Tan Xiang, unable to suppress her curiosity, finally approached Yang Fan and inquired, "Did His Majesty suffer damage to his spirit just now? Did you clash with someone, resulting in the destruction of the Puppet Descent Talisman?"

"What else could it be? Naturally, I did not achieve what I desired."

Yang Fan let out a hollow laugh, a trace of unwillingness lingering on his face. "That Qiantian Demon King exposed my identity, so I attempted to assassinate him. In the end, I was struck down by a single sword stroke. The Puppet Descent Talisman is a loss, but those dozen or so Nine Yin Mother-Child Thunders, which took such effort to acquire, are a pity. Zong Shou indeed lives up to his reputation as Elder Long Ying's inner disciple; his swordsmanship is formidable. While within his imperial capital, his Emperor's Martial Arts are sufficient to contend with a Ninth Rank!"

Tan Xiang's gaze immediately sharpened. She had known the result from the moment she saw Yang Fan spit blood. She simply hadn't anticipated that Zong Shou's strength would be this profound!

Even Feng Guang and Zhou Wen, the two Black Tortoise Grandmasters standing nearby, showed looks of solemnity.

To be able to contend with a Ninth Rank using Emperor's Martial Arts implied that the state power of Mount Qiantian was not declining; rather, it was growing stronger.

"Truly beyond expectation!"

His expression dark and brooding, Yang Fan's lips curled slightly upward. "Although this assassination attempt failed, it was not entirely fruitless. That Qiantian Demon King is likely not as mediocre and arrogant as outsiders claim. The reduction of the army to three million men must have another purpose, most likely preparation for the Spirit Tide. Overthrowing Mount Qiantian will not be an easy task."

Tan Xiang was momentarily stunned, her delicate eyebrows furrowing. "Then, Your Majesty's intention is to cease hostilities now?"

"Quite the opposite. Not only must we not stop, but the sooner, the better!"

Yang Fan shook his head. "I don't know why, but I have a persistent feeling that the longer this drags on, the harder Mount Qiantian will become to conquer. This time, I might have to drag all the Lingyun Sects into this mess."

At this point, Yang Fan frowned inwardly. The other sects were manageable; with the Lingyun Sect's authority and coercion, coupled with the old grievance from the siege against Zong Weiran, none dared to assist Zong Shou. Only the Kongqi Sect was growing closer to Mount Qiantian, almost inseparable. He couldn't fathom whether the master of the Kongqi Sect was insane or simply foolish. Did they not know that once Mount Qiantian fell, the Lingyun Sect would surely come knocking to settle old scores?

This was their last chance.

He was also puzzled about why the Titled Marshal of the Great Shang Dynasty had come to the East Lin Yun Continent. Could it be to subdue Mount Qiantian? If his suspicion was true, there was even less room for delay this time.

He felt a pang of envy, knowing that aligning with the Great Shang meant receiving their vital support. With the wealth of a central empire, even a trickle escaping their fingers could enable Dragon Elephant City to forge a powerful army in a short time. He held no immediate ambition to replace them. The Great Shang and the sects of the Cloud Realm were practically mortal enemies, showing extreme disdain for cultivators. They would certainly not allow the Lingyun Sect to completely dominate the East Lin Yun Continent. If forced to choose between him and Zong Shou, the Great Shang Emperor would undoubtedly choose Zong Shou. He needed to devise another plan to scuttle this situation.

With this thought, Yang Fan let out a cold sneer. He was secretly disappointed. When Qiantian first rose, there was supposed to be a formidable, unshakeable enemy added to the landscape. Who knew that Zong Shou would be so unwise as to alienate all the sects and then cripple his own support? Perhaps this man also hadn't expected his Thousand Cities Alliance to gain momentum in less than a year and a half.

Lost in these reflections, Yang Fan suddenly felt the hairs on his body stand on end, an overwhelming sense of danger surging from the depths of his heart. His mind snapped back to attention, and Yang Fan violently unleashed his spiritual sense, frantically searching around. After a moment, he realized the space behind him was somewhat obscure.

A sword shadow abruptly pierced out from the void. The sword's momentum gathered icy coldness, thrusting directly toward Tan Xiang's back.

Tan Xiang also sensed something was amiss, her face changing color. She hastily lunged forward, intending to dodge. But by the time she reacted, it was too late. Pierced by the chilling sword qi, which carried no spiritual energy feedback, she was struck in the right side of her chest and abdomen. She used all her remaining strength to avoid death, but the subsequent slash and pull severed her entire right arm!

Yang Fan's face turned deathly pale. He instinctively retreated rapidly, his eyes immediately filling with rage. He shouted coldly, "Protect the carriage!"

Instantly, two Eighth Rank purple soul tigers materialized beside him, roaring as they charged toward the source of the sword shadow. A massive red giant eagle also dove down from the sky. Though only Seventh Rank, it was not a soul beast but a physical entity. Feng Guang and Zhou Wen also reacted swiftly, rushing over.

They saw the sword light flash and vanish back into the dense forest void. Then, from an unknown location, a dozen fist-sized black spheres were thrown, enveloping everything in all directions.

Yang Fan took one look and his expression drastically changed. "It's the Nine Yin Mother-Child Thunders! Disperse!" He intended to collect them with spiritual techniques and thoughts, but judging by the fluctuation of their spiritual energy, they had clearly been primed to detonate after a set time before being thrown. The only thing left to do now was flee—flee as far as possible!

The crimson fire eagle in the sky ceased its attack, diving down and carrying Yang Fan as it sped away from the spread of the black spheres. Feng Guang and Zhou Wen also changed expression drastically and turned to run. They were acutely aware of the power of the Nine Yin Mother-Child Thunders, artifacts originating from an ancient cultivator's cave abode. They could only flee madly outwards.

But it was already too late. As the dozen or so Nine Yin Mother-Child Thunders detonated sequentially, muffled thunderous roars, accompanied by vast turbulent winds, blasted outwards in all directions. The space within a thousand zhang first contracted, then reverberated outwards in ripples, as if completely shattered. Innumerable strands of Yin power swept out like a tide. Centered on all the thunders, everything organic within ten thousand zhang was pulverized. Beyond that radius, countless plants withered.

The two Eighth Rank guardian soul tigers were long gone. Feng Guang and Zhou Wen, although they escaped narrowly, had the muscles on their limbs and backs completely vaporized, exposing pale bone—they were severely wounded.

Only Yang Fan, having reacted fastest, was slightly better off. But his Seventh Rank crimson fire eagle was also covered in wounds and looked listless. Yang Fan himself was in a wretched state. The loss of his two Eighth Rank guards left his spiritual perception slightly dulled, as if struck by a hammer.

He had no heart to tend to his own injuries, immediately looking toward Tan Xiang's position. He saw that his maid, who was like a sister to him, had also managed to escape, though her injuries were slightly worse. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

But in the next instant, Yang Fan's pupils constricted violently, and he roared with incandescent fury, "You dare!"

An icy sword shadow, once again without warning, stabbed out from the shadow behind Tan Xiang. With a single thrust, it decapitated her.

Yang Fan's spiritual sense finally registered the owner of the cold sword shadow: a woman of similar age, lurking in the shadows, almost invisible, as if she did not exist in this world.

"Profound Yin Dragon Sword! Shadow Leap Extreme Technique?" When the cold sword shadow struck twice, he clearly heard two faint dragon roars. He knew this must be one of Elder Long Ying's nine True Dragon Sword Arts. Only the Profound Yin Dragon Sword could be so silent before its explosion. As for the latter, he wasn't entirely sure. The Shadow Leap Extreme Technique, a terrifying Heaven-Shaking level secret art of the Ninth Grade, was likely only held by the top three great sects of the Holy Lands or the Five Great Dome Realms.

He couldn't discern what cultivation technique this woman practiced that allowed her to converge all her true qi and soul power to the extreme. All her aura was undetectable, and she possessed a divine secret art that made people instinctively overlook her existence, allowing her to approach them undetected. Although her strength was only that of a newly ascended Seventh Rank, she was terrifyingly formidable!

Then, Yang Fan suddenly recalled someone.

"You are Zong Ruoshui!" The former captain of Zong Weiran's personal guard, who had personally assassinated dozens of powerful figures in the East Lin Yun Continent, causing alarm among all Black Tortoise cultivators of the same rank. It was rumored that the Qiantian Demon King’s return from Cloud Saint City to Mount Qiantian was due to this woman. Many Black Tortoise experts dared not act rashly for fear of her assassination, allowing Zong Shou to establish his dominance. Unexpectedly, this woman had now reached the Seventh Rank and mastered such a terrifying secret method.

His spiritual sense searched for a moment before losing Zong Ruoshui's trace again. A flicker of helplessness crossed Yang Fan's eyes. Spiritual Masters feared close combat with Martial Cultivators the most. Under normal circumstances, with his Eighth Rank Spiritual Master power, he could have barely suppressed this woman. But now, not only was his spirit injured, but his two crucial guards were also dead. Unless he could lock onto her position, he had no chance of winning.

Biting his lip hard, Yang Fan leaped onto the back of the crimson fire eagle, heedless of his two protectors below, uttered the word 'Flee,' and shot high into the sky.

Below, a burst of silver light erupted. Countless silver-white needles shot upwards.

"Rainstorm Rapid Spirit Needles? Damn it!" Yang Fan almost instinctively placed a cyan circular mirror below him. A layer of cyan-blue spiritual light spread out, accompanied by a series of clinking sounds. The spiritual light was pierced, finally creating an opening, and the crimson fire eagle's body was riddled with holes.

Fortunately, Yang Fan himself was unharmed. He patted the fire eagle's head and retracted it into his spirit beast pouch. Then, he took out a spirit talisman brimming with spiritual energy, activated it, and transformed into a streak of red light, flying into the distance.

"Tan Xiang's death today, I, Yang Fan, will certainly remember! I shall repay this debt in full someday!"

Just as these words drifted away, a girl whose beauty was almost demonic emerged from the shadows. She looked helplessly at a small, thin black vulture perched on her shoulder.

"It's a Heaven Evasion Talisman; this man is truly rich. He got away, what now?" The black vulture flapped its wings and let out a cry, its gaze fixed on the direction Feng Guang and Zhou Wen had fled. It seemed to suggest that there were two more prey fleeing in that direction.