A majestic voice thundered across the mountains, shaking heaven and earth. In its wake, a crimson Qi wave surged outward, engulfing the entire region. The ground trembled, clouds swirled chaotically, and the very air grew heavy with awe and pressure.
Mo Wuxie's eyes widened in disbelief. He instinctively gulped, thoughts racing in panic.
"This voice…?"
But he quickly shook his head and rejected the idea.
"No. Impossible! There were three elders… equipped with three Earth-grade relics and countless Rank 4 sigils! Zhen Wuji must have died in that trap. He couldn't have survived!"
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm in his heart.
'This must be a bluff… some desperate tactic from the Radiant Sky Sect to shake our morale. Nothing more.'
Convincing himself, he turned toward the source of the commotion.
"Perhaps our elders have arrived. I should go greet them."
But the moment he looked, his steps halted. His breath froze.
At the mountain peak—shrouded in violet mist—stood an ancient, towering white gate, grand and bound by time. It exuded a mysterious power that had lingered for millennia. The Relic Inheritance Gate had opened once more.
And from within it… a lone figure walked out.
He wore a flowing crimson robe embroidered with golden guardian runes, its fabric resonating with restrained divine power. His jet-black hair, tied into a warrior's knot, danced lightly in the wind. His eyes, darker than ink, seemed to pierce flesh and soul alike. His brows, sharp as blades, framed a face cold and dignified—like an emperor descending from the heavens.
"Zhen… Wuji…?" Mo Wuxie muttered, stunned into silence.
The man he had already buried in his heart… now walked out alive, calm, and victorious.
But what struck terror deeper into his core—
Zhen Wuji held three severed heads in one hand. The heads of the three Nether Bone Temple elders who had entered before him.
Mo Wuxie trembled. His lips parted, but no words came.
"This… This must be an illusion!"
Yet no illusion could produce this level of oppressive reality. His spirit trembled. Cold sweat poured from his forehead. His throat tightened.
"Even after all that—three Earth-grade relics, countless sigils and pills… It was all for nothing?!"
He roared inwardly in despair.
"Hehehe… I knew Lord Wuji would return!" Han Yijun laughed with joy.
"Of course," Feng Mian appeared beside him, her expression brightening, "how could someone like him fall to such cowardly tricks?"
At that moment, Zhen Wuji turned his gaze toward Mo Wuxie.
There was no anger on his face. No hatred. Only silence.
But that silence carried the weight of mountains.
Mo Wuxie's soul quivered. His knees buckled slightly as he felt the gaze lock onto him. It was like standing before divine judgment.
'No… If this continues, I'll die here!'
Suddenly, Zhen Wuji took a step.
He vanished.
In an instant, he reappeared within two hundred steps of Mo Wuxie, sword already drawn.
His sword aura erupted like a tide — crimson light flashed, sigils awakened around him, and he pointed his blade forward.
"Nine-Heaven Chaotic Slash."
With that quiet utterance, a vast blade of red Qi tore through the air, humming with apocalyptic force as it raced toward Mo Wuxie.
"Lord Wuxie!" Yao Ruyan, silent until now, cried out in panic.
But Mo Wuxie's eyes flashed with ruthless light.
'I can't dodge… then I'll trade!'
He activated a hidden sigil — Position Swap — and in the blink of an eye, Yao Ruyan appeared in his place. He quickly activated his sigils, the dark portal opened and closed quickly
"This—No!"
Yao Ruyan barely had time to scream before the Qi Slash reached her.
Her final thoughts were filled with betrayal.
"You… bastard… Mo Wuxie…"
The blade tore through mountains and split the sky itself. The shockwave shattered the landscape, leaving jagged chasms in its wake.
Yao Ruyan's body was split in half. Her remains dissolved into black particles, vanishing into the mist. Her lifeless eyes still held disbelief.
Zhen Wuji glanced down once more to confirm. When he saw no remaining trace, he sheathed his sword back into his astral pouch.
"Well done, Senior Brother! You finally taught them a lesson!" Han Yijun greeted him with joy, unable to hide his elation.
"Snatching our Heaven-grade relic? They deserved nothing but death." Feng Mian added, her eyes filled with admiration as she looked at Zhen Wuji.
Zhen Wuji allowed himself a brief smile.
"It was only natural. As long as we stand together… no one can threaten the Radiant Sky Sect."
But then, his expression darkened.
"To think Mo Wuxie had a Position Swap Sigil hidden. Had I known, I would've locked him down with a Position Bind Sigil beforehand."
He let out a sigh of regret.
"And not only that… he sacrificed his own subordinate… just to escape."
Feng Mian let out a cold snort, her displeasure clear.
Han Yujin nodded in agreement, but his expression remained solemn.
"These demonic cultivators are truly heartless. To sacrifice their own sect members without hesitation… they deserve nothing less than annihilation."
Zhen Wuji raised his hand, silencing them both.
"The path one chooses is their own. Who are we to judge the way others survive?" His voice was calm, yet heavy with meaning. "The strife between righteous and demonic sects has endured for countless eons. This… is merely one skirmish in an unending cycle."
The two went silent, nodding slowly at his words.
Sensing the lingering tension, Feng Mian swiftly shifted the topic with a clever smile.
"Senior Brother! That Heaven-grade relic — you did obtain it, didn't you? Quickly, let me see it!"
"Yes, Senior Brother!" Han Yujin echoed, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained excitement. "Even within our Radiant Sky Sect, there are only three Heaven Relics… what form did this one take?"
Their anticipation was understandable.
Heaven-grade relics were peerless treasures among cultivators — relics of unimaginable craftsmanship and power. They came in myriad forms: swords, spears, talismans, bows, armor, and even rare constructs like rings or bracelets. Each was forged from countless sigils, imbued with mysterious laws, and radiated presence like ancient divinities.
Relics, the tools of a cultivator's rise, were classified by their quality and grade:
Common Relic (凡器) — basic spiritual items, easily crafted, often used by outer disciples or qi-sensitive mortals. Simple, but practical.
Spirit Relic (灵器) — relics containing qi veins, capable of channeling essence. Most bore engraved sigils and were favored by inner disciples.
Profound Relic (玄器) — forged from rare beast materials or spiritual ore, capable of storing techniques or unleashing mystical effects. Treasured by elites.
Earth Relic (地器) — crafted by master artificers, resonating with a cultivator's essence. Some developed rudimentary self-awareness.
Heaven Relic (天器) — the peak of mortal cultivator craftsmanship. These divine artifacts could bond with the user's soul and respond to intent. Nearly alive, and dangerously coveted.
These relics were so rare and valuable that even fellow sect members hesitated to share them. What if it was stolen? Or worse… What if greed took hold, and the borrower defected with it?
Now, both cultivators turned eagerly to Zhen Wuji.
But Zhen Wuji merely smiled faintly.
With a flick of his sleeve, a tidal wave of Qi erupted, warping the very air. The clouds above trembled, and space quivered with pressure.
A golden brilliance surged to his palm, forming a shape amidst flashing sigils. A bracelet, shimmering with radiant luster, emerged slowly — its surface etched with ancient, shifting patterns, glowing like stars circling a divine constellation.
The very moment it appeared, a majestic aura blasted outward. The air rippled. The mountains groaned. The bracelet's will screamed — rejecting all, proud and defiant.
But Zhen Wuji stood unmoved. His eyes were like still water — calm, unshaken.
He raised two fingers… and tapped lightly upon the relic.
BOOM—!
The resistance shattered.
The divine light withdrew, coiling into submission. The relic's presence dimmed — no longer arrogant, but obedient, like a subdued beast kneeling before its master.
The Heaven-grade Relic floated down and gently clasped itself around his wrist, snug and silent.
"Unbelievable…" Feng Mian murmured, jaw slack. "Senior Brother… that power…"
"What's the use of this bracelet? Quickly, let me try it!" Han Yujin stepped forward, his eyes wide — but not with awe. With greed.
His expression twisted subtly.
Feng Mian immediately noticed the shift. Though often bold and outspoken, she knew better than to let her tongue outrun her senses.
'Asking to use a Heaven Relic? That's… insanity.'
Even within the same sect, such things were untouchable. Too much temptation. Too much risk.
She narrowed her gaze at Han Yujin — but more importantly, she turned to Zhen Wuji.
Zhen Wuji's expression did not change. He simply smiled.
"Sure."
His voice was gentle.
But in that moment, his eyes flashed with killing intent.
Before Han Yujin could react, Zhen Wuji raised his hand — and pointed a single finger between Han Yujin's brows.
"AAAHHH—!"
A shriek tore through the air.