The desolate earth reeked of blood, the scent carried on the dry, arid wind.

Zhou Ziling narrowed his eyes. He fixed his gaze on Shen Xian, who had appeared out of nowhere, and a storm of conflicting emotions churned within his chest.

“Heh. Perfect timing.” Zhou Ziling licked his cracked lips, a cruel smile twisting his face. “Saves me the trouble of hunting you down.”

Despite his arrogance, a flicker of unease gnawed at him. The speed Shen Xian had displayed in rescuing Wang Yu just moments ago was unsettling. Even injured, a cultivator of his caliber should have detected Shen Xian’s approach. Instead, the man had snatched someone right from under his nose.

“Senior Brother Zhou, this kid’s arrival is suspicious,” a pockmarked disciple whispered, leaning in close. “Look at that movement technique. That’s not something a fresh Foundation Establishment cultivator should be able to pull off…”

“Just smoke and mirrors,” another disciple snorted, spitting on the ground. “These young masters from great families? They’re nothing without their ancestors’ treasures.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

Zhou Ziling’s doubts dissipated, replaced by a surge of burning jealousy. These silk-pants young masters… they were infuriating.

He recalled his own near-death experience in the Ten Thousand Poisons Cave just to obtain the Mystic Yin Lightning. His teeth ground together.

“Senior Brother Zhou, look!” a sharp-faced disciple cried out, pointing greedily. “That dragon-shaped jade pendant at his waist… that’s definitely a top-grade magic treasure!”

The words ignited the avarice of everyone present. This area was secluded; dead men told no tales. These humble Foundation Establishment cultivators had long coveted the resources of the elite.

A ruthless glint flashed in Zhou Ziling’s eyes.

“Shen Xian,” he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. “I heard you’ve been quite the sensation lately. But to me? You’ll always be trash relying on your daddy’s name.”

Shen Xian didn’t even lift an eyelid.

He remained crouched, focusing solely on channeling spiritual energy into Wang Yu’s wounds.

The blatant disregard made Zhou Ziling’s face flush crimson.

“Young Master…” Wang Yu spoke weakly, his eyes full of worry. “They have the numbers… you…”

“It’s fine.” Shen Xian’s voice was terrifyingly calm.

This composure only fueled Zhou Ziling’s rage. What he hated most was this aloof, superior attitude.

Why?

Why were they born with everything, while he had to risk his life for scraps?

“Attack!” Zhou Ziling roared, his face twisted. “I want to personally tear off this facade of his!”

The four disciples immediately summoned their magical artifacts. A web of multicolored spiritual light interwove, descending upon Shen Xian like a crushing net.

Amidst the suffocating pressure, Shen Xian merely raised a finger.

Boom!

An invisible barrier manifested instantly. The attacks crashed against it like waves against a reef, shattering into harmless sparks.

The four disciples were thrown back as if struck by a sledgehammer, coughing blood as they hit the ground.

Zhou Ziling frowned deeply.

“It’s a life-saving talisman from the Shen Family!” one disciple struggled to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. “Consumables like that can’t last long. We have to kill him now!”

So what if he had treasures? Without the cultivation to back them up, they were finite.

Zhou Ziling’s gaze turned icy.

Yes. Even the strongest talisman would run dry. It was best to destroy him in one strike.

He set aside his contempt and pulled out the purplish-black Mystic Yin Lightning. His knuckles turned white from the force of his grip.

“Shen Xian!” Zhou Ziling roared. “Let’s see just how many lives you have!”

The moment the lightning surged, the battlefield was dyed an eerie, bruising purple. This bolt was powerful enough to severely injure a mid-stage Golden Core cultivator. Carrying all of Zhou Ziling’s jealousy and rage, it came crashing down.

Boom—

Blinding light swallowed the area. A ferocious grin spread across Zhou Ziling’s lips.

That should do it.

But as the light faded, his smile froze.

Shen Xian remained standing. Not even a corner of his robe was disturbed.

The lightning, capable of splitting mountains, hadn’t even singed a single hair.

Shen Xian finally looked up.

“Is that all?”

Two lightly spoken words struck Zhou Ziling’s heart like a heavy hammer.

His body trembled. The resentment and bitterness accumulated over years erupted.

“Impossible… this is absolutely impossible…” he muttered, then screamed hysterically. “It must be an even higher-grade treasure! Kill him! All those treasures will be ours!”

Reason was devoured by greed. Zhou Ziling bit the tip of his tongue, spraying essence blood onto his longsword.

Blood Fiend Sword Art.

His trump card. A desperate strike fueled by his own lifespan.

A crimson rainbow tore through the sky, aiming straight for Shen Xian’s throat.

Crack!

Shen Xian raised his hand. With two fingers, he casually caught the blade.

The sword, infused with all of Zhou Ziling’s essence blood, snapped like a dry twig.

“It ends here.”

Shen Xian’s voice was soft, yet it carried the finality of a death sentence.

He slowly raised his hand. A brilliant sword light condensed at his fingertip. It wasn’t blindingly bright, yet it seemed to contain the weight of the heavens. The surrounding space began to distort.

“No… don’t…” Zhou Ziling finally felt fear. His knees knocked together. “Shen Xian… you can’t kill me…”

Shen Xian ignored the plea. He flicked his wrist.

Zheng!

The sword light poured forth like a silver river, instantly illuminating the entire sky.

Zhou Ziling didn’t even have time to scream. His body disintegrated inch by inch under the torrent of power.

The four disciples behind him met the same fate. Without a chance to resist, they were reduced to a mist of blood.

Boom—!

The sword light’s momentum didn’t diminish. It slashed directly toward a distant mountain range.

In an instant, the peak was split in two. The cut surface was smooth as a mirror.

The earth shook violently. Countless rocks shot into the sky, pulverized into dust before they could land.

Silence.

Under this single sword strike, the world seemed to fall into a terrifying stillness.

Disciples fighting miles away stopped, looking in horror toward the source of the devastation.

“What… what kind of power is this?!”

“Half-step Golden Core? No… this feels like Nascent Soul!”

“Did someone trigger an ancient restriction?”

“Run! Get away!”

…

Shen Xian sheathed his sword. He stood calmly amidst the settling dust.

Wang Yu stood rooted to the spot, his pupils trembling violently.

His gaze shifted from the distant, cleaved mountain peak back to Shen Xian.

The figure in dark robes remained as lazily poised as ever, as if splitting the heavens was merely a casual stretch.

“Young… Young Master…”

Wang Yu’s voice trembled.

He remembered when he first met Shen Xian. The man was merely a rich scion in the Qi Refining Realm. Back then, Wang Yu had followed him out of a desire to curry favor with the wealthy.

But now?

The image of that sword light was branded into his soul.

What kind of early-stage Foundation Establishment was this? This was a peerless expert capable of severing mountains with a flick of his wrist!

Wang Yu’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Cold sweat drenched his back.

He finally realized exactly what kind of existence he was following.

“What’s wrong?” Shen Xian turned, his expression placid. “Scared?”

Wang Yu, ignoring his injuries, dropped to one knee. He clasped his fists so hard his knuckles cracked.

“This subordinate was blind!”

His voice carried a reverence that bordered on worship.

Shen Xian chuckled lightly, reaching out to pull him up. “Let’s go. It’s time to meet the others.”

The secret realm wasn’t over yet. There were still flies buzzing around.

As Wang Yu stood, he realized his fingertips were still shaking. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the shock in his heart.

But the look in his eyes had changed forever.

At that moment, he understood—

He wasn’t following a rich kid. He was following a true dragon.