Heaven trembled the moment the False God appeared.
Liu Xin and Sect Master Xingjin raised their gazes, their eyes locking onto the False God hovering above. Before either of them could speak, a terrifying pressure descended without warning—an invisible force tearing through the air like a silent blade.
Boom!
Sect Master Xingjin's pupils shrank. Years of life-and-death battles had honed his instincts to perfection. The moment danger brushed against his senses, he reacted without hesitation, grabbing Liu Xin and retreating in a flash. The spot they had stood on a heartbeat ago was instantly pulverized, leaving behind a deep, frightening crater.
Cold sweat trickled down Liu Xin's back as he realized how close he had come to death.
"Fellow Daoist… thank you," Liu Xin said solemnly. "If not for your swift reaction, I would already be a corpse."
Sect Master Xingjin's expression remained grave as he stared at the False God.
"Get out of here," he said in a low voice. "It's too dangerous. Don't waste your talent—dying here would be nothing but a waste."
Liu Xin was about to reply when a cold, emotionless voice echoed through the heavens.
"Enough talk," the voice said calmly. "Fight me."
The False God's gaze descended upon them like a divine judgment, and the pressure in the air instantly turned suffocating.
A terrifying force tore through the air, so overwhelming it could have erased the entire arena in an instant. Sect Master Xingjin's eyes narrowed, his body radiating an aura of indomitable will. In a heartbeat, his spiritual qi erupted like a storm, forming a protective barrier around himself and Liu Xin.
Even so, they were almost engulfed by the attack. The sheer power threatened to tear through the barrier, pushing both of them to the brink. Sect Master Xingjin's eyes flickered, and with a low chant, he drew forth a treasure from his former master—a jade talisman.
The talisman glowed with an ethereal light, spinning rapidly in the air, forming a radiant dome around them. It wasn't just a shield—it was a legendary defensive artifact capable of withstanding attacks even from the strongest cultivators of the Peak Mahayana Realm. With it, Sect Master Xingjin and Liu Xin were kept safe, their lives spared from what should have been an instant annihilation.
Ka-boom!
The strike slammed into the arena with the force of a collapsing mountain. Stone screamed, pillars shattered like twigs, and the ground was gouged into jagged ruins. Dust and debris filled the sky, blotting out the sun. The once-magnificent arena had vanished completely.
Liu Xin's chest tightened, his heart hammering in terror and awe. Relief surged through him as he realized the spectators and distinguished guests had been evacuated—thanks to the foresight and swift action of City Lord Feng Haoran. Without him, countless lives would have been extinguished in an instant.
Sect Master Xingjin's gaze remained locked on the False God, his aura still blazing. "Just how strong is this attack?," he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a deadly calm that sent shivers through Liu Xin's spine.
"How admirable… that you have survived such an attack," the False God said, his voice calm but laced with cold amusement.
Before he could finish, a blinding streak of light shot toward him—the terrifying force of Sect Master Xingjin's sword. Spiritual qi surged along the blade, magnifying its power to a level that could annihilate a city in a single strike. Another follow-up attack immediately followed, relentless and unyielding, as if Sect Master Xingjin were determined to kill the False God here and now.
Yet the attacks never landed. A shimmering, translucent barrier enveloped the False God like a dome of liquid starlight. Each strike clashed against it, sending sparks of golden lightning dancing across the air. Waves of energy rippled outward, and pulverizing the ground around them, yet the barrier remained unbroken—unyielding, as if forged from the laws of heaven themselves.
The brilliance of the barrier distorted the air, and the rubble and dust of the destroyed arena swirled in ghostly patterns under its glow. The False God stood perfectly still, untouched, as if Sect Master Xingjin's overwhelming attacks were no more than gentle raindrops.
Only then did the False God speak.
"How rude," he said calmly, his voice carrying an almost playful disdain. "Interrupting someone while they're speaking… is this how cultivators of this era conduct themselves?"
Then—
Liu Xin's heart raced, and even Sect Master Xingjin felt the pressure of his own strikes reverberate through him. That the False God could endure such overwhelming power without so much as a flinch sent chills down their spines.
The False God hovered above the rubble of the destroyed arena, his aura like a suffocating storm, then slowly descended until he landed, each deliberate step shaking the cracked ground beneath him. Sect Master Xingjin and Liu Xin braced themselves, readying their next attack.
But before Sect Master Xingjin could strike, the arena floor erupted in ancient rune-like characters, glowing with an icy blue light that pierced the very air. The runes rotated and shifted, forming a web of suppression that radiated outward like a cage. A cold, echoing voice thundered.
"Seal… Activate!"
The pressure hit like a physical blow. Spiritual energy surged, and the False God—normally at the Peak Mahayana Realm—was forcibly constrained, as if his cultivation had been dragged down to the Body Integration Realm. Shockwaves of oppressive force radiated through the arena, forcing dust and debris to spin violently in spirals.
Yet the False God remained unfazed. The glowing runes struck him again and again, yet sparks of golden energy erupted from his body, each contact bouncing off harmlessly, illuminating him like a living constellation. His robe fluttered as though caught in a gentle breeze, completely unbothered by the immense suppressive power around him.
He tilted his head, smirking down at Sect Master Xingjin and Liu Xin, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Do you really think," he said slowly, each word echoing like a blade, "that suppressing my cultivation will let you win? How adorable… like a child trying to stop a raging river with a bucket of water."
With that, a faint ripple of golden light pulsed across his form, and the runes around him quivered as if struggling against an immovable mountain. The destroyed arena shook violently under the pressure, and even Sect Master Xingjin's expression darkened.
From the shattered ruins, a figure suddenly appeared. An old man, leaning slightly on a gnarled staff, his aura faint yet profound, stepped forward. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto the False God.
"You are truly strong," the old man said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "Now… let's see just how strong you are. You have now been suppressed to the Body Integration Realm."
Sect Master Xingjin and Liu Xin instinctively looked toward him, startled.
"I didn't even notice his presence," Sect Master Xingjin muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed in surprise.
The False God turned his gaze to the newcomer, his smirk curling with disdain. "A half-step Immortal?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement and condescension. He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head slowly. "Do you truly believe… that this frail, dying old man joining forces to fight me could possibly make a difference? Pathetic… like ants trying to move a mountain, or toddlers playing with fire thinking they won't get burned."
He chuckled lightly, the sound cold and mocking, each word slicing through the tension like a blade. "Really… you all still cling to hope? How cute."
The False God's eyes narrowed beneath his mask, his gaze fixed on the old man. "What is your name?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with deadly curiosity.
The old man straightened, gripping his gnarled staff with a quiet authority. "I am the Ancestor of the Zhao Family," he replied, his voice steady and unwavering, carrying the weight of generations.
A faint smirk curved under the False God's mask. Without warning, he unleashed a blindingly fast attack, a streak of energy sharp enough to pierce mountains, aiming straight for Ancestor Zhao.
In an instant, Ancestor Zhao raised his staff. A barrier of golden light flared to life, deflecting the attack effortlessly. Sparks of energy cascaded in all directions as the force slammed into the shield, shaking the ground beneath them.
The False God's eyes gleamed with mild annoyance as he tilted his head. "Oh… quick reaction," he said, his voice carrying a faintly mocking tone, like a teacher complimenting a child who almost got the answer right. "Impressive… in such a tiresome way."