A mountain breeze swept through the treetops, scattering a few withered leaves.

Suddenly, three streaks of cold light erupted from a thicket.

A poisoned dagger shot straight for Shen Xian’s back, while two bone-piercing nails targeted his temples—a vicious, lethal assault designed to leave no path for survival.

“Die!”

The scar-faced leader sneered, already picturing Shen Xian’s blood spraying across the forest floor.

During the opening of the Ancient Ruins, besides the elite disciples of major sects and families, countless rogue cultivators lurked in the shadows. These three, knowing they lacked the strength to venture into perilous treasure sites, specialized in ambushing solitary cultivators.

Shen Xian didn’t even turn his head. He simply raised his right hand.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

Three crisp sounds rang out.

The poisoned dagger and hidden weapons froze in mid-air, blocked by a shimmering barrier of spiritual light.

Shen Xian slowly turned, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

“Seeking death.”

The scar-faced man’s expression changed drastically. “Damn! We’ve kicked an iron plate! Retreat!”

Blood energy surged around the three as they turned to flee. Their confidence in brazenly ambushing lone cultivators stemmed from a secret bloodline technique that granted them exceptional escape speeds.

However, their usually foolproof technique failed them this time.

A wisp of blood mist condensed in the air, forming a hair-thin crimson thread. Like a spiritual serpent, it shot out, instantly piercing the brows of all three men.

“W-what kind of unorthodox art is this?!”

The scar-faced man shrieked, watching in horror as his own arm visibly withered and shriveled.

Shen Xian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the pure blood energy fed back by the crimson thread circulating through his meridians.

A blood-colored lotus bloomed in his dantian. Its petals glowed with an eerie crimson light, growing more solid with each passing second.

“This unorthodox art is indeed profound…” he murmured softly.

The blood energy devoured by this technique was exceptionally pure, containing no impurities. It merged perfectly with his own spiritual power.

What surprised him even more was that the life essence contained within the blood energy was nourishing his Golden Core, causing crimson patterns to appear on its surface.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The three bandit cultivators collapsed to the ground, transformed into desiccated corpses.

Shen Xian gazed at the fading blood lotus mark on his palm, lost in thought.

The world labeled this technique as evil, but how could a technique itself be righteous or evil? It was like a sharp sword—a weapon of slaughter in the hands of a villain, yet a tool to uphold justice in the hands of a righteous warrior.

A gentle breeze blew past, dispersing the last trace of blood energy.

Shen Xian set aside his thoughts. Since this method could help him punish evil and eliminate wickedness efficiently, why bother with worldly prejudices?

As long as he held fast to his true heart, even an unorthodox art could be used for the right reasons.

The Ancient Ruins opened once a year. After over a thousand years of exploration, the truly precious treasures within these outer zones had long been picked clean.

Even the Mysterious Turtle could no longer find any treasures worth Shen Xian’s time. He had no desire to waste energy exploring for scraps.

“Straight to the main event,” he decided.

He headed directly for the entrance to the Godfiend Battlefield.

Traveling at full speed for a day, he arrived beneath the crimson clouds on the horizon.

Under the shroud of red clouds, the world seemed stained with blood. From a distance, Shen Xian saw numerous spirit boats floating in mid-air, densely packed and imposing.

Not everyone possessed a treasure-hunting spirit beast like him. Knowing the outer ruins were barren, these people had come here early to conserve their strength.

Amidst the sea of spirit boats, Shen Xian was trying to locate the Divine Wood Sect’s position when he suddenly sensed something.

He sharply looked up.

The crimson clouds churned and surged like boiling water.

Boom!

The clouds seemed to implode, coalescing into a single point. A bloody crack, like a giant eye slowly opening, appeared across the sky.

A torrent of baleful energy poured down from the fissure, dyeing the surrounding hundred miles a dark crimson.

Ten colossal bronze pillars materialized from the void. Trigrams flowed across their surfaces, emitting deafening roars.

The ground began to crack, revealing the ancient battlefield shrouded in blood mist below. Fragments of shattered magical artifacts floated in the air, and countless skeletal puppets flickered in and out of view within the mist.

The battlefield was about to open.

Streams of light shot out from the spirit boats of various major powers as the heavy hitters arrived.

Shen Xian suddenly felt the temperature around him soar.

Looking up, he saw a tall, burly figure standing imposingly on the Li Fire Sect’s spirit boat. Clad in heavy black fire-scale armor, a crimson mark on his forehead resembled a third eye, radiating a dangerous aura.

Xiao Jin.

The Holy Son of the Li Fire Sect, a powerhouse at the Half-Step Nascent Soul stage.

Born with a Fire Spirit Dao Body, his mastery of fire-based divine abilities was renowned throughout Azure Province. Rumor had it he had once clashed with Shen Xian’s elder brother, Shen Xing, in Wind Wolf Valley. That battle had shaken heaven and earth, ending in a draw.

He was considered by many as the one most likely to surpass Shen Xing.

To his right stood Su Mei, the Holy Maiden of the Li Fire Sect and Wei Zhaoli’s rival. Though only at the mid-Golden Core stage, her ability to act so boldly stemmed from her close relationship with the Holy Son.

Besides the Li Fire Sect, the Divine Machine Sect’s side shimmered with dazzling, colorful light.

Their leader stood poised in the air, dressed in a blue robe and holding a folding fan. Gentle and refined like jade, the landscape painting on his fan swirled with faint traces of stellar paths.

Wei Qingshan.

The senior brother of the Divine Machine Sect and the legitimate son of the long-lived Wei Family. At the Half-Step Golden Core stage, he excelled in divination and deduction techniques. He had once used them to effortlessly annihilate an entire heretical sect stronghold, making his name in a single battle.

Seeing him, Shen Xian thought of the unresponsive bronze compass he had obtained earlier. Perhaps this person would know the origins of a treasure involving heavenly secrets.

Opposite Wei Qingshan, Lei Yingjie, the senior brother of the Wind Thunder Sect, lounged casually on a purple-gold gourd.

His black robes fluttered like ink. When he looked at Wei Qingshan, his eyes were full of provocation. A light flick of his finger against the gourd caused thunderous rumbles to roll out, his unrestrained, wild aura pressing down on the surrounding cultivators.

Wei Qingshan merely fanned himself leisurely, as if paying the brute no mind.

Then, other young talents appeared.

The Godfiend Battlefield, opening once every five hundred years, had gathered all of Azure Province’s prodigies in one place!

Shen Xian looked them over, one by one.

A desire for combat involuntarily rose within him.

Although his aspiration was to lie flat, possessing the cultivation and magical treasures granted by the System—and after his recent consecutive victories—he had gained a clear understanding of his own power.

When one holds a sharp blade, the urge to kill naturally arises.

If he were trash, he might be content to hide. But since he now possessed exceptional combat strength…

Shen Xian’s gaze burned as he looked at the gathering of prodigies in the sky. If given the chance, he wouldn’t mind measuring himself against them.

Suddenly, a streak of bloody sword light tore through the sky from the Divine Wood Sect’s side, leaving faint spatial cracks in its wake.

The figure within the light solidified.

Lin Lang.

The second young master of the Lin Family.

He held his sword with one hand, his ink-black robes flapping fiercely in the baleful wind. The bloody blade reflected an eerie luster under the glow of the bronze pillars.

This man possessed a Blood Tribulation Spirit Body—a rare variant of a Thunder Spirit Body. Born with innate “Blood Tribulation Thunder Power,” his spiritual energy manifested as crimson lightning, containing immense destructive force but carrying a risk of backlash.

If he could find a powerful thunder source, it could evolve into a Thunder Tribulation Spirit Body. This was why Lin Lang coveted the Thunder Pattern Spirit Cat in Shen Xian’s possession.

However, observing him now, Shen Xian felt somewhat unenthused. This person’s presence was a notch below the true heavyweights.

“Shen Xian.”

A soft call pulled Shen Xian from his thoughts.

Turning, he saw a figure as pure and aloof as frost and snow. Wei Zhaoli, wearing the Cold Plum Reflecting Snow Hairpin and draped in a Moonlight Immortal Dress, approached.

Seeing Shen Xian turn, the icy, unapproachable aura around her instantly melted away.

Lightly tapping her toes, ripples of water appeared beneath her feet. As her skirt fluttered, she glided over the air like flying snow.

“Did you gain anything from the ruins?” she asked softly upon reaching him. Her voice was like clear spring water striking stone, carrying a warmth she showed to no one else.

“Passable, I suppose,” Shen Xian replied with a faint, lazy smile.

Without the Mysterious Turtle’s help, he hadn’t returned empty-handed, but the items were hardly worth mentioning. His real hopes lay in the Godfiend Battlefield.

Wei Zhaoli gave a slight nod.

Just as the two were conversing, a voice as smooth and seductive as melting honey drifted over from the side.

“Wei Zhaoli, what sweet nothings are you whispering to your little lover?”

Su Mei approached, stepping on floating crimson lotuses.

The Purple Netherfire Serpent coiled around her wrist flicked its tongue, spewing venomous flames, while her eyes glinted with menace.

She looked down at Shen Xian, a mocking smile curling her red lips. “To think he’s only at the Foundation Establishment Realm…”

“A mere Foundation Establishment cultivator dares to set foot in the Godfiend Battlefield?”

Wei Zhaoli’s gaze turned icy. The scabbard of her Frostwater Sword trembled. “Su Mei, watch your tongue.”

“Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

Su Mei gently stroked the fire serpent, a cold light flickering in her eyes. “A puny Foundation Establishment cultivator… once inside the Godfiend Battlefield, I doubt even his bones would remain.”

Suddenly, she cast a flirtatious glance at Shen Xian, her breath as fragrant as orchids but her intent deadly.

“Little gentleman, would you like to beg this elder sister for protection?”

“How dare you!”

Wei Zhaoli’s sword slid three inches from its sheath, releasing a bone-chilling cold. “Take one more step toward him, and I’ll sever that serpent’s head!”

Su Mei laughed, unfazed. “My, my, such grand authority.”

She retreated two steps, her tone turning sinister. “What a pity, though. Once inside this Godfiend Battlefield, positions are unpredictable.”

“What if… your little lover runs into me?”

She smirked.

“Well, I can’t guarantee his safety.”

Her eyes brimmed with seductive charm, yet her tone was as cold and venomous as a viper’s.

But the moment Su Mei’s words fell, her pupils abruptly contracted.

Every hair on her body stood on end.

A voice—clear, polite, yet brimming with an overwhelming, terrifying dominance—forcibly invaded her mind.

“If you dare harm even a single hair on his head, I will ensure your entire Li Fire Sect is buried with him on this journey.”

This voice… she recognized it all too well.