At this very moment, a dozen worlds beyond the Cloud Realm, Long Ying rested with his eyes half-lidded, boredom a palpable weight. Theoretically, despite the uncrossable distance, if Long Ying so willed it, he could observe everything within the twenty parallel spaces surrounding him. The scene at the foot of Shangxiao Mountain was entirely within his sight. However, this standoff between two armies struck him as utterly tedious. The only interesting element was his disciple. “With four thousand Blood Cloud Cavalry guarding the perimeter, why not just strike decisively and slaughter the Shangxiao Xuanling Sect? Instead, he hides and masks his actions, waiting for the Ten Absolutes Sky Dome Formation to deploy. Does he truly intend to annihilate every member of the Donglin families currently at the Shangxiao Sect? My apprentice is truly insidious in a way I never imagined!” “Speaking of insidious, you, the Master, are hardly less so. If not for the Grand Art you employed to mask things, that figure from Lingyun Sect would already know every detail of Zongshou’s deployment.”

A light chuckle sounded suddenly behind Long Ying, and a figure stepped forth from the void, walking leisurely. The appearance and voice belonged to Ao Kun. “You have indeed reached the Saint Realm!” Long Ying turned his head, his gaze flashing with surprise. “But you’ve also grasped the Law of Destruction. This time, you’ve truly turned misfortune into fortune. It seems my apprentice has brought you considerable benefits.” “Zongshou is indeed my destined benefactor!” Ao Kun nodded, immense gratitude stirring within him, though he showed little on the surface. “If not for him, even if I had recovered the Dragon Core, I would likely have remained a slave to others for my entire life. Now that the Dragon Core is reunited, I no longer need to be constrained by them.” “Hmph! I suspect the Cang Sheng Dao also played a part in this, didn’t they? That Wei Xu is truly as sly as a fox. How did Xi Zi, a man so straightforward, end up with such a cunning apprentice? In any case, we owe you both a massive debt. Very well. Now that you are here to guard Shou’er for me, I can rest easier. After all, your Dragon Clan lifespan is exceedingly long!” Long Ying let out a cold snort, apparently unwilling to dwell on Cang Sheng Dao matters, and shifted the topic. “It’s fortuitous you came now! Hide here with me for a while. When they inevitably grow impatient and move out, help me slaughter that brat from the Shangxiao Sect!” Ao Kun raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “Brother Long Ying, why such immense fury this time?” “Why shouldn't I be furious?” Long Ying’s expression darkened like stagnant water, his gaze radiating icy coldness toward the distant void. Yet, even from this distance, he sensed at least two beings from Lingyun Sect capable of standing alongside him. “Do you realize the boy from Lingyun Sect has amassed two Saints alone? And ten experts at the Divine Realm? As for those below the Immortal Realm, I can’t even be bothered to estimate. They were certain that if Zongshou was defeated, I would inevitably come to the Cloud Realm to save him. This killing trap isn’t just aimed at Zongshou; it’s aimed at me, Long Ying! Just like Xi Zi in the past. Heh! Since they desire my death, how can I, Long Ying, not return the favor?” Ao Kun couldn't help but chuckle upon hearing this. “I haven’t seen you for millennia, and Ao Kun’s rough edges have been smoothed, but Long Ying, your temper remains just as explosive!” His words paused, and a dense, unyielding killing intent threaded into his tone. “But that last sentence was well-said. If they are determined to seek death, so be it. I, Ao Kun, haven’t killed in a long time either.” Long Ying threw his head back and laughed heartily; this was the response he had been waiting for. “That Lingyun Sect brat thinks he has calculated every possibility. I wonder what expression he’ll wear when he sees you today? If the Lingyun Sect loses seventy percent of its strength in the battle at Shangxiao Sect, what will that fellow think then?” The thought of fighting that man shortly, with an unexpected Saint capable of wielding the Law of Destruction by his side, brought Long Ying immense joy, his eyes narrowing to thin slits as he smiled. Then, a slight shift in his attention made him murmur, “Hm? Something seems to be happening? What exactly is that boy Zongshou doing? The Blood Cloud Iron Cavalry remains stationary. But the so-called Profound Fox Cavalry and tens of thousands of regular troops—what good can they possibly do? Uninteresting, dull! I truly regret taking this apprentice; he’s so unsatisfyingly slow!” Ao Kun followed his gaze, piercing through the layers of space to look afar. Then, he too smiled faintly. Indeed, those four thousand two hundred Blood Cloud Iron Cavalry remained rooted within the black mist. However, within a ten-mile radius, every time an enemy perished, a wisp of vital blood was absorbed, drawn into the black mist. One could see the armor of these Blood Cloud Cavalry growing an increasingly dazzling crimson, as if fresh blood were flowing upon it. Counting the time, it would soon be when this ancient cavalry force would once again shake the Cloud Realm…

At this moment, at the foot of Shangxiao Mountain, the air boomed like thunder. Hundreds of thousands of lethally equipped elite soldiers were locked in ceaseless combat around a small hill. Both sides were veterans of countless battles, their engagement characterized by silence, broken only by the clang of weapons against weapons, the clash of iron armor and bronze gear, and the cries of their mount beasts. There was no need for roars to bolster courage, nor howls to vent aggression. They were beings of extreme tenacity, moving like mere instruments of slaughter. One faction was the seventy thousand cavalry from Qiantian Mountain. Divided into several wings, they constantly wheeled and charged below the mountain, smashing and shattering the pressing formations one by one. Under the thunder of hooves, almost no one survived! The other faction was the Qiancheng Alliance, millions of troops gathered there. Their formations advanced in orderly ranks, like impenetrable walls of iron, pushing forward methodically. Even knowing they could not withstand the cavalry charge, they fought to the death without retreating. Even when broken, they did not panic or rout, but retreated in an orderly fashion through the gaps between formations to reform rapidly in the rear. It was like an endless tide, wave after wave crashing against that hill. Every few breaths, millions of arrows soared into the sky, plunging down, relentlessly battering the spiritual light barriers erected by the spirit cultivators of Kongqi Sect and Seven Spirit Sect. With every volley of arrows, the barrier dimmed perceptibly, yet within moments, it would restore itself to its previous state.

On the hilltop, beside Zongshou, Zhao Yanran knitted her delicate eyebrows. “We can probably only hold for another hour.” “I know.” Zongshou nodded slightly, then looked toward the opposition. “They probably can’t wait much longer either.” A hundred feet behind him, gusts of formidable sanguine energy were gradually seeping out. The vital essence of those several thousand troops was beginning to pierce through the black mist. Even the Celestial Artifacts could no longer suppress it, causing Lei Dong and Jin Buhui to exchange looks of apprehension. Had Zongshou prepared some sort of Demonic Artifact within that mist? Absorbing the vital energy of the fallen was close to demonic arts. Yet Zongshou was so confident, and everyone here showed no sign of worry. What exactly was hidden within that mist? A sense of unease settled in their hearts; they truly did not wish to see Zongshou stray onto an evil path.

On the high platform Zongshou was watching, Yang Fan also wore an expression of extreme gravity. He rose from his seat and stared at the opposing side, lost in thought. His anxiety grew increasingly intense, his apprehension sharpening. The most unsettling thing was the black mist. Every time someone died in battle, the aura within the mist grew stronger. At first, it was unnoticeable, but gradually, even he felt fear creeping in. “Can any of you spirit cultivators from the various sects see clearly what is inside that black mist?” Seated around him were the lords of several major cities, alongside eighth-tier Elders from several major sects. They were present to supervise this battle. However, when this question was posed, these individuals frowned slightly, displaying looks of difficulty. “You can’t? Hmph! Useless things!” Yang Fan paid no mind to what the Elders of the great Donglin sects were thinking. He strode several steps forward to the edge of the railing. Since the arrival of the Seven Spirit Sect and Kongqi Sect not long ago, he had felt a growing sense of unease. Now, this gnawing anxiety was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. Musing briefly, Yang Fan suddenly clenched his fists. “Pass the order down: let the Daoist Soldiers of the various sects show themselves! All other infantry must retreat completely! Send all four hundred and seventy thousand cavalry to charge! I refuse to believe we can’t crack this walnut—” An old man in his seventies standing nearby frowned slightly. “But according to the orders of Elder Lingwei of our sect, it would be best to first wear down their strength with the soldiers from the various cities, and then strike with thunderous force to break them in one blow?” “Wear them down? Wear them down my foot!” Yang Fan whirled around, his eyes blazing crimson. “Haven’t you seen the situation inside that mist? I fear our current plan perfectly suits Zongshou’s intentions! When it comes to military strategy, am I, Yang Fan, stronger, or is Ling Weizi? Since you sects have entrusted this battle to me, you must obey my command! If you disagree, feel free to seek instructions from Ling Weizi again, and I will speak to him myself!” The old Daoist priest’s expression shifted, a flicker of anger appearing in his eyes. After a moment, however, his demeanor calmed inexplicably. “Very well! As you command!”

Not long after the old man finished speaking, the dozens of formations ahead began to withdraw like a receding tide. The sixty thousand elite cavalry of Qiantian Mountain did not pursue; they separated and returned to the hillside, reforming their lines. And just moments later, wave after wave of vanguard troops surged out from the surrounding formations without cease. Hundreds of thousands of riders swept forward, dense and close-packed. The sound of hooves thundered like a seismic event, their speed neither rushed nor slow. But the most eye-catching sight was that contingent of cavalry, distinct in their armor, which had suddenly appeared at the very front of the great formation. Though numbering only a mere twelve hundred, their imposing presence overshadowed the hundreds of thousands gathered there. They advanced slowly at first, then gradually accelerated as they neared the slope. Despite being only a thousand strong, their momentum was like a collapsing mountain and a raging sea. At this point, a light laugh echoed from the heavens. “So that’s it. Four hundred Cloud Dragon Sword Masters, two hundred Shangqing Thunder Cultivators, two hundred Dao-Spirit Profound Wind Cultivators—it seems your Lingyun Sect spared no expense. That Demon King has lost this battle.” The speaker was the one who had previously claimed to be from the Demonic Sect. Now, in the sky above, countless voices echoed with sighs of regret. Even Lei Dong and Jin Buhui frowned slightly, exchanging helpless glances. This battle, it seemed, was fated to be a fight for survival. Zongshou, however, merely raised his eyebrows and stripped off his outer robes, revealing a set of armor the color of brilliant crimson. In his hand, he held a massive, blood-red halberd. “I ask you all: are you willing to follow me today to flatten this Shangxiao Mountain?”