Blood stained the long street. Two Spirit Saints corpses lay across the pool of blood, a shocking and dreadful sight.
Li Zhexian's friends, Salas and his Spirit Hall subordinates,
even the distant onlookers—
all seemed to have their throats clutched tight,
struck dumb in the heavy stillness.
Only two sounds broke the silence—
One was the storyteller's trembling yet fervent "Good!"
The other, the rustling of a brush—the chronicler Spirit Master frantically writing every detail.
In the hush, those sounds were piercingly clear.
"..."
Yu Tianheng finally came to his senses and jabbed the still-stunned Feng Xiaotian with his elbow.
"Don't you chicken out later."
"You said you'd fight Zhexian."
"Didn't you swear you'd nail him to a wall as a painting?"
Feng Xiaotian's eyelid twitched violently twice.
Huo Wu, Huo Wushuang, Shui Bing'er, Ning Rongrong, Oscar, and the others all stared at the white-robed youth—
who was calmly eating noodles amid the stench of blood—
their faces pale with disbelief.
They all had the same thought—
Five years apart…
Li Zhexian is no longer human!
Five years ago,
the path of the strong still allowed one to glimpse his white robes from afar.
But now—
even his shadow was beyond their reach.
"Th—thank you, Lord Sword Wine, for saving our lives!"
The Heaven Dou guards, their terror barely quelled, hurriedly clasped fists and bowed.
Li Zhexian smiled faintly and waved his hand.
Then—
his sword brows arched sharply.
His gaze turned to Salas, cold as drawn steel.
"Since when did Spirit Hall become so sneaky and secretive?"
"If you've come for me, Li Zhexian, why hide behind excuses?"
As his words fell—
A strand of sword qi shimmered silently into being before Salas.
And in the next heartbeat—
Li Zhexian appeared where that sword qi had been.
No fear in his eyes.
Only blazing defiance.
The arrogance of youth burned to the heavens.
"If you've brought no Titled Douluo…"
"Then with your fading blood and brittle bones—old dog, you think you can take me?"
"My friends—do not interfere."
Boom!
From Salas's frail body, blinding Spirit Power exploded outward.
"Insolent brat! courting death!"
Li Zhexian's lips curved into a cold, razor-edged smile—
and in a blink, he vanished.
When he reappeared—
he was ten meters behind Salas,
well beyond the reach of that raging Spirit Power.
Sshhh—!
Sshhh—!
Dark-red sword qi fell like rain,
driving into the ground around Salas in a perfect circle, ten paces wide.
Each streak of sword qi—
a mark of where Li Zhexian could appear next.
Salas sneered.
"Li Zhexian, your Spirit Abilities may be unpredictable,"
"But before the gulf of true power, they are nothing but illusions in the air."
"Once I shatter your sword qi—where will you hide?"
He spread his withered palms wide.
Threads of Light-attributed Spirit Power began to weave together—
forming a radiant tome of divine scripture.
Whsshhh—
The pages flipped rapidly,
releasing waves of overwhelming Light Spirit Power.
The pages finally settled on a certain chapter.
A purple Spirit Ring floated out from the pages.
"Fourth Spirit Ability—Thousand Light Blade Prison!"
In an instant—
Countless blades of pure, condensed light filled the night,
layer upon layer, forming a cage without gaps.
Centered on Salas,
they erupted outward like a blinding storm.
The air rang with the brittle crackle of shattering crystal.
Li Zhexian's dark-red sword qi collided with the storm of blades,
both bursting apart in brilliant flashes before fading into the night.
"Brat, what do you intend to do now?" Salas's radiant scripture kept fluttering open and shut.
Li Zhexian's expression grew colder still.
Indeed—Salas was a near-peerless master beneath the Titled Douluo rank.
No easy foe.
He had never expected to slay him with a single stroke.
And as for stopping Yu Tianheng and the others from interfering—
he had his own reason.
He wanted to see for himself…
He wanted to see — what level his current strength had truly reached.
One after another, Spirit Rings flared beneath his feet, radiating outward in concentric circles—
Purple, purple, sword-feather, black-red, platinum…
Five spirit rings, in a configuration utterly defying common sense.
Just looking at them made one's head spin.
Whshhhh—!
Salas's face twisted in disbelief.
The radiant scripture in his hand turned faster,
the Light Power around him surging in response.
And beneath Li Zhexian's feet—
The Sword Feather Spirit Ring erupted in multicolored brilliance.
"Third Spirit Ability—Qinglian Twelve Tribulations!"
A resonant sword cry pierced the heavens.
Twelve Qinglian Swords crashed down from above,
forming an immense sword formation that sealed Salas and all Spirit Hall forces within.
Six of the Qinglian Swords, each carrying a distinct sword intent,
weaved through the formation like dancing comets.
But that wasn't all.
From Li Zhexian's spine, a surge of sword qi erupted skyward.
Six distinct sword intents — Star, Frost, Wind, Thunder, Death, and Slaughter — circled his body, humming with a sound that split the air.
The Qinglian Sword mark at his brow turned blood-red.
The hair tie binding his hair melted away into nothing.
A tangible killing intent coursed through his body like a tide.
His white robe turned red.
His black hair lifted, defying gravity.
His eyes burned with blood-colored light.
Then, without hesitation—
he plunged headlong into the slaughtering Qinglian Sword Formation
BOOM!!!
The entire sword formation turned scarlet.
The cracked ground began to ooze fresh blood-red,
forming, in the blink of an eye, a crimson domain.
Killing God Domain—Manifest!
Boom—! Boom—!
Within the sword formation, blood-colored sword qi and Light Spirit Power clashed madly,
explosions rippling through the air like rolling thunder.
The walls of the formation were torn with cracks, splintering under the force.
The shrill screams,
the sound of bones breaking and flesh being torn apart,
echoed from within the crimson curtain—
so chilling that even the night itself seemed to freeze.
Outside the formation—
Yu Tianheng, Huo Wushuang, Feng Buyu, Feng Xiaotian—
everyone was utterly petrified.
Just moments ago, Li Zhexian's white robes had turned to blood.
That killing intent—like a beast crawling out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood—
had frozen their very souls.
They had underestimated him again.
Li Zhexian's power was too overwhelming—
his methods, too many—
his momentum, enough to defy even a Spirit Douluo!
Feng Buyu swallowed hard, then gave Feng Xiaotian a trembling thumbs-up.
"Impressive, my brother Xiaotian!"
"Can't wait to see you fight Zhexian next!"
"Heh—guess he's putting on a little warm-up show just for you!"
Feng Xiaotian's face went ghost-white; his lips quivered, but no words came out.
Then Yu Tianheng, Huo Wushuang, and even Oscar all raised their thumbs too—
"Brother Xiaotian—truly noble of you!"
At the end of the street—
Atop several towering buildings in Heaven Dou City—
Chen Xin, Dugu Bo, Feng Bailong, and Yu Yuanzhen stood with hands behind their backs,
nodding faintly to one another in silent greeting.
Their gazes fell upon the murderous sword formation,
their eyes flickering with complex emotion.
They had gathered here tonight out of concern—
That Li Zhexian's return to Heaven Dou would provoke Pope Bibi Dong herself.
But deeper still—
Because his reappearance had drawn them together,
they could take this rare chance—
To discuss how to resist the ever-growing ambition of Spirit Hall.
Meanwhile, far from the chaos—
In a quiet forest, under silver moonlight—
Behind a convex mirror of frozen crystal, the moonlight itself seemed to solidify.
It refracted through the twisted branches of an ancient tree,
forming a glimmering swing of pure ice.
Upon that swing sat a handsome youth, lazily rocking back and forth.
In one hand, a skewer of candied hawthorn;
in the other, a steaming bun;
his mouth was puffed with sticky glutinous rice cake.
Through the frozen mirror—
like looking through a magical telescope—
he gazed at the distant blood-red sword formation with great interest.
"Not bad, not bad."
"Five years were not wasted."
"This marriage is approved by this old man."