After his rebirth, Song Qianji seldom truly lost his temper—unless someone uprooted the vegetables and flowers he had tenderly cultivated for a year, or crossed his bottom line.
The current situation fell into the latter category.
Song Qianji was not faring well. Although his Domain had been nourished by the Fountain of Immortality and the vitality of Huawai Mountain's flora, it had only recently taken form and was far from its peak state.
Absorbing so many powerful remnant souls at once had already exceeded the Domain's capacity.
But he didn't care. A shattered Domain could be rebuilt; injuries could be healed. At this moment, he had steeled his heart—there would be no peaceful resolution tonight.
"What are you afraid of?" Song Qianji smiled at the trembling Yuan Qingshi. "Is a living man like me more terrifying than a horde of the dead?"
Black death energy converged into waves, surging toward Song Qianji and clashing with the golden light radiating from him. Yet, it was continuously absorbed, forming a massive whirlwind.
The outer layer was filled with eerie winds and ghostly wails, while the inner layer glowed with brilliant golden light, bursting with vitality.
Under the immense impact, the "Huawai City" illusion teetered on the verge of collapse.
Yuan Qingshi had believed death was inevitable—that Song Qianji would surely kill him first to vent his fury when breaking the siege.
But then he heard Song Qianji say, "Go. Return and tell your master that I am coming to pay a visit to your sect."
Yuan Qingshi hurriedly fled several yards before he couldn't resist looking back.
Song Qianji stood at the center of light and darkness, his expression calm, but his eyes seemed to have crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, as if he were seeking lives with a sword in hand.
He resembled both a deity and a demon.
That single glance terrified Yuan Qingshi, making his heart race, and he dared not look again.
Spreading his palm, Song Qianji summoned a miniature carving in the shape of Huawai City and shouted, "Break!"
The surrounding scenery instantly shattered into fragments, revealing the true sky as it was.
The east had already begun to pale, with a few sparse stars hanging in the still-dark western night—it was dawn.
A green sword light stumbled and staggered as it rushed toward the Huawai Sect.
...
Incense smoke drifted through the ancestral hall.
The stacked spirit tablets of past elders emitted a dim red glow, like the widened eyes of ferocious beasts in the night, watching everyone in the hall from all directions.
"I hope there are fewer losses this time," someone lamented regretfully. "Ah, why use a butcher's knife to kill a chicken! No matter how capable he is, he's only at the early Nascent Soul stage."
Other Peak Lords echoed in agreement.
"That's where you're wrong!" Zhao Taiji retorted. "To kill a chicken, one must use a butcher's knife—to eliminate the threat once and for all."
The remnant souls of ancestors were a precious resource. If depleted, they could still return to their spirit tablets to be nourished by incense offerings and gradually recover.
But if their souls were completely scattered, they could not be regenerated.
As for whether they could kill Song Qianji, they had no doubts—they only regretted the cost of this endeavor.
Only Xu Yun remained silent, frowning slightly.
The night deepened, and the cold water clock dripped, its sound urging haste.
He gazed at the faintly brightening sky outside the window, an ominous premonition lingering in his heart, refusing to fade.
Qingshi was always reliable—why hadn't he returned yet?
"Disaster! It's gone out!" someone suddenly cried out in alarm. "Master's spirit tablet has gone dark!"
Zhao Taiji shuddered, then sneered, "See? I told you this kid is truly formidable. Without a butcher's knife, how could we kill him?"
But with the two trump cards of "Floating City" and "Wraiths" backing him, he remained confident and unperturbed.
Before his words faded, the dim light from the wall of spirit tablets flickered uncontrollably, like candle flames in a raging wind!
"What's happening?!"
The Peak Lords of the Huawai Sect paled in horror.
"Master!" A panicked cry rang out as Yuan Qingshi stumbled into the ancestral hall, his eyes wide with terror, babbling incoherently: "Song Qianji—he's coming! He's coming to kill us all!"In a disbelieving silence, a crisp cracking sound rang out.
Everyone watched as countless spirit tablets cracked, collapsed, and rapidly turned to dust.
The ancestral hall was emptied in the blink of an eye.
For a moment, Xu Yun doubted whether he was hallucinating or having a nightmare.
"The ancestral foundation, the ancestral foundation!" He stood frozen, as if witnessing Mount Huawel collapsing in an earthquake. "Gone, all gone..."
One cannot stop the wind and smoke from fading, just as one cannot halt the passage of time or the changing of eras.
The dust scattered with the wind, vanishing without a trace.
Only an empty altar table remained.
It was as if a giant hand had gently wiped away the weathered history since the sect's founding and the painstaking efforts passed down through generations of ancestors.
"Ah—" Zhao Taiji roared in fury, "How dare you, you brat!"
Amid their extreme rage, the crowd felt a faint trace of fear: Even this couldn't kill Song Qianji? Could this man be immortal?
Not only did he survive, but instead of seizing the chance to flee, he dared to destroy the remnant souls and now comes sword in hand to storm our mountain gate?!
Is he insane?
"Stand up!" Xu Yun turned and barked at his young disciple, "Get up now!"
Yuan Qingshi hurriedly steadied himself against the wall. "Song Qianji isn't human! I saw with my own eyes—he can absorb remnant souls!"
Xu Yun slammed his palm down, shattering the altar table. "Human or not, he destroyed our ancestral hall. A hundred Thousand Canals wouldn't be enough to repay this debt."
This was the first time Yuan Qingshi had seen his master so unhinged, jolting him back to sobriety.
Xu Yun's voice turned grave. "Relay my command: Summon all Nascent Soul elders in the sect. Except those traveling, in seclusion, or recuperating—all must assemble at Cosmos Palace!"
"Yes, Master!" Though Yuan Qingshi knew it wasn't the time for battle, seeing the Peak Lords' bloodshot eyes and bristling fury left him no choice but to comply.
After failing his breakthrough to the Transformation Stage and failing to find the necessary remedies, Xu Yun had lived in seclusion, rarely taking action personally.
But witnessing the destruction of their ancestral foundation with his own eyes tonight drove him past all restraint.
The bell tolled faster and louder, echoing across Mount Huawel to signal the sect's peril.
Birds scattered in alarm; beasts roared in panic.
Just yesterday, the bell had rung for celebration; today, it rang for war. Every sect member wore grave expressions, their hearts uneasy.
The peaks trembled as streaks of light shot skyward, piercing the pre-dawn darkness and converging toward Cosmos Palace.
...
Song Qianji watched Yuan Qingshi's sword light fade into the distance, soon finding his vision clouded by a crimson haze, obscuring all sight.
Amid the black tide, piercing wails, eerie laughter, and shrieks threatened to rupture his eardrums.
The "death energy" swept through like a plague of locusts, flattening the golden wheat fields under repeated assaults.
The luster dimmed, leaving a ravaged wasteland stripped bare of all grain.
Though prepared to sacrifice his Domain, Song Qianji still felt a pang of heartache.
"Oh dear, you're bleeding."
Just then, he heard a voice—deliberately exaggerated and utterly irritating.
"Who are you?!" Blood streamed from Song Qianji's seven orifices, his senses overwhelmed by pain, yet his aura loomed like a descending deity or demon.
He couldn't make out the speaker's face, only glimpsed a tall figure striding steadily through the black waves and golden light to stand before him.
"Just passing by." The man circled him. "Enough. Stop now."
Agitated by the death energy, Song Qianji bristled. Yuan Qingshi just left, and now you happen to be passing by?
Of all paths, you had to take this one?
You all can act freely, yet you demand I stop first?
"You're from Huawel Sect!"
The man chuckled. "I used to be, in a way."Song Qianji roared furiously, "Get out of my way!"
The person uttered another sentence. Song Qianji couldn't make out the words clearly, but judging by the tone and his experience, it was likely a curse directed at him.
Then he heard laughter and incantations.
Cryptic spells, punctuated in rhythms of two, three, or four characters, flowed continuously from the speaker's mouth, transforming into white butterflies one after another.
Amidst the struggle between life and death, a swarm of ethereal butterflies suddenly appeared, dancing gracefully and encircling Song Qianji.
It was too abrupt—just like the person who had suddenly appeared here.
The butterflies pierced through the heart of the storm, attaching to different souls as if lightly alighting on flower petals.
The black remnant souls trembled violently, rapidly "fading" from black to white.
Golden light broke free from its restraints, the Fountain of Immortality erupted with vitality, and Song Qianji's pressure instantly vanished.
What kind of bizarre incantation is this, capable of suppressing remnant souls thick with deathly energy? In my previous life, I roamed the world freely, yet I've never heard of such a thing.
The person chanted thousands of characters in one breath, concluding with the verse: "Souls return, oh, the departed come home."
Song Qianji saw only a pale fingertip piercing through the golden light, aiming for the space between his eyebrows.
He sensed no malice, yet unwilling to be touched by this mysterious figure, he abruptly tilted his head to evade.
Simultaneously, he thrust his sword forward—not to injure, but to force the person to retract their finger.
His sword struck empty air.
The person let out a soft "Huh?" as their finger was forced to change direction, still grazing his brow bone.
It was a light touch, yet it left a faint red mark.
A burning sensation spread from his brow bone, causing Song Qianji to shudder violently.
In the blink of an eye, the figure before him vanished.
He had returned to his own Domain.
Across the ravaged golden wheat fields, clusters of white light danced among the wheat ears, illuminating the remnants of the crops.
No trace of deathly energy or resentment remained.
So, the "butterflies" were not incantations—they were the names of the remnant souls from their past lives.
"I know who you are," Song Qianji murmured, touching his brow bone.
You recited hundreds of names—why didn't you leave your own?
Because your name is the greatest taboo in all the world.
...
Before the Cosmos Palace, hundreds of Nascent Soul cultivators stood solemn and ready, their robes fluttering in the dawn wind that swept through the mist.
Xu Yun emerged from the hall carrying the long-sealed Mountain-Suppressing Sword, cradling it in his hands.
The five Peak Lords followed closely behind.
Today was a momentous day for the Huawel Sect.
As they approached the palace threshold, they suddenly halted in unison, their expressions shifting.
"Sect Leader... there, there's a line of writing there," someone pointed out, voice trembling. "It looks familiar."
In such a brief moment, who could have left writing in the Cosmos Palace without any of them noticing?
The Peak Lords' blazing fury was doused as if by cold water, leaving only wisps of steam rising.
They dared not advance further, as if the words were man-eating demons.
"Could it be that person?" Xu Yun asked gravely.
"...Yes."
Xu Yun commanded, "Read it aloud!"
The Mountain-Suppressing Sword could dispel all illusions, yet while holding it, he could not see what was written on the ground.
Zhao Taiji took a deep breath and recited in a low voice, "Two hundred years apart, I wonder how you all have been lately. I know everyone misses me dearly..."
Xu Yun thought inwardly, "Who exactly misses you? We all wish you were dead!"
"But I can't be bothered to see you," Zhao Taiji continued.
The words were written with a finger dipped in liquor, accompanied by a few fingerprints, crooked and twisted like a child's careless scribbles:"That kid is at least my nominal disciple. Your attempt to kill him damages my reputation. As long as I'm alive, he shall not die."
Xu Yun gripped the Mountain-Suppressing Sword, breathing heavily as sudden courage surged within him.
He raised his hand and brought the sword down in a fierce slash!
"More words appeared!" someone exclaimed.
Zhao Taiji leaned closer to examine them: "Knew you'd draw your sword. No time for lengthy explanations - we'll meet again if fate allows—"
Xu Yun suddenly shouted: "Stop reading!"
But even as he spoke, Zhao Taiji had already subconsciously read the continuously appearing text aloud:
"Personally inscribed by Xian Jianchen."
He jolted awake in alarm, hastily raising his sword to erect a protective barrier.
Too late.
"BOOM—"
All candles in the hall extinguished at once.
The sea of clouds churned violently as thunder roared angrily!
A bolt of lightning struck down fiercely, crashing through the Cosmos Palace's roof.
Candles snuffed out, bricks cracked, colored glaze shattered.
The great hall collapsed.
The sword energy, triggered by the three characters "Xian Jianchen," ignored all of Huawel Sect's protective formations and instantly razed the entire Cosmos Palace to the ground.
In the blink of an eye, the Fleeting Water Bridge crumbled with a tremendous crash, the sea of clouds fractured, and the five-colored carp dissolved into bloody water.
Cultivators preparing for expedition scrambled to escape via Sword Kinesis Flight, their formations completely broken.
Sword beams zigzagged erratically through the air as practitioners desperately dodged the crisscrossing sword energy, many being struck down from the sky intermittently.
Before the Cosmos Palace, heaven and earth turned upside down.
When Xian Jianchen left his name, he had casually left behind a strand of sword energy.
Had Xu Yun not drawn his sword, Zhao Taiji wouldn't have read the name aloud.
The sword energy upon the name wouldn't have been activated, nor would the lightning have struck the hall's roof.
Above Huawai Mountain, obscured by layers of dust and smoke, a sword shadow flashed past, barely noticeable.
"Still so foolish." The person on the sword chuckled lightly, tossing down an empty wine gourd.
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