Inside the Mist Mystic Temple.
Yuyang's expression was calm as he gazed at Zhang Daotan.
At this moment, Zhang Daotan was enveloped in a surge of devotion power, his face cold as frost. When Yuyang had not yet made a move, Zhang Daotan had only sensed an extremely serene Dao rhythm emanating from him—like gentle water, the highest praise the Daoist tradition could bestow upon one's cultivation.
But the moment Yuyang stirred slightly, that Dao rhythm instantly transformed into raging waves, as if threatening to drown him in the next instant.
This was not a suppression born of spiritual power, but a sheer hierarchical domination.
The long-dormant Yuyang now revealed the brilliance of his former days.
Behind him, a swirling Tai Chi Yin-Yang symbol materialized, and his spiritual power spread throughout the hall, pressing down like a mountain upon Zhang Daotan.
Zhang Daotan could only sense the crushing weight of Yuyang’s spiritual energy—so heavy that even the air he breathed seemed to turn against him, assaulting his body. He chose to hold his breath, ceasing to inhale.
After reaching the Golden Core stage, breathing was no longer a necessity, merely a habit retained from mortal life.
Yuyang’s eyes lowered slightly as he raised a hand, sealing the surrounding space with intangible spiritual force. His voice was soft, almost a murmur:
"I wondered why… So you’ve abandoned your Dao heart in pursuit of external power."
Zhang Daotan took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart. The moment Yuyang summoned him, he had immediately prepared for battle.
An outsider might assume Yuyang had uncovered some damning evidence.
But Zhang Daotan knew—this was nothing but a bluff.
He clasped his hands in feigned reverence, his tone laced with confusion:
"I’m afraid I don’t understand… what Daoist Yuyang means."
Yuyang asked no further questions. His figure flickered forward, and the Yin-Yang Tai Chi behind him instantly enclosed the entire hall.
He had given Zhang Daotan a chance. If he refused to speak, he would be dragged back to the Taidao Sect to answer.
If he resisted to the death, then he could explain himself to the underworld.
Yuyang had come alone to the Mist Mystic Temple precisely because he was prepared for this confrontation from the start.
He always planned for the worst.
Zhang Daotan’s spiritual senses screamed in alarm—Yuyang was serious!
Facing a man who had once shaken the Central Continent with his name, Zhang Daotan unleashed his full power immediately. The jade pendant at his waist flared with light, transforming into a pristine jade sword in an instant.
The world believed the Taidao Sect supported the Mist Mystic Temple.
But in truth, the Taidao Sect had not spent a single spirit stone, nor had they ever publicly declared their protection.
They had done only one thing—given the Mist Mystic Temple a set of techniques the Taidao Sect deemed mediocre.
No one could trace which elder had been charmed into handing it over.
Yet, armed with this single manual, the Mist Mystic Temple had carved its place in the Central Continent.
Zhang Daotan knew the techniques he had mastered were laughable in the eyes of Yuyang—but they were his strongest weapons.
His expression remained calm as he gripped the jade sword and swung his most confident strike.
Space itself seemed to freeze as a blade of light tore through the void. Before Zhang Daotan even completed his motion, a force capable of annihilating heaven and earth surged toward Yuyang.
Yet Yuyang simply reached out, as if caught off guard.
But Zhang Daotan knew—there was no way Yuyang hadn’t anticipated this.
Still… what did it matter?
His gaze remained steady. He had trained this technique for centuries.
To his eyes, it was perfection itself. The only thing left was endless refinement.
But the more he studied, the more he realized the genius behind its creation—how unimaginably gifted its inventor must have been.
And yet, to the Taidao Sect, such a technique was disposable.
So now, this was his only chance.
He wanted to see—just what kind of spectacle was the Taidao Sect’s core technique, the Great Taiyi Divine Art?
Zhang Daotan’s eyes widened, fixed intently on Yuyang.
A soft chuckle echoed through the hall.
Horror flashed across Zhang Daotan’s face—not because he had witnessed the Great Taiyi Divine Art, but because he hadn’t.
Yuyang’s only response to his centuries-honed strike was that faint laugh.
His bare hand seized the technique meant to obliterate all things.
A surge of spiritual power erupted from Yuyang’s grasp, shattering the great hall. Unrestrained, the terrifying force crashed into the mountain-protecting formation.
Zhang Daotan, standing close, felt only a ripple of ordinary spiritual energy.
The strike that could have leveled mountains was effortlessly neutralized by Yuyang’s raw power and some unfathomable method.
Zhang Daotan finally completed his swing—but silence followed.
The blade had been intercepted before it even descended.
A bitter laugh nearly escaped him.
Had he spent his whole life cultivating honestly, he would never have earned a glance from someone like Yuyang.
Even as the sect master of Mist Mystic Temple, even as a genius who had defeated countless cultivators.
Truly… the path of immortality was meaningless.
Zhang Daotan inhaled deeply, listening to the tolling of the mountain bell as the protective formation activated.
There was no turning back now.
To survive, he at least had to escape the grasp of Yuyang—a man once unrivaled in his own generation.
With his own strength, it was impossible.
So…
The diamond-shaped fragment in his divine consciousness blazed brighter, and the boundless devotion power in his spiritual sea began to boil.
Though the erosion of the divine fragment remained unresolved, this was his last hope.
Even if he still failed in the end.
Zhang Daotan wanted to see—just what was the Great Taiyi Divine Art?
Boom!
A section of the Mist Mystic Temple’s mountain-protecting formation was suddenly struck. Yuyang’s divine sense swiftly traced the source—only to find a mere Nascent Soul cultivator.
Was this Zhang Daotan’s backup?
Finally, a contingency plan. But what could a Nascent Soul cultivator accomplish?
At that level, they couldn’t even breach the formation.
Yuyang’s expression remained indifferent as he prepared to subdue Zhang Daotan first.
Then his head snapped toward the mountain gate.
His gaze locked onto a small, unassuming sword of flowing water.
The sword emitted no sound, no violent spiritual fluctuations, not even a glimmer of light—as if it were nothing more than a basic water-condensing technique conjured by a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
Yet the moment this water sword touched the mountain-protecting formation…
It sliced through like tofu, blasting a gaping hole in the barrier.
A pillar of radiant spiritual light shot into the sky.
Yuyang’s eyes narrowed. His divine sense probed deeper, quickly detecting a figure—a white-robed man hovering mid-air, his face hidden behind a comical monkey mask.
The spiritual energy radiating from him was unmistakable.
That was... the spiritual essence and Dao rhythm of an opponent!
A faint smile crept onto Yuyang Daoist's face.
This... was more like it!
Though he had no idea where Mist Mystic Temple had found such a person...
At last, he had encountered someone worthy of drawing his sword against.
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
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?!
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
