Severing Ties: The Sect Regrets My Departure

Chapter 260: Facing a Supreme! Dancing on the Blade’s Edge!

“Hmm?”

The premonition struck without warning, a cold spike of dread that forced Guan Xuelan to abruptly halt her advance. It wasn’t a conscious choice; it was raw instinct. She was a Mahayana Supreme, standing at the absolute pinnacle of this world. Bound to the profound laws of heaven and earth, her perception of danger far surpassed mortal comprehension.

In that fleeting second, Guan Xuelan detected three distinct layers of lethal crisis.

First, she glanced at the sky. The previously clear expanse had quietly choked with suffocating dark clouds. Though she could see nothing, an icy, indifferent gaze seemed to be boring into her from the heavens above. It was a phantom terror, a heavy shadow whispering that any rash movement would bring down an unimaginable calamity.

Second, her eyes snapped back to the Foundation Establishment Rogue Cultivator standing before her. Gu Xiu’s aura was weak, his realm pitifully low, yet an invisible lock had clamped down on her soul. She knew with absolute certainty that if she struck him, a dormant, catastrophic force would erupt and bury her like a collapsing mountain.

As for the third layer of crisis…

“A mere Void Refining Grand Perfection cultivator actually dares to draw a bow against a Supreme?” Guan Xuelan’s voice was absolute ice.

Her gaze flashed like lightning, locking onto a distant rooftop. Standing there was an old man with a flowing white beard, a plain gourd resting at his hip. He stood resolute, a withered pine facing a hurricane, his longbow drawn taut and aimed directly at her heart.

Who else could it be but Sang Shoudao, the Lord of Cloud Firmament City?

“When facing a Supreme, one must nock their arrow in advance,” Sang Shoudao replied. His voice was calm, though his piercing gaze never wavered. “Otherwise, I fear I wouldn’t even have the chance to draw the string.”

Guan Xuelan arched an imperious eyebrow. “It’s you. I remember now. Back at the gates of Falling Rain Valley, you managed to slip through my fingers.”

She recognized him. He was a full major realm beneath her, an insect by all cultivation standards. Yet, the taut string of that simple longbow radiated an edge that made even her Mahayana instincts prickle with danger.

However, her arrogance quickly smothered her caution. “Do you truly believe that drawing your bow early makes you a match for me?”

Sang Shoudao slowly shook his head. “A Supreme is a Supreme. Moreover, Sect Leader Guan, you are far beyond the ordinary bounds of that realm.”

“Since you know your place, why do you dare point that weapon at me?” she demanded, genuinely offended by his audacity.

“Because this old man promised to protect him for three years,” Sang Shoudao answered simply.

Guan Xuelan’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Even in front of a Supreme, you still think you can protect him?”

Sang Shoudao gave a heavy, solemn nod. He was an old candle burning its last wax, yet his single word carried the weight of a falling mountain. “I will protect him.”

“A mantis trying to shake a tree. You overestimate yourself.” Guan Xuelan let out a contemptuous snort and took a single step forward. The ambient temperature of Cloud Firmament City plummeted into a freezing winter. “Very well. I am here today. Let us see how exactly you intend to protect him!”

She raised her right hand, forming a sword seal with her fingers.

Instantly, the surrounding Spiritual Qi was violently ripped from the air, converging before her. In the blink of an eye, a massive, azure-blue broadsword materialized, radiating a blinding light.

“Die.” She pointed her sword fingers at the old City Lord.

The colossal Spiritual Qi sword vanished, transforming into a lethal streak of azure light that tore through the sky toward Sang Shoudao. This was the casual strike of a Mahayana Supreme, yet it possessed enough apocalyptic force to annihilate a mountain range. The sheer density of the attack vacuumed the spiritual energy from the vicinity, leaving ordinary cultivators gasping for breath.

Worse still, invisible threads of azure law-energy instantly tethered themselves to the space around Sang Shoudao, locking his spatial coordinates. He could not run. He could not hide. It was a strike that demanded blood.

Watching the execution unfold, Gu Xiu furrowed his brow. He tightened his grip on the Divine Demon finger bone hidden in his sleeve, preparing to unleash its catastrophic power.

But just as he was about to move, Sang Shoudao’s soul voice echoed in his mind.

“I have been trapped at the peak of Void Refining for many years. My Dao was stagnant, my path broken. Fortunately, your heaven-defying Fated Chance allowed me to live a second life. Recently, I’ve had some new epiphanies regarding the Mahayana realm. Do not intervene. Just watch.”

Gu Xiu’s eyes flickered with faint surprise.

On the rooftop, Sang Shoudao released his bowstring. A brilliant purple arrow shrieked through the air, colliding head-on with the descending azure broadsword.

Trusting the old man’s resolve, Gu Xiu stepped back, ushering Little Ping’an and Xiao He out of the immediate blast radius. Still, he kept the Divine Demon finger bone primed, ready to intercept if the City Lord miscalculated.

BOOM!

The purple arrow slammed into the azure blade and instantly shattered. However, the fragments of purple light didn’t dissipate into the wind; instead, the Supreme’s sword eagerly devoured them, converting Sang Shoudao’s attack into its own Spiritual Qi nourishment.

The Mahayana realm did not just rely on internal reserves; Supremes commanded the laws of the world itself. They could subjugate their enemy’s power and make it their own.

Sang Shoudao’s brow twitched, but his hands didn’t stop. He drew back the string again.

A second arrow tore across the sky, this one thrumming with a piercing, heaven-rending sharpness. It struck the massive sword dead center, actually forcing the overwhelming attack to stutter and pause for a fraction of a second.

But it was only a fraction.

With another deafening crack, the second arrow shattered, its energy once again digested by Guan Xuelan’s conjuration.

“If this is the extent of your strength, then you will protect nothing today,” Guan Xuelan sneered. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, an imperious goddess looking down upon a struggling mortal.

Sang Shoudao didn’t waste breath on a reply. The massive sword was already upon him. Even before the blade struck, the suffocating wind pressure sheared his skin, drawing thin lines of blood across his cheeks and arms.

Refusing to be pinned, the old man exploded backward, desperately widening the gap while his hands blurred.

Third arrow! Fourth! Fifth! Sixth!

Every shot he fired was stronger than the last, fueled by his burning life force. Yet, the result was a despairing repetition: a brief, violent collision followed by the arrows shattering into pure nourishment for Guan Xuelan’s blade.

The situation was spiraling into absolute ruin.

Displeased that the slippery old man kept narrowly avoiding decapitation, Guan Xuelan scoffed. “An ant should have the decency to die when stepped on. Scurrying around is just an eyesore.”

She casually flicked her wrist. The ambient Spiritual Qi violently warped, and two more massive azure swords condensed from the void. With a chilling hum, all three blades fanned out, converging on Sang Shoudao from different angles.

His avenues of escape violently shrank. The City Lord was forced into a frantic, chaotic dance of survival, his robes tearing and his breath growing ragged.

Seeing his pathetic state, Guan Xuelan finally smiled.

“Teacher, is Grandpa Sang going to be okay?” Little Ping’an tugged at Gu Xiu’s robes, her small face pale with terror. “Can we… can we go help him?”

Gu Xiu didn’t answer immediately. He narrowed his eyes, tracking the frantic battle playing out in the sky, his thumb rubbing the smooth surface of the finger bone. After a long moment, the tension in his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Trust your Grandpa Sang. He will be fine,” Gu Xiu said softly.

“Really?”

“Really.” Gu Xiu nodded.

After five hundred years of endless slaughter in the Forbidden Realm, Gu Xiu’s combat intuition was absolute. To the untrained eye, Sang Shoudao was a cornered rat. But Gu Xiu saw the hidden rhythm. The old City Lord was doing this on purpose. He was intentionally threading the needle between the three Mahayana swords, absorbing the glancing blows to forcefully comprehend the foreign, higher-level laws laced within the attacks.

He hadn’t even deployed his most powerful soul abilities. He was using his physical body and raw cultivation as a crucible, actively courting death to steal a glimpse of the Mahayana threshold.

“You are quite bold, old man. Dancing on the blade’s edge,” Guan Xuelan remarked, her voice dripping with dangerous amusement. She had noticed it too. “You think you can use my Supreme laws as a grindstone to force a breakthrough?”

Her smile vanished, replaced by venomous aristocratic pride. “Against a lesser cultivator, you might have succeeded. But using me as your whetstone… is suicide!”

With a cold snort, her fingers blurred into a new seal. Three more azure broadswords tore out of the void, joining the execution squad. Six massive blades now chased Sang Shoudao across the sky.

Guan Xuelan looked on with haughty disdain. In her eyes, no matter how profound this old man’s foundational Dao might be, a Void Refining insect was still just an insect.

Her arrogance was quickly validated. Under the combined assault of six Supreme swords, Sang Shoudao’s evasive dance finally broke down. Vicious, deep gashes opened across his arms and chest. He twisted wildly to protect his vitals, but within moments, his gray robes were completely soaked in crimson. He looked like a man dragged from a lake of blood.

Xiao He bit her lip until it bled, while Little Ping’an openly sobbed. To the little girl, Sang Shoudao was a doting grandfather, much warmer than the stern Dantai ancestor residing in her pendant. Watching him be butchered in the sky was unbearable. She tried to run forward, but Gu Xiu’s hand clamped onto her shoulder like an iron vise.

“Teacher—!”

“He is trying to break through. Believe in him,” Gu Xiu repeated, his tone brooking no argument. He stood completely still, an immovable mountain.

He held the Divine Demon finger bone ready. He couldn’t be certain it would kill Guan Xuelan, but it would buy Sang Shoudao enough time to escape. Yet, if he intervened now, he would shatter the old man’s momentum, ruining a once-in-a-lifetime chance at ascension.

But as Sang Shoudao’s aura grew dangerously faint, his life force flickering like a candle in a gale, even Gu Xiu felt a cold knot tighten in his chest.

“You are remarkably stubborn,” Guan Xuelan sneered, losing her patience. “Let us see just how much more of this ‘grindstone’ you can stomach!”

Her hands flashed again. Three more massive swords materialized.

Nine Mahayana broadswords in total.

This time, the net was inescapable. Sang Shoudao had nowhere left to run. Eight of the swords plunged downward, pinning the space around his limbs, ribs, and his Dantian Qi sea.

The ninth sword—radiating absolute, unadulterated Supreme Killing Intent—shot directly toward the center of his brow, aiming to annihilate his soul Dao Platform.

Gu Xiu raised his hand, aiming the finger bone directly at Guan Xuelan. The terrifying sword was closing the distance in a flash.

Three feet. Two feet. One foot.

The sheer pressure of the blade split the skin on Sang Shoudao’s forehead, creating a vertical, bleeding wound that looked like a third eye weeping blood.

Gu Xiu sighed. He had no choice. He began to channel his energy into the finger bone.

But in that exact microsecond, a profound, serene clarity washed over Sang Shoudao’s bloodshot eyes.

“I think…” the old man murmured, his voice echoing clearly despite the roaring winds, “…I finally grasp it.”

BOOM!

A pillar of incredibly dense, royal purple energy erupted from Sang Shoudao’s body, piercing the heavens. The moment the purple aura cascaded outward, the nine incoming Mahayana swords slammed into it—and abruptly slowed to a crawl, as if they had plunged into a swamp of thick, heavy mud.

Guan Xuelan’s heart skipped a beat. What is this?! Offended that reality was disobeying her, she frantically shifted her hand seals, commanding the swords to accelerate. But just as they began to push through the mire, Sang Shoudao stomped his foot against the empty air.

The towering pillar of purple energy violently detonated, expanding into a thick, swirling sea of purple mist that completely swallowed the nine broadswords.

Squelch!

It sounded as if the lethal blades had been buried in miles of dense cotton. They groaned, trembling violently, but they could not advance a single inch further.

The mist parted. Sang Shoudao slowly walked out from the purple clouds. His body was a ruined, bloody mess, but his eyes burned with the brilliant, terrifying light of a newborn star. He calmly cupped his hands together and bowed toward the hovering Supreme.

“I must thank you, Fellow Daoist Guan. Your efforts have helped me verify the theories in my heart.”

Guan Xuelan’s eyelids twitched violently. A terrifying, irrational panic seized her.

The sensation of mortal crisis she had felt earlier… it was coming from him!

As if to answer her fear, Sang Shoudao slowly raised his longbow. He didn’t reach for his quiver. Instead, the surrounding sea of purple mist rapidly funneled into his grip, solidifying into a singular, thrumming arrow of pure, transcendent energy.

“To hold back one’s trump cards when facing a Supreme…” Sang Shoudao’s voice was no longer that of a dying old man; it resonated with the power of the Great Dao. “…is indeed the dream of a fool. Since that is the case…”

He drew the string back to his cheek, aiming straight at Guan Xuelan’s heart.

“…this old man, Sang Shoudao, will now fight Sect Leader Guan with everything he has.”