Zong Ling was still unable to process the scene before him: Zong Shi, heavily wounded and kneeling, the Earth Wheel Seventh Meridian Black Tortoise Grandmaster who held the spear, had his head severed by a single sword stroke. And Xue Moyan, who had achieved the Sixth Tier Black Tortoise Returning Yang realm in both Spirit and Martial cultivation, was slain by Zong Shou’s intent-infused power, executed with the Mountain and River Sword Intent—just two strikes reduced him to a mist of blood and flesh!
This fourteen-year-old youth, who appeared focused and seemingly struggling with immense effort, had in an instant obliterated two of the world's top experts. Was this truly the rumored crippled heir with dual meridians?
Whether he had achieved intent-infusion into the sword, or if his swordsmanship had achieved spiritual connection, Zong Ling could not say. But when Zong Shou commanded his sword to hover in the air, that was far beyond the Night Roaming Realm—it was clearly the Second Primordial Spirit!
Zong Ling’s mind whirled to a standstill. If not for the two Returning Yang Realm Spirit Masters standing behind him, he would have immediately seized Zong Shou, eager to probe and question him in detail.
Upon ascending the throne, he had already mastered the King’s “Qi Hang No Watermark” Martial Arts. Zong Weiran had truly fathered a formidable son.
Indeed, a tiger sires no dog.
When comparing them, Zong Shi seemed utterly deranged to dare contend for the throne against Zong Shou! Whether judged by bloodline, martial path, spirit techniques, or methods, in what way could Zong Shi possibly surpass the heir apparent?
Hu Qianqiu, however, brought down his blade with a sudden sweep, forcing the distracted Li Hujichang back, and then roared with laughter, his voice echoing across the heavens once more: “I said it long ago! Compared to our Shou’er, your Zong Shi is nothing but dross! The true trash and waste is Zong Shi! What 'Foremost Genius outside the Hidden Sects of the East Lin Cloud Continent'—they really know how to blow smoke! In terms of real ability, could he even compare to a single toe of the Heir Apparent? You, the remnants of a former clan leader from my ‘Qi Hang No Watermark’ ****, dare to cause chaos! If it weren't for the Sovereign keeping the Xue Clan in check, where would you even have the opportunity to run rampant?”
That voice, laced with overwhelming arrogance, felt like steel needles piercing Zong Shi’s heart.
The pain was searing, eclipsing even the agony of his broken legs and all the injuries covering his body.
As for the Sky Fox Elders like Zong Rui and Zong He, their earlier smugness had evaporated, replaced only by a deathly pallor after the blood drained from their faces. That was Xue Moyan, the most outstanding rising star of the Xue Clan in the Cloud Realm. His Spirit Law cultivation had reached the Returning Yang Realm, condensing eight talismans. His Martial Dao true energy was at the Black Tortoise level, having integrated eight Earth Meridians!
Such a formidable expert could not withstand even two strikes from Zong Shou!
Intent-infused power, spiritually connected swordsmanship, the King’s “Qi Hang No Watermark” Martial Arts—they knew of these things, yet now they felt utterly alien.
In truth, the mere fact that he had reached the Night Roaming Realm had blasted their minds into a blank void.
It was almost predictable: the direct descendants of their Zong Family would now be suppressed by Zong Shou for at least another ten years before they could even hope to rise.
Zong Weiran had reigned supreme for a lifetime, suppressing them for a full decade. But Zong Shou, capable of Night Roaming at the age of fourteen, would surely be even more monstrous, more terrifying, and more dominant than his father!
How laughable it was that yesterday they had dared to act so high and mighty in front of such an astonishing figure!
Ling Fangkong, still standing rigidly in place, let a thin thread of blood escape the corner of his mouth, then let out a low, almost maniacal chuckle. The emotions surging within him at this moment were indescribably complex.
He prided himself on his discernment, yet the two figures before him—one kneeling, one standing—seemed determined to blind him. He considered himself adept at reading the situation, but now he dimly realized he might have just missed the final opportunity to reconcile with the Heir Apparent.
Twenty years serving in the convict camp, the Wolf Clan suppressed—this outcome seemed sealed.
His only solace was that Ling Xuan, who had fought desperately on the Altar of Heaven, had left them a few slivers of hope for future resurgence. General Qiu Wei of the Left Pillar, who had been pressing forward desperately, nearly reaching Zong Shou’s vicinity.
Upon hearing Hu Qianqiu’s laughter, he too paused. After letting out a slow breath, his expression gradually calmed, the anxiety receding. His mind reeled; he truly never imagined that Hu Qianqiu’s seemingly insane boasts were actually true. And it wasn't just spiritually connected swordsmanship; he could actually marshal the might of an entire nation.
He glanced at Zong Shi again, frowned, and then offered a soft, low laugh: “Truly just dross!” His previous desperate charge, fearing he was too slow, now seemed foolishly unnecessary.
How could this degenerate compare to the Heir Apparent’s heaven-defying potential?
His voice was low, but his proximity caused Zong Shi’s body to tremble again, rage boiling in his eyes. But upon seeing the last shred of his own confidence and pride utterly shattered, he could only submit.
Zong Shou held the Illusion Heart Mirror in his hand, barely glancing at it before tossing it into his sleeve.
Then, panting slightly, he redirected the sword momentum once more.
Activating the Imperial Qi to gather the might of the nation was not only difficult to control but also severely drained his stamina.
Fortunately, he was becoming more adept now, conserving some strength. He looked ahead at the various low-tier Black Tortoise Masters and Returning Yang Spirit Masters. After a moment of shock, they all sobered up. Then, without hesitation, they unleashed their divine abilities and fled in all directions.
Assassination was forgotten; their own lives were paramount.
He had previously found Xue Moyan’s non-battle retreat utterly inexplicable and paid it no mind. Now, he had only one thought: escape as far away as possible.
These were all veterans of countless battles; they clearly saw that Zong Shou’s previous sword strike was still clumsy, which is why Xue Moyan managed to block the first blow—the momentum of an entire nation. If he had truly mastered it with ease, the very first sword stroke might have been enough to kill him.
The combination of the Mountain and River Sword Intent with the Emperor’s Aura was a perfect match, enhancing each other. Zong Shou had pushed the power of his sword to an unimaginable height, a level where no one present could even summon the will to resist.
Their minds screamed curses: the rumors were lies. Zong Weiran had been incredibly patient, willing to let his own son bear the mantle of a good-for-nothing for over a decade!
The low-tier Spirit Masters took to their swords and flew away. Those Black Tortoise Masters who could not fly leaped directly from the thousand-foot-high Altar of Heaven, attempting to escape down the cliff face.
Hu Qianqiu snorted, his figure flashing dozens of yards away. A burst of saber intent made one man cough up blood and momentarily halt his retreat.
He swung his saber again; man and blade together, it was like a White Tiger descending, the aura overwhelming, the protective force spreading wide.
“Trying to flee? Not so easily! Those who violate my Qiantian Mountain shall be slain without mercy!”
His brilliant saber light instantly transformed into a thousand shadows. As Hu Qianqiu swept past several hundred yards with man and blade, the Seventh Meridian Black Tortoise Grandmaster was instantly shredded into fragments of flesh and blood by the countless saber shadows, scattering as they fell.
Zong Lan, Chai Yuan, Li Luo, and Qiu Wei also let out cold laughs.
Qiantian Mountain was a dragon’s den; since these people had come, they weren't getting out!
Their figures flashed rapidly. With the combined efforts of just these four, several Black Tortoise Masters and Returning Yang Spirit Masters were forced to halt their retreat.
Zong Yuan was even better prepared: the Purple Thunder Spear! The spear shot out, Thunder Wings flared, and it was hurled a hundred yards, piercing the chest of a frantically fleeing Returning Yang Spirit Master.
The purple thunder detonated, scattering flesh and blood. After a single agonizing cry, the man could no longer fly and plummeted down the mountain.
Zong Shou ignored them, his gaze fixed only on two figures: Wu Ye, currently ascending rapidly, aided by forty-eight flying leaf swords, and Li Hujichang, who was actually stepping on empty air, sprinting toward the distance.
The rest of the Black Tortoise Grandmasters and Spirit Masters were mere minnows in his eyes. Hu Qianqiu and the others could handle them. Even if they escaped, it wouldn’t matter much.
Only these two, he absolutely had to keep!
Seeing their speed, Zong Shou couldn't help but sigh, cursing inwardly with frustration. These mortals were too slippery, too adept at assessing the situation.
Without the momentum provided by Qiantian Mountain City, relying solely on his own strength, he wouldn't be able to stop even one of these two.
But this King’s “Qi Hang No Watermark” Martial Art was genuinely exhausting, beyond ordinary fatigue! Moreover, even giving his all, he felt he could only manage to keep one of the two.
His mind flashed rapidly as Zong Shou frantically searched through the Imperial Martial manuals he had studied in later generations, wondering if any held a key.
He had always considered the King’s “Qi Hang No Watermark” Martial Art somewhat nonsensical and difficult to grasp its true essence. Now, with direct experience, a sense of sudden enlightenment washed over him.
However, at this precise moment, it offered little practical help; he needed another method.
Suddenly, a passage of mental scripture flowed into his mind. Zong Shou paused, surprised. This was a remnant technique he had seen in his early martial studies in the later era. He didn't know why, but the first martial secret text he encountered in the library was that single, tattered sheet of paper. Because the paper quality was unique, the fist technique’s mental script was also extremely novel, so as his martial path progressed, he had studied it slightly.
Discovering he still couldn't understand the King’s “Qi Hang No Watermark” Secret Martial Art, especially after focusing on the fist technique, he had cast it aside.
Yet now, he felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
Right—it was the Indeterminate Spirit Sovereign Art! This remnant fist technique seemed to share the same origin as the latter half of the Indeterminate Spirit Sovereign Art.
A sharp light flashed in his eyes. Given his Sword Mastery realm, he could barely convert the fist into a sword.
He hesitated again. It was only a remnant technique; what if it failed?
Seeing the two figures moving further and further away, Zong Shou blinked and decided to take the risk.
If he didn't act now, both would likely escape.
He surged his true Qi into the Nine-Scaled Sword. For the first time, Zong Shou attempted to merge his consciousness with the Imperial Qi contained within the blade.
Then, he uttered a low chant.
“Ten Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains, Ten Years to Settle One.”
As that crisp sound echoed across the Altar of Heaven, Zong Shou’s figure began to dance in the air.
His great sleeves billowed, sword shadows flickered.
He was like a peerless, solitary banished immortal, performing the dance of the sword upon this suspended high platform.
Yet, in the eyes of the crowd, the feeling was extremely strange. Zong Shou’s movements were light and ethereal.
But the sword momentum was utterly tyrannical. In an instant, it conveyed a feeling of filling the heavens and the earth!
And when Zong Shou spat out the character ‘Settle’—the entire space within several hundred yards truly seemed to freeze completely.
In the void, patterns began to gradually materialize in the eyes of the onlookers. Upon careful inspection, they resembled a map of the ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers surrounding Qiantian Mountain.
The towering, majestic Qiantian Mountain was included within it. The vast city, shrunk nearly a hundredfold, still appeared magnificent and grand to their eyes.
It was as if the collective will of tens of millions of Qiantian citizens was being drawn here, filling this single corner of space! (To be continued)