Chapter 334: Struggle for Supremacy Among the Dynasties of the Spirit Realm
In the spring of the three hundred seventy-second year of the Spirit Realm Calendar, a battle that would change the world's power structure erupted on the Sunset Plains.
Thirty thousand martial artists from Qinglan City arrayed themselves across the plain, facing an allied army composed of fifty thousand ordinary soldiers.
At the instant the war drums thundered, Qinglan City Lord Zhao Wuji let out a long howl, and three hundred Innate martial artists behind him rose into the air simultaneously.
They stepped upon the void, their拳风 roaring like thunder, and wherever they passed, the enemy's formations collapsed like crumbling earth.
The battle lasted only half an hour, yet it completely overturned the power structure of the Spirit Realm.
At the victory banquet after the war, Zhao Wuji, clad in a crimson battle robe, gazed at the city lords of all factions kneeling throughout the great hall and slowly raised his gilded wine cup.
"From this day forth, Qinglan City shall be renamed 'Flame Capital,' and the state shall be established under the name 'Great Flame'!"
The great hall instantly erupted in cheers like surging mountains and roaring seas.
A cluster of crimson flames suddenly rose from Zhao Wuji's palm, transforming in midair into the totem of a fire phoenix spreading its wings in flight.
"By fire as witness, the Great Flame Dynasty is hereby founded!"
The Great Flame Dynasty established itself through martial might and set up within its army the "Heavenly Flame Battalion," dedicated to cultivating elite martial artists.
These warriors cultivated the Flaming Martial True Scripture; in battle, their entire bodies were wreathed in flames, and every strike of fist and foot carried a heaven-burning momentum.
It was said that Zhao Wuji himself had already cultivated the "Flaming Martial Sacred Body," and that a full-powered strike could melt metal and liquefy iron.
In the same year that the Great Flame Dynasty was founded, astonishing news arrived from the east.
Liu Wuchen, Pavilion Master of the Qingfeng Pavilion, announced the establishment of the Qingxuan Dynasty, setting its capital at "Mystic Capital."
Unlike the martial Great Flame, the Qingxuan Dynasty governed through civil administration.
Within the court, civil officials and martial practitioners shared equal prominence.
At the center of the imperial city stood a nine-story "Enlightenment Tower," rumored to house at its summit the secretly transmitted Qingxuan Scripture.
"Only when martiality comprehends the mystic does one attain supremacy."
Liu Wuchen spoke thus at his enthronement ceremony.
The former swordsman now wore a simple azure robe, held a jade scepter in hand, and possessed an otherworldly bearing.
The martial practitioners of the Qingxuan Dynasty emphasized "entering the Dao through martial arts," and many high-ranking court officials were experts who cultivated both internally and externally.
It was rumored that those who mastered the Qingxuan Scripture could extend their lifespan by a hundred years and retain eternal youth.
From the northern snowfields came earth-shaking thunder as an ice mountain was cleaved apart by human force.
Mo Tianfeng, Sect Master of the Cold Mountain Sect, stood atop an icy peak, with one hundred thousand northern martial artists at his feet.
"The northern lands are bitterly cold, yet they forge our unyielding iron bones!"
His voice rang clearly through the wind and snow.
"Today, we establish the 'Heavenly Frost Dynasty,' honoring cold as supreme!"
All Heavenly Frost warriors cultivated true qi of frost and ice; with a single command on the battlefield, countless waves of cold surged forth, capable of freezing the enemy's blood and veins.
The "Mystic Ice Guard," personally forged by Mo Tianfeng, consisted entirely of top-tier experts, each capable of facing a hundred foes alone.
The dynastic capital, "Frost Capital," was built entirely of ice and snow, gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight.
In the three hundred eightieth year of the Spirit Realm Calendar, the territories of the three great dynasties were largely defined.
The crimson banners of the Great Flame Dynasty fluttered across the southern lands, the azure pennants of the Qingxuan Dynasty covered the fertile eastern plains, and the snow emblems of the Heavenly Frost Dynasty guarded the northern frontiers.
Between the three dynasties lay dozens of small states that survived by attaching themselves to greater powers.
Martial sects likewise chose sides—Canglang Sect merged into Great Flame, Qingfeng Pavilion submitted to Qingxuan, and Cold Mountain Sect became the state religion of Heavenly Frost.
Yet a few sects remained independent.
In the western regions, the Broken Peak Sect held natural strongholds and, citing "the martial path honors only one's own heart," refused to submit to any dynasty.
Sect Master Tie Kuangdao stood astride his horse with blade in hand and declared boldly:
"Whoever dares trespass upon my mountain gate must first ask the nine-ring saber in my hand!"
At the junction of the three great dynasties, a neutral city known as "Martial Capital" quietly rose.
Here gathered martial artists from all regions, who exchanged techniques and shared insights.
Upon the "Martial Discourse Platform" at the city's center, spectacular bouts were staged daily.
Beneath the skies of the Spirit Realm, an entirely new era had arrived.
The martial world and dynasties intertwined, while martial paths and political schemes coexisted.
On this land once pure, the game of power and strength was growing ever more intense.
If that forgotten Sacred Emperor could witness today's scene, who knew what thoughts might cross his mind.
…
The skies of the Spirit Realm remained vast and lofty, clouds rolling and dispersing, mountains and rivers still magnificent.
Only the stories upon this land were no longer as pure as they had once been.
At the border of the Great Flame Dynasty, in a tavern of a small town, blades suddenly flashed.
"Clang—"
Two long sabers collided, sparks scattering. The wielders were two wanderers of the martial world, one dressed in tight crimson attire, the other cloaked in gray and white.
The surrounding patrons had already retreated, yet none were panicked; instead, they watched with keen interest.
"The Canglang Sect's fist and foot techniques are nothing special!"
The gray-clad bladesman sneered, his saber style shifting as he slashed down like a violent storm.
"The Cold Mountain Sect's saber arts dare claim dominance in the western regions?"
The red-clad martial artist shot back, his figure flashing as his拳风 howled, forcibly震退ing the saber strike.
Such clashes had become commonplace in today's Spirit Realm.
Martial artists contended, sects slaughtered one another, and dynasties waged war.
The Spirit Realm was no longer a paradise free of conflict, but a chaotic mortal world filled with flashing blades, tangled loves and hates.
…
Yet in some corner of this world, perhaps there were still those who remembered—
That long, long ago, there had once been a Sacred Emperor who led their ancestors to this realm.
In a remote mountain village, aged elders would still, by the evening campfire, tell their grandchildren that ancient legend.
"The Sacred Emperor wielded his sword, cleaving chaos and opening this world for us…"
The children would widen their eyes, half-believing and half-doubting.
"Grandfather, did the Sacred Emperor really exist?"
The old man would fall silent for a moment, gaze up at the starry sky, and softly reply:
"Perhaps…"
Yet now, people were more willing to believe—
"At the pinnacle of martiality, one may reach the Heavenly Dao!"
As for the Sacred Emperor?
That was merely… myth.
…
And at this very moment, a middle-aged martial artist named Zhao Xin, weary of martial strife and dynastic contention, decided to leave this turbulent continent with two disciples who were willing to follow him.
They spent all their accumulated wealth and ultimately built a massive vessel, resolving to explore the depths of the Sea of Mists.
…
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