The earth-shattering and tragic battle in the depths of the Cloud Dream Marsh—its outcome spread through the entire Spirit Realm like a plague.
When the news was confirmed that Xiao Chen and Zhan Wuji had perished together, transforming into two brilliant stars, the remaining will to resist within Immortal Spirit Valley collapsed entirely, as if its spine had been ripped out.
They followed the final command Xiao Chen had left behind, abandoning all resistance and surrendering their weapons to the advancing Holy Dynasty army.
Ye Fan did not make things difficult for these captives who had laid down their arms.
He ordered them to be detained temporarily at the outskirts of the Cloud Dream Marsh, awaiting unified post-war disposition.
As far as he was concerned, the lives and deaths of these people no longer mattered.
What mattered was that the last bastion of resistance in the South had finally been thoroughly crushed.
At the same time, another piece of even more shocking news, like a meteorite crashing into a still lake, sent towering waves through the Holy Dynasty's upper echelons.
Of the seven Divine Sons who had accompanied the southern campaign, aside from Zhu Qingcheng who returned gravely wounded, the other six—including the strongest among them, Zhan Wuji—had all fallen in the Cloud Dream Marsh!
Six Divine Sons fallen!
The impact of this news even exceeded the destruction of Immortal Spirit Valley itself!
What kind of existences were Divine Sons?
They were the incarnations or representatives of Upper Realm Immortal Sovereigns, the symbol of the Holy Dynasty's martial might and authority, beings who stood above all living creatures!
And now, six of them had fallen simultaneously in a battle that seemed like a guaranteed victory!
It was simply beyond belief!
When the news arrived that Ye Fan was leading the victorious army, escorting captives back to the capital, the entire Holy Dynasty's imperial city fell into an extremely complex atmosphere.
On one hand, grand celebrations for the unification of the Spirit Realm were being frantically prepared, with lanterns and decorations everywhere, a scene of festivity.
On the other hand, there was the invisible oppression and panic that the fall of six Divine Sons had cast into the air.
The three Divine Sons who had remained in the capital—Ling Guzi, Han Junru, and another reclusive Divine Son (referred to as Xuanmingzi for now)—gathered in a side hall upon receiving confirmation of the news, their faces gravely somber.
"Six... we actually lost six!" Ling Guzi stroked his long beard, his fingers trembling slightly, his eyes filled with disbelief and heartache.
"Zhan Wuji, Jian Wuming, Feng Wuhen, Shi Potian, Canglanzi, Jue Dao Ke... how... how is this possible?!"
"Where did Immortal Spirit Valley get such strength?!"
Han Junru's face was equally pained as he sighed.
"Xiao Chen, Han Yu, Chen Xingcai, Lu Xiaoluo, Li Hanzhou, Jiang Che... they all fell in battle as well. This was a mutual annihilation, a dead end from the start."
"Their goal was never victory. It was... to assassinate our kind!"
Xuanmingzi radiated a chilling aura, his voice cold as ice.
"What ruthless methods! What resolute hearts! These Lower Realm pawns have more backbone than we imagined."
After the shock and grief passed, the three Divine Sons quickly forced themselves to calm down.
They were, after all, Upper Realm Immortal Sovereigns, their vision far exceeding that of ordinary people.
Ling Guzi pondered aloud, "Though our losses are severe... the Spirit Realm chess game is ultimately ours to win."
"Immortal Spirit Valley is destroyed, Xiao Chen and the other core pawns have all 'left the board,' and the last shred of resistance from the Lower Realm in the Spirit Realm has been uprooted entirely."
"This realm is now fully within our grasp."
Han Junru nodded in agreement, continuing, "Indeed. 'Death' within the Spirit Realm is not truly the end. Zhan Wuji and the others have merely returned to the Upper Realm ahead of schedule."
"When all is concluded and their merits fulfilled, they will be reborn. Compared to that, securing complete victory in this contest is what truly matters."
Xuanmingzi said coldly, "It's just that it benefits that brat Ye Fan too much. After this battle, his prestige in the Holy Dynasty will be unrivaled, and Qin Ao's trust in him will only deepen. I'm afraid it won't be long before this Spirit Realm truly becomes his personal domain."
At the mention of Ye Fan, all three wore complicated expressions.
Ye Fan's performance in this war had been impeccable.
Commanding the campaign personally, pacifying the South, his contributions were paramount.
But the thought that the fall of six Divine Sons was inextricably linked to him was like a thorn in their hearts.
"Enough, the bigger picture is what matters." Ling Guzi finally waved his hand.
"As long as he can stabilize the Spirit Realm and complete the final 'Deification' ceremony to help us achieve our great merit, letting him have some authority is a small price. What does the position of Lord of one Spirit Realm matter compared to our attainment of the Great Dao?"
Having unified their stance, the three Divine Sons turned their attention to the upcoming surrender ceremony and celebration.
This was a crucial step for declaring victory, stabilizing hearts, and consolidating their rule.
Meanwhile, in the Holy Dynasty Imperial Palace, within the Soaring Cloud Hall.
The once majestic and grand hall now reeked of medicine and decay.
Holy Emperor Qin Ao barely sat upright on the Nine Dragon Throne, draped in thick brocade blankets, his face gaunt, his aura feeble, like a candle flickering in the wind.
Only those deeply sunken eyes, upon hearing the attendant's report that the Crown Prince had returned triumphant and was already outside the capital, blazed with one last glimmer of excitement and gratification.
"He's back... Fan'er... he's finally back..." Qin Ao's voice was hoarse and weak, yet brimming with anticipation.
"I... before I close my eyes... I want to see him with my own eyes... complete this great unification... and personally place this empire... into his hands..."
The eunuchs and maids standing in attendance all kept their heads bowed, not daring to make a sound.
Yet they all understood in their hearts that this once-dominant Holy Emperor had reached the final moments of his life.
And the Crown Prince, soon to return, would be the undisputed new master of this realm.
The entire Central Plains imperial city had already been decorated like a festival.
From the city gates to the palace, crimson carpets had been laid out.
Banners lined both sides of the road, armored soldiers stood in formation, and citizens were permitted to gather in designated areas, a sea of people craning their necks in anticipation.
The music officials had prepared the most grandiose symphony, waiting only for the triumphant procession to appear.
Everyone was waiting.
Waiting for the Crown Prince, who was about to be crowned as the sole sovereign of the Spirit Realm, escorting the final spoil of war—the symbol of the old era's complete end, the last scion of Immortal Spirit Valley, Hong Longxiang—to step into this city that represented supreme power.
The revelry of victory was about to reach its peak.
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