Eastern Sea Country.

Low-hanging clouds strangled the horizon, pressing the gray sky down against the earth. A damp wind, heavy with the briny stench of the ocean, swept through the dilapidated fishing village.

A white-haired man stood motionless on the shore. The gale whipped at his black robes, lifting a corner to reveal the pitch-black scabbard at his waist.

The sword was sheathed, yet the air around it seemed to freeze, radiating an unmelting chill that kept the world at bay.

“Are you going away?”

A childish voice drifted from behind him.

Ye Guxing did not turn. He stood like a statue carved from ice, staring into the endless gray.

A little girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, stood barefoot on a jagged reef. Her clothes were a patchwork of rags, but her eyes shone with a brightness that rivaled the sparkling waves below.

When Ye Guxing ignored her, she hopped closer, tilting her head to peer up at him. In her dirty, small hand, she clutched a small sea turtle. The creature struggled feebly, its limbs flailing before it gave up and retracted into its shell.

“Are you going away?” she asked again, undeterred.

“Mn.”

The sound was barely a hum, faint as the wind slicing over a blade’s edge.

The girl kicked a pebble. It clattered down the rocks and splashed into the sea.

“Will you come back?”

Ye Guxing remained silent.

Far out on the horizon, dark clouds churned like boiling ink. Lightning flickered in the belly of the storm.

The girl waited a long time. Finally, she tossed the turtle aside. She dug into her ragged bosom and pulled out a small packet wrapped in oil paper. Standing on her tiptoes, she thrust it toward his hand.

“For you!”

Ye Guxing lowered his gaze.

Inside the oil paper lay a piece of dried fish jerky. The edges were charred black, but a savory aroma wafted up from it.

“My mama made it!” The girl grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. “She says travelers need full bellies to walk far.”

Ye Guxing’s fingers paused inches from the offering.

Decades ago, another pair of small hands had held out a bowl of steaming rice porridge to a starving youth.

Back then, his small sect still existed. His master would ruffle his hair and say, “Guxing, no matter how cold the sword becomes, the heart must remain warm.”

But in the end, the sword had never warmed. His heart had simply frozen first.

The sea breeze picked up, blowing stray hairs across the girl’s forehead. She sneezed, rubbed her nose with a dirty knuckle, but stubbornly kept her arm raised.

Ye Guxing finally took the dried fish.

His gaze lingered on her palm, stained with sand and muck from the turtle.

“Thank you.”

The girl’s eyes curved into crescent moons. She spun around and skipped away, her patched clothes fluttering like a tattered flag.

After a few steps, she turned back and waved. “Remember to eat it!”

White hair and black robes danced in the wind. Ye Guxing looked down at the charred fish in his hand, his sword-brows slightly furrowed.

After a long silence, he broke off a small piece and placed it in his mouth.

Salty. Fragrant. A hint of sweetness.

It tasted like a warmth he had lost long ago.

A pity, he thought, storing the rest in his Storage Bag. Like the past, it cannot be kept.

He raised his eyes to the southwest. The fleeting softness in his gaze vanished, replaced by a profound, dead calm.

At his waist, the black sword vibrated without sound, resonating with its master’s rising killing intent.

It was time to go.

The Spirit Beast Sect had fallen to the demonic path, slaughtering the innocent to fuel their power. They deserved to be butchered.

It is regrettable that I could not slay that craven rat, Saint Blood.

The moment the chase began, the man would vanish—hiding among the mortals of the Eastern Sea or sinking into the ocean depths. He was a rogue cultivator without shame, a master of escape.

The Spirit Beast Sect, however, was a stationary target. They would be much easier to kill than a rat.

First, I exterminate the sect. Then, I return to hunt the rat.

Ye Guxing stepped forward, and a streak of sword light surged beneath his feet, launching him into the sky. He tore toward the south.

He hadn’t even left the boundaries of the Eastern Sea Country when he spotted several figures approaching on flying swords. His own disciples.

“What is the matter?” Ye Guxing asked, hovering in mid-air.

“Sect Leader,” one disciple reported breathlessly. “The Supreme Elder was worried you might lose track of time. He sent us to invite you.”

“Invite me?”

“Yes. Without your presence, the Mystic One Sect and Little Sky Net Sect… they are reluctant to commit their full strength.”

“Hah,” Ye Guxing let out a cold snort. “If I am not there to hold a blade to their throats, do they expect to sit back and watch the show? Do they think the Spirit Sword Sect and Wanchun Valley will bleed as the vanguard while they scavenge the spoils?”

Despite his arrogance, he knew the truth. Without him—the strongest blade in the Southern Region—Sect Leader Qi of Wanchun Valley and Supreme Elder Yin Hong of his own sect would struggle to command the other two factions. The alliance was fragile, held together only by fear and mutual interest.

Ye Guxing’s sharp gaze shifted to a young man standing behind the lead disciples.

“Li Tonghai. Your mind is loud.”

The young disciple flinched.

“If you have words, speak them. If you have a duty, do it,” Ye Guxing reprimanded coldly. “A Sword Heart must be polished and clear. Do not let trivial matters accumulate like dust.”

Li Tonghai bowed deeply, his face pale. “Master… some time ago, when I accompanied the Supreme Elder to Wanchun Valley, I… I was defeated by Senior Brother Han of their sect.”

“Han?” Ye Guxing raised an eyebrow. “A Qi Refining ninth layer disciple?”

“No, Master. Qi Refining fourth layer.”

Ye Guxing frowned. “Speak clearly. Did he use a secret art to mask his cultivation?”

Li Tonghai’s face flushed red with shame. “No, Master. He is truly at the fourth layer. Mid-stage Qi Refining.”

Ye Guxing fell silent, his piercing stare fixed on his disciple.

Li Tonghai hurried to explain. “I met this Senior Brother Han during my previous mission to investigate the valley. He is diligent and talented. Recently, he has defeated every challenger in their Outer Sect, earning the title of ‘Number One Outer Disciple’ rightfully.”

“Because we were acquainted, I sparred with him. I never expected… to lose.”

“These past few days, I have been unable to focus. I keep replaying the duel, wondering how to break his techniques the next time we meet.”

Ye Guxing’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “So, Wanchun Valley has finally produced a true genius.”

“Since this defeat haunts you, go to Wanchun Valley. Fight him again.”

“If you can win, then win. If you cannot, then make him your whetstone. Temper your Sword Heart against his strength. Cultivate without rest.”

“One day, you will surpass him.”

Li Tonghai bowed low, his voice trembling with renewed resolve. “Yes, Master!”

“Now, come. First, we exterminate the demonic filth of the Spirit Beast Sect. Your duel can wait.”

Ye Guxing turned and accelerated, his sword light trailing like a comet.

His disciples scrambled to follow, but within moments, they were left far behind. Ye Guxing’s desire to kill was burning too hot to wait for stragglers.

Half a day later.

A thousand miles from the Ten Thousand Beasts Mountain Range, within the borders of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

Ye Guxing descended from the heavens.

Below him, the coalition army waited. Supreme Elder Yin Hong stood at the head of several hundred Spirit Sword Sect disciples. Sect Leader Qi, Elder Lu, and Elder Mou led seventy elites from Wanchun Valley. Daoist Lingxiu and Daoist Lingyin commanded a hundred disciples from the Mystic One Sect. Two veiled Golden Core cultivators from the Little Sky Net Sect stood with their own hundred-strong force.

As the white-haired figure landed, a roar erupted from the gathered cultivators.

“Greetings, Sect Leader Ye!”

The sound was thunderous, a tsunami of voices shaking the mountains.

Ye Guxing did not smile. He did not wave. He stood before the army, his black robes still, his presence silencing the wind.

He looked directly at the leaders of the Mystic One and Little Sky Net sects.

“The four Golden Core cultivators of Mystic One and Little Sky Net will lead their disciples as the vanguard,” Ye Guxing commanded, his voice cutting through the silence. “Attack the Spirit Beast Sect immediately. I will hold the rear and suppress the formation.”

He gestured vaguely to his own sect and Wanchun Valley. “Spirit Sword and Wanchun Valley will follow behind to handle contingencies.”

“Begin.”

The gathered leaders blinked. This was not a discussion. It was a death sentence for the vanguard.

Daoist Lingxiu of the Mystic One Sect stepped forward, his expression strained. “Sect Leader Ye—”

“What?”

Ye Guxing’s hand drifted to the hilt of his black sword. His eyes narrowed.

“You refuse to obey?”

The air temperature plummeted. Daoist Lingxiu looked into those eyes—sharp as steel, devoid of mercy—and felt the phantom sensation of a blade against his throat.

He shrank back, shaking his head rapidly. “Of course not!”

“Since our sects have left our protective formations, we are fully prepared to give our lives to exterminate the demonic cultivators.”

Lingxiu wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “It is just… before we march, could we ask Sect Leader Ye and Sect Leader Qi to spare a moment? We wish to discuss the… details.”