Outside the sea of consciousness, Bai Xuan's eyelids quivered once, then slowly opened. His vision was still hazy from the soul battle, but clarity soon returned. The air around him was sharp with the scent of medicine herbs and faint blood, a fragrance both intoxicating and suffocating.
Before him stood a man—his robe torn, his beard stained crimson, one hand clutching his side as though trying to hold his broken body together. His aura flickered like a candle in the wind, weak yet still stubbornly upright.
Bai Xuan's gaze fell upon him with cold indifference.
"Who is he?" he wondered briefly, his mind turning, but in the next instant, he shook away the thought. Recognition was unnecessary. A dying man was nothing but an obstacle.
With a flick of his finger, the sword at his side hummed and leapt into the air. Qi surged along its blade, making the steel shine like a strip of dawn light. The blade moved at his command, darting forward like a hunting hawk.
The Dong family patriarch's eyes widened. He raised a trembling hand, trying to summon his strength, but his bloodied veins and injured meridians betrayed him. The sword pierced through the defense he barely raised, striking across his shoulder. He stumbled back, coughing fresh blood.
"You… who are you…?" the patriarch rasped, his voice heavy with both fear and despair.
Bai Xuan did not bother to reply. His heart was colder than the edge of his sword. The world had no need for the weak, and in his path of reincarnation, sentiment was nothing but shackles.
Far away, the disciples of Medicine King Valley had already fled, running toward their sect for reinforcements. Their panicked footsteps had long faded into the distance, leaving behind only silence and the whisper of the pond's gentle ripples.
Turning away from the dying patriarch, Bai Xuan bent down toward the ground where the Medicine King's body lay—its spirit already vanquished in the knowledge sea. With a casual motion, he waved his hand, and the corpse disappeared into his space ring.
"Useless old ghost," he muttered under his breath. "At least your remains will serve me in refining."
Then his gaze lifted to the heart of the valley—the Myriad Drug Pond.
Now, the water gleamed crystal clear, as though the heavens themselves had washed it clean. Deep within the pond, glowing lines of light intertwined, forming the ancient array. It pulsed faintly like a living heart, each beat pressing down on the valley with invisible weight.
Bai Xuan stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. His hand gripped his sword tighter as he inhaled deeply, drawing in the surrounding world Qi. The wind stirred, and strands of spiritual energy rushed into him, filling his meridians. His blade thrummed in response, eager, alive.
"The time has come," he whispered, eyes reflecting the pond's light.
Lifting the sword, he began to perform the technique etched into his very soul from his past life—a forbidden sword art forgotten by most. His body moved fluidly, each stance steady yet ethereal, like clouds drifting yet mountains standing firm. Qi gathered with his movements, pouring into the sword until its glow was blinding.
"This is the Heavenly Breath Style." His voice was low, reverent, as if speaking to the heavens themselves.
The sword fell.
A sharp cry echoed through the valley as the strike collided with the array. Waves of spiritual light burst outward, rippling across the pond like shattered glass reforming itself. Yet when the brightness faded, the array remained whole. Not a single scar lingered on its surface.
Bai Xuan froze. His pupils shrank, and a chill ran through his heart.
"This is impossible…" He clenched his teeth. "The Heavenly Breath Style—my trump card! It was created to sever formations, to unravel the weaving of arrays… yet even this fails?"
His breath grew heavy, his mind racing. For an instant, doubt gnawed at him, but then he shook it away, eyes growing darker with resolve.
"Perhaps… it is time to use that technique."
The thought alone made his chest tighten. In his dantian, his Yang Qi swirled like a raging sea, and he knew what he would lose.
"The Star Distraction Sword Art…" His lips trembled as he whispered the name. "With every strike, ninety-five percent of my Yang Qi is devoured. One miscalculation, and I will collapse, powerless."
His fingers tapped the sword hilt, hesitation flickering like a candle.
But the gleaming array in the depths mocked him silently.
"Without risk, there is no gain," he muttered coldly. "If I retreat here, all I have fought for, all I have taken, will be meaningless."
He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with determination. Then he let go of his hesitation.
The valley grew still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Bai Xuan raised his sword again. His body erupted with light as torrents of Yang Qi surged forth, condensing into the blade until its glow rivaled the sun. His skin paled, his veins strained, but his eyes shone with frightening focus.
He roared, voice echoing through the valley like a dragon's cry—
"Star Distraction Sword Art!"
The strike descended.
The heavens trembled. The sword fell like a meteor tearing through the night sky, dragging the brilliance of a falling star behind it. The very pond quaked, water rising in high waves that burst into droplets, scattering rainbows in the air.
When the light cleared, the array still remained. Yet it was no longer unyielding. Cracks glimmered faintly across its surface, and some of its defense nodes flickered unsteadily.
Bai Xuan staggered back three steps, his chest heaving. Sweat drenched his forehead, and his meridians burned like fire. His once-bright Qi was now but embers, his strength almost completely drained.
Still, he managed a faint smile.
"So… you are not invincible after all."
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath, and extended his spiritual sense toward the array. Slowly, carefully, he traced the weakened nodes, seeking the flaws. His mind worked like a serpent, patient, coiling, striking only at the right moment.
Then—like a key fitting into a lock—the pattern opened before him.
The array shuddered. With a low rumble, its light collapsed inward, folding like silk into the pond. The crystalline water stirred, revealing a hidden depth, mysterious and dangerous.
Bai Xuan's lips parted to speak, but before a word could get into it—
A shrill sound pierced the air.
Something rushed from the shadows, sharp and fast, aimed directly at his heart. He twisted, raising his sword just in time. Sparks burst as steel clashed against unseen force. The impact jarred his arms, sending him skidding backward.
His voice thundered across the valley:
"Who dares?"
The air grew heavy. From the misty ridges surrounding the pond, footsteps echoed. Then figures emerged, one after another. Six in total, each clad in armor that glimmered faintly with blood-like light. Their auras were fierce, iron-willed, like mountains pressing down.
Blood Warriors. The elite protectors of the Yang family.
And at their head walked a young man whose presence burned brighter than flame itself. His gaze was sharp, like a hawk surveying the land. His aura was steady, calm yet boundless, carrying the majesty of someone destined for greatness.
Yang Kai.
It's take some days for Bai Xuan to open this array so they are reached here.But Bai Xuan so focused on that that's why he don't aware from this.
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