The Shattered Blood God, The Rift

Indeed, Ying Bing had been missing from the start.

Where had she gone?

At this moment, after a moment of contemplation, Emperor Jingtai commanded the landscape within the "Rivers and Mountains Scroll" to shift.

The scene changed.

No sooner had the image switched than an eerie silence fell over the imperial capital, mirroring the desolation of Youshuo.

Youshuo, already ravaged by war, was now a frozen wasteland, littered with ice sculptures.

At the edge of the abyss stood a lone figure, her dark robes fluttering amidst the ink-black frost. The sword in her hand reflected both brilliance and an unyielding coldness.

Behind her, the Moon Phoenix gazed down into the abyss.

Suddenly, a distorted shadow flickered behind her—a dagger, swift as ghostly lightning, moving faster than the eye could follow. It left only faint ripples in the void.

This shadow-cloaked strike carried no earth-shattering aura, no spectacular phenomena.

Instead, it was pure speed—absolute, unparalleled speed.

So fast that even the swordsmen of the Tianshan Sword Manor could only marvel in awe.

From the moment this sword appeared, terror gripped the onlookers. Their very souls seemed nailed to the abyss, devoured by endless darkness.

What a horrifying strike.

"It's Qisha."

Someone recognized the identity of the undead assassin—a once-renowned figure among the Celestial Clan.

Legend had it that the Second Heavenly Slayer, creator of the "Wuchang Post," had once received guidance from Qisha, thus attaining the Inner Realm.

Who would have thought such a mighty Celestial would become one of the undead?

As the crowd worried over how Ying Bing would counter this, a pristine sword light suddenly flared—bright as the full moon.

Neither fast nor slow.

If one called it slow, it arrived before the enemy's strike; if called fast, it seemed as though it had been swung long ago, its edge only now revealed.

Even the undead assassin was momentarily dazed.

He saw a stubborn youth in the underground city, obsessively practicing the same sword move over and over. Born into poverty, the boy couldn't afford martial training, but to avenge his family slain by demons, he knelt before a swordsman's door for three days and nights.

In the end, the swordsman took pity and taught him just one move.

So the boy practiced this single, incomplete technique thousands of times a day.

"Demons, die!"

The youth hidden within the corpse lunged, his blade gleaming like eyes.

And now—

That sword traversed time, piercing toward his brow.

No matter how fast his own strike was, it couldn't outpace the one he himself had unleashed a century ago.

"Was it... me... who killed... me?"

The undead assassin staggered, frozen into an ice sculpture. His liberated gaze fixed upon Youshuo's unending night sky.

Perhaps, at last, he glimpsed a sliver of light in that eternal darkness.

"Forty-eight."

Ying Bing flicked the silver dust from her blade. Behind her, the Moon Phoenix scanned the land with her, searching for any stragglers.

Finding none, she frowned and turned toward the direction of Tianren City.

"Forty-eight? What does that mean?"

"I counted—it seems to be the number of ice sculptures."

"Huh?"

"So while the Blood God was occupied in Tiancheng, Ying Bing wiped out Youshuo?"

Hearing this fact spoken aloud, both martial and non-martial spectators fell silent.

Qisha might have been the stealthiest among the undead, but not necessarily the strongest.

To be chosen by the Blood God and turned into undead required meeting certain standards—the Ancestral God had no use for trash.

Yet together, they had all become ice sculptures before Ying Bing's strength gave out.

And turned everyone in the imperial capital into statues as well.

...

"What kind of swordsmanship is this? I've never seen or even heard of such a technique."

Xie Xuan, baffled, turned to Xie Yiding:

"You're called the 'Sword Atlas'—you must know. Teach me."

Xie Yiding's title had its origins.

Rumored to be second only to Su-Jun in swordsmanship talent, he lacked the flair of other geniuses who created distinctive styles. Yet his craftsmanship was unparalleled.

And craftsmanship, honed to its peak, could be terrifying.

His style was having no style—yet he could replicate any sword technique after seeing it once, mastering it with time and even surpassing the original.

Thus, he was called the Living Sword Pavilion.

After a long silence, Xie Yiding sighed:

"This one... I truly can't learn."

"..."

......

In the Hall of Ten Thousand Spirits—

Crack—

An exquisite blue-glazed teacup shattered, its shards cutting delicate fingers, yet not a drop of blood fell.

Empress Chuge seemed to feel no pain.

Her gaze locked onto the Moon Phoenix in the Rivers and Mountains Scroll—and the figure it encircled. Her porcelain-perfect face twisted faintly with fury.

"It's her. It must be her..."

"I should never have hesitated back then..."

If before, Empress Chuge had seemed like a woman wearing human skin—

Now, just looking at Ying Bing, that skin seemed ready to split apart.

"Your Majesty, you—"

A newly arrived palace maid knelt in terror.

After a long pause, a voice came from above:

"Prepare the carriage for Yanglong Temple."

"Yes."

Ignoring the relieved maid, she boarded her palanquin and soon arrived at the imperial ancestral temple—the residence of the royal clan.

An ancient, unassuming Taoist shrine stood starkly against the vermilion walls and jade tiles around it.

"What brings you here, Your Majesty?"

"Shi Sujun bore but a fraction of her resemblance, and nearly caused disaster. Now she has returned in person."

Empress Chuge stared at the pallid, high-hatted young temple master:

"Still playing dumb? Do you want her to skin you alive?"

......

"So the Frost Fairy didn't follow Young Master Li to Tiancheng—they split their forces."

"Meaning they outplayed the enemy's scheme?"

"No. The Blood God learned of Li Mo's plan first and countered it. Then Li Mo countered the counter, and the Blood God countered again."

"Wait, my head's spinning..."

"If the Frost Fairy returns to Tiancheng now and joins Li Mo to slay the Demon-Summoning Cult's Ancestral God, does that mean the Tianren Trial ends early?"

The crowd reached the same conclusion.

Ying Bing had cleared the Blood God's undead forces with strength to spare.

Li Mo, though no emperor, wielded the power of Tianren beyond any ruler.

If they reunited now, how could the Blood God possibly withstand them?

But there was one problem—

Why wasn't the Frost Fairy moving?

"Which way... is Tianren City?"

Ying Bing pursed her lips, realizing the direction she'd assumed was "toward Tianren City" might be wrong.

She'd come here by following where the demonic energy grew strongest.

Who could have guessed?

The ethereal, icy goddess who swept through demons like a cleansing storm—

Was lost.