moment, her body had built a resistance. The second pill’s efficacy was slashed in half.

She could feel the clock ticking in her blood. This state would last less than a hundred breaths.

“Hmph. Death throes.”

Wang Chuan watched their auras surge, outwardly calm but internally alarmed. The potential of these two juniors was terrifying. If he hadn’t been cautious enough to accumulate power in seclusion before attacking, he might have actually capsized in the gutter today.

He didn’t wait. He dove toward Li Fuxi again. He had to snap this spent arrow before she could fire.

The three collided once more. The sky filled with flashing spiritual lights, a chaotic stalemate of desperate offense against overwhelming power.

Suddenly, Zhang Xian shouted.

“Fall!”

He pointed his spirit sword at the heavens.

CRACK!

A thick bolt of purple lightning tore through the clouds, hammering down straight toward Wang Chuan’s skull.

“Purple Firmament Dragon’s Roar True Words?” Wang Chuan sneered, disdain dripping from his voice. “That Nascent Soul brat from the Lingxu Sword Sect is ten times stronger than you, and even he couldn’t scratch me. You think you can?”

He swung his sword casually. A golden wave of sword qi surged upward, shattering the lightning bolt with effortless grace.

“How long can you maintain this boosted state? A hundred breaths? Fifty? The moment your technique fades, you die.”

Li Fuxi bit her lip until it bled, remaining silent. His eyes were too sharp. Her limit was indeed fifty breaths.

Zhang Xian ignored the taunt. He shouted again.

“Bind!”

This time, it wasn’t a single bolt. Countless serpentine arcs of purple electricity wove together in the air, instantly forming a massive electrified net that descended over the peak.

“Petty tricks!”

Wang Chuan swept his golden longsword horizontally, unleashing a crescent of energy that obliterated the net, tearing a massive hole in the lightning cage.

But the moment the net exploded—

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Five figures shot out from the dissipating lightning like ghosts.

They were five identical Zhang Xians, all fully geared, all emanating the powerful aura of the peak Golden Core stage. They moved in perfect unison, encircling Wang Chuan and unleashing a barrage of artifact attacks.

“Puppets?”

Wang Chuan’s pupils constricted. He recognized this as one of Zhang Xian’s trump cards. He didn’t dare be negligent—being besieged by five peak-level puppets was dangerous even for him.

He raised his sword to parry, planning to dismantle them one by one.

But the moment he moved, the five Zhang Xian puppets began to glow.

A blinding, heart-stopping light erupted from their cores. The scent of imminent annihilation filled the air.

“FUCK!!”

Wang Chuan’s composure shattered. He cursed internally, recognizing the move instantly. Self-destruction again?!

He didn’t think. He tried to retreat immediately.

But the puppets were positioned with lethal precision. Their energy signatures overlapped, creating a sealed kill box. Wang Chuan only had time to push his protective aura to the absolute maximum and ram toward the weakest point of the encirclement.

BOOM——!!!

Five earth-shattering explosions merged into one.

A tsunami of destructive energy swept outward, vaporizing rocks and shaking Spirit Sword Peak to its foundations.

Wang Chuan tore through the edge of the blast radius, but the shockwave still hammered him. He grunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His qi churned violently; he had taken actual damage.

But before he could even stabilize his stance—

Zhang Xian and Li Fuxi were on him.

Relentless as maggots in the bone, they seized the fleeting opening, launching a synchronized assault.

Wang Chuan roared in fury and shock. He forcibly suppressed his roiling qi, knocking Zhang Xian’s five-colored sword aside with a brute-force swing. Then, with a backhand motion, he executed an exquisite [Moon Gazing Stance], thrusting his blade directly at Li Fuxi’s heart.

It was a fatal counter.

However.

Facing death, Li Fuxi didn’t dodge.

She didn’t block.

She stepped into the blade, allowing the golden longsword to punch clean through her abdomen.

Thuck.

Simultaneously, her hand clamped down on Wang Chuan’s sword arm like an iron vice.

“What?”

Alarm bells screamed in Wang Chuan’s mind.

I’ve been played.

The texture was wrong. The blood was wrong. This wasn’t Li Fuxi.

It was another puppet.

In his panic to deal with Zhang Xian and the five suicide bombers, he had lost track of the real bodies.

“Explode,” Zhang Xian’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and devoid of mercy.

Locked in the grip of the false Li Fuxi, Wang Chuan watched in horror as the “woman” before him swelled. Her torso glowed with the blinding radiance of several mid-grade Spirit Treasures reaching critical mass.

Zero distance.

Point-blank range.

“NO!!”

Wang Chuan’s roar was swallowed by the light.