“Eldest Senior Brother, why don’t we come up with a secret code?”

“A code? What for?”

“You know… something Master won’t notice. Like, every morning during lessons, you can say that thing you said yesterday: ‘You cultivated diligently yesterday, didn’t slack off, right?'”

“And then?”

“Stupid! Of the three of us, your Spiritual Sense is the strongest. The moment you say that phrase, Little Fuxi and I will know Master is nearby, secretly checking on us. Then we won’t get caught slacking off!”

“Uh… so basically, you want me to help you be lazy?”

“It’s a great idea! Xi’er listens to Second Senior Sister!”

“Sigh. You two are hopeless.”

Thinking back to that innocent afternoon, tears streamed down Li Fuxi’s face uncontrollably.

That phrase… it was carved into her bones. For years, every time she or her Second Senior Sister heard it, they would jolt to attention, putting on their best behavior.

She never expected that her Eldest Senior Brother, Wang Pan, would use those exact words to wake her up from her delusion.

Wang Pan must have realized his fate before he died. In a desperate final gambit, he must have forcibly erased his own memories regarding the meaning of the code, leaving only the instinct to say the phrase. He gambled on a one-in-ten-thousand chance that the message would get through.

Wang Chuan’s face revealed a complex expression, tinged with a trace of genuine regret.

“What a disciple Wang Pan was… truly worthy of being the one I valued most. I admit, I was too clever for my own good. I shouldn’t have refined him into a puppet; it dulled his brilliance.” He sighed softly, like an artist lamenting a microscopic flaw in a masterpiece.

Hearing Wang Chuan discuss Wang Pan’s tragic sacrifice so lightly—regretting only the imperfection of the tool, not the death of the person—incinerated the last shred of Li Fuxi’s attachment to her teacher.

“Master!”

She took a fierce step forward. The spirit sword in her hand erupted with a piercing, bone-chilling light. The tip pointed directly at Wang Chuan’s throat, her voice trembling with apoplectic fury.

“That is the last time I will ever call you that! What exactly were we to you?”

“Were we just cauldrons you meticulously cultivated? Stepping stones for you to reach the pinnacle? Or has [Desire] completely devoured your soul, extinguishing your last shred of humanity? Is power really that important? Important enough to betray the Sect, refine living beings into monsters, and butcher your own disciples?”

Wang Chuan calmly watched the tears rolling down Li Fuxi’s cheeks. In the freezing aura of her sword, the tears solidified into ice crystals, falling to the ground with a soft clatter.

His eyes held no fluctuation. His voice remained flat, terrifyingly even.

“Very important.”

He paused, deciding that further explanation was a waste of breath. “Your [Nine Revolutions Jade Condensation Scripture] is broken. Your Yin energy is no longer pure. To me, your value has greatly diminished. For the sake of our past master-disciple relationship, I can spare your life today.”

Then, his gaze snapped to Zhang Xian. The indifference vanished, replaced by a sharp, chilling killing intent.

“But this kid… he is deep, scheming, and holds too many hidden cards. He has ruined my grand plans. Since he actively returned to seek death, I cannot let him live.”

The moment the last word left his mouth, Wang Chuan’s figure blurred.

WHOOSH!

He vanished, leaving only a faint afterimage.

The real Wang Chuan appeared instantly in front of Zhang Xian, as if he had teleported. A palm wrapped in blinding golden light slammed viciously toward Zhang Xian’s skull.

BOOM!

The expected shower of blood and brain matter did not happen.

At the critical moment, Zhang Xian had summoned an ancient, bronze buckler shield. He braced it with both arms, forcefully blocking the sure-kill palm strike. A violent shockwave exploded outward, centering on the two combatants.

Zhang Xian was blasted backward, his boots carving deep grooves into the stone floor as he slid back thirty feet. He shook out his numb arms, took a deep breath, and stared sharply into Wang Chuan’s clear, unclouded eyes.

“Old thing! You aren’t being controlled by [Desire] at all, are you? You still have your sanity and your schemes. Good. That means I won’t have any psychological burden when I kill you.”

“Kill me?” Wang Chuan looked at him as if he had heard the world’s funniest joke. “With what? Your money?”

Behind him, Li Fuxi moved.

She thrust her sword, a lethal strike aimed at his back.

CLANG!

A golden halo materialized behind Wang Chuan, easily parrying the blade. The halo rotated like a grinder, dissipating her icy sword energy into nothingness.

“Your sword momentum is decent. But unfortunately, Xi’er, your foundation… it all originates from me.” Wang Chuan’s voice was flat, carrying the tone of a teacher grading a paper.

He struck out with his left palm, unleashing a force like a collapsing mountain to suppress Zhang Xian. Simultaneously, his right hand formed a sword mudra. A beam of golden sword aura shot backward, striking the exact weak point in Li Fuxi’s technique.

RIP!

The protective water screen of the [Cloud Mist Sword Scripture] was torn apart like wet paper. The sharp sword energy grazed her temple, severing several strands of her black hair.

“To be able to stir celestial phenomena at the Golden Core stage… Xi’er, your talent is truly unmatched in the Southern Region.”

Wang Chuan glanced at the freezing rain beginning to fall from the sky. A flash of appreciation crossed his eyes before freezing over. “But thinking you can defeat me with my own techniques? A fool’s dream.”

“Times have changed.”

Li Fuxi’s eyes were cold, devoid of fear.

She tapped the ground and ascended into mid-air, her spirit sword pointing directly at the heavens.

The dark thunderclouds hanging over the peak lowered, suffocating the light. Countless ice crystals, shimmering with lethal cold, poured down like a torrential rainstorm. Each crystal contained enough freezing qi to shatter steel.

Facing this overwhelming bombardment, Wang Chuan snorted.

He formed a seal with one hand. The void behind him instantly filled with densely packed, illusory sword shadows. They arranged themselves into a massive fan, their tips pointing skyward.

The Spirit Ruins Sword Sect’s Ultimate Technique: [Myriad Spirits Return to Ruin].

“Go.”

With a low command, the countless sword shadows shot upward like a reverse waterfall, crashing into the descending rain of ice.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Dense explosions rang out incessantly. Ice crystals and sword shadows collided violently in mid-air, the shockwaves turning the mountaintop into a cratered wasteland.

However, the moment the ice crystals were shattered, the trap was sprung.

The core of every shattered ice crystal suddenly erupted with dazzling golden light.

Hidden inside the ice were streaks of golden sword aura. Freed from their shells, they accelerated abruptly, tearing through Wang Chuan’s sword shadows and shooting toward him in a concentrated barrage.

It was Wang Chuan’s own signature move: [Heavenly Gate Azure Cloud Sword].

“Hmph! Petty tricks!”

Wang Chuan’s pupils contracted slightly. He hadn’t expected Li Fuxi to fuse her Water and Metal Spiritual Roots to such a seamless degree.

Golden light blazed around his body. He prepared to form his strongest protective barrier to tank the damage.

But suddenly, his instincts screamed. He involuntarily glanced at Zhang Xian.

There, standing thirty feet away, was Zhang Xian. In his hand was a thick stack of Earth-Grade Thunder Talismans—enough to level a small city. He was grinning, waiting for the exact moment Wang Chuan stopped moving to defend against the rain.

That little bastard.

Wang Chuan’s eyebrow twitched. He had no desire to become a stationary target for a bombardment of money.

Forced to abandon his defense, his figure moved like a ghost, weaving rapidly through the storm of golden sword auras, dodging rather than blocking.

Finally, spotting an opening, he twisted his body in mid-air. Abandoning Li Fuxi, he rushed straight at Zhang Xian.

He drew a pitch-black longsword from his sleeve. With the momentum to sever mountains and rivers, he slashed viciously at the wealthy nuisance.

Zhang Xian did not dodge.

The seemingly ordinary longsword in his hand suddenly lit up, five-colored spiritual light flowing along the blade like liquid glass. Simultaneously, the defensive arrays of several Spirit Treasures on his body activated, forming layer upon layer of light shields.

CLANG——!!!

The two swords clashed, erupting with a deafening roar.

This time, Wang Chuan’s expression finally changed.

He clearly felt his overwhelming Nascent Soul spiritual power flooding into his blade… only to vanish the moment it touched Zhang Xian’s sword. It was being dissolved.