Chapter 125 : Descending from the Heavens
Chapter 125: Descending from the Heavens
Xuan Gong’s reaction was incredibly swift, yet at this moment, he could not keep up with Daoist Baishu’s speed.
As shock surged in his heart, that identical phantom of Daoist Baishu swept past him, snatching away the scroll in his hand.
Holding it single-handedly, the phantom stopped in front of Zhao Zhi.
Zhao Zhi sat cross-legged on the ground, equally unable to react.
His pupils instinctively widened as he saw Daoist Baishu open the scroll.
He instinctively tried to rise, but from within the painting, a sword shadow burst forth.
That sword shadow forced the black energy around his body to rapidly condense, and a ghostly phantom emerged upon him, shielding him from the sword’s strike.
Xuan Gong turned back and reached out to grab it, but his palm sliced directly through Daoist Baishu’s phantom, catching nothing.
He immediately turned and charged toward the Daoist Baishu beneath the steps.
Daoist Baishu’s true body still maintained the hand-seal gesture.
Facing Xuan Gong’s attack, he made no move to defend.
Bang!
Xuan Gong struck Daoist Baishu with one palm, sending him flying out of the grand hall.
The old minister beside them staggered back in terror.
Xuan Gong’s figure flashed, splitting into afterimages as he rushed out of the hall and onto the white stone steps.
There, he grabbed Daoist Baishu, who lay sprawled on the ground, and snapped his neck.
After confirming that all signs of life were gone, Xuan Gong turned back to Qianwu Hall.
Inside, Daoist Baishu’s phantom had yet to disperse—it still held the scroll aloft, and the sword shadow within had pierced Zhao Zhi’s forehead.
The ghostly phantom on Zhao Zhi’s body trembled, clearly struggling to resist.
“Your Majesty!”
Xuan Gong shouted in alarm.
Just as he was about to move forward, Daoist Baishu’s phantom suddenly lunged, and the sword shadow shot through Zhao Zhi’s skull, shattering the ghostly phantom.
The old minister collapsed to the floor in fright, staring wide-eyed at Daoist Baishu’s phantom as if he had seen a living ghost.
Even Xuan Gong froze in fear, unsure what to do.
“Wicked creature, scourge of the mortal world! Unworthy to be king—your sins are beyond forgiveness! Heaven spares you not, then Fengxia Mountain shall claim you!”
Daoist Baishu’s voice resounded with fury.
His phantom dispersed into countless silver-white streaks of light that poured back into the scroll.
The next instant, the scroll erupted with blinding radiance.
The sword shadow within began to retract, dragging out another Zhao Zhi—his form identical to Daoist Baishu’s, illusory and insubstantial.
Xuan Gong appeared beside Zhao Zhi, his palm forming a blade, and struck at the sword shadow.
This time, he succeeded—shattering it.
A flash of light followed, and the scroll dropped to the floor.
Zhao Zhi’s body jerked backward, slamming into the dragon throne as his phantom retreated into him.
The grand hall fell silent, leaving only Zhao Zhi’s ragged breathing.
Xuan Gong came to his senses, kicked the scroll away, then crouched to support Zhao Zhi.
Zhao Zhi’s face turned pale as he spat a mouthful of blood.
His body went limp, drained of all strength.
“He… he…”
Zhao Zhi trembled as he spoke, fear written all over his face.
Xuan Gong quickly said, “I have already snapped his neck—he is dead beyond doubt.”
He too was still shaken, never having imagined Daoist Baishu possessed such a method.
Zhao Zhi turned toward the old minister, panic-stricken, coughing blood as he gasped, “Quick… go summon the Celestial Master…”
——
At the subterranean Spiritual Lake, Li Qingqiu suddenly opened his eyes.
He sensed the disappearance of the strange aura far away, which puzzled him.
Had something gone wrong?
Sitting opposite him across the lake, Xu Ning also opened her eyes.
She too could sense that eerie aura, though not as clearly as Li Qingqiu.
Xu Ning said, “Master, on our way back we met a Daoist named Baishu. He hailed from Fengxia Mountain in Southern Chu Province. His martial prowess was not weak. He went alone toward the Zhenyang Imperial City—could it be that he succeeded?”
“Fengxia Mountain?”
Li Qingqiu raised his brows and said, “Hard to say for now. We’ll know in a few days.”
As the Sect Master, he naturally had to understand all martial sects across the realm.
Regarding Fengxia Mountain, he had seen records of it—it was one of the two sacred grounds before the founding of Great Li, possessing profound historical heritage.
It was said Fengxia Mountain not only held martial inheritance but also mysterious arts, even knowledge of alchemy.
He had once considered sending disciples to visit, to build relations and learn of their alchemical path.
Xu Ning nodded, uncertain if Daoist Baishu had succeeded.
In her view, his strength was inferior to hers—killing the Emperor would not be easy.
Her confrontation with the Emperor had ignited her desire to reach the eighth layer of the Nourishing Vital Energy Realm.
Ever since attaining the seventh layer, she had believed no one but her Master could match her.
Yet the Emperor’s strength had shocked her, and those demonic soldiers… For the first time, she felt powerless, realizing she alone could not shatter the Emperor’s schemes.
She couldn’t help asking, “Master, to what layer must one cultivate the Primordial Unity Scripture to have the power to change the fate of the world alone?”
Li Qingqiu looked at her and said, “Perhaps at the ninth layer.”
“Perhaps…”
Xu Ning’s mood dimmed.
Li Qingqiu did not comfort her—for she had already grown up and could seek her own understanding.
For cultivators, calamity and hardship were often sources of enlightenment.
Of course, he himself was pondering the same question.
Did he have the strength to end the plots of Zhao Zhi and Xuan Gong?
——
Not long after Xu Ning and the others returned, news of the Coalition Army of the Seven Provinces’ defeat spread like wildfire across the land.
Carrier pigeons from noble families filled the skies, and word soon reached Clear Sky Sect.
The Emperor and his demonic soldiers became the hottest topic among the disciples.
Many rubbed their fists in excitement, awaiting the Sect Master’s command to descend the mountain and save the world, just as they had rescued the provincial capitals before.
But as more reports reached the mountain, their fighting spirit waned.
Xu Ning had crossed blades with the Emperor himself; from the fact that she had to retreat, one could tell the Emperor’s martial power exceeded hers.
Li Sifeng, being loose-tongued, told everyone about the terrifying might of those demonic soldiers.
Invulnerable to blades and spears, possessing immense strength, swift as leopards, feeling no pain, and capable of devouring others’ inner energy—how could one possibly defeat such beings?
Worse still, there were tens of thousands of such soldiers under the Emperor’s command!
A True Transmission Disciple at the third layer of the Nourishing Vital Energy Realm had personally admitted that even in single combat, slaying one demonic soldier required time and his full effort—but battlefields offered no such one-on-one chance.
As this intelligence spread, more and more disciples realized how terrifying the Emperor and his demonic army truly were, and anxiety for the world grew.
Since ancient times, evil had never triumphed over righteousness—so why had the evil of this age yet to be eradicated?
If even Clear Sky Sect felt such pressure, what of the rest of the land? More and more commoners, merchants, and martial sects began fleeing their homelands, distancing themselves from Zhenyang Imperial City.
After several days, Li Qingqiu again sensed that eerie aura returning—the Emperor had survived.
That day, at noon.
At the mountainside, crowds thronged around the Martial Platform.
Upon the newly repaired stage, Shen Yue stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed in quiet meditation.
He carried no sword.
Even before Xu Ning and the others returned, this duel had already been scheduled.
After much deliberation, the elders decided not to cancel it.
Instead, they would use the match to restore confidence among the disciples.
Even if the Clear Sky Sect could not save the world, they could at least protect themselves.
Shen Yue valued this battle greatly and had arrived early to wait.
The seven Hall Masters, Deputy Hall Masters, Elders—all the high-ranking members—were present.
Among the crowd were also many high officials and nobles.
Beyond debating who was stronger—the Sword God or the Sect Master—they spoke of the Emperor.
With the defeat of the armies of seven provinces, none could foresee the fate of the realm.
Who could kill the Emperor? None knew.
Though the disciples did not say it aloud, in private, all awaited their Sect Master’s appearance.
In their hearts, he was the Number One Under Heaven.
Bai Ning’er had rushed back from the Spirit Mine just to witness this battle and now stood beside Jiang Zhaoxia’s disciple, Han Lang.
The two chatted excitedly.
Zhao Zhen, Li Yang, Yuan Li, and Zhao Linglong stood together, discussing the event—though mostly Zhao Zhen and Li Yang spoke while the other two listened.
Ji Ya and Yang Lin stood off to one side, eagerly anticipating Li Qingqiu’s arrival.
Li Sifeng stood with Pei Miao and Li Sijin.
Scanning the crowd, he spotted Cheng Xiu and Cheng San—Cheng San waved at him enthusiastically.
Seeing this, Li Sifeng smiled and nodded back.
His gaze met Cheng Xiu’s; she smiled faintly, as radiant as a flower amid the crowd.
Li Sifeng felt a pang in his heart.
He knew of Cheng Xiu’s feelings for him, yet he felt they were unsuited.
He could not offer her a stable life—he sought a life of grandeur and passion, unbound by love.
It was better this way.
Both Cheng Xiu and her younger brother had joined Clear Sky Sect; even if he were gone, Senior Brother would care for them.
Li Sifeng withdrew his gaze and chatted with the woman beside him.
Cheng Xiu too looked away.
She knew their bond had ended.
Though there was some sorrow, she was not sad.
She had her own path to walk—that was what truly mattered to her.
Zhang Yuchun arrived, laughing and conversing with a group of noble heirs, escorted by disciples of the Free Spirit Hall.
The crowd parted wherever he passed.
Xu Ning approached the stage and said, “Senior Shen, why don’t I have a match with you first?”
Shen Yue did not open his eyes and calmly replied, “My opponent is your Master. I’ll spar with you another time.”
Xu Ning pouted, feeling he was avoiding her.
If he lost to her, he’d have no courage to challenge her Master; but if he lost to her Master, it would only be a second defeat—nothing to his reputation.
As more people arrived, even the woods along the mountain path grew lively.
Disciples who could only glimpse Shen Yue’s vague figure from afar were still excited—Clear Sky Sect had rarely been this bustling.
Many young geniuses looked at Shen Yue with both respect and fighting spirit.
The grand spectacle of today ignited their ambition—to one day stand here and challenge the Sword God themselves.
Among the sea of people stood Zhang Ping, unremarkable and alone.
Ever since learning that Chu Jing belonged to the Demonic Cult, he had been wary of befriending others.
A piercing neigh tore through the sky.
Everyone looked up.
They saw a vast shadow circling high above—and then, a sword descended from the heavens, its radiance mingling with the sunlight.
Clang!
The sword landed on the Martial Platform, stirring waves of air.
A figure followed, landing precisely upon the hilt.
It was Li Qingqiu!
His dramatic entrance made the crowd erupt in thunderous cheers, sending flocks of startled birds soaring from the distant mountains and forests.