As Zong Shou's words faded, the dense forest instantly grew heavier with an atmosphere of stern, chilling desolation that permeated the surroundings. Li Yuniang couldn't help but have her pupils contract slightly, and even Lian Fan was momentarily distracted.

Hearing this, Li Xieling burst into a hearty laugh. "Well said, to the death! I am confident that while I can defeat you now, I might not necessarily take your life. Conversely, the Young Lord is full of certainty, insisting on taking my head right here! Very well, then let us settle this with life and death right here and now!"

Zong Shou's eyes flashed with cold light, offering no reply. He merely directed the Black Wave Sword to hover beside him with his mind, flicking his sleeve to silently drape the blade in a layer of silver.

In a breath's time, Xiao Jin’s body had completely enveloped the spirit weapon, making the blade even tougher, sharper, and imbued with several degrees more agility.

The fighting spirit within his chest gradually receded, leaving only pure killing intent. He had always been someone who enjoyed dismantling beautiful things, abhorring false camaraderie or any feeling of lofty solitude.

He always believed the best enemy was one lying still in the dirt, unable to speak. If an opponent could still walk, the only course was to find every means to cleave them with a sword and send them straight into the grave!

Especially a madman like Li Xieling—such a person must never be allowed to leave his sight alive!

The space spanning less than thirty zhang seemed to be a battleground where two equal wills clashed and engaged.

Zong Shou stood atop a treetop, his body swaying gently with the branch. As the Devouring Origin Technique was activated, the tree beneath him withered rapidly, its vitality completely drained. Countless dry leaves fluttered down, and the vegetation within ten zhang around also began to exhibit a sickly gray-yellow hue.

The Thunderfang Sword in his hand abruptly emitted a sliver of sword energy, its imposing presence ascending step by step. Looking down, he appeared like a monarch gazing upon the common swarm of ants.

Li Xieling’s expression grew more intense with every passing moment, his killing intent boiling over, his aura sharpening by the second, his cheeks flushing vividly. Yet, he remained perfectly still from start to finish, holding his ground for a long time without making a move.

Li Yuniang felt her heart tighten, knowing that even though the two had not physically engaged, the situation was infinitely more perilous. Through the force of their martial will, every offensive and defensive action was a desperate effort to maximize their own chances of victory. What shocked her most was that Li Xieling, famous for years and known as the 'Hundred Thousand Blood Killer' whose very name made others tremble, could not gain the slightest upper hand. On the contrary, he seemed faintly suppressed by Zong Shou, who was perched high in the treetop!

In that moment, Li Yuniang's feelings were overwhelmingly complex. If Li Xieling won, given his temperament, neither she nor Lian Fan would survive. But she also did not wish to see Zong Shou truly possess the power to slay Li Xieling, as she surmised she would also likely not survive then.

As she wrestled internally, Li Xieling’s figure suddenly swept backward—not advancing, but retreating—like an unseen crimson shadow flying towards a carriage. Wielding his Blood Sword, he unleashed a streak of bloody sword light several zhang long, cleanly severing the heads and necks of several unsuspecting Swift-Wind Colts nearby.

Blood sprayed, and Li Xieling’s Sword Dao momentum surged to its absolute peak. Yet, a flicker of surprise crossed his features. Zong Shou, on the treetop, had not seized the opportunity to pursue, but remained standing coldly in the distance, sword held ready.

After only a brief pause, Li Xieling hesitated no longer. He soared up once more, the crimson sword light contracting and then expanding, traversing dozens of zhang in a fraction of a second, hurtling towards the treetop.

Midway, the blood staining his wrists erupted again, enveloping the sword. The four-zhang-long bloody sword energy instantly swelled to a massive seven zhang!

The aura was thick with blood and immense power, as if this single strike could execute all living beings!

Stirred by this sword momentum, Zong Shou’s eyelids involuntarily twitched. In the next instant, he regulated his breathing, calming his spirit. Apart from the faint thrill of clashing with a formidable foe, his mind at that moment was like a clear, ancient well, perfectly reflecting the world.

Everything before him seemed to pause, freezing Li Xieling’s every move, every possible variation imprinted upon his mind.

Just as the bloody sword energy reached four zhang before him, Zong Shou suddenly bellowed.

“Out-of-Body Kill!”

A swirl of Yin energy immediately surged from his forehead, guided by his intent, sweeping out with the Black Wave Sword in a straight, piercing thrust downwards.

There were no mists or clouds of variation—only ultimate rigidity, sharpness, and swiftness!

Even before contact, he could sense the residual force of that sharp sword energy that nearly scattered his primordial spirit, along with the robust vital energy of a Congenital Martial Artist.

Zong Shou’s consciousness offered a slight, cold sneer as the absorbed essence of countless trees instantly surged forth to guard his body.

This sword strike! He, too, poured forth his utmost effort; the momentum ignored all thought of retreat—it was a path of no return!

Clang!

Purple lightning enveloped the silver blade as it struck downwards, plunging into the crimson shadow. It crisscrossed and intertwined with the bloody sword light, twisting and churning, occasionally carving out profound and bizarre trajectories, seemingly piercing into the depths of the blood-red sword light relentlessly.

The two swords exchanged several blows in an instant, clashing fiercely. Within a single breath, the branches and vegetation within thirty zhang were all severed and pulverized, and the mud below was marked with more than a dozen deep sword scars.

Countless beads of cold sweat emerged on Li Xieling’s brow. He felt that with every clash of swords, a portion of concentrated energy seemed to be forcefully drawn out by Zong Shou, causing his own nascent soul to dim further under the illumination of the rising sun.

In just a few breaths, the purple and red sword shadows in the air both showed signs of exhaustion, unable to sustain the attack any longer.

Li Yuniang felt a slight easing of tension in her heart but was simultaneously frustrated, realizing this battle would likely end in a draw. At least, however, her life seemed to be secured for the moment.

Yet, even though Zong Shou failed to execute Li Xieling, the mere feat of forcing the ‘Hundred Thousand Blood Killer’ to retreat using only his soul to control his sword marked him as an unparalleled genius Spirit Master in the entire Eastern Lin Cloud Continent!

Indeed, moments later, Li Xieling’s bloody sword shadow reached its limit, having no room for further variation. With a slight, regretful ‘Hmph,’ his sword gleam suddenly surged once more, and his figure decisively retreated backward.

The purple lightning flickering around Zong Shou’s primordial soul also vanished. Under the sunlight, the entire Yin soul seemed on the verge of dissolving and melting away.

Within his soul, he felt a searing sensation, as if it were burning.

Yet, his intent remained cold as a blade, his killing intent undiminished, resolute as ever. Just as Li Xieling’s figure had retreated a mere zhang or so, Zong Shou’s primordial soul suddenly swelled once more.

This life-and-death sword strike—he had been waiting for the moment when both were at their absolute limit!

“Sever!”

The few True Talisman Spirit Seals recently condensed within his soul sea ignited, transforming into streams of pure soul power that poured into the dry vortex of the soul sea.

The silver sword shadow abruptly vibrated, following an exquisitely subtle, indescribably complex trajectory. In Li Xieling’s look of utter disbelief, it glided forward. With a slight twist and pull, an incredibly youthful head was sent soaring into the air, tumbling toward the ground!

Blood light surged down like rain, dyeing a large swathe of grassland a deep crimson.

Li Yuniang, watching below, was utterly stunned, waves of terror surging in her chest again. Had Zong Shou truly decided not to live? Even when on the brink of collapse, he was still focused on killing? Was he not afraid of his primordial soul being utterly destroyed, unable to return to his body?

Then, an overwhelming sense of profound unreality washed over her.

Li Xieling, the Hundred Thousand Blood Killer—was he truly dead? Sliced by the primordial spirit of Zong Shou, whom everyone believed to possess a dual-meridian body incapable of cultivation, merely because he was thirteen years old?

Lian Fan was also completely frozen, a touch of confusion in his expression as he turned to gaze fixedly ahead.

Zong Shou’s spirit had been so faint it was on the verge of disintegration. But after slaying Li Xieling, the purple lightning reappeared, completely undamaged under the sunlight.

In a flash, it returned to the body resting beneath the tree, supported by the giant bear, which was now lying on the ground.

Intense pain immediately flooded his mind, which Zong Shou barely managed to suppress. Afterward, he formed a hand seal with his right hand, reabsorbing the Bewitching Eye Silver Bear back into his sleeve.

However, when his spiritual sense spread out again, he was suddenly alarmed.

“Strange, that person vanished without a trace just now. He left so quickly!”

That powerful aura, which should have been less than three li away, was now completely gone. His divine sense detected no trace of it whatsoever.

Its arrival was sudden, and its departure was equally abrupt.

Zong Shou frowned slightly, deep in thought for a moment. Then, he shook his head and walked over to Li Xieling’s corpse.

The head’s eyes were still wide open, glaring upward, seemingly unable to rest in peace.

But the aura of life had completely dissipated.

“The Hundred Thousand Blood Killer, who killed his wife and mother—this fellow’s Dao of Slaughter was truly formidable! Under the Martial Ancestor realm, few could match his strength!”

Zong Shou sighed lightly, finding it strange. With his mastery of the Sword Dao of slaughter, this man could have broken through to the Heavenly Rank realm in just five or six years, catching up to the era of the great spiritual tide in a few years, soaring high, and potentially even attaining the Immortal Martial realm.

Why did he become utterly unknown in later generations? He had never heard of him?

Still, that was an extremely narrow victory; the outcome rested on a razor’s edge. This Li Xieling had come frighteningly close to causing his defeat and death.

Back in the Blood Valley, he had also fought with everything he had, but he hadn't even bothered to ask the name of that Congenital Martial Master. That encounter was far less threatening than Li Xieling had posed.

The instant he killed this man, Zong Shou felt his mastery over the Sword Dao had become several degrees clearer.

The standard of this battle was actually far below his true realm, yet it had been a contest of equals, a fight to the death where victory hinged on a single sword strike.

In that single instant, the tempering of his Immortal Heart and Will was equivalent to nearly a year of Heart Realm cultivation.