"Haha! You can all come together!" Lin Feng's laughter rolled across the battlefield like thunder, wild and fearless.
"Arrogant fool!"
"Kill him!"
"Attack!"
"Die!"
The four remaining leading disciples and their followers charged in unison. Their combined killing intent darkened the sky, turning the air heavy and suffocating.
Lin Feng's expression sharpened. He raised his palm, golden qi swirling around it like molten metal.
"Cloud Palm — Splitting the Sky!"
A gigantic golden palm descended from the heavens.
BOOM! BOOM!
The explosion tore through the ground, uprooting trees and shattering boulders. A storm of dust and debris filled the valley. Lin Feng was thrown backward, his robes torn and his body covered in blood.
Yet even as blood dripped from his mouth, he was laughing — a hoarse, battle-hungry laugh.
"Hahaha! Now this is getting lively!"
The crowd trembled.
"What kind of monster is he?!"
"He should have died ten times already!"
"He's still fighting… what kind of recovery is that?"
"Does he never run out of inner qi?!"
None of them knew the truth — the ancient sword in Lin Feng's hand pulsed faintly, its mysterious power knitting his wounds together. As long as he held it, his life force would not falter.
"Kill him!"
"Die!"
Lin Feng blurred forward, vanishing into a streak of light. His sword hummed, leaving behind afterimages that cut through the air.
"Azure Sword Art — Fifth Stance!"
The three surviving leading disciples responded instantly.
"Heavenly Sword Art — Fifth Stance!"
"Heavenly Saber Art — Fourth Stance!"
"Thousand Mountain Fist!"
The air exploded.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The shockwaves shredded everything nearby. Dozens of weaker cultivators were vaporized by the residual energy alone.
BAM!
Lin Feng slammed into the ground, coughing blood — but his sword had already pierced clean through one man's chest. The body of Jiang Cheng of the Jiang Family crumpled lifelessly.
"Jiang Cheng… he's dead!"
"This Lin Feng… he's not human!"
The two remaining top disciples trembled. Sweat poured down their faces.
"Lin Feng, let's end this here!" Duan Qing shouted, his voice breaking. "You can keep the herbs!"
"Yes, God of Death!" Yang Long added hastily, his sword hand shaking. "We'll forget everything that happened. We won't pursue you!"
Now they understood — the Fire Pavilion's leading disciple had made the right choice withdrawing earlier.
Lin Feng wiped the blood from his lips and smiled coldly. His voice was quiet but sharp as a blade.
"You two are truly ignorant. The moment you drew your weapons against me… your deaths were already sealed."
His sword intent surged like a storm. The suppression talisman around him glowed darkly — and then cracked.
BANG!
Fragments of the talisman scattered like glass. Lin Feng's suppressed power erupted upward, his sword intent roaring to the heavens. The very air distorted.
He grinned. "Thank you. Because of you, my sword intent has broken through — to the third level."
"Damn it! Kill him!" Duan Qing screamed.
The valley exploded into chaos once more.
---
Ten breaths later, silence.
Where there had been thousands of disciples, now there was only ruin. Craters scarred the battlefield; smoke curled upward from scorched earth.
The Ouyang Family's disciples were annihilated. The Jiang Family was gone. The Duan Family and Martial Sect had only a handful of survivors, barely clinging to life.
Only the Sword Sovereign Sect and Fire Pavilion disciples remained untouched — protected by Lin Feng's earlier command.
All of this… had been done by one man.
"Thank the heavens I didn't fight him," the Sword Sovereign Sect's leading disciple muttered, pale as a ghost. "I'd be dead by now."
Lin Feng stood amid the carnage, his golden robes drenched in blood, his sword still humming faintly. His gaze swept the survivors like a reaper's scythe.
"We'll settle this outside," Duan Qing spat bitterly.
A beam of light descended, enveloping the survivors as the Secret Realm began its closing sequence.
---
Outside the Secret Realm
The elders of every great power waited anxiously outside the glowing portal. When the surviving disciples emerged — bloodied, broken, their eyes hollow — a murmur of unease spread among the spectators.
"What happened in there?"
"Where are the Ouyang Family's disciples?"
"Who caused this massacre?"
No one answered. The survivors' gazes all turned toward a single figure walking calmly through the dissipating mist.
Lin Feng.
Golden hair. Torn robes. Bloodstained sword. His aura was calm, but every elder could feel the oppressive weight behind it — like standing before a sleeping beast.
His expression said everything: You talk, you die.
The elders' hearts skipped a beat.
"Why are you all silent?!" one of them barked. "Who caused this?!"
No answer. Only silence — and the sound of the wind.
Slowly, realization dawned as every gaze followed the same direction.
"That young man…" an elder whispered hoarsely. "He… killed them all?"
No one dared to confirm it — yet no one denied it either.
"Disciples of the Jiang Family, we're leaving."
"Martial Sect, withdraw!"
One by one, the great powers turned and departed, unwilling to provoke the monster standing before them.
As the Fire Pavilion prepared to leave, a veiled young woman turned to glance back at Lin Feng. Her eyes glimmered beneath her veil — sharp, curious, and warm all at once.
A soft voice brushed against Lin Feng's mind:
"In one month, meet me at the Fire Pavilion. I'll need someone to escort me."
Lin Feng's lips curved faintly. "Alright. One month."
The Fire Pavilion left soon after.
"She's truly remarkable," Lin Feng murmured to himself. "To rise from Third-Grade Xiantian to Ninth-Grade in such a short time… astonishing."
The Seventh Elder of the Sword Sovereign Sect approached, eyes filled with curiosity. "Lin Feng, what happened in there?"
The leading disciple stepped forward grimly. "We'll discuss it when we return to the sect, Elder."
---
The Next Morning — Sword Sovereign Sect
The entire sect buzzed with rumors.
"I heard they call him the God of Death now."
"They say he's only fifteen!"
"He's mastered Battle Intent, the Third Level of Sword Intent, and even Slaughter Intent!"
"I heard he took all five Grade-Five herbs for himself."
"They say he killed the leading disciples of the Ouyang and Jiang Families!"
"He wiped out entire clans inside the secret realm!"
"There's already a bounty — two Legend-grade treasures, ten million purple crystals, and a Legend-grade martial art!"
"He's literally a walking treasure vault!"
Within a single night, Lin Feng's name spread across the entire Lower Realm like wildfire. Every major power now sought him — some to hunt, others to recruit.
---
On a Remote Peak
"Master, I'm back," Lin Feng said casually, bowing.
His master sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You cause chaos wherever you go. This time, you've stirred up a storm. There's a bounty on your head bigger than some sects' treasuries."
Lin Feng chuckled. "A small matter. Though honestly, that bounty feels a bit low. Maybe I should make it higher next time."
"You—" His master groaned. "You're hopeless."
He exhaled deeply. "Where are the Grade-Five herbs?"
Lin Feng blinked innocently. "I don't have any, Master. But I did get a few Grade-Four herbs and pills."
Even his master didn't believe him — nor did the Sect Master, until they peered into his spatial ring. The treasures glimmering within left them speechless.
"You really are a walking treasure vault," his master muttered. "Fine. But you're not leaving the sect for now. Let the storm die down first."
He looked at Lin Feng with a mix of pride and exasperation. "Now, show me your Sword Intent and Battle Intent."
Lin Feng nodded.
As he released his aura, the entire mountain peak trembled. The pressure of his will — sharp, violent, yet unwavering — seemed to pierce the heavens themselves.
The legend of the God of Death… was only beginning.