The main square of Heavenly Palace Peak had transformed into a churning sea of steel. Beneath the vast canopy of the sky, the massive bluestone arena gleamed like a chessboard of white jade, surrounded by a roaring human tide.

High above, the viewing platform shimmered with spiritual light. Several high-ranking elders sat in solemn attendance, though the most prestigious seats at the center remained conspicuously empty.

The first event of the day was the third-place match, a critical duel to determine who would claim the final spot representing the Yunmiao Sect at the Demon Sweeping Assembly.

Zhang Xian stepped slowly onto the stage under the heavy gaze of thousands.

Instantly, a tsunami of noise crashed over him.

“Old Devil Zhang is here!”

“Heh, let’s see what turtle tactics he pulls out of his shell this time!”

“He surrendered against Senior Sister Wang Yue. Now he’s facing Elder Nangong, a late-stage Golden Core powerhouse. He won’t last ten breaths!”

“Place your bets! Who thinks he survives five moves?”

Mocking, disdainful, and curious gazes wove an invisible net, locking onto him. Zhang Xian ignored it all, his expression placid.

Nangong Yao stood motionless, her gaze sweeping coldly over Zhang Xian as he approached. There was no emotion in her eyes, only a bone-deep condescension.

For a moment, Zhang Xian saw a phantom from the depths of his memory layered over her face. She had always looked at him like this—as if looking down upon an ant she hadn’t bothered to crush yet.

The voice of the referee elder, amplified by spiritual power, drowned out the clamor.

“Seventy-Two Peaks Martial Arts Tournament. Zhang Xian versus Nangong Yao. Begin!”

The instant the word “begin” fell, Zhang Xian vanished.

A streak of emerald blade light, refined to its absolute limit, erupted from his hand. It tore through the air, blurring vision as it shot straight for Nangong Yao’s face!

This strike contained no hesitation, no probing. It was pure, distilled killing intent. Its ferocity far surpassed anything he had shown before.

A flicker of genuine surprise passed through Nangong Yao’s eyes. Her wrist turned instinctively, bringing her radiant golden longsword up to block.

Clang!

A piercing metallic clash exploded, sending sparks flying.

Just as she parried the frontal assault, another, more insidious green blade light materialized silently in her blind spot, aiming straight for the vital point at the center of her back!

Alarm bells screamed in Nangong Yao’s mind. It was too late to retract her sword. She fiercely formed a hand seal, and a dazzling golden light shield instantly condensed behind her.

Crack!

The shield shattered like cheap glass.

That defensive artifact, capable of withstanding a full-power strike from a mid-Golden Core cultivator, was obliterated by the bizarre green sword.

Nangong Yao’s heart shook. A single strike had caused irreparable damage to a top-grade artifact that had protected her for over a hundred years.

She grunted, her body swaying. For the first time, disbelief cracked her composure.

What grade of flying sword is this? So sharp! Is it truly a spirit treasure? How can a False Core disciple wield such power?

Before her doubts could settle, the next attack arrived.

Zhang Xian had already crushed a purplish-black talisman in his hand. Violent thunder and lightning wove a deadly spiderweb in mid-air, carrying an aura of absolute destruction as it descended upon Nangong Yao.

“Earth-grade Thunder Strike Talisman!” a knowledgeable elder on the viewing platform exclaimed in shock.

The majestic might of heaven! The thunder net locked onto Nangong Yao, forcing her expression to change drastically. This was no simple spell—it was a tribulation in miniature.

Her hands danced in a blur. Layer upon layer of protective energy and light talismans flared into existence.

Boom! Rumble! Rumble!

The thunder was overwhelmingly domineering. Her defensive shields were burned through one by one. Although they blocked the bulk of the power, fragmented electric serpents pierced her defenses, scorching her skin.

“Ugh!”

Nangong Yao stumbled back, her long hair disheveled. Charred black marks marred her pristine white robe, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

Without hesitation, she ignited a precious cyan wind talisman. Her figure shot back like a stream of light to the edge of the arena, putting a safe distance between them.

In the first exchange, the lofty late-Golden Core elder had been forced into a wretched state.

The clamor below the stage died instantly.

Mouths hung agape. The disciples who had been spewing arrogance just moments ago froze, their disdain turning into stupefaction.

“What the fck?” someone whispered.

“Zhang Xian… Old Devil Zhang… is he this fierce?! Is he insane?!”

“Look at his aura! His cultivation has jumped!”

A long-bearded Inspector stroked his chin, unable to conceal his astonishment. “He’s already at False Core Third Layer! It’s only been a month. How did he break through so fast?”

Those with sharper eyes noticed Lin Yinyin standing amidst the Spirit Sword Peak crowd. Her usually vibrant face was pale, and her aura fluctuated weakly. She stared nervously at the dueling platform, looking drained.

“Heavens! Junior Sister Yinyin looks so weak.”

“Was she… Dual Cultivated?”

“Did her Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra get broken? How else can you explain her weakened aura while Old Thief Zhang has become so much stronger?!” a disciple shouted, his eyes turning red with realization.

“Beast! That old dog Zhang! What virtue does he possess?!” someone pounded their chest, driven mad with jealousy.

“Junior Sister Yinyin! Your sacrifice is too great! Was it worth it for this scoundrel?!” Cries of grief and indignation rose one after another.

“That damned bastard! Using Dual Cultivation on a junior sister to boost his cultivation! Just to win this match today??”

On the platform, Nangong Yao steadied her churning qi and blood. The look she directed at Zhang Xian was filled with shock and bewilderment.

Then, a violent fury ignited in her chest.

How dare this False Core disciple look at her with such indifferent eyes?

She had been pushed to this state by a False Core nobody in front of the entire sect! Rage surged within her, fueling the Heavenly Palace Azure Cloud Sword technique to its limit.

Sword light exploded!

Countless elusive golden sword energies blotted out the sky, descending upon Zhang Xian like a golden rain. This was the true foundation of her strength as an elder of Heavenly Palace Peak.

Zhang Xian’s expression remained unchanged. He tapped the ground with his toe, shifting back half a zhang.

Hum! Hum!

Golden light flowed, and two humanoid puppets abruptly materialized in front of him, forming a wall against the surging sea of golden swords.

“Again? Shameless!” someone cursed from below.

But the next moment, the curse turned into a gasp. The two puppets didn’t just block; they charged unhesitatingly into the expanse of golden light. A head-on clash!

Below the stage, Wang Yue watched with sparkling eyes. This was the passionate duel she had envisioned!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The collision sounds fell like a torrential downpour of metal.

Nangong Yao’s pupils contracted. At the moment of contact, an unimaginably powerful tremor traveled up her sword arm, making the blade hum like a mournful cry.

Every collision numbed her hand and shook her mind. These two puppets were both at the mid-Golden Core stage!

She could hardly believe her spiritual sense. How was this possible? The puppets’ cultivation surpassed that of their controller? This defied every iron law of puppetry she knew.

Even more terrifying was the impact. Every time the longswords in the puppets’ hands collided with her own, they shook her very spiritual power source.

These were definitely not ordinary magical treasures.

Do these puppets wield spirit treasures too?!