"Who are you?" the Blade Emperor asked in a low, wary voice, his eyes narrowing as he looked across at the newcomer—Ximen Yibei. The white-robed swordsman stood alone, yet exuded a dangerous aura that made the Blade Emperor instinctively uneasy. It wasn't the same helplessness he'd felt before the Sword Demon—it was something else. The man before him felt like a bloodthirsty blade, barely sheathed, ready to strike at any moment. One misstep could mean death. It was a kind of threat the Blade Emperor had never encountered before. Subconsciously, he gathered his true energy again, his entire being tensing.
Ximen Yibei glanced at him without emotion and replied flatly, "Ximen Yibei."
With steady steps, Ximen Yibei began walking through the air, passing over the heads of thousands of Blade Domain disciples. Wherever he went, the crowd instinctively parted, creating a path in silence. No one dared to breathe too loudly in his presence—the tension was suffocating.
He moved as if he were walking through an empty field, untouched, undeterred, and soon took his place beside Fengyun Wuji, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dugu Wushang. The three formed a pincer formation, encircling the Blade Emperor.
Two peerless swordmasters, joined by a nearly recovered Sword Emperor—despite his strength, even the Blade Emperor couldn't help but feel cornered and overwhelmed.
"You're all at the Sword Emperor level," he said coldly. "Are you really going to gang up on me two against one?"
Ximen Yibei's long hair stirred in the breeze. He slowly raised his eyes to meet the Blade Emperor's gaze and, after a moment of silence, said blandly, "If you really see us as masters—and not fools—you wouldn't ask such a question."
The Blade Emperor's expression flickered, momentarily embarrassed. Ximen's meaning was clear as day: You've barged into our domain, and now you complain about being outnumbered? Where's the logic in that?
Meanwhile, the Demon Lord of the Dark Domain was already inwardly cursing. What the hell is this?! This so-called newly formed Sword Domain… where did all these powerhouses come from?Damn it! Why didn't anyone warn me? All they said was there was a newly ascended Sword Emperor!
Even a fool could tell that the two men now flanking the Blade Emperor were no weaker than Fengyun Wuji. A single Sword Emperor could annihilate tens of thousands of Night Clan warriors—what could three of them accomplish?
Cold sweat was already dripping from the foreheads of the Demon Lord and his four generals. Thunder Demon's rugged face twitched uncontrollably. "No wonder Water Demon backed out at the last minute…"
Before the towering Sword Pavilion, over a hundred meters high, stood a dense crowd—disciples of the Blade Domain, the Demon Domain, and the Sword Domain alike. Yet in the middle of it all was a wide, kilometer-radius clearing. At the center of this vast space stood the four great cultivators, each forming a point in a deadly standoff. Under the combined pressure of Dugu Wushang and Ximen Yibei, even the Blade Emperor was reaching his limit. His qi flared violently, kicking up clouds of dust that spiraled into the air.
With killing intent locked in a triangular formation, none of the three dared make the first move. Their auras were pushed to the limit—if one attacked, a cataclysmic clash would surely follow, and at least one of them would die or be crippled. Though Dugu and Ximen held the advantage together, the Blade Emperor was a seasoned veteran who had been in the Emperor Realm for years. If he fought desperately, he could still take one of them down with him. Neither of the two dared act rashly.
Then, a calm voice as indifferent as Ximen Yibei's echoed from the rear of the Blade Domain disciples. "What a lively night this is…"
Everyone turned in shock. A man in purple robes appeared several hundred meters away, his eyes vacant yet penetrating. He lightly caressed the blade of his long, narrow purple sword. The weapon pulsed like thick blood—it was impossible to guess how many lives it had claimed to take on such a hue.
Without warning, the man's body trembled—and in the next instant, he vanished into a twisting blur of motion, weaving over the heads of the Blade Domain disciples. When he reappeared, his purple blade—Southern Rise, Northern Dipper—was already aimed like lightning at the Blade Emperor's back.
The moment the Blade Emperor sensed the strike, it was as if he'd plunged into an icy abyss. The attacker was none other than the leader of the Southern Rise Sword Sect—Purple Sovereign. His strength was no less than that of Fengyun Wuji, having reached the Sword Emperor realm thousands of years ago. From the moment he appeared, his aura had been terrifying. What made him even more dangerous, however, was not his power—but the fact that he never saw himself as a master. If he could kill by ambush, he would never face you head-on.
Since the rise of his sect, they'd clashed with the Blade and Demon Domains hundreds of times, yet true face-to-face battles were exceedingly rare.
The fragile balance among the three great powers was about to shatter. Purple Sovereign's sudden attack could easily tip the scales—two of the three could die before anyone could respond. A flicker of savage killing intent even passed through Ximen Yibei's eyes.
Yet just as the purple blade came within three inches of the Blade Emperor's back—two slender, pale fingers appeared, as if they had been waiting there for all eternity. With a gentle pinch, the sword halted, caught like it was locked in iron.
"That's enough, Sect Master Purple. Fun's over. Time to stop," said a deep, composed voice. The young face of Jun Zilan appeared before the Purple Sovereign.
The entire field fell into stunned silence. Even the Blade Domain disciples were dumbfounded. No one had expected Jun Zilan—the one everyone thought relied on his father, the Blade Emperor, for power and protection—to show such overwhelming strength. With just two fingers, he had stopped a blow from a Sword Emperor.
But Jun Zilan at that moment was no longer the arrogant youth everyone thought they knew. His bearing was regal and imposing, the kind of authority that only came from commanding from the heights. Even his eyes carried the weight of ages.
"Well now," Purple Sovereign chuckled, withdrawing his sword and dissipating the No-Self aura. "So the Blade Emperor is truly here in person. No wonder…"
Jun Zilan didn't try to stop him, merely nodded and said, "I know exactly what you're trying to do. But it's time to stop. With your talent, you should focus on reaching the next realm—stop wasting energy on these games."
He turned his back to the Purple Sovereign, facing Dugu Wushang and Ximen Yibei without a trace of worry that he might be attacked from behind.
The other two swordmasters immediately became more alert. This transformed Jun Zilan was clearly someone to be reckoned with—and his sudden rise was not something either of them welcomed.
Suddenly, an overwhelming sword intent surged across the field. Fengyun Wuji, who had remained still all this time, opened his eyes. In that blink of an eye, a blade-like light burst from his pupils. His aura now was significantly stronger than before.
Dugu Wushang felt his heart stir. From that wave of sword intent, he sensed something oddly familiar—his own sword essence. Could it be that, from a single palm strike infused with his own sword force, Fengyun Wuji had grasped its essence?
The realization both stunned and delighted him. He's only been ascended for 400 years, and he's already reached this realm. No wonder. With such comprehension… he's truly a peerless genius.
"Wait…" Jun Zilan raised a hand, sensing the killing intent rising from Fengyun Wuji. "I have a proposal…"