He Yiming was afraid, his heart hammering against his ribs. Even when his life had been under the direst threat, even in that moment when a sharp dagger pressed against his throat, he had never known such terror and dread.

The old man was a friend across generations, the very first confidant he had found among the Innate realm masters with whom he could truly share words.

And today, at that most critical juncture, what pulled him back from the brink of death was not the Hundred and Eight he usually relied upon, but this old man before him, who possessed only the cultivation of the Hundred Scatterings Heaven.

Had this elder not been present to witness the battle by his side today, then... the consequences were unimaginable even to He Yiming.

He couldn't tell how long it took. He Yiming's fingers remained suspended in mid-air for a moment.

Finally, his fingers seemed to traverse a thousand mountains and rivers, as if centuries had passed, before finally making contact with the body of the elder Shui Xuanjin.

Instantly, the vast wellspring of vital energy radiating from the old man surged out like boiling water finding an outlet for a flood.

In just a few breaths, the vital power within Shui Xuanjin completely, utterly vanished.

He Yiming’s eyes widened; he watched and sensed it all in disbelief.

A whisper seemed to escape his lips, “Brother... Shui.”

A color as black as ink instantly spread across Shui Xuanjin’s entire body. His form looked as if it had been steeped in ink for three days and nights; this darkness had permeated every corner, every cell within him.

Then, the old man, who had stood tall as a mountain, fell straight backward.

Even now, his body remained ramrod straight, like a javelin, his knees not even slightly bent.

Instinctively, He Yiming reached out, his fingertips barely grazing the old man’s body as it tipped toward the ground.

Almost automatically, He Yiming moved like lightning, catching the elder’s body in his arms, preventing the awkward impact with the floor.

Yet, the moment his hands touched the elder’s skin, he knew the old man’s life force was entirely gone.

Though the smile on Shui Xuanjin’s face remained unchanged, the inky blackness cast a strange hue upon it, making the expression chillingly uncanny.

He Yiming’s mouth opened slightly, his mind lost in a void.

If he could face the moment of his near-death with the composure of an outside observer, calmly watching the dagger approach his Adam's apple, then at this moment, his mind was a blank slate, devoid of any thought.

“His back.”

A familiar voice entered his ears. Unconsciously, He Yiming turned the old man’s corpse over. His eyes, which seemed unfocused moments before, suddenly snapped into sharp relief.

On the elder’s back, near the heart, was a thin wound, barely a few centimeters long.

No blood flowed from the edges of the injury, but with He Yiming’s vision, he could perceive a shocking streak of blackness deep within the cut.

He Yiming’s true energy infiltrated the elder’s body. By his senses, there wasn't a single drop of blood left in the heart, as if something had crushed it, squeezing out all the viscous essence in an instant.

“What... what happened?”

He Yiming’s voice sounded ethereal, almost as if it weren't coming from him at all.

“Shui Xuanjin has actually been dead for a long time,” Hundred and Eight’s voice remained undisturbed, his emotions like the most stable precision machine, never showing great fluctuations or changes.

He Yiming looked up, his eyes questioning, gazing silently at Hundred and Eight.

In his vision, it seemed no one else existed besides Hundred and Eight, not even Yu Jinglei who had descended like a god moments ago, nor Zhu Baqi from the main peak of Tianchi Mountain.

However, no one felt slighted by this. Seeing He Yiming cradle Shui Xuanjin, and witnessing the profound sorrow on his face, was enough to let anyone know the depth of their bond.

“He paused when saving you; the Serpent Scholar’s dagger had already pierced his heart,” Hundred and Eight stated calmly. “He was already dead then. However…” Hundred and Eight turned his head, his voice carrying a hint of doubt for the first time: “Though dead, his heart was instantly forced to cease beating under a certain pressure, and all blood circulation stopped. Thus, his exterior remained unchanged, without any alteration. Even the venom on the dagger was contained within the heart. Only when you pushed him did this pressure dissipate, causing the poisoned blood concentrated in his heart to instantly spread throughout his body.”

“Crack...”

A strange sound came from the area where He Yiming’s hand rested. Everyone instinctively looked over. One of his hands was clenched tight, and the peculiar noise originated from it.

Yu Jinglei and Zhu Baqi exchanged a glance. Though they had rushed over with all their might, they had arrived too late and missed the exchange between He Yiming’s group and Suoge, so they were unaware of what transpired before their arrival.

However, listening to Hundred and Eight’s description, it seemed Shui Xuanjin had saved He Yiming’s life.

Yu Jinglei glanced at Shui Xuanjin held in He Yiming’s embrace, astonishment filling his heart. When experts of the First Heaven realm clashed, what qualifications did someone at the Hundred Scatterings Heaven level possess to intervene?

Slowly, He Yiming stood up. His expression seemed unchanged, save for his knuckles turning faintly white from excessive force. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

But when the gathered Innate experts saw the look in He Yiming’s eyes, a profound chill shot up their spines, reaching their brains and making them shudder involuntarily.

Even the formidable Yu Jinglei and Zhu Baqi felt a chill, almost losing their footing and staggering back.

In He Yiming’s gaze resided the very power of death.

It was pure death energy. Upon seeing that look, they suddenly felt as if all vitality had vanished from the world, as if everything was destined for ruin.

It was not just He Yiming’s eyes; his spiritual will was also constantly radiating this terrifying aura.

Clutching the corpse of Elder Shui Xuanjin, he suddenly turned and strode away.

Zhu Baqi, who was standing in front of him, moved aside without any resistance, as if acting on instinct to clear the path.

Zhu Baqi’s face shifted slightly, his heart pounding heavily. As an established expert of the First Heaven realm, his strength was unquestionable, and his resolve as firm as bedrock.

But just now, in the instant He Yiming, carrying Shui Xuanjin, walked toward him, his heart had violently trembled without control.

When he instinctively moved aside, he realized he had displayed a reaction of complete submission.

He Yiming ignored the conflicted Zhu Baqi, his steps moving forward.

Yu Jinglei cried out in alarm, quickly calling out, “Elder He, where are you going?”

He Yiming still paid him no mind. His figure suddenly blurred, vanishing before everyone in an instant. Just as Shui Xuanjin had demonstrated, he crossed a distance spanning two points in a single step.

But this time, his stride was immense. The distance covered was unbelievable; in the blink of an eye, he had completely disappeared from everyone’s sight.

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, their astonishment growing.

He Yiming—when had he mastered such a profound ability?

The Daoist of Medicine and others grasped a glimmer of understanding. It seemed this ability He Yiming possessed must have been realized through Elder Shui Xuanjin’s guidance. That elder, despite only being at the Hundred Scatterings Heaven level, truly had no equal in his comprehension of the Force of Wind...

He Yiming ran forward, paying no attention to his direction. After an unknown period, when he finally stopped, he felt something wet dripping onto the glossy black body of Shui Xuanjin.

He wiped his face and realized, without knowing when, that tears were streaming down his cheeks.

This was the first time since ascending to the Innate realm that he had truly wept until his face was covered.

Gazing at the elder’s features, the confusion and pain in He Yiming’s eyes gradually receded, replaced by a burning, indelible, frenzied hatred.

He took a deep breath and suddenly called out sharply, “Hundred and Eight.”

A figure emerged behind him—it was Hundred and Eight, who had been tracking him all along.

“Why didn’t you act earlier?” He Yiming enunciated every word. “If you had acted, he wouldn’t have died.”

“I did not scan that venomous serpent underground,” a light flashed in Hundred and Eight’s eyes, though it was impossible to tell if this betrayed any guilt.

The muscles in He Yiming’s face twitched slightly. Though rage consumed him, a sliver of reason remained. However, the constantly surging fury and killing intent caused him immense torment.

“What do you plan to do?” Hundred and Eight suddenly asked.

“Kill,” He Yiming’s voice seemed forced between his teeth. “An eye for an eye. I will kill them all.”

“You cannot,” Hundred and Eight stated calmly. “Their combined strength far outweighs yours.”

He Yiming looked up sharply, a trace of pleading in his eyes. “Elder Yu mentioned your martial prowess has reached the Three Flowers realm. I need your assistance.”

“I apologize. I can only guarantee your safety; I cannot help you kill.”

“Why?” He Yiming’s eyes sharpened, and he roared with all his might. Because he understood that without Hundred and Eight’s help, it would be impossible for him to even escape the Totem Envoys, let alone avenge Shui Xuanjin.

“Because my programming stipulates that I cannot harm intelligent beings of a lower level who do not threaten my existence.”

Even in his extreme anger, He Yiming’s eyes widened. This explanation was indeed the first time he had ever heard it, but knowing Hundred and Eight’s origins, this didn't sound like an excuse manufactured by him.

Slowly, the killing intent and rage receding from He Yiming’s body, he hesitated, seeming to ponder something. Finally, a look of resolve flashed in his eyes.

Holding the elder’s body, he turned. “Hundred and Eight, I need to be alone for a while. Please do not follow me. Also, please inform Elder Yu and the others upon your return to the mountain that I will come back shortly after burying Brother Shui.”

With that, He Yiming strode away in a specific direction.

This direction was completely opposite to the path Suoge and the others had taken. Moreover, monitoring the heartbeat, Hundred and Eight knew that He Yiming had genuinely calmed down.

When a person is caught in fanatical excitement, they might do many things that seem impossible normally. But when they calm down, the likelihood of them recklessly seeking death diminishes significantly.

Within Hundred and Eight’s non-human mind, countless pieces of information were exchanged and assessed at maximum speed. Finally, as everything settled, he reached a conclusion.

He Yiming had let go of this vendetta; the possibility of him seeking revenge regardless of the cost would not exceed one percent.

Upon reaching this conclusion, Hundred and Eight no longer hesitated and turned back.

At his speed, even without exerting his maximum effort, he returned to Heng Mountain within the hour.

Upon his arrival, he immediately caused a stir among the gathered group.

Although the path leading to the main peak had collapsed, this did not hinder the movement of the many Innate experts. The matter of repairing the path was naturally left to the Post-Heaven disciples; it was not their concern. What truly commanded the attention of the Innate experts was He Yiming, who had left alone.

Hundred and Eight returned to Heng Mountain and relayed word-for-word what He Yiming had asked him to convey.

Yu Jinglei and the others finally relaxed. Although Shui Xuanjin’s death was regrettable, except perhaps for Ting Shiguang, with whom he shared a deeper friendship, the rest of them were not overly concerned.

Especially for the people of Heng Mountain, as long as He Yiming was safe, Shui Xuanjin’s demise was ultimately irrelevant.

Hundred and Eight took in the expressions of the group. He remained impassive, but his mind was relentlessly analyzing...

He Yiming moved faster and faster, his speed accelerating wildly during his sprint.

At the same time, his Divine Ear skill was utilized to its maximum. At this velocity, even with Hundred and Eight’s miraculous abilities, it would be impossible to trail him without being detected.

An hour later, He Yiming finally slowed down. He was certain that no one could possibly follow him now without his knowledge.

Then, he turned sharply and bolted in a specific direction.

His feet occasionally tapped lightly on tree branches suspended in mid-air, propelling him several meters forward with each step. All the way, he never touched the ground, leaving no trace.

Simultaneously, he completely concealed his aura, making tracking difficult even for an Innate expert.

Finally, when he stopped, he found himself in a secluded, quiet valley.

This was an extremely remote, tranquil little valley hidden deep in the mountains. It was in this very valley that He Yiming had discovered the Twin-Headed Spirit Beast and the massive, mysterious white stone.

This place was his fortunate ground, the spot where he had once vowed never to dishonor the great broadsword on his back.

Reaching the inner valley, He Yiming retrieved the Great Broadsword, channeling his energy like a blade, its edge flickering with light.

His wrist moved swiftly; in moments, he had dug a square pit into the earth. Then, he leaped to the foot of the cliff face, held the broadsword horizontally, and instantly plunged it deep into the solid rock wall.

Supported by his immense true energy, the rock face was soon excavated in a barbaric fashion.

Amidst flashing blade light, this section of the cliff was transformed into a massive stone coffin. Though crudely made, the entire sarcophagus was his own handiwork.

Setting down the Great Broadsword, He Yiming lifted the elder’s body and gently placed it inside the stone coffin.

His movements were exceptionally gentle, as if the elder had not died but was merely asleep, and he was careful not to disturb his slumber.

He lowered the stone coffin into the hole he had dug and cast one last, deep look.

The elder’s face still held that confident, composed smile.

He Yiming’s heart twinged.

In the final moment of the elder’s life, after the poisoned blade pierced his heart, he did not collapse immediately. Instead, with unparalleled, immense willpower, he condensed all his Innate true energy into his heart, enduring unimaginable pain, yet still standing firm as a mountain behind him.

This was the last thing the elder did for him.

At this moment, He Yiming recalled the words the elder spoke to him outside the capital city of Tianluo:

“This old man can rest easy now…”

When He Yiming spoke up for the sake of Tianluo Kingdom, the elder could finally rest in peace.

Vaguely, He Yiming understood the elder’s final thoughts in this world, and why such immense determination and willpower persisted within a body whose natural lifespan was nearing its end.

He inhaled deeply, his true energy surging within him like boiling water.

He leaped up sharply, summoning the massive and terrifying Great Broadsword into his hand while suspended in mid-air.

As the blade light churned, the entire valley seemed to fill with the immense, incomparably sharp radiance of the blade.

Starting from the first stance, he practiced the Thirty-Six Forms of Mountain Splitting, one by one.

His concentration was absolute, and a long-suppressed inferno rekindled in his heart. The immense power fueled by this anger boiled within his body, pushing his true energy to one supreme peak after another.

The twentieth stance, the twenty-first stance…

When he finished this sequence, He Yiming’s eyes snapped wide open. He did not stop but followed through with another slash…

Almost simultaneously, the Five Elements True Energy cycled within his body, starting from the Water element, instantly transforming according to the cycle of mutual generation into the razor-sharp Metal element true energy.

Accompanied by a colossal blade light, it shot forward like an arrow towards the mountain wall ahead.

With a deafening crash, an enormous crack snaked up from the ground, running straight across to the opposite cliff face, which also split open with a massive fissure.

Slowly, a strand of miraculous white light began to emanate from within the rock.

He Yiming gasped, his gaze intensely sharp.

Mountain Splitting, the Twenty-Second Form!