The shattered city walls seemed to tremble.
The quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species dared not resist. From the cold killing intent and immense pressure emanating from Yan Zi's two fingers pressed against his forehead, he stood frozen, beads of cold sweat forming on his brow as he stared blankly at Yan Zi.
The atmosphere at the scene remained tense for a moment.
A streak of starlight suddenly descended, landing beside Li Yang, revealing the figure of Emperor Capital. He quickly assessed the situation, his gaze lingering on the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species and Yan Zi.
Though he didn’t know what had transpired, as long as Li Yang was unharmed, it was enough. Emperor Capital’s only thought was that none of the cultivators from the Blue Sky Sword Sea who had come to the Heavenly Dao frontlines should perish.
His usual playful demeanor was gone, and he spoke softly to Li Yang.
“This quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species is no ordinary figure. He’s likely an old, formidable quasi-emperor with immense killing power. Let’s leave first and protect the disciples.”
Li Yang swayed as he stood up, spitting out a mouthful of bloodied saliva and wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. He asked,
“Where are the disciples?”
“I had Zhou Jia and Bai Lu bring them along. They’ll be here soon,” Emperor Capital replied.
At this point, the disciples of the Blue Sky Sword Sea were safest with the two Great Saints. At the very least, they could sacrifice themselves to ensure the disciples’ survival.
As soon as Emperor Capital finished speaking, streaks of light indeed appeared in the sky. Zhou Jia and Bai Lu arrived with a group of disciples, landing behind him. After a quick glance, they were equally puzzled by the standoff.
It was then that the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species finally spoke in a deep voice, “Senior, do you have ties with these people as well?”
“I don’t know them,” Yan Zi replied with a light laugh.
At these words, the hearts of the Blue Sky Sword Sea group tightened. If the two stopped their dispute, the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species would turn his wrath on them. How would they find a way to survive then?
Emperor Capital’s brows furrowed with anxiety. While there was still time, he began searching for a way to break the deadlock.
Just then, another streak of light descended from the sky. It was Huo Yu Saint and a group of cultivators. Seeing the situation before them, they were visibly surprised and asked in confusion,
“Uncle, what’s going on? Why are you…”
His words trailed off as he noticed that the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species didn’t respond, not even turning his head.
This was unusual.
Huo Yu Saint frowned and examined the scene more closely. When he recognized Yan Zi, his surprise grew. He knew this person—the cultivator who often sat atop the city walls, the one called Yan Zi. They had even clashed before. How could he now be restraining his uncle?
He was baffled, and so was Wu Sheng Great Saint beside him. After a moment of scrutiny, Wu Sheng turned to Huo Yu Saint and asked,
“Fellow Daoist Huo Yu, what’s going on here?”
Huo Yu Saint didn’t reply immediately. After another look, he seemed to understand something and shouted,
“My father is a Great Emperor! This is my uncle! Senior, please show mercy. My father will surely be grateful!”
Yan Zi slowly lowered his two fingers and smiled lightly at them.
“A Great Emperor, you say?”
“Yes,” Huo Yu Saint replied with a smile, adding, “My father is sincere, hospitable, and a man of strong character. If you befriend him, you’ll surely find him to be a good man. You might even become close friends.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” Wu Sheng Great Saint chimed in with a laugh.
With these words, the atmosphere on Huo Yu Saint’s side relaxed, even becoming somewhat cheerful.
The quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species also eased his expression, even clasping his hands toward Yan Zi with a smile. “Senior, I suppose this means we’ve fought and now become acquainted, haha.”
Yan Zi, however, didn’t respond to him. Instead, he turned his gaze to Emperor Capital’s group, his eyes settling on Li Yang as he asked,
“Are you a cultivator of the Blue Sky Sword Sea?”
Yan Zi had only met Chen Xia after the group of Saints from the Blue Sky Sword Sea had left, so he didn’t recognize Li Yang or Emperor Capital.
Li Yang flicked his sleeve. Though injured, he showed no fear. He stepped forward, meeting Yan Zi’s gaze, and declared loudly,
“I am Li Yang of the Blue Sky Sword Sea! No need for words—if you want to fight, come at me!”
Emperor Capital also stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Li Yang, and shouted, “I am Emperor Capital of the Blue Sky Sword Sea! My leader is Chen Xia, and my brother is Qiu Li! Even if we die here today, Brother Chen will avenge us!”
As soon as he finished speaking, the other cultivators of the Blue Sky Sword Sea stood firm behind Emperor Capital and Li Yang, refusing to retreat even a step.
Yan Zi observed them for a moment, then chuckled lightly.
“You really do carry a bit of Chen Xia’s aura.”
The quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species frowned and quickly interjected, “Senior, don’t be hasty. The Blue Sky Sword Sea is just a remote star domain without even a Great Emperor. They’re not formidable. These cultivators are nothing more than clowns…”
His words abruptly stopped, followed by complete silence.
A moment later, the expressions of Emperor Capital’s group shifted to one of astonishment, mixed with a hint of joy.
Huo Yu Saint was puzzled and frowned as he called out,
“Uncle?”
There was no response. The void was filled with silence.
Drip, drip.
The sound of droplets falling echoed, but it wasn’t water—it was blood.
Golden dragon blood.
Huo Yu Saint was stunned. He quickly cast out his divine sense to investigate, and his entire body froze in an instant, his face filled with terror.
A bloody hole had been pierced through the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species’ forehead, his divine sense dissipating within. Golden blood continued to drip.
From the looks of it, he was dead.
“Uncle… Uncle?!” Huo Yu Saint screamed frantically, his eyes darting around until they landed on the traces of blood on Yan Zi’s fingers. He gasped in shock.
“You dare kill my uncle, you madman! Aren’t you afraid my father will come for you?”
“Good,” Yan Zi replied with a light laugh, casually evaporating the blood from his fingers. He then said to Huo Yu Saint,
“You have half an hour to call your father here.”
With that, Yan Zi flicked his finger, instantly reducing the quasi-emperor of the Flood Dragon species’ corpse to dust, scattering it across the heavens and earth.
At this moment, Yan Zi stood tall among the crowd, bathed in the light of the heavens, facing the group from the Blue Sky Sword Sea. Having revealed himself, he no longer held back. The forces of Yin and Yang, like the sun and moon, rotated behind him.
The world seemed empty, leaving only one declaration:
“I am Yan Zi, the Three Paths Great Emperor. Entrusted by Chen Xia, I hereby pledge to protect all cultivators of the Blue Sky Sword Sea on the Heavenly Dao frontlines!”
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
