As Li Qingqiu stepped out of the forest, soldiers atop the city wall quickly spotted his figure.
"Someone's there!"
"Draw your bows!"
The lead general's sharp command echoed before the startled soldier even finished his cry. Hundreds of archers lined the battlements, bows drawn tight, the sound of strained bowstrings humming through the air.
Li Qingqiu's expression didn't change. Perched on his shoulder, Lin Chuan grinned darkly before his form melted into the ground, vanishing completely.
From within Li Qingqiu's body, Nangong E's spirit floated out, hovering behind him. Her long, flowing hair spread outward like writhing serpents, and her once-beautiful face twisted into something fierce and terrifying.
Seeing that Li Qingqiu didn't even pause his steps, the commander on the southern gate frowned and shouted, "Kill him!"
Even if they didn't know who the man was, anyone daring to approach Zhenyang City at this time could only be an enemy.
If he were the son of a noble, he would never come alone.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Hundreds of arrows flew through the sky like a torrential storm, raining down toward Li Qingqiu. The martial artists hiding in the nearby forest gasped in horror. They hadn't expected the soldiers to react so decisively. Those who had earlier suggested storming the city were now drenched in cold sweat.
Li Qingqiu didn't even blink. As the arrows poured down, his body flickered—faster and faster—darting between the shadows of the shafts. In the blink of an eye, he had evaded every arrow and was racing toward the city gate.
The soldiers on the walls stared in disbelief.
The Martial Enforcement Guards leapt from the battlements one after another, stepping through the air with lightness techniques, blades drawn as they charged toward him.
Li Qingqiu didn't retreat.
With a flick of his sleeve, dozens of streaks of sword qi burst forth. They spun through the air like lightning, each one piercing through armor and bone.
One by one, the Martial Enforcement Guards were impaled and nailed against the wall, their bodies twitching violently as blood erupted in sprays. The impact shook the entire city gate; the walls behind them bloomed with bursts of crimson.
The martial artists hidden in the forest stared wide-eyed, faces pale as ghosts.
Even the soldiers atop the wall froze in terror. They knew how strong the Martial Enforcement Guards were—each one was an elite, capable of facing a hundred men alone. Yet here, they couldn't even withstand a single strike.
Li Qingqiu reached the gate and released a surge of overwhelming force. With a single palm strike, the heavy wooden doors exploded outward, shattering into splinters. The blast threw dozens of soldiers behind it into the air, their screams echoing as they crashed to the ground.
The explosion shook the entire district.
In the distant square, Xuan Gong, the Martial Enforcement Guards, and the demonic soldiers all turned their heads at once.
Emperor Zhao Zhi, who had been discussing the elixir of immortality with Immortal Master Jiang, also heard the sound. His brow furrowed, and anger clouded his face.
"So Li Qingqiu truly dares to come?" he said coldly. "Then let's see whether he possesses the tricks of that Daoist Baishu!"
His sneer dripped with venom. The gathered officials exchanged uncertain glances—they couldn't hear what was happening at the southern gate and didn't know what had just occurred.
Suddenly—
Woooo—!
The blaring of a horn echoed from the south, long and piercing, spreading through the entire capital. Instantly, Zhenyang City was engulfed in tension.
From every window and tower, the people peered out—merchants, nobles, and commoners alike. Fear and confusion filled their faces, many thinking the Seven Provinces Allied Army had come again to attack.
——
Within the southern gate, the air filled with dust and debris. Li Qingqiu stepped through the shattered doorway. Before him stretched a long, broad avenue leading straight toward the city's center. The street was over six zhang wide, the view unobstructed—standing there, one could even glimpse the grand outline of the imperial palace in the distance.
Soldiers poured in from both sides, forming a blockade ahead of him. Behind them, Martial Enforcement Guards leapt onto the rooftops lining the street. Their ghost masks gleamed dully under the morning light, their black uniforms fluttering in unison—like spirits of death crawling through the mortal world. There were so many of them that their number couldn't even be counted at a glance.
At the far end of the street, rows of black-armored soldiers advanced with shields in hand, their murderous aura rolling like thunder.
Behind Li Qingqiu, the archers atop the walls once again drew their bows, arrows aimed straight at him.
In that moment, Li Qingqiu stood alone, surrounded by an army—his expression calm as ever.
He wanted this noise, this chaos. He wanted the Emperor to hear him coming.
With Lin Chuan watching from the shadows, he didn't fear Zhao Zhi fleeing. No—he wanted to march in openly, to crush everything in his path, to shatter the courage of the imperial court and drown the city's nobles in terror.
He would kill Zhao Zhi not swiftly, but in despair.
For over twenty years, Zhao Zhi and his Demonic Sect had ravaged the land—destroying families, burning cities, slaughtering innocents. Even Li Qingqiu's own abandonment as a child had threads of cause that traced back to him. Killing Zhao Zhi wasn't merely vengeance—it was justice for the world itself.
If Zhao Zhi were slain quietly, no one would feel the weight of it. The world deserved to see him fall.
Li Qingqiu reached for the Tianhong Sword at his waist. Slowly, he drew it out. The blade gleamed with divine light, its brilliance cutting through the air.
He held it to his side, the sword tip angled downward like the curve of a crescent moon. The afterglow shimmered around him.
A Martial Enforcement Guard dashed across the rooftops, shattering tiles beneath his boots. With the speed of a soaring hawk, he leapt into the air, drawing his saber in mid-flight as he dove toward Li Qingqiu.
The moment he moved, the others followed. From every direction, Martial Enforcement Guards attacked, while the soldiers below began to form battle formations.
Li Qingqiu's form blurred. In the next instant, he vanished—then reappeared as a gust of violent wind rushing into the front lines.
With a thunderous crash, more than one hundred soldiers were sent flying. As his figure stabilized, waves of Martial Enforcement Guards surged toward him from all sides, countless as a river in flood.
The battle erupted.
Li Qingqiu swung his sword. The strike unleashed a wave of sword qi that tore through the air, slicing down the incoming Guards from every angle.
He kept walking forward.
Each sweep of his sword was death—each flash of light left bodies in pieces, their blood painting the street crimson.
Boom—!
A deafening explosion followed. A Martial Enforcement Guard shot through the air, his right leg wrapped in blazing fire, descending like a meteor. The ground split beneath his momentum.
Li Qingqiu tilted his body slightly, letting the attack pass harmlessly by. In the same breath, his sword pierced straight through the man's chest, driving him into the ground.
The impact shattered stone. Dust and fragments flew in every direction.
The Guard's mask cracked apart, revealing a face twisted with terror and disbelief.
Bones crunched beneath him. Blood poured from his mouth as his last breath escaped into the morning air.
Li Qingqiu didn't even glance at the fallen man. He simply stepped over the corpse and continued forward.
Enemies surged toward him from all directions, but Li Qingqiu's movements were graceful and fluid. With a slight shift of his body to either side, he evaded every strike, and each time he avoided an attack, his sword flashed in return.
By the time he passed, bodies lay scattered behind him, a trail of death marking his path.
The scene sent shockwaves through the surrounding soldiers. Those stationed atop the walls had the clearest view—their arms trembled as they tried to keep their bows steady, cold sweat streaming down their faces.
Li Qingqiu hadn't even used any spells—no talismans, no techniques, nothing but pure swordsmanship and movement. Yet even deep within the encirclement, he carried the overwhelming presence of a one-man army.
Stepping onto the long stone steps ahead, he drew closer and closer to the black-armored shield soldiers waiting at the end of the street. These were the so-called Divine Martial Soldiers—the hidden trump card of Zhao Zhi, the Emperor's personal army and his last line of defense.
Their armor was thick and heavy, their faces concealed beneath iron helms. Only their cold, killing eyes were visible, fixed unwaveringly on Li Qingqiu. There was no trace of fear within them, even before the slaughter that had just unfolded.
——
On the other side of the city, a Martial Enforcement Guard used his lightness skill to leap rapidly from rooftop to rooftop until he landed before the execution platform. In just a few steps, he reached the foot of the stage, cupped his fists, and shouted loudly, "Your Majesty! Li Qingqiu has breached the southern gate! He is advancing along Changle Street! Hundreds are already dead!"
A wave of uproar swept across the platform.
The gathered officials went pale in disbelief. None of them had expected Li Qingqiu's strength to be this terrifying. The thirty-six kneeling prisoners chained upon the stage slowly lifted their heads upon hearing the name.
At the far side of the square, imperial guards were bringing in more captives—some were captured officers of the Seven Provinces Allied Army, others wandering martial artists from across the land. When they heard the report, excitement spread through their ranks.
"Someone came to rescue us?"
"Li Qingqiu? That name sounds familiar…"
"Li Qingqiu is the Sect Master of Qingxiao Sect! The number one under heaven! Even the Sword Saint couldn't defeat him! If he's here, we might really have a chance!"
"The number one under heaven? Is he truly that powerful?"
"Did he come alone? Or did the entire Qingxiao Sect attack the city together?"
Their whispers turned into a rising murmur of hope. Even when the guards beside them lashed their backs with whips, they continued shouting, some laughing wildly, some cursing Zhao Zhi with venomous glee.
——
On the platform, Zhao Zhi's expression darkened until his face seemed carved from ice. His voice was low and cold. "Xuan Gong! Bring me his head!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Xuan Gong bowed deeply, turned, and departed at once.
Kneeling nearby, the old True Person Qingxiao finally began to recover his senses. After being imprisoned in the deepest dungeon for thirty years, he was not used to the sunlight; his eyes burned, unable to open fully. Only now did his sight and hearing begin to return.
And among the first words he heard—were "Qingxiao Sect."
He didn't know who this Li Qingqiu was, nor whether another sect bearing the same name existed in the world. But his heart stirred faintly, a trace of life returning to his dull eyes.
One of the court ministers approached Zhao Zhi cautiously and whispered, "Your Majesty, perhaps… it would be wise to relocate for safety?"
Zhao Zhi turned to glare at him. His gaze was so sharp, so full of malice, that the man instantly trembled and stumbled backward, falling to his knees.
"Number one under heaven?" Zhao Zhi hissed. "Ridiculous. I am the one who rules this world!"
His voice rose to a furious shout. Then he spun toward Immortal Master Jiang. "Immortal Master! I want more inner cores!"
Immortal Master Jiang frowned slightly and sighed. "So be it."
He drew a small white jade vial from his sleeve and tossed it toward the Emperor. As Zhao Zhi caught it greedily, Jiang turned his eyes toward the great black banner still burning atop the platform. His expression darkened—an unreadable look flickering beneath his calm surface.
——
Meanwhile, along both sides of Changle Street, more and more Martial Enforcement Guards leapt onto the rooftops, surrounding the long avenue from above. Their eyes fixed on the lone figure below—each filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Before their eyes, Li Qingqiu struck again. His sword cleaved through the thick black armor of a Divine Martial Soldier, cutting clean through the man's so-called indestructible body. The soldier's head flew from his shoulders, and streams of black blood spilled onto the ground, blooming like dark flowers in the dust.
The onlookers felt a chill crawl up their spines. The Divine Martial Soldiers—Zhao Zhi's ultimate warriors—had fallen in a single strike.
Before Li Qingqiu, whether they were Divine Martial Soldiers or Martial Enforcement Guards, there was no difference. No one could touch him. No one could withstand even one blow.
Amid the chaos of the wide street, Li Qingqiu's blue robe fluttered like a banner of its own, dazzling and unshakable. His steps never slowed. His aura alone overshadowed the entire army of Divine Martial Soldiers.
Even as more troops flooded from the distance, the Martial Enforcement Guards wavered. Their confidence crumbled, and dread gnawed at their hearts.
If even these elites felt terror, what hope did the ordinary soldiers have?
On the rooftop of a tall building ahead, a general clad in golden armor stood gripping his spear tightly. His face was pale, his eyes fixed on Li Qingqiu's advancing form.
He was Lin Xiao, commander of the imperial guards of Zhenyang City—a man once honored as the Martial Champion of the court. His strength was formidable, and he had seen his share of bloodshed in the Jianghu.
But never in all his years had he witnessed anyone like this.
Li Qingqiu's swordsmanship wasn't flashy. His moves were simple, even ordinary—but every stroke contained devastating power. What seemed light as wind could crush steel; what seemed effortless could slaughter armies.
For the first time in his life, the brave and battle-hardened Lin Xiao felt fear.
He didn't dare go down to stop Li Qingqiu.