Love and Crown

November 13th. After challenging the Four Great Manors, Chen Luomo, the leader of the Azure Jade Sect, proposed to both Shaolin and Wudang sects that the Central Plains Martial World, long fragmented, should swiftly elect a faction to oversee affairs and unite all sects under a martial alliance leader.

His words carried strong implications of the Azure Jade Sect's ambition to dominate the Central Plains Martial World. Once spread, they immediately caused an uproar.

November 14th. Apart from Shaolin and Wudang, the leaders of all orthodox sects gathered overnight at the foremost of the Four Great Manors—Suzhou's Flowing Cloud Manor—for urgent discussions.

November 15th. Tiger Hill, Suzhou.

As noon approached, Tiger Hill gradually grew bustling.

Disciples and followers from various sects arrived in large numbers, along with many independent martial artists attending the gathering. The crowd stretched all the way from the Thousand Men Rock to the Sword-Testing Stone below.

Beyond the Thousand Men Rock lay the Sword Pool. In the small pavilion beside it, Shaolin's abbot Xuezhen Dashi and Wudang's leader Qiu Sheng Daoren had already arrived and were chatting leisurely. Also present in the pavilion were representatives from the Four Great Manors who had arrived earlier.

Yet the Azure Jade Sect, which had issued the challenge, remained conspicuously absent.

The weather was far from ideal. The overcast sky threatened rain at any moment, and a chilly autumn wind blew in intermittent gusts.

A few bold vendors, spotting a business opportunity, seized the moment to peddle their wares. Among them was an umbrella seller weaving through the crowd.

"Young man, let me see your umbrellas," called a young woman who had just ascended the hill, biting into a roasted sweet potato as she hailed the vendor.

Eager for a sale, the vendor hurried over and displayed his wares. "Of course, miss. Take your pick."

Holding the sweet potato in her mouth, the girl swiftly sifted through the umbrellas with both hands, mumbling something unintelligible. Before the vendor could react, she had already pulled out a pale yellow umbrella, snapped it open with a pop , and taken a big bite of her sweet potato. Returning the golden treat to her hand, she freed her mouth to shake her head. "The brushwork is terrible!"

Only then did the vendor realize her earlier mutter had likely been: "The colors are so tacky…"

Used to picky customers, the vendor forced a smile and held up three fingers. "Young lady, this umbrella costs just thirty coins. If you compare it to Flowing Jade Workshop's three-tael purple bamboo umbrellas with thirty-six ribs, of course it falls short—"

"I wasn't comparing it to those," the girl scoffed. "Those three-tael umbrellas Flowing Jade Workshop ships to the capital every year are only slightly less hideous than yours."

Stunned by her audacity, the vendor was about to tease her when she suddenly turned and beamed at the Blue Gown-clad young man standing behind her, whose hand she had been clutching all along. "Brother Xiao, paint me an umbrella cover!"

The vendor nearly choked. As if anyone could just paint one!

Sure enough, the young gentleman chuckled gently. "My painting skills are no match for Flowing Jade Workshop's artisans."

"I don't care. I want you to paint one for me. And while you're at it, you might as well paint a kite, a screen, or some beams and pillars too," the girl declared airily, her bright eyes twinkling with mischief. "Since you're staying at my place, you can paint for a month or two!"

The vendor was speechless. This girl has no sense of propriety—and she's being this blatant! He couldn't help sizing up the Blue Gown scholar. So refined and cultured… What a pity to be ensnared like this. Amused by the girl's words, the young gentleman shook his head with a smile. "You might as well ask me to paint a grand scroll of ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers for you. That way, I'd have to stay at your house for years..."

"Ah, but kites, screens, and beams are things you see and use every day. What's the use of some grand scroll except to show it off every ten or twenty years? I'm not asking you to paint something lifeless—see how much I value you!" Laughing and chattering, the girl had already raised the paper umbrella in her hand high above his head. "Looks like it's about to rain. You're still not well—you mustn't get soaked again."

Her words were quick, but her hands were quicker. In the blink of an eye, she had pressed three small silver coins into the vendor's palm. "Listen, your umbrellas might not be as flashy as those from Liuyu Workshop, but the frames are much better. Those famous brands aren't necessarily all that great!"

Was that a compliment? Before the vendor could gather his thoughts, the girl in pink and green had already walked off, swinging the newly bought paper umbrella painted with osmanthus blossoms without bothering to close it. She had slipped her free hand out from under the arm of the green-robed gentleman and was nibbling on a sweet potato, head bowed.

The silver coins in his palm felt cool and smooth. The vendor tucked the sweat-dampened coins into his pouch and thought to himself, This girl might be a bit eccentric, but she's actually quite nice...

The crowd grew thicker, and soon the vendor lost sight of them. Only a glimpse of an open, pale-yellow paper umbrella could be seen drifting through the flow of people heading toward Tiger Hill.

At the foot of the pavilion, near the edge of Tiger Hill's great rock, a sudden commotion arose. A green-robed young man had appeared out of nowhere, standing atop the massive boulder.

Bowing courteously to the crowd, the young man smiled faintly. "I dare to make an impertinent request. I wish to represent the Four Great Manors in facing the Azure Jade Sect. What do you esteemed seniors think of this proposal?"

The words were audacious, to say the least. Not only was he an unknown newcomer to the Martial World, but even a long-renowned hero would be seen as disrespectful to the Four Great Manors for meddling in their affairs without invitation.

Then, someone suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't that Xiao Yuncong? The one who defeated Wen Yuxian and claimed the title of the world's finest swordsman!"

With a light chuckle, he raised the Overcoming Evil Sword in his hand to his chest. "Indeed, it is this humble one."

Suddenly, a white-clad swordsman appeared atop Tiger Hill's great rock.

Like a shadow, he materialized on the boulder, his gaze fixed on the pitch-black longsword in his hand.

He was no longer young, yet not old either. His face bore the indelible marks of time, but his eyes still held the bright innocence of youth.

His expression was detached, as if the weapon in his hand had been picked up casually—merely serviceable enough to use. Yet within that extreme indifference lay an unspeakable sorrow, like a wanderer of the Martial World who, amidst the bustling streets, catches sight of a lover once sworn to life and death now leading a child by the hand, unable to tear his gaze away.

"I heard you defeated Wen Yuxian," the white-clad swordsman finally spoke, lifting his head to look at Xiao Huan before him.

"Only by a single stroke," Xiao Huan replied with a faint smile."One move is enough." The white-clad swordsman spoke softly as he raised his longsword before his eyes. "I am Xia Chenxue of the Wind Flash Sect. I’ve always wanted to defeat Wen Yuxian. But since you’ve already bested him, defeating you will serve the same purpose."

His words were light, fading into a sigh-like whisper. In that instant, his inky-black sword came alive—a stroke of ink like withered branches blotting out the bright moon.

Xia Chenxue, the leader of the Wind Flash Sect, was fast. If one were to consult the infamous weapon rankings compiled by idle gossipers, Xia Chenxue’s Shu Fen Sword would undoubtedly rank within the top ten. Martial World elders praised his swordplay as divine, majestic, and breathtakingly perilous. But the true reason for such lavish praise might simply be that none of them could actually see his blade in motion.

Now, this sword—so swift its shadow could scarcely be caught—thrust straight toward Xiao Huan. A single, unembellished lunge, devoid of feints or follow-ups. Did Xia Chenxue have the confidence to alter his strike mid-motion at such speed? Or was this killing blow so absolute that no contingency was necessary?

No one could say, for the moment the sword reached Xiao Huan, it was gently pinched between two fingers. Against the biting Sword Energy, those pale, slender fingers clamped onto the dark blade.

Xia Chenxue nodded. "Impressive." He withdrew his sword, a flash of white light cutting through the air—yet the inky-black portion remained firmly trapped between Xiao Huan’s fingers.

It turned out Xia Chenxue’s sword was dual-layered, and this white blade was the true form of the Shu Fen Sword .

Narrower than an ordinary sword, the white blade grew even more slender once freed from its black sheath, its weight significantly reduced. Xia Chenxue’s swordplay shifted accordingly—if his earlier style had been ingenious, it now turned eerie. The white blade flickered unpredictably, unleashing a relentless flurry of strikes like a storm of steel.

Xia Chenxue had perfected the ruthless precision of a narrow sword. Every thrust came from angles one could never anticipate, weaving an impenetrable net of lethal strikes bearing down on Xiao Huan with overwhelming force.

A few specks of fluorescent light flickered in the air, as if a firefly had drifted lazily past. The crisp clang of metal against metal rang out, clear and melodious. As the echoes faded and the glow dimmed, Xiao Huan smiled. "The Shu Fen Sword of Jiangnan lives up to its reputation. Sect Leader Xia’s single move consisted of precisely twenty-eight strikes." What had seemed like a torrential downpour of attacks was, in truth, just one technique.

Xia Chenxue silently sheathed his sword and took a step back. Though he smiled, his voice carried an unmistakable hoarseness. "Indeed, one move was enough. Young Master Xiao’s skill surpasses mine. I am humbled."

With that, he turned and left—vanishing as abruptly as he had appeared.

The crowd below the rock stood in stunned silence, whether cowed by the sudden ferocity of the sword’s aura or still reeling from the brief yet heart-stopping duel.

Slow, deliberate applause broke the quiet. "Truly spectacular."

The speaker was a middle-aged man stepping leisurely onto the boulder from the pavilion. His face was lean, yet as he walked forward, the clamor of the crowd gradually stilled into absolute silence.

Qin Shiyue, master of Liuyun Manor in Suzhou—foremost among the Four Great Manors of Jiangnan.In the Martial World, there had always been a saying: if the Four Great Manors claimed second place in palm techniques, then no one dared claim first.

The prestigious Four Great Manors were renowned for their unique and unparalleled palm techniques. Among them, Qin Shiyue, the master of Flowing Clouds Manor, was famed for his Coiling Dragon Flowing Clouds Palm—the only martial art, aside from Wen Yuxian’s swordsmanship, revered as the pinnacle of the southern Martial World.

Xiao Huan raised his hand, offering a casual yet respectful salute, the faint smile never leaving his lips. "Master Qin, your reputation precedes you."

Qin Shiyue stood motionless at the center of the great stone slab, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. "Since you’re representing the Four Great Manors, shall we test your skill?"

With those indifferent words, faint dust began to stir around him. As if swept by an invisible wind, the fallen leaves on the stone slab shifted slowly at first, then faster and faster. The swirling leaves carved deep grooves into the smooth surface, arranging themselves in spiraling patterns.

A barely audible snap —a single yellow leaf caught between two adjacent gaps split cleanly in half before being swept into the wind.

In that instant, an invisible surge of energy erupted. Qin Shiyue slowly extended a palm strike—a textbook-perfect move, utterly unremarkable in form.

Yet, what followed was a storm of intangible, colorless dust.

In the blink of an eye, it blotted out the sky, leaving nothing but a suffocating, coiling mist that seemed to blind the heavens themselves.

A terrifying pressure descended, sinuous as a dragon, twisting and surging forward.

The energy grew denser, fiercer—like the wrath of a celestial deity, or an ancient divine beast riding the winds, its mournful howls laced with an eerie gentleness.

That was the dragon—born where the crimson sun first rose, forged where the golden crow perished, its scales gleaming like blades, its five claws sharp as swords, its body unfurling like the clouds that draped the sky.

The gale intensified. A single strand of hair, torn loose from Xiao Huan’s topknot, grazed the whirlwind and was instantly pulverized.

In that fleeting moment—shorter than the flash of lightning—the True energy surged toward Xiao Huan’s brow. The formless winds that filled the heavens and earth merged into one.

And Xiao Huan struck back.

A simple, unadorned palm met the attack head-on. No flourish, no technique—nothing else mattered in this instant.

Their palms collided, and countless leaves shattered into dust.

Amid the violent clash of True energy, the figure in cyan robes stood firm against the wind, neither retreating nor yielding.

Their duel might not have lasted long, yet to all who witnessed it, it felt like an eternity.

Then—like lightning—Xiao Huan’s palm struck true, landing squarely on Qin Shiyue’s own. With a slight misstep, Qin Shiyue, who had been forced back again and again, now stood at the very edge of the Thousand-Man Stone.

In any duel, there was an unspoken rule: the one forced off the stage was the loser.

Qin Shiyue made no further move to retaliate. He simply stood at the precipice, eyes slightly narrowed, hands hanging limply, motionless.

After a long silence, he raised his hands in a salute. "A humbling defeat."

Almost simultaneously, the crowd below exhaled a collective breath they hadn’t realized they were holding. Only then did it dawn on them—Qin Shiyue, master of Flowing Clouds Manor… had lost!

Stepping back, Xiao Huan returned the salute with a smile. "You honor me."

Qin Shiyue no longer looked at him. Instead, he turned to face the crowd below. "My skills fall short. This battle shall be fought by this young master Xiao, representing the Four Great Manors against the Azure Jade Sect."He turned and descended the high platform, his steps as slow and dignified as before, yet the slightly hunched figure carried an added touch of desolation.

Only then did scattered gasps of astonishment slowly rise from the crowd. Though rumors had long circulated about a young man named Xiao Yuncong breaking Wen Yuxian's sword technique, that earth-shattering duel had been witnessed by none. Today, however, countless eyes had watched Qin Shiyue fall to this man's hand.

Yet no matter how formidable this young man's martial skills might be, his public defeat of Qin Shiyue had dealt a severe blow to the dignity of the Four Great Manors. Whether or not he could stand against the Azure Jade Sect in their stead, he would now be an enemy of the Four Great Manors.

Why had he stepped forward? Could this dazzling young warrior have acted merely for fleeting glory?

"Brother Xiao, you won... that's wonderful!" Cang Cang, who had been watching with bated breath, cried out and made to rush forward.

Earlier, before Xiao Huan ascended the platform, he had left her in the pavilion with a smile, saying, "Wait for me here."

Not long ago at the Azure Jade Sect's branch, when he'd asked her to wait, she had obeyed earnestly. When he finally emerged, though still smiling faintly, his face had been deathly pale.

Thinking nothing of it, she'd returned to the inn with him. The next morning when she went to see him, she found him bent over the bed in a fit of coughing, his snow-white complexion tinged with an eerie flush. That day he couldn't keep down even a sip of water or medicine, coughing up everything until she was nearly frantic with worry. Only by dawn the following day, after keeping vigil at his side for a full day and night, did he show slight improvement, patting her head with a faint smile and telling her not to worry. Her eyes had reddened then.

And now again—though clearly unwell, he stubbornly involved himself in the affairs of the Martial World.

"Oh ho, he didn't draw his sword," a lazy voice suddenly remarked beside her. "This old Taoist was hoping to catch a glimpse of that rare and peerless blade."

"Amitabha. A treasured sword is but form, and form is but illusion..." another equally indolent voice chimed in.

Turning, Cang Cang noticed two elderly Martial World figures seated behind her—one in crisp Taoist robes, the other in monastic garb—both watching the platform with keen interest.

Noticing her gaze, the white-bearded Taoist leisurely asked, "Young lady, do you know of King Wind?"

She was about to shake her head when she remembered—wasn't King Wind the sword of the Great Martial Emperor? She nodded, then realized—wasn't that Brother Xiao's sword? Immediately wary, she studied this mysterious old Taoist, only to find his face oddly familiar.

The Taoist continued unhurriedly, "Then do you know the only thing that can counter King Wind?"

Cang Cang frowned. "What?"

"Another sword, of course," the Taoist drawled, shaking his head. "Naturally, another sword."

Before he finished speaking, his sleeve was abruptly seized. Cang Cang grabbed both men tightly, whispering urgently, "I remember who you are now! Qiu Sheng Daoren of Wudang, Xuezhen Dashi of Shaolin... Tell me, how much imperial patronage do your mountains receive each year?""Huh? What?" Qiu Sheng Daoren began playing dumb.

"Amitabha, the Shaolin Temple has received much grace from the state. This old monk is truly ashamed, truly ashamed." Xuezhen Dashi wasn't far behind.

"Stop wasting my time!" Cang Cang wouldn't back down. "You've enjoyed imperial patronage, now it's time to serve the court. I order both of you... go help Brother Xiao immediately!"

"Help with what?" Qiu Sheng Daoren asked leisurely, looking at her.

"Of course it's..." He was feigning ignorance! Cang Cang glanced around and lowered her voice again. "I'm telling you, I know you know, so stop pretending you don't. This is about protecting His Majesty!"

"Oh? Protecting whom? Is His Majesty here?" Qiu Sheng Daoren tilted his head, expression unchanged.

"It's... it's..." After stammering for a moment, Cang Cang suddenly deflated—she understood. She understood that if he had appeared in public despite not fully recovering, there must be his own reasons for coming here.

She hadn't tried to stop him, instead accompanying him cheerfully along the way, as if she were eagerly anticipating this spectacle. Only she knew what bitterness had welled up in her heart the moment she turned away from him.

"Don't worry," Qiu Sheng Daoren looked at her, and his lazy voice actually carried a hint of comfort. "The thing that can restrain King Wind won't appear today."

"Really? Don't you dare lie to me!" Her despondency vanished instantly as Cang Cang perked up. "If anything happens to Brother Xiao and you two don't step in to save him, I'll kick you out myself!"

The highly respected leaders of Wudang and Shaolin, revered for decades, might have been hearing such a threat for the first time.

On the stage, another tall and graceful figure in white had appeared. Walking steadily to the center of the stone platform, the man drew his blade in one smooth motion.

The young man in white before them gazed calmly ahead, his handsome face showing no emotion. His long blade pointed straight forward.

This was Xu Lai.

The crowd below fell silent. No one had noticed when Xu Lai arrived or when he had leaped onto the stage.

They had come united against a common enemy, ready to face the Azure Jade Sect, yet they didn't even know where their foes were.

Xiao Huan smiled faintly, his fingers brushing against King Wind hidden in his sleeve.

The true battle was only just beginning.

Under the watchful eyes of the assembled heroes, the young man in white spoke coldly, word by word: "Our sect leader declared days ago that our sect shall rule the Martial World. Presumably, you all understand and are willing to submit?"

His arrogant gaze swept across the crowd.

The chilly autumn wind fluttered his white robes, revealing the left sleeve adorned with intricate golden patterns encircling a radiant sun emblem on the left side of his chest.

Gone was the simple, often slightly wrinkled white robe. Gone was the lazy, carefree smile that used to linger between his brows. Xu Lai, Left Hall Master of the Azure Jade Sect's Hall of Light, withdrew his gaze.

In the deathly silence of Tiger Hill Mountain—so quiet it was suffocating—Xu Lai lifted his chin slightly. Slowly running his fingers along the gleaming silver blade, he spoke with the arrogance of someone facing mere insects that could be flicked away with a snap: "You must be Xiao Yuncong. Since you're representing the Four Great Manors today, I'll ask you once: Will you submit to our sect?"

After a brief pause, a calm and refined voice answered from the opposite side: "And if I say no, what then?""Then so be it." Xu Lai raised his brows, a sudden surge of killing intent flashing in his narrow eyes. "Those unwilling to submit—kill!"

With the utterance of that final word, his long blade swept in a half-moon arc, its mirror-like surface gleaming silver as moonlight.

This was Xu Lai's blade—the Shu Willow Silver Saber that had swept through the Eighteen Forts of Guandong, its brilliance eclipsing the heavens—now flashing forth in a streak of dazzling silver.

A stream of azure light spilled from his sleeve, tearing through the air like a crack of lightning, clashing against the blade brimming with power.

A life-and-death struggle, fought with every ounce of strength.

Without the slightest pause or hesitation, the silver saber traced a second blinding arc.

Dust swirled, Sword Energy crisscrossed the air.

It was impossible to discern who had executed which move, or even to distinguish between the flashes of light—which was the resplendent silver, and which the subdued azure.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone stumbled back as if waking from a dream, colliding with the chest of the person behind them.

No one scolded them, nor did anyone turn to mock their fear in the midst of this duel.

All remained silent, their gazes fixed on the two figures locked in fierce combat atop the high stone platform.

Thrust, pivot, cross, whirl, blade meeting blade, leaping, sweeping, stabbing—

Every movement flowed with an uncanny harmony. Every burst of wind scattered like waves upon the sea.

Like an endless tide, each surge higher than the last—just when you thought it had reached its peak, another towering wave would roar forth, unstoppable.

Xu Lai had never been considered a top-tier master. His blade, though dazzling, always carried an air of laziness. Every time the Shu Willow Silver Saber was drawn, it seemed almost careless. Thus, in the Saber and Sword Compendium compiled by the Martial World’s gossipmongers, his name didn’t even rank within the top thirty.

Yet today, in a chilling realization, nearly everyone remembered—the Shu Willow Silver Saber had never been defeated.

That seemingly lackadaisical blade, drawn so casually by its master, had never lost—save for those few times when overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Whether facing renowned heroes of old or celebrated prodigies of prestigious sects, it had never tasted defeat.

This seemed to be the first time that ever-languid silver light had erupted with such ferocity, dancing with a razor-sharp edge.

No regrets in this life —the phrase surfaced simultaneously in the minds of countless onlookers.

A sight of such peerless brilliance—to witness it even once in a lifetime was enough.

"Xu Lai?" Cang Cang murmured the name hoarsely, her brow furrowing in confusion.

He was Xiao Huan’s friend, wasn’t he? She remembered bumping into the two of them at the apothecary—that elegant young man in white robes, teasing Xiao Huan with playful banter. Mocking him for hating bitter medicine, yet snatching the prepared packets from his hands as if mere herbs could crush him.

A friend who cared so deeply—why would he suddenly raise his blade against Xiao Huan today? She couldn’t understand.

"King Wind," Qiu Sheng Daoren murmured from the side seats.

"It is King Wind," Xuezhen Dashi said, having straightened up at some point, his expression grave as he watched the battle on the stone. "This old monk thought he would never see King Wind again in this lifetime."

"The King’s Blade, before which all must bow..." Qiu Sheng Daoren continued softly, his gaze drifting into the distance. "So this is how it is."

A streak of crimson arced through the air from the clashing figures, splattering like scattered plum blossoms across white robes.The clash of blades and shadows came to an abrupt halt. A hand rested lightly in front of Xu Lai's chest, hovering just above his heart meridian. A gleaming silver blade pierced through that palm, crimson blood trickling down the wrist and slender fingers before dripping onto Xu Lai's white robes.

That should have been a sword thrust straight through the heart. In the heat of their fierce duel, Xu Lai had been just one step too slow—his saber momentum shattered by the incoming azure sword glare, leaving him powerless to turn the tide.

In that fleeting instant, the longsword aimed at Xu Lai was swiftly withdrawn into a sleeve, allowing his saber to swing free.

Yet it did not block the icy blade—instead, it pierced through the outstretched palm.

Almost no one would do such a thing in the midst of such a desperate battle. It was sheer recklessness—had that saber not been withdrawn to guard his chest but instead pressed forward in mutual destruction, the one with a pierced chest would undoubtedly have been him.

This was a gamble with his own life—betting that the fight could end without harming his opponent.

Extending his left hand, Xiao Huan pressed on the acupoints around the wound on his right before pulling his hand free from Xu Lai's blade. Though the puncture from the thin saber was small, it was deep, and blood still welled up quickly. He clasped his fists and said, "Hall Master Xu, please convey to your sect leader that Xiao has no intention of submission. The Central Plains Martial World will not admit defeat."

His voice, though not loud, was calm and resolute, carried far by the rising autumn wind.

The martial artists stunned by the storm of blades and swords finally snapped out of their daze. Immediately, a bold warrior raised his weapon and shouted in agreement, "Well said! We’d rather die than surrender!"

"Rather die than surrender!"

"The Azure Jade Sect has gone too far!"

"Let’s fight to the death!"

"We’ll never submit!"

Scattered shouts gradually merged into a unified roar until, at last, the entire Tiger Hill echoed with the rallying cries.

Amid the loud clamor, Xu Lai flicked the blood off his silver saber with a cold sneer. "What a bunch of arrogant fools, spouting nonsense here!"

Turning his saber back, he spoke indifferently, "Except I have no way to shut these fools up." Before the words faded, he reversed his grip and plunged the snow-white blade into his own left shoulder.

The narrow, razor-sharp saber sank deep, and vivid red quickly seeped through the white fabric.

Blood splattered as the silver blade was withdrawn, staining half of Xu Lai's white robes crimson.

His long brows arched as he smiled. "I’ve lost."

With a carefree turn, his bloodstained white robes still fluttering proudly, he strode away.

Dead silence fell once more. The fervor on Tiger Hill gradually subsided as all eyes converged on the young man in blue robes standing alone on the Thousand Men Stone.

He simply stood there, silent and unmoving. Scarlet blood dripped slowly from his fingertips, pooling on the smooth stone surface.

A moment ago, this man had been an unknown nobody who appeared out of nowhere. Yet in the next, he had become the lone hero who stood against the leader of the demonic sect.

The abrupt shift left everyone unprepared.

What were they to do? Charge forward and fight the Azure Jade Sect to the death, as their impassioned slogans had declared? But the impending disaster had not yet crashed upon them.

In the awkward silence, a figure in pale green suddenly rushed out from the pavilion.

"Brother Xiao!" The young woman cried out anxiously, making no effort to hide her worry or evade the countless gazes fixed upon her.She rushed straight to the vacant stone center and, under the gaze of the crowd, grasped his injured arm and embraced his body.

Then, she turned her head and shouted at the people below, her eyes still glistening with un-wiped tears: "Are you all fools? Just standing there watching Brother Xiao fight for you—do you really plan to rely on him alone to hold off the Azure Jade Sect?"

Her clear, slightly childish voice echoed across the scene.

Someone tightened their grip on their weapon—no matter who that man was or what he had done before, the current crisis concerned the fate of the Martial World, and he had been the one to shield them from the first wave of bloodshed.

A white silk ribbon shot through the air like a coiling dragon, streaking across the sky above the Thousand-Man Stone.

Ribbons flew out one after another, as if a white firework had burst from a corner.

As the ribbons landed in their hands, four figures in pale green robes gracefully descended onto the Thousand-Man Stone. The interconnected white ribbons instantly formed a silken web across the stone.

"Xiao Yuncong," the wind lifted the pale green gauze robes of the Azure Jade Sect's Great Guardian, Wu Wushui, "you injured our sect's hall master—did you think you could walk away unscathed?"

On Tiger Hill, disciples of the Azure Jade Sect, clad in green robes and white garments, poured in endlessly, silent as the dark clouds pressing down from the horizon.