The Conclave of Stars was, in essence, a contest to claim the title of the Sword Ancestor Star Lord.

Ordinarily, the Conclave of Stars was not an overly fierce affair.

The most intense session in recent memory had been many years ago when the Mad Swordsman Zhenren clashed with the Patriarch Jianmie for the position of Star Lord. At that time, the Mad Swordsman Zhenren was ultimately wounded and disappeared, leading everyone to believe he was either dead or retired. No one ever expected the Conclave of Stars to be convened again.

Indeed, after such a long hiatus, another Conclave of Stars was upon them.

And now, with the Sword Son clearly pushing the agenda from behind the scenes, this Conclave of Stars promised a magnificent show.

Finally, the day of the Conclave of Stars arrived.

The Conclave of Stars was held within the Ancestral Sword City, situated on the Ancestral Sword Star.

As previously mentioned, Ancestral Sword Slope was vast beyond measure, with the other three cities—Sword Cloud City, Sword Wind City, and Sword Void City—forming a stable tripod arrangement.

Lu Yuan was, naturally, one of the representatives from Sword Cloud City. He followed behind the Central Ancestor of Sword Cloud as they entered Ancestral Sword City. Even the Master of the Sword Gate, Taishi Kong, entered the city aligned with the Sword Cloud Central Ancestor faction. At the very center of Ancestral Sword City lay the colossal Ancestral Sword Plaza, where the Sword Cloud faction members took their designated seats.

Meanwhile, the faction from Sword Void had already taken their places. The Central Ancestor of Sword Void appeared entirely composed and at ease, and the architect of the current events, the Sword Son, was among this group. The Sword Son, clad in flowing white robes, possessed an elegant and striking presence. His gaze locked onto Lu Yuan, their eyes meeting and clashing fiercely across the expanse.

The faction from Sword Wind was currently absent.

The Sword Void and Sword Cloud factions were seated on the western end of the Ancestral Sword Plaza.

At the northern end of the plaza sat the solitary figure of Patriarch Jianmie, who maintained a rather imposing air.

The southern end of the Ancestral Sword Plaza held the largest assembly, though these individuals lacked designated seating. This area was packed with Sword Cultivators from the Star, and members of the Sword Gate Star, represented primarily by numerous Supremes. Typically, beings below the World Realm had no opportunity to ascend to the Ancestral Sword Star. However, since the position of the Ancestral Sword Star Lord was up for contention, this provided these individuals with a rare chance to be present. Among those in the south were figures like Supreme Xiahou and Supreme Dongye, both visiting the Ancestral Sword Star for the first time, feeling a degree of curiosity toward their surroundings. Nevertheless, being Supremes, they had witnessed grand spectacles before and did not erupt in gasps of awe; instead, they remained perfectly calm. Those seated beneath the Supremes, however, could not maintain such composure, constantly glancing left and right on their maiden visit to the Ancestral Sword Star.

It could be said that Patriarch Jianmie, seated alone in the north, presented the picture of utter solitude, while the thousands gathered in the south created the most lively scene.

The only section conspicuously empty at this moment was the eastern end.

The east side of the Ancestral Sword Star had long been furnished with seating, though it was unclear who it was intended for.

"The Imperial Son of Martial Ancient Civilization, the Martial Sage, has arrived!" Following the booming announcement, a procession descended from the sky, landing on the eastern side to take their seats one by one. It was the Martial Sage Imperial Son who arrived—a figure of significant importance within the Martial Ancient Civilization, wielding considerable authority. Usually, the replacement of a supreme grand sect's leader only required the presence of a standard Imperial Son to signify respect, yet this time, it was the Martial Sage Imperial Son—no ordinary successor.

The arrival of such a weighty figure as the Martial Sage Imperial Son startled all four directions. After taking his seat, the Martial Sage Imperial Son, who possessed a square jaw and a somewhat ruddy complexion, smiled and declared, "This Imperial Son is here to observe the Sword Son. The Sword Son's recent performance has been commendable; our Martial Ancient Civilization is even planning to marry an Imperial Maiden to him." This statement was an undeniable declaration of support for the Sword Son.

It appeared the Martial Ancient Civilization was fully backing the Sword Son. Patriarch Jianmie’s expression shifted subtly; the steadfast support of the Martial Ancient Civilization was no small matter.

Moments later, the cry rang out: "The Imperial Son of Bronze Civilization, the Bronze Sage, has arrived." Another Sacred Imperial Son had arrived—the Bronze Sage Imperial Son from the Bronze Civilization. The Bronze Sage Imperial Son leaned toward a more delicate, almost effeminate appearance, possessing a refined softness. Their visit, too, was at the invitation of the Sword Son, who held significant power within the Sword Gate and thus possessed the standing to extend such invitations.

This visitor, naturally, was also here to support the Sword Son.

Immediately following, the Imperial Son of the Desolate Ancient Civilization arrived—the Desolate Plains Imperial Son, who ranked around the middle tier of the Desolate Ancient Civilization's Imperial Sons. He was a person of considerable status, his standing certainly not beneath that of the Bronze Sage Imperial Son, though he couldn't compare to the Martial Sage Imperial Son of the Martial Ancient Civilization. This Desolate Plains Imperial Son also had a square face, sporting a rough, unkempt stubble, clearly having put no effort into his grooming.

The Martial Sage Imperial Son, the Bronze Sage Imperial Son, the Desolate Plains Imperial Son—all these Imperial Sons shared a singular purpose: to back the Sword Son.

Under normal circumstances, it would be highly unusual for so many civilizations to attend the leadership change of a mere supreme grand sect. But there was no doubt that on this occasion, they had all come to support the Sword Son, reflecting the immense influence he wielded. The sheer number of attendees placed considerable pressure upon Patriarch Jianmie.

"The Imperial Son of Dharma Ancient Civilization, the Dharma Sage, has arrived!" Following a loud declaration, the Dharma Sage Imperial Son arrived. His robes billowed lightly, embroidered with the subtle mysteries of profound techniques. After exchanging greetings with the other Imperial Sons, the Dharma Sage Imperial Son stated, "The Sword Gate falls under the jurisdiction of our Dharma Ancient Civilization. It is surprising that we have caused several other Imperial Sons the trouble of attending. Now that most people are here, the contest for the Ancestral Sword Star Lord of the Sword Gate may commence. Everything shall proceed under the principle of impartiality; no outsider, regardless of station, shall interfere."

The Dharma Sage Imperial Son's words carried a hidden meaning.

The atmosphere grew increasingly taut.

The Mad Swordsman Zhenren had not yet arrived! When would he choose to appear?

"Half mad, half foolish, half laughing. . . " Amidst booming laughter, an elder dressed in tattered rags emerged. This elder carried a long sword on his back, reciting verses as he walked. The Mad Swordsman Zhenren had finally appeared. His entrance, though frenzied, possessed a certain inherent grandeur, suggesting he was not merely the complete puppet the Sword Son had envisioned.

Patriarch Jianmie’s eyes brightened slightly: "Mad Swordsman Zhenren, you have finally arrived."

The Mad Swordsman Zhenren looked toward Patriarch Jianmie: "Yes, I am here. Before we contended for the Star Lord position years ago, you poisoned me, crippling my ability to exert my full power, allowing you to seize the Star Lord title. I left the Sword Gate in bitter resentment. Now, I demand back the position of my Star Lord."

Patriarch Jianmie immediately retorted with a sharp cry: "I did not poison you, so do not spew slander."

"Who says I didn't?" the Mad Swordsman Zhenren shouted back.

As the Mad Swordsman Zhenren and Patriarch Jianmie exchanged heated words, the events of that era were separated by millennia. In such an expanse of time, finding any trace of truth became impossible. Simply put, the matter of whether Patriarch Jianmie had poisoned him back then could only be settled by bluster; neither side could produce proof.

This was precisely the effect the Mad Swordsman Zhenren desired: to immediately question the legitimacy of Patriarch Jianmie’s tenure as the Ancestral Sword Star Lord. After all, who could verify what happened tens of thousands of years prior? His earlier appearance in ragged, high-cultivator attire, reciting poetry, was all part of cultivating an image of a supreme master whose words were naturally more easily believed.

Of course, all of this had been orchestrated by the Sword Son. The Mad Swordsman Zhenren couldn't help but admire the Sword Son's astuteness, wondering how someone so young could possess such foresight, accounting for every angle. Furthermore, he had deliberately arranged for his own entrance to be the last, as the final arrival always carries the aura of the protagonist.

After arguing fiercely with Patriarch Jianmie for a while, he finally conceded, "Fine. The events of the past are difficult to clarify now. Even though you twist truth and slander righteousness, you cannot prove it today. Today, we will let our swords speak to decide which of us is fit to be the Ancestral Sword Star Lord."

Having been unjustly accused, Patriarch Jianmie’s bottled-up fury surfaced. He placed a hand on his sword hilt: "Very well, Mad Swordsman. Let me see how much you have improved over these years."

The Mad Swordsman Zhenren and Patriarch Jianmie faced each other across the void, an earth-shattering battle poised to erupt.

Just then, a voice cut through: "Wait a moment." Everyone turned toward the source of the sound. The speaker was the elegantly handsome Sword Son, Jian Wenchang, clad in snow-white robes. The Sword Son spoke calmly, "Master, didn't you say you carry an old injury and cannot exert your full strength?"

The use of the word "Master" stunned the crowd. It was widely known that his master was Zhang Daosheng, a figure in the second heaven of the World Realm—cunning, treacherous, and certainly an eccentric character. His master was not known to be powerful, yet in the Sword Gate, one did not take on extra masters without reason. How could he suddenly have another?

Zhang Daosheng smiled faintly, his voice carrying across the assembly: "Not long ago, the Sword Son encountered the senior Mad Swordsman Zhenren and learned much from him. With my consent, he has taken the Mad Swordsman Zhenren as his teacher." Naturally, the Mad Swordsman Zhenren was not as powerful as the Sword Son; this was another arrangement orchestrated by the Sword Son.

The Sword Son walked into the center of the area, standing beside the Mad Swordsman Zhenren: "Master suffers from an old wound and cannot fight at full capacity. It would be best if I, his disciple, undertake this task on his behalf. When a senior has an imposition, the disciple carries the burden."

The Mad Swordsman Zhenren nodded: "That is acceptable. However, Sword Son, this battle is entrusted to you. Fight earnestly."

The performance was finally reaching its climax.

The entire grand spectacle orchestrated by the Sword Son made his seizure of power appear harmonious and justified, without a single flaw.

The Sword Son stepped onto the stage, and the Mad Swordsman Zhenren retreated.

The Sword Son placed a hand on his sword hilt: "Patriarch Jianmie, I truly regret this, but today, you and I must duel. Allow me to experience the might of an ancestor. I humbly request your guidance." A cold sneer touched the corner of his lips. The act was complete; now it was time to decisively eliminate Patriarch Jianmie. If it weren't for this old ghost obstructing him in secret, there would never have been the eight-year pact with Lu Yuan. He could have extinguished Lu Yuan six years ago. This old man had protected Lu Yuan for eight years.

Now, die!