"Yang Cheng, don't be reckless!"
Yang Xiu and Tian Congxuan both moved to block him.
"Hahaha, Crown Prince of Great Zhou, I know you want to kill me, but you won't even touch the corner of my robe," Mo Jialan sneered, continuing to provoke.
All three were delighted. If Yang Cheng's composure broke, flaws would appear, and their chances of defeating him would rise sharply.
To them, it would make everything easier.
"This Crown Prince of Great Zhou is still too young. How easily he falls for taunts," Mo Jialan thought smugly.
But none of them knew that Yang Cheng's mind at this moment was cold, unnervingly calm.
His consciousness was frozen to ice.
His gaze locked on Mo Jialan.
In an instant, the Great Divination Breathing Technique surged to its peak.
The Ancestral Dragon Sword Body awakened.
Innate Sword Intent ignited.
Sword Dao at Perfection, unleashed for the first time at full force.
The next moment, everyone saw Yang Cheng's figure streaking forward.
At first, they could still catch sight of his form. Then it blurred, until he vanished, leaving only an afterimage tearing across the air.
Mo Jialan stood his ground, lips curled in disdain.
As Yang Cheng lunged at him, he already envisioned the boy's ending.
A person who lost reason from the smallest provocation, no matter how noble his status or monstrous his talent, was still worthless.
Such a fool wasn't qualified to be his opponent.
"In terms of strategy, the Crown Prince of Great Zhou is far beneath the Holy Son of the Wheel-Turning Sect."
"Even against a single Holy Son, he may not prevail. And the Holy Son is not alone—he has Tian Congxuan and Yang Xiu at his side."
"Yang Cheng will surely lose."
Many of the martial artists rushing up behind whispered these words.
Nangong Yi's expression burned with excitement. "Good. Very good. Yang Cheng, today you finally cannot escape."
He admitted Yang Cheng was strong.
But against the combined assault of three peerless prodigies, he didn't believe Yang Cheng could survive.
"Lu Yun, is this the Crown Prince of Great Zhou you admire so highly?"
A young man shook his head. "His strength is decent, but his mind is too simple. Just a reckless brute. Even if he doesn't die today, he'll never achieve anything great."
This man was Zhou Wangli, young master of the New Moon Chamber of Commerce, the rival of Jade Zither Pavilion on Wutong Island in the New Moon Archipelago.
Yet none of this noise touched Yang Cheng.
No joy, no anger.
No frenzy, no madness.
Only calm.
Only suffocating pressure.
His true qi, his sword intent, his entire Sword Dao compressed tighter and tighter.
And in his world, there was only one figure—Mo Jialan.
Sight, thought, killing intent… all locked onto him.
The distance between them shrank rapidly.
Buzz.
The wooden sword in Yang Cheng's hand trembled.
It felt its master's will.
At first, it quivered faintly.
Then the vibration grew urgent, sharper, until suddenly it screamed out with a soaring sword cry.
Once, it had been only an ordinary wooden sword.
But its master had forged it anew.
He had raised its quality with Nine-Tribulation Star Tears.
He had nurtured its spirit with Innate Sword Intent.
Now its quality, its spirit, stood shoulder to shoulder with the finest divine weapons.
Today, it would follow its master to blaze with its own light.
Today, it would let every sword in the world know—even if it was only wood—
Buzz!
The suppression broke.
Explosion.
After the deepest restraint comes the most violent release.
And its release moved perfectly in step with its master's heart.
At that moment, Yang Cheng's qi and sword intent had also been pressed to their limit.
He gripped the sword.
He struck.
The heavens shook with its cry.
"Kill!"
Indescribable sword intent burst forth, fierce beyond measure.
An intent that heaven and earth could not bind.
An intent that no living being could block.
If one day I take up the sword again—let me ask, how many thousand autumns will the world endure?
This was not a sword of nine years.
This was a sword of 500 years.
500 years of darkness.
500 years of suffocating weight.
500 years of struggle, crawling like an ant uphill.
500 years of rage and pain, of frost, wind, snow, and storm.
All of it, poured into this one strike.
"What…?"
At the instant Yang Cheng fully unleashed himself, Mo Jialan's expression collapsed into horror.
Only a breath ago, his eyes had been filled with arrogance and ridicule.
Now his pupils shrank, his face distorted in shock.
Sword intent.
Overwhelming, world-crushing sword intent.
This strike—
Shook the heavens and split the earth.
Looked down on all beings.
It was as if a supreme Asura, an invincible Demon Lord, strode across a sea of blood at the end of time and cleaved down with this sword.
Everyone who witnessed it felt their entire world consumed by one blinding streak of sword light.
It came like purple qi rising from the east, like the blazing sun ascending the skies.
It crushed all.
It shone over the eight directions.
Heaven, earth, all beings, all so-called geniuses—
Under the brilliance of this sword, all dimmed into insignificance.
Tian Congxuan and Yang Xiu had been ready to strike and stop Yang Cheng.
But the instant this sword intent erupted, both felt like they had fallen into an icy abyss. Instinctively, they retreated in panic.
"Impossible!"
Tian Congxuan's breath froze in his chest.
"This… can a human truly unleash such a sword?"
Zhao Shouyi's voice trembled.
"In this world, there exists such terrifying sword intent? What level of Sword Dao is this… Perfection?"
Zhou Wangli's face went pale. His earlier pride shattered completely, leaving only fear.
"Human Dao!"
Yang Cheng's voice rolled out, heavy with majesty.
To him, this was not the sword of Asura, nor the sword of demons.
It was the sword of humanity.
Martial strength is truth.
And the sword is the vessel of truth.
With unmatched martial might and the sword of truth in hand, he needed neither to bow nor to crawl.
He could stand upright, and live as a man.
"No!"
Mo Jialan's face twisted in ultimate terror.
All his arrogance, his composure, his so-called poise, crumbled in an instant.
What he felt now was a crisis unlike any he had ever known.
He exploded, unleashing everything at once.
True qi surged, techniques flared, barrier after barrier rose around him.
His defenses were pushed to the very limit.
Under this suffocating pressure, he even felt as though his cultivation was on the verge of breaking through.
If he survived this calamity, he was certain his realm would soar.
But in this moment, he had no joy, no stray thoughts.
There was only one desperate instinct left:
Block this sword.
Never in his life would he have imagined a Martial King could unleash such a world-shattering strike.
Before this blazing sword, radiant like the sun itself, he felt as small as an insect.
And this feeling sealed his fate.
Boom!
Collapse.
At the instant his defenses clashed with that ultimate sword light, Mo Jialan realized it was like raising an ant's limb against a chariot.
The sword light was too terrifying.
His layers upon layers of defenses crumbled like wet paper, collapsing in a flash.
A fear beyond anything he had ever known flooded his heart.
If he had another chance, he swore he would never have provoked Yang Cheng.