Boom—!

The [Li Fire Heaven-Sealing Talisman] ignited, its essence bleeding out into the air as chains of molten crimson light. In a heartbeat, the surrounding space hardened into a cage of absolute fire, severing the pavilion from the outside world.

Xiao Jin moved like a bolt of jagged lightning. He reached into the void, his fingers curling around a shaft of light that solidified into a massive, crimson long spear. This was no mere weapon; it was the [Heaven-Burning Spear], a top-grade Spirit Treasure. Nine spectral fire dragons coiled around the shaft, their eyes flickering with malevolent heat. Wherever the spear tip drifted, the very fabric of space hissed and scorched, leaving behind jagged trails of blackened soot.

On the forging platform, Liu Qingxu turned deathly pale. Her knees buckled under the sheer weight of the pressure, her body trembling like a leaf in a gale. This was the raw, unbridled power of a Holy Son—a force she couldn’t hope to resist. Gritting her teeth, she retreated into the shadows of the sword-arrays, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“A mere Golden Core ant,” Xiao Jin sneered, his gaze bypassing the Divine Wood Sect disciples as if they were dust. “Do you truly believe yourself worthy of such a treasure?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The [Heaven-Burning Spear] tore through the air, its tip erupting with a plume of white-hot True Fire. It was a casual thrust, backed by only thirty percent of his strength—in his mind, more than enough to skew a common blacksmith.

Zheng!

A sword cry, clear and melodic as a winter bell, shattered the roar of the flames.

Shen Xian didn’t even turn around. From his wide sleeve, a streak of frost-white light surged forth like a dragon breaking from an icy abyss. The [Markless Sword] struck with surgical precision, biting into the spear’s only structural weakness.

The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading through the air. Xiao Jin’s hand jerked, the shock of the collision vibrating through his webbing. His eyes widened. A high-grade Spirit Treasure?

In that brief moment of contact, Xiao Jin felt the sword’s terrifying dual nature. It was a paradox of essence—as deep and cold as a glacial trench, yet as fierce as the noon sun. The two opposing forces were woven together with such mastery that they brushed against the very threshold of the Laws.

“A fine blade,” Xiao Jin muttered, his disdain melting into a feverish, predatory greed. As expected of the man who had forged a True Spirit Treasure. I must have him. I’ll break his spirit and chain him to the fire caves of the Li Fire Sect. With his hands, our sect’s armory will be peerless.

The spear shifted. Nine fire dragons roared to life, lunging from the shaft to weave a glowing net of heat. He suppressed his power further; he needed the smith alive and his hands unburnt. He smiled, the cold, certain expression of a hunter who already saw his prey in the bag.

The sword light flashed like falling snow, and Shen Xian finally turned to face his attacker.

The Holy Son of the Li Fire Sect.

Shen Xian’s expression remained a mask of calm pragmatism. He knew this man’s reputation—a peer to his own “elder brother,” Shen Xing. Let us see then, Shen Xian thought, his grip tightening. Let us see how far the distance truly is between me and that man.

“Break,” Shen Xian commanded.

The [Markless Sword] erupted. The ancient characters etched into the blade glowed with a blinding, celestial light. With a single, horizontal sweep, a wave of absolute-zero Qi surged forward, freezing three of the spectral fire dragons into pillars of jagged red ice in mid-air.

Xiao Jin’s brow arched in surprise. He could feel the [Crimson Flame Crystal Sand] within his dragons screaming, fighting to ignite against the frost. This sword didn’t just parry; it dominated the elements.

“Marvelous!” Xiao Jin laughed, the sound sharp and manic. He twisted the spear, and the remaining six dragons fused into a single, hundred-zhang-long behemoth of roaring plasma. “To withstand a tenth of my strength… you have earned the right to be proud!”

The Great Flame Dragon dove, a mountain of fire descending to swallow Shen Xian whole. But as it closed in, the [Taiyi Mirror] materialized above Shen Xian’s head. Its surface shimmered like a pool of mercury, catching the dragon’s reflection.

Boom!

The dragon didn’t impact; it refracted. With a violent twist of geometry, the beast turned its wrath back upon its master.

“A top-grade Spirit Treasure?!” Xiao Jin hissed, forced to bring his spear up in a panicked guard. He was thrown back three steps, his robes scorched and his pride stung. He looked at Shen Xian now with a gaze that had shifted from mockery to a dark, simmering battle-lust.

“You are full of surprises, blacksmith,” Xiao Jin said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “Your wealth is as vast as your talent. Such treasures would be the pride of any sect’s patriarch, yet you wield them like common tools.”

He let out a long, piercing roar, and the air around him began to warp. The nine dragon patterns on his spear turned a brilliant, blinding crimson-gold.

“Pity,” Xiao Jin stated, his eyes glowing with the fire of his lineage. “In the end, treasures are but external toys. Let me show you the true power of a Heavenly Pride!”

He stepped forward, the ground rippling like water beneath his boots. He was a Half-Step Nascent Soul, a realm that stood at the precipice of true divinity. The [Heaven-Burning Spear] became a streak of crimson lightning, moving so fast it bypassed the senses, aiming to pierce the very heavens.

He used fifty percent of his power. The void distorted, screaming as it was torn asunder.

Shen Xian didn’t move. He didn’t flee. Instead, his [Flawless Golden Core] began to spin within his dantians like a collapsing star. A tide of spiritual essence, thick and ancient, flooded his meridians. His aura swelled, ballooning until it crashed against the Nascent Soul barrier.

Xiao Jin’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Golden Core Perfection? No… this density… he’s a Half-Step Nascent Soul as well!

Shen Xian’s sword moved, tracing the lines of a Soul Formation-grade technique: the [Heavenly Abyss Illuminating Snow Sword Scripture].

The world went white. Tiny ice crystals condensed in the air, each one a microscopic mirror refracting a lethal shard of sword Qi. The [Heaven-Burning Spear]’s momentum was eaten away, layer by layer, by the biting frost.

Crack—!

The spear’s True Fire met the Divine Snow. The sound was like the shattering of ten thousand glass vases. Xiao Jin watched in horror as his life-bound flames were extinguished by the cold. Before he could react, Shen Xian’s stance shifted. The cold vanished, replaced by a heat that rivaled the core of a star.

A crimson-gold beam of light, like the first ray of a killing sun, lanced through the mist. The sudden transition caused the air to explode in a violent turbulence of elemental feedback.

Boom!

Xiao Jin threw his spear into a desperate block. He was sent reeling back seven steps, his boots carving deep furrows in the stone. His right hand throbbed with a sickening duality—bone-deep frost and blistering heat warring within his veins.

Pfft!

He spat a mouthful of dark blood. Looking down, he saw a jagged, cross-shaped crack in his [Profound Fire Heavy Scale Armor]. His left shoulder was shredded, the white of his bone visible through the gore.

“Injured… I’m actually injured?” He wiped the blood from his lip, his mind racing. Since his last duel with Shen Xing, no one had drawn his blood.

Liu Qingxu watched from the periphery, her mind numbing. She had seen it all—the seamless transition of three distinct sword intents. To freeze, to pierce, and to detonate. It was a mastery of combat that defied the logic of the lower realms.

Is he from the Northern Realm? Xiao Jin wondered, a cold seed of dread taking root. Such treasures, such a cultivation base, and a Soul Formation sword scripture… he must be the hidden disciple of an ancient monster.

But the dread was quickly eclipsed by a murderous resolve. They had “torn face”—there was no going back now. It was a struggle of you die or I perish.

“Very well…” Xiao Jin whispered. The nine dragons on his spear turned from crimson to a haunting, spectral gold. The fire pattern on his forehead ignited into a true flame, and red, vein-like markings spread across his skin.

He had invoked the [Blood-Burning Soul-Igniting Great Art].

A pillar of fire erupted from his body, touching the very clouds and stirring the tectonic heat of the entire continent. In an instant, his aura shattered the glass ceiling, surging into the realm of a true Nascent Soul.

“Since you wish for a fight,” he leveled his spear at Shen Xian, his voice resonating with the power of the earth’s core, “then we shall fight until one of us is dust!”