Li Fuxi, eyes burning with fury, unleashed a slash of Ice Glaze Sword Qi with everything she had.

Boom!

The strike slammed into the translucent dome, but instead of shattering, the barrier merely rippled like a disturbed pond, emitting a dull, thunderous thud.

“What?!”

Li Fuxi staggered back from the recoil, her stunning face etched with disbelief. The defensive power of this light shield defied logic. Her gaze shifted to the source—a hulking, shadowy figure standing beside the assassin inside the dome.

This giant, shrouded in the same black robes as its master, was clearly a puppet. Li Fuxi had seen the Nascent Soul assassin summon it from a storage device just seconds ago. It stood motionless, acting as the anchor for the massive, semi-circular barrier that now sealed the arena off from the world.

Li Fuxi didn’t let the shock paralyze her. She steadied her breath, channeling her spiritual power for an even stronger strike. Boom! The shield groaned but held firm.

By now, the other cultivators around the stage had shaken off their stupor. Spells and weapon strikes rained down in a chaotic, desperate storm, bombarding the barrier to no avail.

But inside the dome, the killing intent had already boiled over.

Having deployed the puppet to block outside interference, the Nascent Soul assassin didn’t pause. He pounced toward Long Zhi like a panther.

Long Zhi, though startled, didn’t flinch. A cold light erupted in her frosty eyes. Faced with a Nascent Soul-level ambush, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she advanced.

Her spirit sword emitted a clear, dragon-like cry. Wrapped in leaping arcs of purple lightning, she thrust straight for the assassin’s heart. The strike was sharp, relentless, and carried the full weight of her resolve.

Yet, the shadow neither dodged nor evaded.

His right hand, shrouded in darkness, shot out like a viper. His fingers hooked into claws, bypassing the lightning to grab the tip of Long Zhi’s spirit sword with terrifying precision.

Hiss!

A viscous white energy surged from the assassin’s palm, coiling around the blade of the Ice Glaze Sword like a parasitic worm.

Long Zhi’s expression changed drastically. She could feel the spiritual nature of her life-bound treasure screaming in agony as the bizarre white energy violently eroded its connection to her soul. The sword hummed in pain, its radiance dimming rapidly.

In the split second her mind wavered from the backlash, the assassin’s other hand moved.

He formed his palm into a spear-hand, fingertips wreathed in condensed, obsidian light. Before Long Zhi could recover, he stabbed straight toward her unguarded left shoulder.

Thud!

A sickening sound of flesh tearing echoed in the silence.

Long Zhi grunted, staggering back. A bloody hole had been punched through her shoulder, instantly staining her snow-white robes crimson. The black light hadn’t just pierced her physical defense; a sinister, malicious chill was now flooding her meridians, shutting down her circulation.

“Long Zhi!”

Outside the barrier, the elders of the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect roared in fury, their eyes bloodshot as they pounded uselessly against the shield.

High above, Xia Xuanyin, Zhiyin, Wang Ya, and the others finally snapped to realization.

They had been played.

The black-robed figure in the sky was nothing but a decoy. His flashy entrance and challenge were a diversion to draw their eyes upward. The true targets were the two geniuses on the platform—Zhang Xian and Long Zhi.

“Bastards!”

Xia Xuanyin’s rage erupted, his imperial majesty exploding like a sun. A golden talisman seal manifested in his hand, expanding into a mountain-sized rune that crashed down toward the barrier below.

The decoy in the sky laughed. He flicked a finger, releasing a wisp of white mist that intercepted the Emperor’s attack. The mist churned, dissolving the golden seal’s power into nothingness as if it were mere smoke.

Xia Xuanyin’s heart jolted. What is that white energy? It eats spiritual power?

Before the Emperor could strike again, the decoy spread his arms wide.

“Myriad Spirits Return to Ruins.”

With a low shout, the void behind him cracked open. Ten thousand illusory sword shadows materialized, fanning out like the wings of a death god. Each blade exuded a chilling, necrotic aura.

“What? The Myriad Spirits Sword Array?” A white-haired elder of the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect exclaimed in horror. This was their sect’s ultimate, signature art—but the black aura clinging to the blades twisted it into something alien and terrifying.

The decoy swung his arms down.

The storm of ten thousand swords didn’t aim for the Nascent Soul experts. Instead, it descended like a torrential downpour toward the tens of thousands of terrified low-level cultivators in the spectator stands.

“Despicable!”

Xia Xuanyin’s face went pale. He could tank the attack easily, but he couldn’t let his subjects be slaughtered.

“Save them!”

The Emperor roared, hurling his Jade Seal into the sky. It transformed into a massive golden dragon that threw its body in the path of the sword rain. Zhiyin split into multiple clones, and Wang Ya erected a massive sword screen. The top experts of the Southern Region were forced to abandon the arena to intercept the sky-blotting massacre.

At that moment, Perfected Being Shouheng, who had kept his eyes on the arena, screamed out a warning.

“No! That’s not a simple defensive formation! It’s a teleportation array! The four corners of the shield are the anchors! They’re initiating a spatial jump! Stop them!”

But his warning came a heartbeat too late.

The instant his words fell, the four corners of the massive earth-yellow dome erupted with blinding white light. Four beams shot upward, converging at the apex to form a complex, profound rune.

Space inside the dome began to twist and buckle like water disturbed by a stone.

Li Fuxi, desperate to break through, slammed her sword against the barrier one last time. Through the distorted, warping light, her eyes locked with Zhang Xian’s.

Inside the trap, Zhang Xian looked back at her. His lips moved soundlessly, forming two distinct words:

“Wait for me.”

His gaze was calm, deep as an abyss, and it seared itself into her memory.

Hum!

A low, resonant thrum of spatial energy vibrated through the stadium. A flash of blinding white light swallowed the platform.

When the light faded, the massive dome popped like a soap bubble.

The arena was empty.

Zhang Xian, Long Zhi, the assassin, and the puppet—all gone. Only a few stark drops of Long Zhi’s blood remained on the jade floor, along with the fading ripples of teleportation magic.

High in the sky, the decoy saw his mission was complete. He let out a series of triumphant, rasping laughs.

“You hypocrites have slain many of my sect’s disciples these past years. Today’s act is merely a reciprocal gesture. A small lesson in loss. Farewell!”

With a sinister chuckle, his body detonated into a cloud of blood mist. The mist coalesced into a streak of crimson light that shot toward the horizon with impossible speed, vanishing before anyone could give chase.

Xia Xuanyin landed on the empty platform, his face grim.

He extended a hand, plucking a wisp of residual energy from the air. The aura manifested as a pure, milky white thread.

“This white energy…” His voice was low, trembling with disbelief. “It is incredibly pure. Undoubtedly the essence of life itself. Yet they have twisted it, weaponized it into a poison capable of corroding formations, spells, and even the foundation of spirit treasures.”

He plucked another thread, this one black as ink.

“And this black energy is even more bizarre. It is filled with pure negativity. It is unlike any unorthodox cultivation method I have ever encountered.”

He crushed the energies between his fingers, his eyes cold. “Life and Death. What kind of monsters are we dealing with?”