The Martial House was silent.
Wind moved. Dust drifted. Somewhere, a lone banner snapped and settled.
No one breathed.
Every disciple—from the newest Human Hall recruit to the proudest Heavenly Abode genius—stared at the center of the plaza, mouths open, hearts pounding against their ribs.
A Middle Xiantian Great Elder.
Crushed into the stone by a single palm.
By a man whose cultivation base was "merely" Houtian.
The image was still burned into their minds.
That moment when Ouyang Guang had arrived like a descending god, Xiantian true essence rolling across the Martial House like a tidal wave. His aura had made the stone slabs groan, had pressed knees toward the ground. Even Qin Ziya had been forced to circulate true essence just to remain steady.
Then Ren had stepped forward.
No eruption of true essence. No Heaven-shaking roar.
Just a casual stride, as if crossing a courtyard on an idle afternoon.
His palm had risen.
At the instant it descended, the world had seemed to pause. The oppressive Xiantian aura that pinned everyone suddenly met something deeper—a pressure without form, without visible light, yet heavier than a mountain. Fire, Thunder, and Wind had condensed around that palm, then… folded.
Like heaven and earth themselves were being pressed into a thin line.
The next heartbeat, Ouyang Guang had been driven from the sky like garbage thrown from a balcony.
Stone shattered.
Now, the crater yawned at the center of the plaza, spiderweb cracks radiating out from it like a petrified explosion. Dust still swirled in lazy eddies.
Inside that pit, the Great Elder of Acacia Faction twitched feebly.
Na Shui's eyes were as round as spirit coins.
Na Yi's usually calm expression finally cracked, a sharp flash of shock cutting across her clear features.
Qin Xingxuan's breath had caught halfway; Murong Zi's blood boiled, pupils dilated, hands itching to grip a spear that wasn't there.
Bai Jingyun's heart thudded against her ribs. A wild, disbelieving joy surged through the despair that had almost drowned her just moments before.
Qin Ziya, who had already steeled himself to pay with his own life, stared at the crater with a pale face.
…Just now…
He had almost opened his mouth.
To beg.
To offer his own head, to at least buy the girls time to escape Seven Profound Valleys' wrath. It wouldn't have worked, but a man could not help thinking of ways to die with dignity.
He had thought Ren would talk.
Negotiate. Delay. Maybe use some scheme, or try to win a sliver of mercy from Acacia Faction.
Instead, Ren had told the Great Elder to shut up, stated that Acacia trash would die—
—and then made that statement into reality.
Ren landed lightly at the edge of the crater.
Stone dust crunched under his boots.
The faint remnants of Xiantian pressure reacted to him like frightened animals to a predator, shrinking away without a sound.
He looked down at Ouyang Guang.
The proud Great Elder's hair was wild, half his face stained with blood. His robes were in tatters, soaked through with the red of his own body. Bones pressed against torn skin at strange angles. His limbs twitched weakly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut but not fully severed.
"Y-You…" Ouyang Guang coughed, blood spraying in a dark arc from his lips.
His Xiantian aura still surged on instinct, but it was like a tide at low ebb—a hollow roar, barely enough to keep his consciousness from slipping away.
"You dare… you dare… to wound… this seat… I am Great Elder of Acacia Faction, I—"
Ren raised his foot.
He brought it down.
Not with dramatic force. No scorching flames, no thunder exploding in all directions.
Just enough.
There was a dull, satisfyingly ugly crack. Ouyang Guang's chest bowed inward under Ren's heel. Stone shrieked as the elder's body was driven deeper into the broken plaza, fragments grinding under the pressure.
Runes of Fire and Earth flickered under Ren's sole—subtle Dao lines curling around one another, distributing force with terrifying precision. Bones fractured like brittle branches; ribs snapped and folded. Vital organs, however, were spared total ruin.
For the moment.
"I told you to shut up," Ren said mildly.
To the watching disciples, his tone sounded the same as when he told them to correct a stance.
Ouyang Guang's vision went white.
Blood rushed to his head; veins bulged on his forehead like dark worms. He tried to circulate true essence.
He couldn't.
The instant Ren's foot touched him, a different kind of power had sunk into his body. It wasn't the crude, oppressive weight of true essence. It was something quieter, colder—something that reached for the root of his cultivation base.
Petrifying Immortal Light, filtered through the Ancient Ming Bloodline, coiled like a living serpent through his meridians and dantian. Wherever it passed, true essence flows froze, congealing into stagnant sludge. Nodes that had once roared with prideful Xiantian power became silent stones at the bottom of a river.
At the same time, Ren's own True Essence threaded through Ouyang Guang's shattered Xiantian channels with surgical clarity, sealing key points, pinning open others, twisting a few at just the right angle.
One wrong touch and everything would have exploded in a bloody mess.
He didn't touch those places.
Not yet.
In the eyes of onlookers, it was simpler.
Ren stepped on Ouyang Guang's chest.
The Great Elder, who had arrived like a god overlooking mortals, could no longer move so much as a finger.
"You won't die here," Ren said, tone calm. "Not yet."
Ouyang Guang gasped, chest wheezing against the boot crushing it. Hatred and disbelief warred in his eyes.
"You… dare…" he rasped. "Acacia Faction… Seven Profound Valleys will—"
Ren applied just a little more pressure.
Crack.
Another rib shattered.
Ouyang Guang's words dissolved into a strangled, broken scream.
"You like threatening juniors with your status," Ren said lightly. "You barged into my Martial House, tried to snatch my women right in front of me. You even dared to think about using them to 'repay' your Faction."
He tilted his head slightly, as if remembering something a little amusing.
"That's cute."
His gaze lifted.
The sky above Sky Fortune City was a washed-out blue, thin clouds drifting lazily. The Martial House's protective array shimmered faintly in the distance, a reminder that this was still Sky Fortune Kingdom—a mere vassal country under Seven Profound Valleys.
Ren seemed to weigh something, then nodded to himself.
"You'll see the Yellow Springs soon," he added lazily. "Enjoy the walk."
He flicked his fingers.
True essence surged.
A thin, ash-gray seal manifested above Ouyang Guang's heart—formed out of interlocking Dao lines that did not belong to this world's system. They twisted in unfamiliar angles, threading through his flesh and blood, then sank into his chest and vanished.
The seal locked.
Ouyang Guang's eyes rolled back.
His consciousness dimmed, caught between waking and oblivion. His dantian remained intact, but his true essence could not move. His teeth could not clench hard enough to bite off his tongue. His heart could not burst no matter how violently his fury surged.
His life hung from a single, thin thread.
Enough to feel fear.
Enough to understand.
That his fate was no longer his own.
Only then did the Martial House begin to breathe again.
…
"Ren!"
The shout broke whatever spell had held the plaza.
Na Shui finally couldn't hold back.
She sprinted forward, steps light but unsteady, as if she hadn't decided whether to throw herself at him or collapse on the spot. Na Yi followed right behind, her gait calmer but no less urgent. Qin Xingxuan, Murong Zi, and Bai Jingyun came too, at a slightly slower pace—a difference of temperament, not of relief.
Ren turned toward them.
The blankness in his expression melted as if it had never existed.
The cool, indifferent gaze he'd turned on Ouyang Guang warmed. A subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The cold sharpness in his eyes gentled, like a blade sheathed half an inch.
"Hey," he said. "You all right?"
Na Shui stopped just a breath away, eyes bright with a mix of lingering fear and wild exhilaration.
"You… you ask if we're all right?!" she exploded. "That was—that was a Great Elder! A Xiantian Great Elder! And you— and you just—"
She flung out both hands, fingers clawing at the air. Words tangled, hit each other, and collapsed.
Ren chuckled.
He reached out and ruffled her hair without hesitation, ignoring the countless eyes watching.
Na Shui sputtered, cheeks flushing crimson.
"H-Hey! My hair—!" she protested, but the way she leaned almost imperceptibly into his palm betrayed her true feelings.
Na Yi's lips curved slightly.
Qin Xingxuan's shoulders finally loosened, the straight line of her back softening.
Murong Zi snorted and crossed her arms, but the tension in her gaze faded.
Bai Jingyun watched him quietly.
Her hand still clenched around her sword hilt so tightly that her knuckles were white. The despair that had crept up from the bottom of her heart earlier—"fiancée of Ouyang Dihua", "Acacia Faction's woman"—had evaporated when Ren's palm came down.
But the shadow of that despair still lingered in her eyes, making them complicated.
Ren's gaze brushed over each of them.
Na Yi, steady and clear-minded, always thinking two steps ahead.
Na Shui, bright and burning, heart worn plainly on her sleeve.
Qin Xingxuan, spear intent sharpened by fear yet never retreating.
Murong Zi, frustrated with her current limits, fighting spirit blazing even when there was nothing to hit.
Bai Jingyun, who had almost been dragged back into Acacia's chains, to be used as a furnace like so many other women.
He extended his hand.
Not toward any one of them in particular—simply into the space between all five.
"Scared?" he asked softly.
Murong Zi clicked her tongue. "Who's scared? I was just thinking how satisfying it would be if I'd gotten to stab him once first."
Na Shui nodded vigorously. "That's right! It's just… my knees were shaking a little, but that's only because the ground was vibrating when he fell."
Na Yi chuckled faintly. Qin Xingxuan's lips quirked upward.
Bai Jingyun lowered her eyes.
"…A little," she admitted.
Her voice trembled just enough to hear.
Ren's smile deepened.
"Good," he said.
Na Shui blinked. "Good?!"
He laughed under his breath.
"Fear means there's something you don't want to lose," he said. "As long as it doesn't chain your feet, you can use it."
His open hand closed into a fist.
"Today, you felt it again," he went on, tone calm. "That helplessness. Being pressed down by someone at a realm you haven't reached yet. Having your fate almost decided for you because of someone else's status."
His gaze swept the broken plaza—the cratered stone, the half-buried Great Elder, the shattered tiles that would take days to repair.
"I don't like that feeling," he said. "For myself. Or for you."
Na Yi's eyes sharpened.
Qin Xingxuan's fingers tightened into her palm.
Murong Zi's jaw clenched, battle spirit blazing higher.
Bai Jingyun took a deeper breath, the tremor in her chest starting to settle.
Ren clapped his hands once, a light, crisp sound that somehow cut through the thick air.
"Which is why," he said lightly, "we're going to go make a storm at Seven Profound Valleys."
The words dropped into the plaza like a stone into a still lake.
Ripples spread.
Every elder.
Every disciple.
Even Qin Ziya himself.
All of them stared at him in shock.
"Storm… the Valleys?" Murong Zi echoed, voice caught between outrage and delight. "You mean… you're going to Seven Profound Valleys?"
Na Shui's eyes lit up instantly.
Na Yi's brows knit together. "Ren," she said softly, "Seven Profound Valleys is a third-grade sect. Among their Seven Factions, Acacia Faction alone has numerous Xiantian experts, even Extreme Xiantian masters. This won't be like facing one Great Elder alone in Sky Fortune Kingdom."
Qin Xingxuan nodded slightly. "The risk…"
Ren's smile didn't change.
To Na Yi and the others, that smile was familiar—warm, steady, with that lazy curve that always made their hearts calm.
To everyone else in the plaza, it felt like ice.
The contrast was jarring.
Qin Xingxuan's words died halfway out of her throat, "The risk…" hanging in the air and never quite forming a complete sentence.
Ren tilted his head a little, as if he'd heard the concerns clearly anyway.
"Since Acacia Faction dares to touch my women," he said lightly, "I'll just get rid of Acacia Faction."
His voice was calm.
He didn't roar. He didn't shout.
He simply spoke—as if saying he would go buy tea leaves, or mend a cracked spear shaft.
"These people don't stop," he continued, eyes half-lidded. "Not until you cut the roots."
Dead silence.
In Sky Spill Continent, Seven Profound Valleys loomed above thirty-six countries like a mountain that touched the heavens. Within that mountain, the seven great factions—Sword, Array, Puppet, Zither, Acacia, Refiner, Mirage—balanced one another in a web of old grudges and mutual dependencies. Acacia Faction, infamous even among them, had spread its roots through South Horizon Region with its obscene Divine Acacia Power, plundering women to use as cultivation furnaces.
To say, in Sky Fortune Kingdom's little Martial House, that one would "cut those roots"…
It sounded like madness.
Qin Ziya's pupils shrank sharply.
Even after watching a Middle Xiantian Great Elder smashed into a crater by one palm, his instincts screamed that this was impossible. A Martial House Guest Instructor—Houtian on paper—declaring war on one of Seven Profound Valleys' pillars?
But no one laughed.
No one dared.
Everyone had seen that palm.
On the stone square, Murong Zi's heart quaked.
His women.
He'd said it without the slightest hesitation. In front of the entire Martial House. Under the shadow of a Xiantian Great Elder. While the name "Seven Profound Valleys" still hung over them like a looming mountain.
Her ears burned.
Her chest felt uncomfortably tight, as if something hot and unfamiliar was pressing against it from the inside.
Na Shui's cheeks flushed red. Her fingers twisted together unconsciously, gaze flickering between the crater and Ren's relaxed profile. Excitement, fear, sweetness, pride—too many emotions tangled together.
Qin Xingxuan's long, calloused hand tightened around her spear shaft. Her eyes, however, were steady.
Bai Jingyun's fingers slowly loosened around her sword hilt.
The shadow that had been crawling up from the bottom of her heart earlier—"fiancée of Ouyang Dihua", "Acacia Faction's woman"—seemed to dissolve under that one unrestrained declaration.
Na Yi's eyes rippled once.
Her rational mind instantly understood what this meant. To declare war on Acacia Faction was to declare war on one of Seven Profound Valleys' seven main pillars; to offend the Ouyang clan was to offend a powerful knot in the sect's internal web.
He truly intended to crush the entire root.
A strange, quiet joy stirred beneath her worry.
…Truly, he doesn't bow his head to anyone.
Ren chuckled softly, as if pleased by their expressions.
He lifted his foot off Ouyang Guang's chest.
The Great Elder tried to move—couldn't.
The seal Ren had planted earlier kept his life hanging by that single thin thread, his vast cultivation base locked in a half-dead state.
With a casual wave, Ren's True Essence surged.
Fire and Thunder true essence spiraled in his palm, forming a quiet whirlpool in the air. Ouyang Guang's limp body rose from the crater as if plucked up by an invisible giant hand, flying through the air toward Ren.
Ren caught him by the back of the neck.
He hung there in Ren's grasp like a half-dead chicken.
The sight made many disciples subconsciously swallow.
"That covers the trash that came knocking," Ren said lazily.
His gaze returned to the five young women in front of him.
Na Shui's eyes still sparkled. Murong Zi's fighting spirit had not yet cooled, even though the enemy had been flattened before she could throw a single spear thrust. Qin Xingxuan's stare was clear. Na Yi's expression remained calm, but the depths of her gaze were deeper than before. Bai Jingyun's lips were pressed together, knuckles still faintly white.
Ren's smile turned more obvious.
"Heaven-proud geniuses should go see the bigger pond," he said. "Since we're cutting roots anyway… you girls should come along."
Na Shui blinked. "Eh?"
Ren shifted Ouyang Guang's limp body to one hand, letting the elder dangle effortlessly. His free hand slipped into his pocket in that familiar, relaxed way of his.
"When I'm done over there," he continued, voice light, "you can show off in front of those Seven Profound Valleys disciples a little. Let them see what real foundations look like."
He tilted his head, eyes curving.
"Otherwise, the bumpkins over there might never realize how narrow their world is."
Murong Zi inhaled sharply.
"You're really going?" she asked. Her eyes burned. "Right into the heart of Seven Profound Valleys?"
Ren laughed.
It wasn't loud or mocking.
Just relaxed.
"Since I've already slapped their Great Elder into the ground in front of everyone," he said, "do you think they'll treat me politely if I just sit here and wait?"
He glanced up at the thin clouds drifting across Sky Fortune's sky.
"Acacia Faction's roots are there anyway," he added. "Better to pull them out myself than wait for them to send more bugs."
Na Shui couldn't help whispering, "…Bugs…"
A third-grade sect's Xiantian masters—bugs.
But when she looked at Ouyang Guang, dangling from Ren's hand like laundry hung out to dry, the retort died in her throat.
At last, Qin Ziya found his voice.
"Ren Ming!" he called hoarsely.
Ren looked back at him.
Qin Ziya's face was drained of color. The world he had carefully balanced as Seven Profound Martial House's Master for so many years felt like it had been turned upside down.
"You—what you intend to do… that is no longer something my Seven Profound Martial House can endure or support," he said, voice strained. "If Seven Profound Valleys truly becomes enraged, Sky Fortune Kingdom—"
Ren cut him off with a small wave of his fingers.
"The storm will blow at my height," he said simply. "Not yours."
Qin Ziya opened his mouth.
Ren smiled.
"House Master Qin," he said gently, "if you're really that worried, then just do one thing for me."
Qin Ziya unconsciously straightened. "What… what is it?"
Ren's gaze turned toward the heavens, as if looking through the blue sky to somewhere far beyond.
"When you see the sky change," he said, "just look up."
He smiled faintly.
"You'll understand."
Qin Ziya's heart slammed against his chest, as if some premonition had brushed against his soul.
Before he could form another word—before Vice House Masters Hong Xi or Bi Luo could step forward, before any elder could think to stop him—Ren's aura shifted.
He drew in a slow breath.
Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent, which he had kept coiled tightly within his meridians, unfurled.
It was not a roaring, tyrannical Intent.
It was a straight line.
From where he stood, toward where he wished to go.
To Na Yi and the others standing closest, it felt as if the world around Ren dimmed for an instant. All sound—the rustle of clothes, the whispers of frightened disciples, even the distant hum of the Martial House's protective array—seemed to bend toward him.
Heaven-Piercing ignored distance.
Ren's Intent drew a thread across the void.
Space around his body shivered.
Na Yi's breath caught.
"Wrap in," Ren murmured.
This time, the Intent unfurled gently.
True essence spread from his body like a thin, transparent film. Fire, Thunder, and Wind were compressed into a soft yet resilient barrier, their violent attributes suppressed under Heaven-Piercing's ruthless structure. Beneath that, Earth, Water, and Metal seeds sank into the pattern, forming a stabilizing layer.
The barrier flowed outward.
It brushed over Na Yi's shoulders, slid around Na Shui's waist, curved around Qin Xingxuan, wrapped around Murong Zi's fiery aura, and enfolded Bai Jingyun's slender frame.
To them, it felt like sinking into a warm spring that hid a sword's edge somewhere far beneath the surface.
"Ren—" Na Shui began, eyes widening.
Ren met all five gazes in turn.
"Hold on," he said lightly.
There was no time to reply.
Heaven-Piercing drew a line.
Reality answered.
The plaza, the cracked stone, the crater, Qin Ziya's strained face, the hundreds of watching disciples—everything stretched.
From a distance, it looked as if Ren and the five young women suddenly turned into thin threads of multi-colored light. Those threads rose toward the sky, straight and unwavering.
Then—
They vanished.
No thunderclap.
No blinding explosion.
Just a single, invisible cut through the fabric of space.
One moment they were there.
The next, they were not.
Qin Ziya's mind blanked.
Hong Xi and Bi Luo stared, mouths half-open.
All across the Martial House, disciples rubbed their eyes, wondering if they had fallen into some illusion.
The crater at the center of the plaza remained.
But Ren, the five girls, and the half-dead Great Elder had disappeared.
Qin Ziya swallowed hard.
"…Look up…?" he whispered.
His gaze was drawn instinctively toward the distant horizon.
…
Seven Profound Valleys.
In the depths of South Horizon Region, seven towering mountain peaks pierced the clouds. Locked behind a massive array, heaven and earth origin energy here was rich and pure, the night skies so clean they looked washed of all dust. For a third-grade sect, this was a sacred land.
On one of those peaks, the air was different.
Sword Faction's mountain was bare and austere, sword-qi washing between its cliffs like invisible waterfalls.
Array Faction's mountain was laced with glowing runes, formations overlapping like a web woven by a mad god.
Acacia Faction's peak, in contrast, was a lush, verdant paradise.
Flowers bloomed in wild profusion, painting the mountain in colors even in mid-winter. Exotic trees spread wide canopies over jade pavilions. Clear streams ran along stone channels and under curved bridges, their mist rising like veils in the sunlight.
It was not natural.
Long ago, Acacia Faction's founder, Ouyang Xun, had paid a steep price to install a massive array at the summit, blocking the biting mountain winds and gathering gentle spiritual energy. Because of that array, the entire peak remained as green and warm as spring all year round, devouring tens of thousands of pure true essence stones every year.
Inner court disciples strolled along flower paths.
Seductive female cultivators in thin veils laughed softly in pavilions, fans hiding smiles and intentions.
Young men in Acacia robes sat cross-legged beneath ancient trees, Divine Acacia Power circulating through their meridians. Their auras carried a faint, sultry heat, like embers hidden under silk.
On one of the central platforms, Ouyang Ming stood with his hands behind his back, eyes half-closed.
As the chief disciple of Acacia Faction, he enjoyed a status just beneath the Elders. Many inner court disciples already treated him as a half-Sovereign, the Ouyang clan's rising star.
He was meditating on his true essence.
Or so it seemed.
In truth, part of his mind was elsewhere.
On Sky Fortune Kingdom.
On Seven Profound Martial House.
On Bai Jingyun, the Heavenly Abode genius whose temperament and beauty fit Acacia's taste perfectly—too perfectly to leave her in a mere vassal Martial House.
With Bai Jingyun as a cultivation furnace, with Sky Fortune Kingdom fully under Acacia's thumb, with Ouyang Guang's visit crushing any resistance… the Ouyang clan's position in Seven Profound Valleys would become even more untouchable.
Ouyang Ming's lips curved slightly.
Then he frowned.
…What is this feeling…?
It was extremely subtle.
As chief disciple of a major faction, his sensitivity to arrays far exceeded that of ordinary cultivators. The grand formation woven into Acacia Peak's bones was like a familiar breathing to him—constant, steady, always smoothing out the world's ripples.
Now, that breath—
Hitched.
A faint tremor ran through the mountain.
For a heartbeat, the array's usually smooth circulation stuttered, like a pulse skipping a beat.
Far above the peak, where hazy clouds usually drifted in lazy swirls, space stirred.
It was like a finger tapping the surface of a lake.
Ripples spread outward.
Several Xiantian auras stirred within the mountain.
Ouyang Boyan, stern Elder of Acacia Faction and pillar of the Ouyang clan.
Ouyang Boxu, whose cruelty was whispered about even among Seven Profound disciples.
Ouyang Wenzong, whose smile never quite reached his eyes.
They all looked up at nearly the same time.
"What…?"
Before suspicion could crystallize into a defensive move, light bent.
A figure stepped out of the warped space above the peak.
He didn't explode out of a tear in the sky. He simply walked forward, as if passing through a door only he could see.
Simple clothes.
Black hair.
One hand tucked lazily in his pocket.
The other hand holding a limp, blood-stained old man by the back of his neck.
Ren Ming.
Behind him, five young women appeared together inside a translucent barrier.
Na Yi, calm-faced but with eyes that flickered once at the sight of the mountain below.
Na Shui, mouth opening in a small, soundless gasp as she stared at the endless range stretching beneath their feet.
Qin Xingxuan, one hand gripping her spear, legs tensing as she adjusted to standing on invisible ground high in the sky.
Murong Zi, eyes bright with fighting intent, jaw clenched to hide her unease at the dizzying height.
Bai Jingyun, gaze complicated as it swept across the luxurious pavilions and manicured gardens of the Faction that had once tried to chain her.
The moment they appeared, Ren's True Essence barrier tightened.
Fire, Thunder, and Wind Laws wrapped around their bodies, forming a soft cocoon that isolated them completely from the outside world. To the girls, the cold mountain air did not bite. The crushing aura of the sect's grand formation did not weigh on them. Even the faint, cloying charm-laden energy that always lingered around Acacia Peak failed to seep through.
Ren exhaled.
Heaven-Piercing Martial Intent pulsed once.
His aura changed.
Until now, he had kept it tightly restrained—like a sword in its scabbard, edge hidden.
Now, he allowed it to show.
Fire's violent burning.
Thunder's destructive sharpness.
Wind's cutting swiftness.
Three fourth-level Laws condensed under Heaven-Piercing's structure, weaving countless invisible lines through the air. They were as thin as threads, almost imperceptible, but together they formed a field.
Pressure descended silently.
Acacia Peak shuddered.
Thousands of disciples staggered.
Some weaker cultivators slipped from their meditation poses, falling flat as the world abruptly pressed down on their shoulders.
"What aura is this?!"
"Xiantian? No… this is above Xiantian…!"
A chorus of shocked cries spread through courtyards and corridors.
Within the mountain, several more Xiantian auras stirred restlessly, instincts screaming that something had gone very, very wrong.
Before they could fully rise, Ren moved his fingers.
He glanced down.
Colorful blossoms, jade pavilions, curved bridges, misty streams. Under that picturesque scene, a complicated net of array lines glowed faintly, channeling spiritual energy, blocking cold, forming Acacia Peak's protective barrier.
Ren flicked his finger.
Heaven-Piercing condensed into a needle-thin filament of light.
It shot downward.
No grand explosion.
The filament simply slipped through the void, ignoring layers of space, appearing directly at the node where Ouyang Xun had anchored the array's core.
Dao lines met.
Acacia Faction's formation had taken a vast sum of resources and generations of maintenance to build. For decades it had quietly diverted cold wind, gathered origin energy, and maintained this lush paradise.
Under Heaven-Piercing, all that intricate work looked like a spider web meeting a sword.
Kch.
The sound was very small.
But every array master in Seven Profound Valleys felt their heart seize.
On Acacia Peak, the warm air stirred.
Cold wind roared down from the high mountains, crashing into the courtyards like a sudden blizzard. Flowers shivered; petals tore free, scattering into the sky like torn silk.
Streams surged.
Mystic lines flickered wildly along the ground, then went dark.
All of Acacia Faction's protective formations—climate and defense alike—collapsed in an instant.
Ouyang Ming's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Array Faction disciples meditating in a distant valley, linked to the grand formation, all turned pale.
From elsewhere in Seven Profound Valleys, several senses swept over in disbelief.
"Acacia Faction's array… was broken?!"
Impossible.
That formation had stood for generations. Even if a Xiantian master attacked without reservation, the array should have fought back for some time before failing.
To shatter it with a flick of a finger—
"Who is it?!"
"Which senior has come?!"
On Acacia Peak, Ouyang Boyan stepped into the air, Xiantian true essence surging.
He was followed by Ouyang Boxu, Ouyang Wenzong, and several other Xiantian Elders—each one a pillar of the Faction, each one a predator used to being the one others feared.
At the same time, the chief disciple Ouyang Ming, Ouyang Dihua, Ouyang Ziyun and several talented inner court disciples rose from their respective platforms, riding swords, clouds, or simply running along the ground, making sure to stop at a safe distance from whoever had just torn apart their mountain-protecting array.
The elders gathered in the air.
They saw the intruder.
And froze.
Because the first thing their eyes caught was not the stranger.
It was Ouyang Guang.
Great Elder of Acacia Faction.
The man who had left majestically for Sky Fortune Kingdom, certain he would bend a small Martial House to his will.
Now hanging limply from a stranger's hand, like a broken animal.
His robes were soaked in dried blood.
His aura was in chaos, barely clinging to life.
His chest was caved in. Meridians were twisted and blackening, like rotten veins.