But it's already too late

Su Ji stood quietly, allowing the raging wind to envelop him completely.

Azure gusts swirled around his body, whipping his black hair into wild disarray.

His plain, utterly unremarkable Daoist robes flapped violently against the wind.

In the next moment,

a strange violet-black flame seeped silently from his left palm, coiling around his body.

Wind fanned the flames.

The flickering ember, which seemed on the verge of extinguishing at any moment, did not die out upon contact with the azure wind. Instead, as if doused in boiling oil, it erupted violently.

Pure, untainted violet-black fire surged wildly across his entire form.

To the four Blood Fiend Sect disciples opposite him, Su Ji’s figure had already been distorted and blurred by the scorching heat.

Though the entire sequence seemed drawn out, it unfolded in the blink of an eye.

The Golden Core cultivator who had been blasted into the wall had already regained his footing.

With a beast-like growl erupting from his throat, he stomped hard against the wall behind him, sending rubble flying.

Propelled by the recoil, his body shot forward like a cannonball, hurtling straight toward Su Ji once more.

He raised his heavy hammer high—this time, spiritual light blazed across its surface. He could no longer afford to hold back, even if the battle’s aftershocks risked destroying the altar.

If he hesitated now, he would die here.

Damn it.

Was this really the power of someone who had just entered the Foundation Establishment stage?

Those born with privilege—how utterly detestable.

With just a single magical artifact, they could effortlessly negate a hundred years of his bitter struggle and cultivation.

Unfair!

The hammer, carrying all his spiritual power and resentment, tore through the air, smashing straight toward Su Ji’s chest.

Su Ji made no move to dodge.

A flicker of savage delight flashed in the Golden Core cultivator’s eyes.

A direct hit!

This time, he saw clearly—his hammer had struck Su Ji’s chest dead-on.

The sight dispelled much of the unease in his heart.

All that flashy spectacle…

Yet in the end, he would still die by his hand.

But before his triumphant grin could fully form, it froze.

The hammer passed clean through Su Ji’s body—as if striking nothing but air.

The Golden Core cultivator stared in horror as Su Ji’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

His head, however, tilted slightly, eyes filled with disdain as they locked onto him.

Only the area where his chest should have been—now a swirling mass of wind and fire—had been disrupted by the hammer’s impact.

An afterimage?

Or—?

Before the thought could fully form in his mind,

a bone-chilling sense of danger erupted from behind him.

He whirled around.

Su Ji stood there, as if he had always been present.

The azure ancient sword rested casually in his grip, its tip pointing languidly at the ground.

The Golden Core cultivator’s soul nearly fled his body. He tried to evade, but the full-force strike he had just unleashed left him drained—old strength spent, new strength yet to gather.

How?

So fast?

There was no time to think. No room for hesitation.

At the brink of life and death, the Golden Core cultivator’s survival instincts flared.

He did not retreat.

He knew—he had already lost the initiative. If he pulled back now, his defenseless back would be fully exposed to that eerie azure sword.

With a violent twist of his waist, he forced his body to pivot mid-air. The veins in his arms bulged grotesquely as he somehow redirected the hammer’s momentum mid-swing, carving an impossible arc through the air.

The hammer, now even more ferocious, reversed course—hurtling toward Su Ji behind him.

This strike carried the culmination of his lifelong cultivation.

A desperate, all-or-nothing attack!

Yet, faced with this earth-shattering blow,

Su Ji merely raised his sword.

No dazzling spiritual light. No roaring shockwaves.

The azure ancient sword drifted upward, weightless as a feather, meeting the crushing force of the hammer head-on.

At the moment of contact—

there was no deafening collision, no metallic screech.

Only a soft, almost imperceptible shick.

In the next instant,

the hammer—capable of reducing a small mountain to dust—was split cleanly in half.

The cut was smooth as a mirror.

Momentum carried the two severed halves hurtling past Su Ji’s sides.

One half embedded itself into the stone chamber’s wall with a thunderous crash, leaving a crater several meters deep.

The other half—

transformed into a streak of black light, shooting toward the other end of the chamber where another battle raged.

...

Clang!

Another brutal exchange of weapons.

Wang Hu’s palms ached fiercely, his entire arm numb from the impact. The blood-red greatsword in his grip nearly flew from his grasp.

He staggered back two steps, chest heaving as he stared at the red-robed woman floating barefoot before him, her sleeves fluttering gracefully. His eyes brimmed with shock and disbelief.

All traces of his earlier arrogance as a late-stage Golden Core cultivator had vanished.

Dozens of sword wounds, large and small, marred his body. Though none were immediately fatal, they steadily drained his vitality.

What terrified him most was her crimson spiritual sword.

Every clash sent a searing, invasive energy coursing through his meridians—gnawing at his foundation like maggots in bone.

What kind of monster was she?

She had only just entered the Golden Core stage—how could her spiritual power be so refined, so tyrannical?

Could it be… a Ninth-Grade Golden Core?

Impossible!

Such a thing only existed in ancient records. How could it appear in this era?

Wang Hu’s mind reeled, his will to fight crumbling.

He had gravely misjudged them.

A sacred sect’s dignity was not to be trifled with!

Master and servant alike slaughtered their foes across realms as easily as butchering chickens and dogs.

Run!

He had to flee—now!

This was the only thought left in his mind.

With a flash of resolve, Wang Hu bit down hard on his tongue. A mouthful of vital essence-blood sprayed onto his crimson greatsword.

Hum—

The blade let out a shrill, mournful cry as its surface erupted in a bloody radiance. A savage, bloodthirsty aura exploded outward.

"Blood Tide Overwhelms the Heavens!"

Channeling every last drop of his remaining spiritual power, Wang Hu unleashed the strongest strike of his life at Su Jiu.

A blood-red blade aura surged forth like a tidal wave—towering over ten zhang high—crashing down upon Su Jiu with enough force to rend the world asunder.

A flicker of solemnity passed through Su Jiu’s cold, fox-like eyes.

She did not meet the attack head-on.

With a graceful shift, her figure drifted backward, evading the blade’s killing intent.

BOOM—!

The entire underground chamber—no, the entire burial mound above—shook violently.

A storm of dirt and debris erupted into the air.

If the aftermath alone carried such force,

the wall directly struck by the blade aura didn’t last even a fraction of a second before exploding into fragments.

Countless jagged fissures spiderwebbed outward at terrifying speed,

racing across the chamber’s ceiling.

Crack… crack…

The sickening sound of splitting stone filled the air.

Chunks of earth and rubble rained down incessantly.

In mere moments, thick clouds of dust obscured all vision.

And this—was exactly what Wang Hu wanted.

He never expected this strike to wound Su Jiu.

The instant the blade aura left his sword, he spun on his heel and fled, transforming into a streak of bloody light as he bolted toward the fissure he had just created.

He didn’t even dare to look at Su Jiu’s reaction.

Wang Hu pushed his speed to the limit, cursing himself for having only two legs.

The fissure was now within reach.

Through the gap, he could already see the world aboveground.

A wild surge of relief—the kind only known to those who narrowly escape death—flooded Wang Hu’s heart.

Yet.

Just as his foot was about to cross the threshold of the tunnel—

A sharp, whistling sound tore through the air behind him.

Instinctively, he tried to turn his head.

But it was too late.

"Thud!"

A sickening crunch of flesh and bone echoed.

Wang Hu felt an excruciating, searing pain explode across the right side of his face, followed by an overwhelming force slamming into his body.

It was as if he’d been rammed head-on by a raging bull—his entire form was flung uncontrollably to the side.

"Boom!"

His body smashed into the wall, embedding itself nearly three meters deep before finally coming to a stop.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up, but the agony was so intense that even lifting a finger felt impossible.

With great effort, he twisted his neck to look.

Not far from him, half of a pitch-black warhammer lay silently on the ground.

Wang Hu’s mind went blank.