The deep woods fell silent again for a moment before movement stirred. A youth in his early twenties, ruddy-faced and imposing, emerged from the foliage dressed in a Daoist robe, wearing an expression of slight awkwardness. Yet, in an instant, his demeanor shifted to one of cold severity: "Are you Zong Shou, the Crown Prince of the Fiend Kings of Qiantian Mountain?"

Zong Shou instinctively touched his own face, musing that no matter where he went, people recognized him. Truly, his reputation preceded him.

However, the robes this person wore looked somewhat familiar; the patterns seemed to have been seen before.

A sudden memory from a past life stirred within Zong Shou's heart, and he asked, "So what if I am? Are you from the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect?"

"Precisely the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect! A fourth-generation disciple, the ninth core successor, Long Batian!"

The youth’s expression was arrogant, his chin slightly raised, carrying a distinct air of disdain. "Since you know my identity, you should also know why I have come. If you are smart, abandon your engagement with Yiren immediately! Sister Yiren is a favored daughter of Heaven; how could a waste like you, possessing only dual meridians, dare to touch her? A toad that cannot even save himself. Do you really desire to eat swan meat? The only one in this world worthy of her is our esteemed Martial Uncle, Han Nishui!"

Zong Shou felt utterly helpless. His notoriety was indeed widespread. Now, almost everyone he met felt the need to step on him and mock him a little.

But the name Long Batian—didn't it sound rather comical?

Novels imagining legends of ancient martial artists loved using such names: Long Aotian, Long Jingtian, Long Zhentian, names that became tiresome to read. They aimed for grandeur but ended up being sickeningly cliché.

The recruitment standards of the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect truly remained consistently lax across millennia. This man before him, judging by his appearance, was at least twenty-eight years old, yet he had only just reached the second stage of the Earth Wheel realm as a Congenital Martial Master, and he was already a core successor of the sect.

Why did this person seek him out? Even if it was to force him to break the engagement, this subordinate was far too unqualified. Zong Shou originally intended to forgo any pointless chatter and take direct action, but a thought made him pause. It was better to exercise restraint for now; he shouldn't always assume the worst of people. He should try to win people over with virtue.

Furthermore, the number of people he had killed today was already too great. With his intention set, Zong Shou shook his head. "I apologize! This engagement meant little to me before, but now I've changed my mind. Whether I am worthy or not has nothing to do with you! Regarding this marriage, unless Yiren herself changes her mind, then I, Zong Shou, can only offer my regrets!"

Chuxue also glared fiercely at the square-faced youth. She disliked Li Yuniang but was extremely fond of Xuanyuan Yiren. Over the last ten-odd days, Yiren frequently gave her various elixirs. They were sweet and delicious, and after catching birds every day, her body no longer ached.

A flash of green crossed Long Batian's face before he regained his composure, nodding coldly. "Very well! I have delivered my message. Whether you heed it is up to you. I only hope you do not regret these words later!"

He flicked his sleeve and turned, seemingly ready to depart. But after taking only half a step, he suddenly spun around, drawing his sword. His movement was like an arrow released from a bowstring, his entire body wreathed in arcs of lightning as he slashed toward Zong Shou's neck.

The piercing sword shadow was as swift as a sudden thunderstorm. By the time the strike reached Zong Shou, Chuxue had only just blinked, seemingly reacting only then.

Fierce malice shone in Long Batian's eyes, and a savage delight spread across his face. Just as he prepared to savor the exquisite sensation of his blade sinking into flesh and bone, he suddenly saw a hint of mocking ridicule in Zong Shou's eyes.

In the next instant, Zong Shou vanished from his sight. His spectral figure flickered, passing right under the blade. Then, his chest and abdomen felt as if they had been struck by a massive boulder.

Thump!

The dull sound echoed like thunder. Long Batian's twenty-four ribs immediately let out a series of cracking sounds. His entire body was thrown backward, sliding for a full several dozen zhang before finally stopping.

A wave of dizziness flooded his mind. After several breaths, he managed to regain a sliver of consciousness.

He immediately spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, feeling as if his chest and abdomen were shattered, his fractured ribs transforming into countless shards piercing his internal organs.

Staring blankly, unsure of what had just happened, he saw Zong Shou's figure drift weightlessly across the dozens of zhang to stand before him.

Long Batian's body shuddered, and only then did he recall the previous moment—this youth, with a seemingly casual kick, had struck his chest and left him critically wounded!

Seeing Zong Shou still wearing a gentle, yet utterly cold, smile, Long Batian's heart clenched. In his eyes, this polite, half-demon youth held no trace of weakness to be bullied. There was only the profound, hidden ruthlessness, the unfathomable depth of his strength, and that swift, merciless counterattack just now.

Immediately, an overwhelming surge of fury rose in his chest. Long Batian strained to maintain his composure, but his face could not help twisting. "Very well! Zong Shou, you deserve this! I, Long Batian, will remember this feud today! I will surely demand repayment from you someday!"

Then, Zong Shou merely smirked, drew his Lightning Fang Sword, and casually swung it, stirring up a cluster of electric light as if testing its feel.

Long Batian’s spirit recoiled in terror, then he let out a cold laugh. "You dare kill me? I am Long Batian, a fourth-generation disciple, the ninth core successor of the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect! Between us today, it might be considered a private feud. But if you dare harm a single hair on my head, my Shangxiao Xuanling Sect will exterminate your entire Heavenly Fox Clan!"

The corner of Zong Shou’s lips curled. Exterminate the entire Heavenly Fox Clan? Why did that sound strangely refreshing?

He almost wished the Shangxiao Sect would handle it for him, saving him the trouble of wasting his energy.

With that thought, the Lightning Fang Sword in his hand suddenly struck downward. The person at his feet was instantly decapitated!

Long Batian’s head flew into the air, his face still locked in an expression of angry disbelief—this Zong Shou actually dared to kill him! How could he?

And that movement technique, that kick that left him almost unable to react—it was clearly that of a Congenital level expert!

How could Zong Shou know martial arts, and be this strong? He was clearly supposed to be a dual-meridian waste, incapable of cultivation.

Swinging the sword again, he flung off the residual blood. A slight sneer touched the corner of Zong Shou's lips. Did this idiot really think he would let him go? Whether it was Tan Qiu in his past life or Zong Shou in this one, he never had a habit of sparing his opponents, especially those who had already displayed killing intent and struck first.

As for the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect, a mere third-tier Spirit Mansion force—how could he possibly pay them any mind?

However, this meant he would need time to dispose of the corpse. He wondered if he had enough time?

Feeling a slight headache, Zong Shou suddenly smiled again and turned towards the woods to his left. "Come out yourself. You’ve watched enough of this good show!"

Chuxue had just walked up beside him and looked around in startled confusion.

Was there someone else here besides Long Batian?

This time, they didn't have to wait. A figure emerged from the shadows, carrying a spear, his expression shifting between uncertainty and gloom.

Chuxue gasped. "You are Zong Yuan of the Purple Thunder Spear Sect?"

She had seen this person from afar at Qiantian Mountain City, and at the auction in Cloud Saint City, she had been face-to-face with him.

Zong Yuan did not answer. The tip of the spear in his hand trembled continuously, coiled into a circle, its posture like a resting viper watching for a predator. His eyes fixed coldly on Zong Shou, showing suspicion, disbelief, and underlying terror.

Zong Shou glanced at Zong Yuan’s spear and let out a wry laugh. "You saw the preceding events? Cousin, what are your thoughts?"

"Thoughts? My Lord is terrifyingly strong! Zong Yuan has no chance of victory. Whether it was Zong Shi or Uncle Zong Hao, the clan has misjudged you."

Zong Yuan clenched his jaw, his face pale and tinged with purple, but he answered honestly, then countered, "The 'Ghost Sword' Ren Qianchou, the 'Mist Sword' Xie Jun, and the 'Rage Sword' Yun Tao from that day—did they all perish by your hand?"

"Indeed!" Zong Shou had no intention of hiding this fact.

Zong Yuan’s gaze sharpened further. "Then the Ten Thousand Blood Kill, Li Xieling, was that also killed by you, My Lord?"

Zong Shou raised an eyebrow in surprise, feeling a touch of strangeness. "You know? Did you see it?"

"I did not know!" Zong Yuan shook his head. "I was twenty li away that day. I knew the Xuanwu Sect simply wouldn't arrive in time. I also visited the site to examine it carefully. Looking back now, only you, My Lord, could have been capable of killing Li Xieling!"

The hand gripping the spear could not help but tremble slightly. His heart felt as if it might leap out of his chest. Before he was ordered to travel to Cloud Saint City, he had never imagined that this wastrel of a Crown Prince, who couldn't cultivate and was regarded as the shame of Qiantian Mountain, was such a terrifying figure!

To personally slay those three—Ren Qianchou and the others—in less than sixty breaths of time demonstrated a combat power unmatched below the Grandmaster level!

Thinking it over, the only person in that forest capable of contending with Li Xieling was this Crown Prince.

Then, Zong Shou smiled faintly. "You are quite clever. As my father said, you not only possess the highest martial aptitude in the clan, but your mind is also sharp..."

Zong Yuan said nothing, gripping his spear and turning to leave.

If Zong Shou had only killed Ren Qianchou the 'Ghost Sword,' Zong Yuan would have unhesitatingly carried out his orders. Even killing those three would only have fueled his own fighting spirit.

However, after this battle, Zong Shou had also beheaded the Ten Thousand Blood Kill, Li Xieling. This Crown Prince was simply no longer human!

As a martial cultivator, one should indeed be brave and fearless, and constantly maintain the will to be invincible.

But if one is foolish enough to challenge an existence utterly beyond one's ability to contend with or look up to, that is not martial courage; it is sheer, irredeemable stupidity—a mind soaked in water!

His figure flashed, covering several zhang in an instant. The next moment, Ren Qianchou’s figure suddenly solidified again.

Before him stood a massive black lion, crouched low. Its gaze was savage, its muscles tense, poised to strike, completely blocking his path of retreat.

Behind him, Zong Shou shook his head and raised the sword in his hand. "Such poor spirit! Let me see if your Purple Thunder Spear can truly confirm the Celestial rank, as my father claimed..."