Changle Street stretched for several li, ending at a towering inner wall nearly five zhang high. Atop that wall stood Xuan Gong, his robes fluttering faintly as he gazed far into the distance. Beneath his mask, his eyes were filled with a complex emotion.
"Li Qingqiu… what exactly are you? Can what you wield still be called martial arts?"
As he thought back to the techniques Immortal Master Jiang had displayed the day before, a wave of bitter defeat washed over him.
Nearly two hundred years of accumulation—and still no match for another man's mere few decades of fortune. Though it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, the blow never got any softer.
He knew he couldn't stop Li Qingqiu. Nor did he intend to die for Zhao Zhi. In truth, he almost wished the Emperor would die.
But he was still deeply dissatisfied with how things had turned out. It was all Zhao Zhi's fault—his greed for the elixir of immortality had stripped away what little reason he had left.
Xuan Gong cast one last deep look toward Li Qingqiu, then turned and leapt down from the city wall.
Li Qingqiu looked up, his gaze sweeping across the distance for just an instant before he continued forward. His stride quickened, and so did his blade.
Sword light flashed endlessly along Changle Street. More and more Divine Martial Soldiers fell, one after another. On the rooftops flanking the street, the Martial Enforcement Guards shadowed his movements, but none dared leap down to face him.
The Divine Martial Soldiers were monsters—creations of war that knew neither pain nor fear. But the Martial Enforcement Guards were different. Even after consuming the Martial God Pills and Yin Ghost Pills, they still retained human will.
And when faced with something that could not be resisted, humans could not help but feel fear.
——
Outside the southern gate.
The group of martial artists noticed that the soldiers atop the walls were all facing away from them. Taking advantage of the distraction, they crept forward quietly until they reached the gates. Peering through the crack, what they saw froze them in place.
The long stretch of Changle Street beyond the gate was littered with corpses—so densely packed that the ground seemed made of bodies. The sight made their scalps tingle.
They all thought of the same person—Li Qingqiu.
He looked so scholarly, so mild-mannered… yet he was this terrifying?
He hadn't even been inside for long, and already so many were dead. Even though all those corpses belonged to people they despised, the sheer brutality still made their hearts tremble.
"Wait," murmured an elderly martial artist. "Soon the Emperor will call for every soldier in the city. That will be our moment."
The others nodded in agreement. Though the ground inside was covered with bodies, there were still many imperial soldiers near the gate. If they forced their way in now, they'd be shredded into mince.
A swordsman with a heavy blade across his back sighed softly. "Perhaps, after today… the heavens over Great Li will finally change."
The others straightened, eyes gleaming with determination.
Whatever became of the world after, they all shared the same wish—let the Emperor Zhao Zhi die, and die soon.
——
At the center of the imperial city, silence had fallen over the great square. The prisoners who had once been noisy and defiant now stared in horror toward the execution platform.
To be precise—their eyes were all fixed on a single man.
The Emperor, Zhao Zhi.
His imperial robe billowed violently, his entire body wrapped in streams of dark, sinister energy. Above his head hovered a massive ghostly apparition nearly three zhang tall. The specter was humanoid in shape, but its body was jet-black, its arms like blades, and a pair of twisted horns sprouted from its skull.
The people of the world all believed in ghosts and gods, but few had truly seen one. Even in broad daylight, the sight of a spirit was enough to make the bravest man shiver. And this ghost—so enormous and dreadful—struck fear straight into the bones of everyone who beheld it.
True Person Qingxiao and the other bound prisoners on the platform were no exception. Their faces were blank, eyes wide with terror.
Zhao Zhi spread his arms wide, his expression filled with obsession and delight. He inhaled deeply and whispered, "This feeling… yes, this is it. The feeling of absolute power."
Not a single minister dared approach him. All thoughts of flattery or loyalty had vanished from their minds.
Boom!
From the south came a thunderous explosion, shaking the square. Heads turned instinctively toward the sound. In the distance, buildings collapsed one after another, clouds of dust rising high.
Dozens of Divine Martial Soldiers and Martial Enforcement Guards were hurled into the air as if struck by a colossal force. It was as though some unstoppable beast had crashed through the city, leaving chaos in its wake. The sight made everyone's hearts quake.
True Person Qingxiao tilted his head slightly, eyes wide with shock.
"Roar—!"
A powerful tiger's roar ripped through the air, reverberating across the entire capital. From the swirling dust burst forth a colossal silver tiger, its shoulders over three zhang tall, its body gleaming with faint silver light. Its presence was overwhelming, divine, and awe-inspiring.
Behind the tiger strode a lone man through the rubble—Li Qingqiu.
The Divine Curse of the Mountain Lord!
Though his mastery of the Divine Curse wasn't deep, the vastness of his vital energy made up for it completely.
"Zhao Zhi," Li Qingqiu's voice carried through the air, calm yet thunderous. "Your death has come."
His words rang clearly in every ear.
The prisoners burst into excitement, shouting uncontrollably. The silver tiger beside him looked like a divine beast, its aura no weaker than the massive ghost above Zhao Zhi's head. Hope flared in their hearts, burning away their despair.
"Is that… a real tiger?"
"No—it's not flesh and blood!"
"By the heavens… is that martial arts? Or some immortal spell?"
"There's no way that's just martial arts! Even ghosts have appeared already!"
"That must be him—the Sect Master of Qingxiao Sect, Li Qingqiu!"
As the prisoners chattered in astonishment, True Person Qingxiao too turned his gaze toward Li Qingqiu. He didn't know the young man, and his eyes dimmed with uncertainty.
Zhao Zhi, standing upon the high platform, also fixed his gaze on Li Qingqiu. It was their first time meeting face to face—and Li Qingqiu was far younger than he had imagined.
Though he was surprised by the manifestation of the Mountain Lord's Curse, excitement quickly replaced his shock. The stronger Li Qingqiu was, the more thrilling this confrontation would be.
"Li Qingqiu!" Zhao Zhi took a step forward, his voice booming. "Why do you insist on defying me?"
As he spoke, the ghostly energy around him surged outward like a storm, and murderous intent gathered thick between his brows.
"Slaughtering the people, treating human lives as weeds—and you still dare to ask why? Zhao Zhi, lift your neck straight. The Tianhong Sword in my hand is about to take your dog head."
Li Qingqiu's voice rang cold and sharp through the square, his words slicing through the air like the blade he carried. The prisoners below the stage trembled with excitement at his defiant tone.
"Tianhong Sword…"
True Person Qingxiao suddenly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Li Qingqiu, and tears glimmered faintly at the corners of his reddened eyes.
Zhao Zhi's face twisted with rage at the taunt. His expression turned hideous. With a violent sweep of his sleeve, the massive ghost above him let out a piercing roar and lunged toward Li Qingqiu.
As the enormous specter surged forward, the silver tiger behind Li Qingqiu reared its head and roared back, leaping into the air to meet it head-on.
The entire square went silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the clash.
In midair, the ghost's claws slashed downward while the tiger's massive paw swung upward. The impact exploded like thunder—and in the next instant, the enormous ghost was torn apart, its black form scattering into wisps of vapor.
The silver tiger landed heavily, kicking up a storm of dust and shattered stone. It shook its head once, then charged toward the platform with terrifying momentum.
Zhao Zhi's expression changed drastically. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the stage. With both palms thrust outward, torrents of ghostly energy erupted from his hands, forming a violent gale that ripped the silver tiger apart into white mist.
As the mist dissipated, Zhao Zhi lowered his hands and gave a mocking smile. "Li Qingqiu, my power has reached a thousand years. In this world, none can rival me. What tricks do you have left?"
Li Qingqiu said nothing. His pace only quickened—each step faster than the last.
Zhao Zhi raised his right arm, palm facing upward. With a sudden clench of his hand, the ground before him cracked apart with a deafening roar. The fissure spread rapidly, tearing a line straight toward Li Qingqiu.
Li Qingqiu didn't stop. Stepping into the splitting earth, he summoned a visible barrier of energy before him, forcing his way forward through the violent pressure.
Zhao Zhi's pupils shrank. He pulled his arm back, then thrust both hands forward with full strength. The ground exploded, shattering completely as countless slabs of rock and earth were hurled into the air, crashing down in a storm of destruction toward Li Qingqiu.
The entire plaza trembled. Even the most battle-hardened martial artists among the onlookers paled in terror.
What terrifying power was this?
Could it truly be the strength of a thousand years of cultivation?
Before anyone could even finish the thought, a blinding flash of sword light split the chaos apart. Zhao Zhi's eyes widened instinctively.
Before him, Li Qingqiu's Tianhong Sword pierced through the flying stones, cutting through the hurricane winds like a divine arrow, streaking straight toward him.
Zhao Zhi's face went white with shock. He raised his hand in a desperate attempt to block.
Puchi—!
The blade punched clean through his palm, blood spraying into the air. The sword continued forward, pressing against his throat and forcing him backward.
It all happened too fast.
In the eyes of the crowd, Zhao Zhi had only just shattered the ground with his immense power when Li Qingqiu flashed forward—his sword piercing through stone and air alike—until he stood right before the Emperor.
The entire sequence lasted less than two breaths.
Too fast. Far too fast for anyone to even think.
Li Qingqiu's eyes were like cold steel. With one swift stroke, he severed Zhao Zhi's right arm. Then he drew back his sword and raised his leg.
Zhao Zhi barely felt the pain of his missing limb. As he staggered backward, instinct drove him to brace himself with his remaining hand—but Li Qingqiu's foot slammed down on his chest before he could react.
Boom!
The stone platform shook violently, spiderweb cracks spreading out beneath them—reaching even to the feet of the trembling ministers and prisoners. Zhao Zhi's eyes bulged wide as a mouthful of dark blood sprayed from his lips.
Li Qingqiu pressed his foot firmly on Zhao Zhi's chest. His right hand lifted the Tianhong Sword and dragged the tip across the air until it rested at the Emperor's throat.
The entire world fell silent.
Immortal Master Jiang stared in shock, his mouth hanging open.
Zhao Zhi—defeated?
When Zhao Zhi had displayed the strength of a thousand years, everyone had been terrified. None imagined that even with such power, he would fall so easily before Li Qingqiu.
Li Qingqiu tilted his chin slightly, looking down at the broken Emperor beneath him. "A thousand years of power, and yet not even one-tenth of it truly your own. You can't wield what you've stolen. You're nothing but trash."
Zhao Zhi could no longer summon his fury. The tip of the Tianhong Sword pressed against his throat, and the cold edge carried with it the unmistakable scent of death.
He had never felt it so close before.
"You…"
He tried to speak, but when his eyes met Li Qingqiu's, sheer terror gripped him. His body trembled violently as he turned his head away and shouted toward the distance, "Protect me! Come, protect your Emperor!"
The Martial Enforcement Guards snapped from their daze, drawing their blades and charging toward Li Qingqiu.
Li Qingqiu's right hand suddenly released the hilt. The Tianhong Sword moved as if driven by an invisible force, thrusting downward in one decisive motion.
The blade pierced straight through Zhao Zhi's throat, cutting off his final cry.
"Ugh—ah…"
Zhao Zhi's remaining hand grabbed desperately at the sword's edge, trying to pull it free, but it didn't budge an inch. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling endlessly, drowning his sight in red.
Li Qingqiu ignored the approaching guards. He leaned forward, gripped the sword hilt once more, and with a single flick of his wrist—
The Emperor's head was severed cleanly from his body.
It rolled across the platform, thudding dully against the stone again and again, until it stopped at the edge.
The charging guards froze, their faces pale, disbelief written all over them.
Li Qingqiu raised his sword, his cold gaze sweeping toward Immortal Master Jiang. "You call yourself a Immortal Master, claiming to know the secrets of immortality. Tell me—if I cut off your head as well, will you still live forever?"
Immortal Master Jiang staggered backward, his expression twisting in horror and disbelief. His voice trembled as he stammered, "You… you're a cultivator?"