Zong Ling, hearing this, started with a jolt. He knew Zong Shou intended to use Zong Shi’s head to reassert his authority. Glancing at Zong Shi, whose face now held nothing but stark despair, Zong Ling unhesitatingly nodded slightly: "This man colluded with foreign enemies and attempted to assassinate the Heir Apparent. He is the chief culprit who disrupted the Heaven Worship Ceremony—a man of the utmost evil! He deserves death, to appease the wrath of the Heavens!"

As his voice fell, the thousands gathered below the sacrificial altar also knelt down in unison. They prostrated themselves, their expressions a mixture of fervent devotion and inexplicable delight.

Many had yet to recover from the preceding shock, their chests surging with an emotion they could barely contain.

The rumors were indeed untrue! The Heir Apparent was no cripple! Far from it, he cultivated both spirit and martial arts, possessing astounding, peerless talent! He was the true successor to the Demon King of Mount Qiantian, and in the future, he would be the king capable of making Mount Qiantian truly dominate the Cloud Continent!

Their hearts burned as if molten lava flowed within them. In this moment, their hatred for Zong Shi, Zong Yang, and the like reached its zenith!

If not for these petty villains, the remnants of the main Zong family line stirring up trouble, how could the City of Mount Qiantian have suffered such losses again?

Recalling the perilous situation just moments ago sent a cold sweat down their spines. If it hadn't been for the Heir Apparent's valor, his mastery of the Imperial Martial Path and the Sword Intent of Mountains and Rivers long ago, perhaps these conspirators would have succeeded. How could they then face their departed former lord with any honor?

"We implore the Heir Apparent to execute Zong Shi and establish the law! To appease the wrath of the Heavens!"

The voices of thousands merged into a single roar that instantly shook the entire mountaintop. Among those present, only the dozen or so Zong Clan Elders remained standing beneath the stone altar, appearing conspicuously out of place. Yet, in their eyes at this moment, a trace of wary apprehension mingled with helplessness began to surface.

Zong Shou let out a light chuckle, and the Nine Qilin Sword in his hand swung down sharply. Just as a sliver of blade light was drawn, a muffled groan echoed from the distance: "Stop! Even if Zong Shi is at fault, his judgment should be determined by clan rules and mandates before punishment is meted out! The Heir Apparent is not yet the Clan Leader or the Demon King. To judge and execute arbitrarily without trial—do you not fear overstepping your authority?"

Threads of faint blue, seemingly woven from water yet not water, from gold yet not gold, hovering between substance and void, snaked out from afar and wrapped around. As they approached, an invisible force immediately began to impede the trajectory of his sword.

Hearing this, a look of wild ecstasy immediately appeared in Zong Shi’s eyes. His previous despair gradually receded. The dozen or so Zong Clan Elders likewise gazed forward with hope. With the Clan Uncle present, even if Zong Shou couldn't be deposed, his arrogance would surely be curbed!

Let these people understand that the main line of the Zong family must not be slighted! It was absolutely not the leniency shown by Zong Weiran in the past!

Zong Shou’s eyebrow arched as he looked towards the source of the voice. In the distance, a figure was approaching, riding on an artifact. He trod upon bamboo slips, his frame tall and slender, appearing about forty years of age, though his eyes held an immeasurable depth of (cāngsāng—world-weariness/vicissitude), making his true age unknowable. In his hand, he held a round, blue orb, seemingly formed from countless fine threads—the very source of those blue filaments.

Surprisingly, when Zong Shou focused his energy into his eyes, he perceived that this man’s primordial spirit was brilliantly vast. There appeared to be no fewer than ten talismans floating within his sea of soul power.

"Ten True Talismans?"

For a Spirit Master at the Returning Life Realm (Huan Yang Jing), nine True Talismans marked the peak. However, as long as one’s soul sea could accommodate it, the True Talismans could continue to condense, allowing for faster accumulation of power to strike toward the Day Roaming Realm (Ri You Zhi Jing)!

Zong Shou mused that this must be the Clan Uncle from the Zong clan. Returning Life peak strength—it was no wonder that even after Zong Weiran disappeared, the Celestial Fox Zong Clan remained the undisputed foremost family in the City of Mount Qiantian. It wasn't just their large population; it was because their internal experts remained the leaders among all the races of Mount Qiantian.

A trace of icy coldness flashed in his gaze. Without a second thought, he unleashed another sword strike. A passage of mind cultivation flashed through his consciousness, and he softly chanted the words again: "For endless sorrow and love’s lingering thread!"

The brilliant sword light erupted as suddenly as a startled swan’s brief appearance. As soon as it flashed, it had already traveled hundreds of feet. The momentum of the sword was utterly abrupt, and its speed absolute.

Though the power of the Dark Epiphyllum’s momentary splendor had already faded, this move, the "Endless Sword," instantly gathered all of Zong Shou's strength, all his soul energy, into a single point. It was like the fine, continuous thread of yearning love that cannot be severed by ten thousand miles of longing, combined with an endless, surging hatred. All intent was focused into one sword strike.

This made the sword momentum as fine as a silken thread, yet ceaselessly surging!

With a light chira sound, the few threads in mid-air were instantly severed.

The sharp, lingering sword threads did not stop there, continuing straight toward the middle-aged man’s throat.

The Celestial Fox Clan Uncle was first furious, seemingly having never expected Zong Shou to dare use force against him. Then, his eyes sharpened.

He cast several spirit incantations in quick succession, and immediately a Spirit Shield exhibiting mutual generation among the Five Elements condensed before him, layered nine deep.

However, before these shields were fully formed, the threadlike sword shadow suddenly pierced in from the most unexpected angle.

Pop-crack!

One Five Elements Spirit Shield instantly shattered, broken in a single blow. It had struck precisely at the nexus where the spiritual energy converged, entirely disrupting the original spiritual energy arrangement. It was shattered effortlessly, and the momentum continued like splitting bamboo; several subsequent layers of the Five Elements Spirit Shields fared no better, unable to hold back the sword thread for even half a moment.

The expression of the white-robed man tightened. He swept his large sleeve, spitting out a plume of dense soul smoke. In the air, it transformed into a giant eagle with a wingspan of seventy feet. As its wings spread, an irresistible pull of soul energy spilled forth.

Everyone present below the Martial Ancestor (Wu Zong) realm broke out in a cold sweat, feeling an immense pressure pressing down on their minds. As the phantom form materialized, the giant eagle let out a sharp cry and swooped down, its talons like massive steel pincers.

Zong Shou, however, laughed heartily, slightly flipping the Nine Qilin Sword in his hand. The threadlike sword energy shifted its trajectory, evading the claws, and merely swept past the giant eagle’s chest and abdomen. With another chira, the sixth-tier peak soul beast was instantly sliced into two halves.

The white-robed man, seeing this, remained completely unconcerned. Although the combat power of a soul beast was diminished compared to its living state, as long as the soul stone remained intact and the Spirit Master infused enough soul energy for repair, it would regenerate continuously.

But in the next instant, his pupils contracted violently, narrowing to pinpoints!

The threadlike sword energy inexplicably emitted a vortex-like power, absorbing the majority of the giant eagle's scattered soul smoke in a blink, before bursting forth!

The soul stone within the white-robed man’s sleeve shattered simultaneously. His spirit suffered an undefended backlash impact, causing a violent dizziness in his mind.

And the fine sword thread was already upon him. At this moment, he could barely muster any spiritual techniques, pouring all his effort into controlling the bamboo slip-shaped spiritual artifact beneath his feet, fleeing frantically. He only stopped when he had put several hundred feet between them.

He then felt a chilling sensation along his neck. Touching it, he found his hand covered in blood. He couldn't tell when that threadlike sword energy had wounded him. It had entered the flesh nearly an inch deep, a mere hair’s breadth from his windpipe and spine!

The white-robed man’s eyes widened, filled with utter disbelief.

He was wounded? A peak Returning Life master, yet defeated by this youth barely fourteen years old! This was truly a great humiliation!

The dozen or so Zong Clan Elders were once again crestfallen, speechless. Even the Clan Uncle, whom they relied upon as their Great Wall, had been defeated?

"Hmph! Today is the day I ascend the throne, and I am in a good mood. I do not wish to continue slaughter. Considering you are my Clan Uncle and committed no major crime, I shall temporarily spare your life!"

Zong Shou let out a cold laugh. It wasn't that he couldn't kill him; it was that he couldn't afford to right now. Little Gold was failing him, its spiritual power nearly exhausted, forcing him to stop at the last moment.

However, bragging was not illegal, and no one would refute him at this juncture. Perhaps the Clan Uncle himself couldn't even perceive it.

"As for Zong Shi, I said he dies today, and he shall not live another second! You, a mere Clan Uncle, dare to prattle before me!"

With another casual wave of his sword light, it struck down again. The head of Zong Shi was violently chopped off. Though the man’s blood had long since drained, his severed head rolled on the ground, his eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

In his thoughts, Zong Shou drifted momentarily. Ten thousand miles of rivers and mountains secured in ten years, an enterprise of a thousand autumns won through a hundred battles; better to raise a cup in drunken repose, for endless sorrow and love’s lingering thread!

In his previous life, he focused solely on martial arts and had no connection to poetry.

He didn't know if these lines were perfectly parallel or rhymed.

But he knew the meaning contained within these few lines probably perfectly matched Zong Weiran's state of mind.

A cascade of thoughts surged through his mind.

Was this truly created by Zong Weiran? Why was the first martial arts classic he encountered in his past life a collection of incomplete fist techniques based on these concepts?

A faint sense of dread began to stir in his chest, fearing the truth that lay ahead.

It wasn't until Zong Ling coughed lightly as a reminder that he suddenly snapped back to attention and bowed toward heaven again. Finishing this final step would complete the entire ceremony.

In the next instant, another light hum broke the silence: "Wait!"

Zong Shou couldn't help but roll his eyes, thinking, Not over yet? Reluctantly, he turned around.

The white-robed middle-aged man’s expression had stabilized. "I heard that Zong Ming and Zong Hao both died by your hand?"

Zong Shou remained silent. Although Zong Hao was killed by Zong Yuan, it was indirectly his doing.

"And nearly a thousand of our Celestial Fox disciples were executed under your order?"

Seeing Zong Shou offered no denial, the Celestial Fox Clan Uncle suddenly opened his eyes wide in wrath, his voice stern and severe: "Zong Ming and Zong Hao merely proposed a candidate for the Demon King before you returned. What crime did those thousand-plus disciples commit to deserve execution? What evidence do you have that they rebelled? Such a cruel, bloodthirsty, and tyrannical person—are you worthy of being the Clan Leader of my Celestial Fox clan?"

Silence returned to the Heaven Worship Altar, filled with a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

"The way the Clan Uncle phrases it, there seems to be some logic to it," Zong Shou said, finding it amusing, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "But I am inheriting the position of the Demon King of Mount Qiantian today; what does that have to do with the Zong Clan Leader? I truly don't understand—on what grounds must I, Zong Shou, become this damned Celestial Fox Clan Leader?"