Xiao Ba returned swiftly—after only three days—and brought word to Li Qingqiu that Xu Ning's group had reunited with Li Sifeng and the others and were now on their way back. The news finally allowed him to breathe a little easier.
Yet, even then, he could still feel that strange, eerie aura lingering in the direction of Zhenyang Imperial City. It kept gnawing at his heart, making it impossible to truly calm down.
With his current strength, he didn't fear it. But what unsettled him was that he couldn't discern its source. Was it the Emperor? Grand Master Immortal Master Jiang? Or Xuan Gong's doing? Did they still have another hand to play?
The world was vast, and his first duty was to ensure Qingxiao Sect's safety before even considering the idea of saving the world.
Nine more days passed. Finally, Xu Ning and her group returned. Every one of them looked travel-worn and weary. The journey from Zhongtian Prefecture to Qingxiao Mountain was long and arduous. For them to return this quickly, they must have relied on their vital energy to rush the trip without rest.
Li Qingqiu summoned all the Hall Masters to gather on the mountain. This time, even Shen Yue came.
Once everyone had assembled, Xu Ning was the first to report. Taiwu Sect and Li Yin Sect had been destroyed, as ordered. However, when they reached Sword Extremity Sect, they discovered that the entire sect had already evacuated. No trace was left behind. They investigated for several days but couldn't find where the sect had gone, so they were forced to withdraw.
Li Qingqiu didn't comment much on that. He simply gestured for Zhang Yu to recount their prior experience.
Zhang Yu began from the moment they breached Martial God Pass. He described how the three of them followed the Seven Provinces army through nearly two months of brutal warfare. They had finally reached Zhenyang Imperial City—only to see hordes of strange black-armored soldiers leaping onto the city walls, charging straight toward the hundreds of thousands of troops.
At first, they hadn't taken it seriously. But they quickly realized that these black-armored soldiers possessed overwhelming strength and astonishing speed. In mere moments, they inflicted devastating casualties on the Seven Provinces army.
Li Sifeng and Wu Man'er both joined the fight, yet even they couldn't easily kill those soldiers. Soon after, the Bureau of Martial Prohibition joined the battle—and then the Emperor himself appeared.
The Emperor's martial prowess left Zhang Yu and the others utterly shaken.
Li Sifeng couldn't help but speak up. "I felt the Emperor was even stronger than Senior Shen. His power was terrifying. With just one palm strike, he injured dozens of soldiers. His movement was so fast that even when I fought him head-on, I couldn't touch him. If Xu Ning hadn't arrived in time, I would've been seriously wounded."
He didn't mention the rest—that even the sword soul within the Emperor Xuan Sword had trembled in fear before the Emperor, as if facing a mortal enemy. That only deepened his unease.
Everyone in the hall was taken aback. Shen Yue's eyes narrowed slightly.
Yang Jueding frowned. "Could the inner core of the Martial Legend really be that powerful?"
Zhang Yuchun replied solemnly, "It's not just that. The Emperor's been having alchemists refine pills for years. His cultivation must have reached unimaginable heights. No wonder he allowed the Seven Provinces armies to gather freely—he truly doesn't fear worldly forces anymore."
Xu Ning added, "The Emperor's martial arts are indeed unmatched. I only exchanged a few blows with him, but even then, I could feel how impossible it would be to defeat him. To fight him would mean fighting with the determination to die. I couldn't let the disciples throw their lives away for nothing, so I ordered the retreat."
Zhang Yuchun nodded approvingly. "You did the right thing. Your mission was to destroy the Three Imperial Sects, not to assassinate the Emperor."
The True Disciples she led were all at the third layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm. Losing even one would've been a tremendous blow to Qingxiao Sect.
Shen Yue then spoke, his tone grave. "Based on what you've described, those demonic soldiers probably weren't using Martial God Pills or Yin Ghost Pills. The Emperor must have a new kind of pill—something even more sinister."
He recalled his own encounters with the Bureau of Martial Prohibition. The users of those older pills, though strong, were still mortal bodies bound by human limits.
But according to Zhang Yu, these new demonic soldiers combined the traits of both pills—possessing immense strength, ghostlike speed, an absence of pain, and an even darker ability: their inner energy could devour the vital energy of martial artists.
Just the thought of such an army was enough to make one's blood run cold. Worse still, there were tens of thousands of them.
Zhu Yan frowned. "If the Emperor has that many demonic soldiers, then this must've been planned long ago. I suspect he deliberately waited for the Seven Provinces army to reach Zhenyang. After all, those forces weren't just soldiers—they also gathered countless martial masters. If the Emperor truly needs cultivators' bodies as materials for his alchemy, then this would be the perfect setup for him."
Li Qingqiu had remained silent until then. He listened to every detail, carefully considering what kind of power the Emperor truly commanded—and whether Qingxiao Sect could stand against it.
Tens of thousands of demonic soldiers were no small matter. If he led his disciples into battle, casualties would be inevitable. No matter how strong he was, he couldn't be everywhere at once.
Zhang Yuchun looked toward him. "Senior Brother, we can't act rashly. The world is vast—this isn't Qingxiao Sect's burden alone. If every province unites and fights with full strength, we might still have a chance."
The Great Li Dynasty was enormous. The Seven Provinces army represented only a portion of its strength. If word of this spread, perhaps an even greater alliance could be formed.
Li Qingqiu nodded slightly, though doubt lingered in his heart. 'If we wait too long… won't that just give the Emperor more time to grow stronger?'
Zhu Yan spoke next. "Indeed, we can't act recklessly. Sect Master, I'll send people to investigate Zhenyang's situation as thoroughly as possible."
The other Hall Masters all agreed. They could all sense that this crisis was unlike any they had faced before. The force behind it was something beyond comprehension.
Li Qingqiu finally spoke. "From now on, increase the number of patrols. Have the disciples minimize their trips down the mountain. No unnecessary movement."
Everyone nodded solemnly. The weight of his words pressed on all their hearts.
It wasn't just the Emperor's overwhelming power that frightened them—it was the deeper, more terrifying truth: none of them yet understood what the Emperor's true purpose really was.
…
Inside the dimly lit Qianwu Hall—
Bang!
A corpse tumbled down the steps and landed heavily on the floor. All around the hall, dozens of bodies lay scattered—some in prison garb, some still wearing armor.
On the dais above, Zhao Zhi sat cross-legged before the dragon throne. His palms rested on his knees, facing upward, black mist swirling endlessly around his body. His unkempt hair floated in the air, giving him a sinister, almost inhuman look.
One after another, the masked guards of the Bureau of Martial Prohibition entered the hall, dragging away the corpses. Once they cleared them out, another group came in—escorting prisoners and soldiers in chains.
"Zhao Zhi, you'll die a miserable death!"
"Your Majesty, I was wrong! Spare me! I'll serve you faithfully!"
"Zhao Zhi, as the Son of Heaven, you are the father of all under the sky—how could you lose all conscience like this? Do you think our Great Ancestor would forgive you? Do you think your people still can? What are you now—a man, or a monster?"
"Your Majesty! Don't let those demons deceive you! There's no such thing as immortality in this world!"
"You damn tyrant! Even as a ghost, I won't forgive you!"
The moment this batch of prisoners was brought in, the hall erupted in chaos.
Zhao Zhi slowly raised his right hand. A surge of invisible force lifted one prisoner straight off the ground and dragged him up the steps. Zhao Zhi's fingers closed around the man's throat, silencing him completely. The sight froze every other prisoner where they stood. Their faces turned pale with terror.
Under their horrified gazes, Zhao Zhi opened his mouth. He began to breathe in deeply through his mouth and nose. Wisps of faint, almost invisible energy drifted out from the prisoner's face and flowed into Zhao Zhi's body. The black mist around him surged violently—and then condensed into a terrifying ghostly shadow.
"Gh… ghost… ghost…"
One prisoner's eyes went wide, his face drained of all color, muttering in hopeless despair.
The masked guards of the Bureau of Martial Prohibition stood motionless, watching it all with chilling indifference.
Moments later, the hall echoed with screams so piercing it sounded like the depths of hell itself had opened within the palace.
After half an hour, the screams ceased. The guards began dragging the corpses out one by one.
At that moment, Xuan Gong entered the hall. He walked up the steps and bowed to Zhao Zhi.
"Your Majesty," he said, "the formation platform is being constructed. It will be ready within three days at most. However, the Grand Master insists we wait for an auspicious day before beginning."
"Then follow the Grand Master's word," Zhao Zhi said faintly.
Xuan Gong's voice grew heavier. "Your Majesty, I urge you to begin the Heaven-Mending Plan as soon as the formation is ready. We can't afford any more delay. At this stage, even a small mistake could destroy everything."
"The Heaven-Mending Plan cannot be rushed," Zhao Zhi said calmly. "As the Grand Master said, the path to immortality requires Heaven's timing, Earth's power, and the unity of mankind. Without all three, it will fail."
Xuan Gong's expression darkened, though he dared not speak the curse that came to his mind—fool.
Before he could speak again, an elderly minister entered the hall, stopping beside him. He bowed and said, "Your Majesty, a man claiming to be Daoist Baishu from Fengxia Mountain in South Chu requests an audience. He brings an imperial decree from the late emperor and says he comes to offer Your Majesty a treasure."
Zhao Zhi's eyes opened. Interest flashed within them. "Fengxia Mountain? The former Twin Saints of the Martial World?"
He chuckled darkly. "The late emperor once tried to recruit them, but they refused. That was why he established the Three Imperial Sects—to strip them of their influence and honor. And now, they come willingly? I've heard Fengxia Mountain's cultivators can divine Heaven's fate. Perhaps they've foreseen my coming immortality. Bring him in."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The old minister quickly withdrew.
Xuan Gong frowned. "Your Majesty, Fengxia Mountain's visit may not be in goodwill."
Zhao Zhi smirked. "What? In this very hall, do you think anyone dares to attack me? Even if Li Qingqiu himself came, I would not fear him."
Xuan Gong fell silent but did not leave. He chose to stay, his instincts telling him something was off. Zhao Zhi ignored him and returned to his meditation.
A few moments later, the old minister returned, leading Daoist Baishu into the hall. Zhao Zhi opened his eyes once more and examined the man carefully.
Daoist Baishu held a horsetail whisk, his expression calm and unyielding. He walked up beside Xuan Gong and bowed deeply. "I am Daoist Baishu of Fengxia Mountain," he said. "Months ago, I studied the heavens and foresaw a great disturbance in the Great Li Dynasty. I have come to present Your Majesty with a treasure."
As he spoke, he reached into his robe and drew out a scroll. He stepped forward as if to ascend the dais and offer it to Zhao Zhi.
But Xuan Gong raised his hand, stopping him. "Give it to me."
Baishu glanced at him, then silently handed over the scroll.
Without waiting for an order, Xuan Gong unrolled it. Inside was a simple painting—a landscape of mountains and rivers, nothing more.
"What is this supposed to be worth?" Xuan Gong asked coldly. "What meaning does it hold?"
Zhao Zhi leaned back slightly, watching them both with an amused expression. He made no move to interrupt.
"This painting was left behind by our sect's founder," Baishu explained evenly. "According to our records, only one who holds Heaven's Mandate can glimpse the secret hidden within."
Zhao Zhi raised a hand lazily. "Xuan Qing, bring it here. Let me take a look."
Xuan Gong hesitated briefly, then obeyed. Holding the scroll, he stepped toward the throne.
The old minister watched curiously, wondering what mystery this painting could possibly hold.
But just as Xuan Gong reached the top of the steps—blocking Zhao Zhi's view—Daoist Baishu suddenly raised both hands to his chest. His lips began moving rapidly as he muttered an incantation under his breath.
A sharp sound split the silence—the hiss of a blade leaving its sheath. Cold light flashed through the hall.
Xuan Gong instinctively turned his head—and saw a phantom form darting toward the dais at incredible speed, slicing through the air like lightning.
His pupils contracted sharply. Out of the corner of his eye, he realized the phantom had the exact face of Daoist Baishu—yet Baishu himself still stood below the steps, unmoving, his eyes locked coldly on him.
Two Daoist Baishus?
The thought barely formed in Xuan Gong's mind before the hall was filled with a blinding flash of sword light.