As the final word left his lips, that withered frame suddenly radiated a gale of spiritual energy. Without any discernible preparatory movement, his figure shifted from absolute stillness to lightning velocity, leaping from the horse's back like an arrow.

His five fingers splayed wide, resembling an eagle’s talons, with a ball of azure flame burning upon them, sweeping towards the mid-air target.

It was as if an infinite furnace accompanied the attack, causing the sparse grass below to ignite spontaneously. His movement was like that of a leopard—too swift for the eye to track.

A breath ago, he seemed a dying elder on the verge of collapse; the next moment, he was a fierce martial artist still at the peak of his power!

The explosion of flame caused even Gao Yi’s spirit to shudder slightly, pulling him free from the spell of the sword’s intent. In that instant, he actually felt a touch of amusement.

Did this young lord of the Qiantian Mountain truly believe he could overcome a Xiantian Martial Master?

Although he cultivated both spiritual and martial arts, possessing formidable strength and one-in-a-million talent, this man’s mindset was truly baffling. Logically, someone so cunning and patient should never commit such an idiotic act.

Unless... had he truly loved Gong Xinran to the very core of his being?

Considering this, a slight curve played on Gao Yi's lips. In truth, he was not inherently shallow, but at this moment, a surge of self-satisfaction was unavoidable.

Behind them, Su Chuxue and Gong Xinran both felt their hearts involuntarily clench. Chuxue had to split her focus to shield Zong Shou’s body. Gong Xinran, however, kept her gaze fixed unwaveringly on that burst of azure fire, that phantom of the sword.

In the dark night, three more slashes of blade light suddenly flashed within that gentle radiance. Two black, one cyan, following behind the sword’s body, they pierced forth from Zong Shou’s nascent soul.

The elder surnamed Mi paid them no mind. He narrowed his eyes slightly, reaching out with two massive hands, shaped like iron pincers, to casually snatch them.

For talisman-blades of this kind, Martial Masters needed to take precautions, but in his eyes, they were nothing more than a joke, easily crushed!

A Spirit Master at the Yangling Realm was as weak as an ant!

But in the very next instant, true horror dawned in the elder’s eyes. The blade shadows were elusive and fragmented; in his sight, they had split into eight distinct forms. Their trajectories were erratic, making it impossible to discern the true path.

His two grasping hands caught nothing but empty air. Six blade shadows remained, swirling in toward him.

“Cloud Light Illusory Transformation?”

A sharp exclamation escaped him. The elder surnamed Mi, suspended in mid-air, suddenly plummeted earthward with all speed.

But just as his body managed to touch the ground, the six blade shadows followed closely behind.

With no time left to evade, the elder’s expression turned icy. He roared, a sound like thunder laced with true power, forcing the illusory blade lights to vanish entirely.

His two great hands shot out, and at the last possible moment, he seized both black flying daggers firmly in his grasp.

He was about to crush them when the elder surnamed Mi’s body trembled once more, and a trickle of blood emerged from his mouth. A thin crimson line was also sliced across the palm of each hand.

“The Jingyun Divine Destruction Sword Intent of the Lingyun Sect! How is this possible?”

The Qi within his body raged like tangled hemp, colliding incessantly. Disbelief flooded the elder’s face!

How could this unremarkable talisman-blade be infused with Sword Intent?

And in the next moment, he saw several cyan blade lights already before his eyes!

The elder surnamed Mi’s pupils constricted. He lacked the strength to dodge and retreated violently, soaring back ten feet until the Qi in his body stabilized somewhat. Only then, having identified the trajectory of the true blade shadow, did he snap his hand forward, reaching again three feet in front of him.

Yet, this time, he missed again. The trajectory of the talisman-blade had shifted once more in that instant. It angled downward diagonally, aiming straight for his chest and abdomen.

“This is artifact control! No, a flying dagger changing direction?”

If before, the elder had been startled yet managed to retain some composure, now he was genuinely terrified. He twisted his upper body violently, shifting sideways at the last second, avoiding a fatal strike to his vital organs. He allowed the cyan flying dagger to embed itself in his left flank.

Then, his eyes widened in fury as he glared upward.

“Insolent brat, you dare wound me!”

Endless killing intent surged forth, and he prepared to ascend again to strike down that nascent soul. But the elder’s figure froze abruptly. His pupils dilated wildly, and the shock that had just faded rushed back to consume him.

Above him, the cyan sword phantom, which had been at arm's length moments ago, was now plummeting down.

From the mass of cyan smoke that was Zong Shou’s nascent soul, it seemed a pair of icy eyes were coldly surveying him from above.

But what truly unnerved him was the martial will radiating from the Songwen Wind Sword—an aura several times stronger than that of the talisman-blades.

The sword shadow was merely falling, yet it carried a captivating resonance!

This strike held no earth-shattering might, but it was frigid and ethereal, like moonlight filtered through water, seeming both real and illusory, piercing down silently.

Even its speed was incredible, as if it were intrinsically a part of the dark night itself!

By the time the Mi elder perceived it, the sword tip was already before his eyes, less than an inch away.

This time, the elder’s face was etched with absolute terror. He let out a savage roar, like a dying beast, disregarding the turmoil in his blood or the wound in his side. He retreated desperately again, and azure flames erupted around him. Pouring out his entire strength, he drove a punch toward the sword shadow.

But the cyan Songwen Wind Sword erupted in a brilliant flash of light once more. Then, the entire blade seemed to transform into a beam of light too fast for the naked eye, passing directly through his throat.

With a thrust and a pull, the elder’s head soared high into the air. His eyes remained wide open, still staring in disbelief at his own headless body below, his gaze filled with utter bewilderment.

How could this be? How could this be? He, a Xiantian expert of the Earth Meridian Second Channel, had died at the hands of a Yangling Realm Spirit Master?

Where did this young lord of Qiantian Mountain learn such knife skills? And why did the Lingyun Sect’s Jingyun Divine Destruction Sword Intent appear in this child’s possession?

Furthermore, that final sword strike—controlling a sword with a nascent soul—how could it possess such a terrifying, awe-inspiring resonance?

No, that martial will absolutely surpassed the level of mere Sword Intent!

Which powerful being had this half-demon youth been reincarnated from?

At this moment, this barren valley of blood was utterly silent, devoid of any sound.

The Sickle-tail Lion had halted its charge, its eyes wide open, witnessing the scene. Chuxue and Gong Xinran, standing above, were frozen in shock.

That Xiantian Martial Master was truly dead? Dead by Zong Shou’s sword?

The few remaining Martial Masters in the rear also stood stunned, staring at the severed head in the distance, the rain of blood. They made no further moves, almost unable to believe what their eyes perceived.

And Gao Yi, standing ahead, was ashen-faced, entirely devoid of color, his pupils vacant. He simply sat woodenly on his horse, allowing the Wind-Taming Colt to carry him speeding away.

When the elder surnamed Mi had been driven to the brink by Zong Shou’s three talisman-blades, Gao Yi had already been astonished.

But when he saw the elder Mi’s head cleaved off by that sword strike, smooth and bright as moonlight, his heart felt as if it had been brutally hacked. He felt hollow, his chest heaving like the tide.

How could Mr. Mi have died? How could such absolute power perish at the hands of this mere boy?

When he finally snapped back to reality, his face was instantly consumed by terror!

In that instant, an unprecedented sense of regret flooded his chest.