"My sect master is a man of simple decency. He wouldn't devise some agonizing death for you, nor would he subject you to prolonged torment. So, I suppose a swift end will have to suffice."

Li Yuniang let out an involuntary chuckle, momentarily thinking that Zong Shou, even at death's door, still possessed the spirit for a jest.

But in the very next instant, she felt an aura—the sharpest, most piercing, utterly rigid and formidable—laced with a chilling intent to slay, suddenly erupt and traverse the space between them.

Li Yuniang's heart jolted. Although this powerful presence was not directed at her, it inspired a nameless dread, like a cat whose tail has been stepped on, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

The three figures, Ren Qianchou included, all saw their expressions shift. They no longer spared Su Chuxue a second glance, their gazes unified, fixed on the source of that oppressive energy.

Then, where Zong Shou had just stood, only a rapidly burning Daoist talisman remained suspended in mid-air; his physical form had vanished. He transformed into an unseen white blur, moving with the speed of thunder. Only the tip of his sword betrayed his passage, flashing with a sliver of purple lightning.

This strike was exquisitely fast and lethally sharp. Zong Shou seemed to have compressed all his strength into that single point on the blade’s tip. It was precisely the same aura the three had sensed earlier: the strongest, the sharpest, utterly rigid and domineering!

Ren Qianchou’s complexion paled instantly. His body retreated frantically, his sword dissolving into thousands of shimmering blossoms of light, exhausting all his power in a desperate attempt to intercept the blow.

He was known as the 'Guijian' (Phantom Sword), and his usual techniques were notoriously unpredictable and strange. Every time he struck, it was from an angle his opponents could never anticipate—a fact he had always prided himself upon.

But now, he bitterly regretted this very style. Against this sharp, overwhelming, and lightning-fast thrust, he found himself utterly defenseless.

There was no variation, just the simplest of straight stabs! Yet, as this sword came for him, it was like a plummeting meteor. No matter how many layers of phantom swords he wove, the force of that impending strike could not be halted; it pierced straight through.

"This is Sword Momentum! No, it should be Sword Intent. Still not right—it's Sword Rhyme..."

Clearly, Zong Shou, even at this peak burst of power, possessed the cultivation of only an Eight-Vein Secret Martial Master. Yet, the feeling he imparted at this moment was akin to a Heaven-Rank Martial Master attacking him.

It was unstoppable, utterly overwhelming!

Just as the cold-glinting tip of the sword drew within a foot of his throat, a flicker of relief finally crossed Ren Qianchou's face.

He had managed, in the final moment, to grasp the trajectory of this strike. A wave of relaxation washed over him, accompanied by a torrent of cold sweat pouring from his body.

However, mere moments later, Ren Qianchou’s pupils contracted again into needle points.

Zong Shou’s sword suddenly flashed with lightning, and the speed of the blade instantly increased nearly tenfold.

It brutally traversed the less-than-a-foot of space and plunged into his throat.

Ren Qianchou could distinctly hear the grating kacha sound as the blade sliced through his throat bones, and the sizzling hiss as the lightning energy detonated his flesh.

Streams of destructive, spiraling internal force flooded his body, devastating his vital essence. Furthermore, a vortex seemed to be drawing out his Jingyuan (essence energy), causing all his strength to vanish without a trace in that instant.

His knees buckled, and Ren Qianchou collapsed before Zong Shou with a dull thud, utterly limp.

At this moment, the four figures in the small grove stood frozen, like statues carved from mud.

Li Yuniang’s small mouth was agape; the scornful smile had not yet faded from her lips. She stared unblinkingly at Zong Shou, her eyes seeming ready to fall from their sockets.

As for the 'Lan Jian' (Mist Sword) Xie Jun and the 'Nu Jian' (Rage Sword) Yun Tao, they had only managed to take ten steps before they were immobilized, locked down by Zong Shou’s mental focus. A chilling, overwhelming killing intent speared into their minds, as if advancing even half a step further would invite Zong Shou’s perilous and unyielding sword upon them.

Even Lian Fan, perpetually expressionless, found his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart churning with internal storms.

The biting pain from his clenched jaw confirmed this was no dream.

When Xu Zhengyuan assigned him as a servant to Zong Shou, he had been perplexed. But his ingrained habit of silence and unwillingness to defy his master's orders had compelled him to obey. He owed an old, profound debt that needed repayment.

Only now, witnessing this scene firsthand, did he finally understand some of the reason. Xu Zhengyuan sending him here, under the command of the Qian Tian Mountain Heir, was certainly not sending him to die, but to fulfill a destiny, to show recognition!

With the strength of an Eighth-Rank Secret Martial Master, Zong Shou delivered a single strike that instantly killed Ren Qianchou, the famed 'Guijian' who had grasped Sword Momentum!

No wonder Lian Cheng, representing Xu Zhengyuan, had been so utterly deferential to this Heir!

He then felt a surge of amusement. Earlier, he had found Zong Shou’s expression somewhat strange; now, he was beginning to grasp the Heir's state of mind.

Moments ago, these four were eagerly discussing how to torture Zong Shou to death. Moments later, Ren Qianchou’s throat was pierced, and the situation was settled.

Perhaps there was nothing funnier in the world than this?

In Zong Shou’s eyes, what were these four but petty clowns? Their terrifying words were nothing more than material for laughter.

His only worry now was whether that strike was merely a momentary burst of power from Zong Shou, or if he truly possessed the strength to kill a peak Xiantian master—Zong Shou felt the Jingyuan he had drawn was at the absolute limit of his control, so he withdrew the sword. He ignored Ren Qianchou, who was clutching his perforated throat.

He turned and looked toward Yun Tao a short distance away: "You are called Rage Sword. Why are you no longer angry?"

Yun Tao's eyes turned bloodshot. With a fierce roar, he charged forward with his seven-foot greatsword, bringing it down in a swirling, furious slash.

The 'Lan Jian' Xie Jun, however, reacted differently. He flowed backward, then turned tail without a backward glance, fleeing wildly into the distance.

Zong Shou chuckled lightly, unconcerned. He swept his wide sleeve, and a point of cold light shot out. He followed it with a thrust of his own, but this time the technique was fluid and elusive, lacking the sharp, sudden edge of the previous strike.

The man was like mist, the sword like fog. To the eyes of Li Yuniang and Lian Fan, one image split into two, two into four—the true form was impossible to discern.

Even in Yun Tao's eyes, a look of dizzying confusion appeared. A single sword shadow pierced through the mist, stabbing lightly through Yun Tao’s left chest, piercing his heart.

Simultaneously, Yun Tao’s greatsword fell with a heavy clang, embedding itself in the ground.

Yun Tao’s body remained upright, supported by his weapon, blood now gushing like a spring from his chest wound. His eyes were wide open, seemingly trying to engrave the image of this white-robed youth into his memory forever.

Li Yuniang felt a chill permeate her entire body; she simply could not believe what she was seeing.

This was Zong Shou, whom she had regarded as trash, whom she had mocked and ridiculed for ten days without him ever showing anger?

The leader of the renowned Seven Swords of Yunxia, 'Guijian' Ren Qianchou, and 'Nu Jian' Yun Tao, were simply dead?

Was she dreaming right now, or were these people performing a show just for her?

Instinctively, Li Yuniang looked toward the direction where 'Lan Jian' Xie Jun had fled.

The sight filled her with even greater horror.

Not far away, a single white light was swiftly pursuing the rapidly fleeing figure.

It was silent, dreamlike. No matter how fast Xie Jun fled, the white light was closing the distance with alarming speed.

Suddenly, he twisted his body in mid-air, making an impossible turn toward the south. But in the next instant, the white light mirrored the turn, not only keeping pace but closing the gap by nearly ten feet.

"It’s a throwing knife, the flying dagger changed direction—"

Li Yuniang’s face was ashen. She unconsciously clenched the fabric of her skirt, gripping with such force that she nearly ripped the silk.

She dared not imagine what the outcome would have been had that strike been aimed at her.

Before her outcry even finished, the white light in her vision suddenly burst into a brilliant flare. It felt like a formidable and ferocious thought suddenly descended upon the dense woods.

At that very same moment, Xie Jun let out a cry of utter terror.

"Sword Intent? How can it be the Jingyun Shenmie Sword Intent?"

His words abruptly choked off with a sharp zheng sound. Li Yuniang watched as Xie Jun, man and sword combined, was violently pinned against a tree trunk by the throwing knife.

After that, there was silence. She couldn't tell if he was alive or dead. Now, her mind was utterly blank, adrift in confusion, unsure how to react.

Her mind involuntarily recalled the words Lian Cheng had spoken while kneeling before Zong Shou a few days prior.

"Should the Heir one day control Qian Tian Mountain and seek dominance over the Eastern Lin Continent, whatever your command, our Cloud Saint City will never dare disobey! We will surely assist the Heir in sweeping across the entire Eastern Lin!"

She had found those words laughable then; now, not a trace of mirth remained. Instead, her heart tightened painfully.

Three peak Xiantian masters, and in less than a hundred breaths, they lay dead. How could she still smile?

She remembered that the Qian Tian Mountain Heir had only reached the Xiantian realm shortly before turning twenty. This Zong Shou, however, was only thirteen and already an Eighth-Rank Secret Martial Master, possessing the power to slay peak Xiantian experts!

With such strength, how could controlling Qian Tian Mountain be difficult? If he were given a few more years, conquering the Eastern Lin Cloud Realm would be inevitable. No wonder Xu Zhengyuan, despite his pride, was willing to submit to Zong Shou!

Then what did that make her? A joke?

If he possessed such overwhelming strength, why hide it? Wouldn't all the great sects and heavenly factions rush to fawn over him?

The Nineteen Spirit Mansions, the Ten Great Sacred Lands—they would surely risk everything just to take this Heir as their disciple!

And then there was the Sword Intent!

During the killing of Yun Tao, and on the flying knife that struck Xie Jun, the Jingyun Shenmie Sword Intent was unmistakable.

And that very first strike? It was subtly distinguishable as only Sword Rhyme. Yet, the martial will behind it carried the vast implications of a true Xiantian Martial Sovereign’s attack.

The level of Sword Rhyme possessed the substance of Sword Intent. Moreover, it involved two entirely different Daoes of the sword, integrated within one person, both mastered to an incredibly high degree, with seamless transitions between them.

Li Yuniang felt as though she was going mad. What kind of monster was standing before her eyes?