Outside Martial Emperor City.

  Another battle erupted.

  Nie Changqing raced at breakneck speed, Dragon Slayer unleashing slash after slash of golden blade qi. The intent-infused glow seemed to melt the snow-blanketed ground.

  Immense pressure bore down on him—like teetering on a tightrope over an abyss. One slip, and he'd plummet.

  His opponent, a Martial Emperor City disciple at six-revolution Golden Core, overwhelmed him in speed, power, and combat prowess.

  Nie's only edges: blade intent and the surging vital blood from unlocking Heavenly Locks.

  The disciple, Ye Qianxun, watched with amusement. A six-revolution core held over six times the spiritual energy of a one-revolution—and explosive force to match.

  Clashing with Nie was like a child swinging at an adult: dangerous, but not lethal.

  "This blade... Dragon Slayer?"

  "What a fine weapon."

  Ye Qianxun remarked.

  Their duel outside the city shook snow from the ground; stray qi carved lasting scars into withered trees.

  Nie's battle experience was hard-earned—every ounce of strength fought for.

  Prolonging this meant certain defeat. The energy gap was too vast.

  His eyes hardened.

  Four talismans slipped into his palm. Spiritual sense activated them.

  Gifts from Dao Pavilion's Xie Yunling—compressed dao arts, attribute-aligned for potent bursts.

  Xie had used one during the escape; four remained.

  Boom!

  They ignited.

  Dao manifested naturally.

  Firelight, earthen yellow, golden gleam, verdant wood...

  Four attribute colors exploded around Nie, forming massive beasts.

  He leaned forward, charging Ye Qianxun.

  Ye's expression grew solemn.

  But Nie struck first.

  From his robes, he drew a small metal bead.

  He hurled it. The orb bloomed mid-air into a drifting, gorgeous pear blossom, reflecting dazzling light.

  "What is this?!"

  Ye's heart jolted—threat radiating from the flower.

  "An artifact?!"

  "How many do you have?!"

  He inhaled sharply.

  Golden core hovering, golden light burst from him; spinning spiritual energy formed a shield around his body.

  Nie remained icy.

  "This... is the Torrential Pear Blossom Needle—the pinnacle of hidden weapons!"

  He punched, vital blood roaring.

  His fist smashed the shield—flesh blurring to pulp—halting the spin!

  Air rippled violently.

  Scorching waves erupted, melting snow to water.

  The pear blossom spun beautifully; fine silver needles, heated red-hot, flung out like a downpour.

  Ye stomped, cratering the ground, trying to retreat—too slow.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The barrage covered the area, no escape.

  Even Nie was enveloped.

  Pfft! Pfft!

  Needles piercing flesh.

  Beasts rampaging.

  Snow vanished; ground littered with needles.

  Ye's back bristled with them, each piercing deep.

  But he lived.

  He stood, spiritual energy expelling the needles.

  "Torrential Pear Blossom..."

  "Exquisite artifact craftsmanship."

  He gazed where Nie had fled. "Trading wounds for escape—ruthless."

  What lay beyond the void gate?

  Ye's curiosity deepened.

  He ceased pursuit, stepping back toward the city. Even from afar, he'd sensed terrifying fluctuations.

  Something had happened.

  Behind a dead tree.

  Nie leaned, lashes trembling. Silence—only snow falling.

  One palm mangled, bleeding; back shredded; aura feeble.

  "Worthy of Senior Gongshu—challenging the Young Master as a mortal... This Torrential Pear Blossom is devastating."

  "Penetration needs work. Must report to Senior Gongshu."

  Nie coughed blood, chuckling softly.

  He'd survived.

  Six-revolution Golden Core—formidable.

  Five-revolution broke limits; six shattered shackles.

  Snow chilled, but his heart burned.

  Gripping Dragon Slayer, he propped against the ground, rising slowly.

  Suddenly.

  His body stiffened; icy dread flooded him.

  In the distance.

  Amid swirling snow.

  A figure approached slowly; falling flakes twisted around him.

  Terrifying aura, crushing pressure—Nie couldn't twitch a finger.

  Only his ragged breathing echoed.

  "Amitabha."

  A chant.

  Nie saw: bald monk in tattered robes, barefoot, prayer beads like fists around his neck.

  "This monk from Bitter Buddha Temple, Yuan Shang... greets the benefactor."

  Palm upright, he bowed slightly.

  Powerful!

  Overwhelmingly so!

  Sweat beaded on Nie's forehead.

  This monk's pressure eclipsed even the Nascent Soul he'd faced!

  Nie roared inwardly, struggling. He wouldn't die here.

  He must return alive!

  Unyielding eyes. Fourth bone tempered—he shattered the second Heavenly Lock. Spine dragon-roared.

  The monk's binding vanished.

  Under mortal peril, Nie entered Second Stage Heavenly Lock.

  Ground exploded; he shot backward, Dragon Slayer slashing golden qi at the monk.

  "Amitabha. Benefactor's killing intent runs deep..."

  The monk intoned.

  Like plucking a flower, he flicked.

  Nie's qi shattered.

  One step—he appeared behind Nie.

  "Nascent Souls dare act?"

  "The Young Master said: if you intervene, slaughter all Nascent Souls!"

  Nie gritted.

  "Don't doubt—he means it!"

  "Amitabha."

  "This monk means no harm—merely invites benefactor on a trip."

  Without waiting, he lifted Nie and soared, treading air like wind.

  ...

  Beiluo, Lake Heart Island.

  Lu opened his eyes slowly.

  Calm, seated in his wheelchair, robes fluttering, fingers tapping the armrest.

  "Slay immortals?"

  "Indeed, those who climb to a world's peak aren't fools. Bold enough to choose god-slaying."

  He smiled.

  Eyes rippling; mist over the island dispersed.

  He gazed at the shimmering lake, lost in thought.

  One day, might Five Phoenixes' powerhouses choose to slay "immortals"?

  Him as the target?

  Lu pondered.

  Then chuckled.

  "This Lu Ping'an devotes himself wholly to this continent's prosperity."

  Suddenly.

  His spiritual energy reserves surged.

  Puzzled, then realization.

  "Pressure drives progress. Old Nie... broke through?"

  Thoughtful.

  He raised a hand; mind shifted. Lines danced in his vision.

  The Spirit Pressure Chessboard appeared; lines formed a tower.

  He pinched it, hurling toward Beiluo Lake.

  A building materialized—shrouded in ethereal mist, modest yet calming.

  Stocked with thousands of volumes refined via the Myriad Methods Furnace.

  Scanning Martial Emperor City's pavilion convinced him: immense aid for Five Phoenixes.

  Golden Core and Heavenly Lock paths coexisted.

  Heavenly Lock was arduous; not for all. These texts could guide the untalented toward Golden Core.

  On Beiluo Lake.

  A bamboo raft drifted quietly.

  Lü Dongxuan tended a stove, grilling fish. Little Yinglong drooled at the other end, eyes pleading.

  Lü watched warily, guarding against theft.

  Suddenly.

  Lu's voice in his mind.

  "Come to the island."

  Lü startled, glancing toward Lake Heart Island. "Young Master emerged?"

  But then—Little Yinglong snatched the fish and flapped away.

  "Stealing again!"

  Lü fumed, helpless.

  He poled to the island.

  Raft docked.

  Lü straightened robes, striding to White Jade Capital Pavilion.

  Bowed to Lu leaning on the second-floor railing.

  "Young Master."

  Lu held a bronze cup, nodding.

  "See that building?"

  He pointed across the lake—a misty tower, unseen before.

  Lü blinked. A structure on Beiluo Lake?

  Young Master's work?

  "It's called the Scripture Tower. Enter and see what you learn."

  Lü paused. Scripture Tower?

  A library?

  On Beiluo Lake?

  Curious but obedient, he poled over.

  Pushing the doors, he entered—dazzled.

  Candles flickered softly, illuminating shelves.

  He inhaled. Countless volumes—unbelievable.

  He pulled one.

  "Tiger Roar Art, Yellow Tier Low-Grade sonic technique. Cultivate to roar like a fierce tiger, intimidating foes."

  Hand trembling—a cultivation skill?

  Another: unseen technique.

  Amazement grew.

  Even full methods!

  Current world had few.

  This tower brimmed with them—hot potato in hand. Young Master was stirring things!

  Lü exited, poled back.

  "Young Master..."

  Bowed.

  "Done?"

  Lu smiled.

  "Thoughts?"

  Sipped plum wine.

  "These texts, if spread, would profoundly impact cultivation. Give the scattered world direction, accelerate growth..."

  Lü said candidly.

  Current cultivation was chaotic—White Jade Capital aside, just faction armies flexing.

  No diverse styles, no hundred schools blooming.

  Lu smiled, nodding approval.

  "Go to North Luo West Mountain. Summon those loitering below the trial tower. Wasting time there yields nothing. Next month, the tower opens to cultivators. After, only the accomplished enter."

  Lü paused. One month?

  "Yes."

  He sensed massive ripples ahead.

  "Young Master, what achievement for later entry?"

  Lu waved off.

  "Later."

  speechless, Lü bowed, poled away.

  Lu watched him leave.

  Swirled his cup.

  Suddenly.

  Lines danced; he squinted.

  "Hm?"

  "Kidnapped Old Nie... What are they planning?"