All Pride Is Beneath My Gaze

The entire scene erupted in uproar, yet the uproar felt utterly hollow and powerless.

Destroying the Divine Abyss Ranking, proclaiming to the world that all prodigies were beneath his notice—what arrogance, and what boldness.

Some clenched their fists, some took half a step back, but most simply stood in silence, searing the image of that white-robed back into their memories.

Ye Xuan cast no further glance at anyone. He turned and walked away.

His gait remained as unhurried as ever, as if he had simply strolled over for a bit of fresh air and casually done something trivial along the way.

Ying'er hopped over the rubble, cheerfully catching up, her little face unable to hide her adoration and excitement.

"Husband, that was so cool!" she said in a hushed voice, though she could barely contain her joy.

Hearing this, a faint smile flickered across Ye Xuan's eyes—a softness that had never appeared when he faced those prodigies moments ago.

"Was it?"

"Mm-hmm!" Ying'er nodded vigorously, her gaze full of tenderness.

Ye Xuan let out a light chuckle and reached out to ruffle her hair, messing up her braid even more: "Little girl, you're too sweet with your words."

"I'm not! My husband really is that amazing," Ying'er puffed out her cheeks, yet she didn't dodge his hand.

The two figures—one in white, one small—gradually walked away, blending into the vast expanse of the world.

Behind them, they left a field of rubble and a crowd of prodigies still struggling to snap out of their daze.

The news that Ye Xuan had destroyed the Divine Abyss Ranking spread like a boulder triggering an avalanche, thundering across the entire Burial Abyss.

Every cultivator who had entered the abyss—whether a wanderer or a disciple of a holy land—was consumed by frenzy discussion of the incident.

Some cursed him as utterly reckless, saying he would surely reap what he sowed; others claimed he did it deliberately to build his fame.

Still others asserted that by this act, he had offended every prodigy in existence, and that within three days, he would be swarmed and destroyed.

But no matter the speculation, one thing was crystal clear to everyone:

This White-Clad God of Slaughter was the last person in the entire Burial Abyss anyone should think of provoking.

And at this very moment, the very White-Clad God of Slaughter that made everyone pale at the mention of his name was lazily seated at the edge of a cliff, bent over, roasting a freshly hunted beast.

The beast was a Flame Lion at the early Void Refinement stage—thick-skinned and meaty—crackling over open flames, its aroma drifting with the mountain wind, rich enough to make one's mouth water.

Ying'er crouched beside him, using a thin twig to carefully flip the beast over, occasionally pinching a pinch of seasoning from the little pouch at her waist and sprinkling it with serious concentration, as if she were performing some grand and important task.

"Husband," Ying'er said while flipping the meat, turning her head slightly, "do you think those prodigies will come looking for revenge?"

"They will," Ye Xuan said, staring at the roasting meat, replying without missing a beat.

"Then... what do we do?" Ying'er's little brows furrowed slightly.

Ye Xuan glanced at her, a smile slowly curling at the corners of his mouth, a certain laziness in his eyes, mixed with confidence and an unmistakable glint of anticipation.

"What do we do? One comes—I kill one. Two come—I kill a pair. A whole crowd comes…"

He paused, his gaze drifting toward the distant mountain ranges, "Then even better. Saves me the trouble of hunting them down one by one."

Hearing that, Ying'er couldn't help but burst into a giggle, then quickly covered her mouth, her eyes curving like two little crescents.

Of course she understood—her husband was deliberately baiting those prodigies to come to him.

Sure enough, before the beast's meat was even cooked, urgent sounds of tearing air came from the distant sky.

Dozens of figures descended from all directions, surrounding the cliff from every side, their killing intent thick and their momentum fierce.

These were all cultivators of formidable power, wearing the robes of various holy lands, wielding all manner of treasures and spirit artifacts, their eyes burning with fury and deep-seated murderous intent.

At the lead was a middle-aged man in a purple-gold dao robe, with a thin sword-mark between his brows and an aura of sharp sword-intent radiating from his every pore. He was none other than an elder of the Grand Xuan Heaven Sect, renowned throughout the cultivation world as the Lingxiao Sword Lord.

Behind him stood dozens of Void Refinement prodigies, including several of the top ten on the Divine Abyss Ranking. Alone, this line-up was enough to sweep the entirety of the Burial Abyss without mercy.

But Ye Xuan didn't even lift his head.

Holding the twig of roasting meat, he slowly turned it over, listening to the sizzle of dripping fat hitting the flames, as if savoring some exquisite piece of music.

"Enough with the racket," he finally said, his tone laced with genuine irritation. "Can't you see I'm eating?"

"Insolent!" The Lingxiao Sword Lord's sword-like brows shot upward, anger nearly exploding from his chest. "Boy, do you know who I am? How dare you show such disrespect!"

"Don't know, and don't care," Ye Xuan said, lifting his eyes to casually sweep over the man. "But I can guess why you're here. Either you want me dead, or you want what I have." He paused, a corner of his mouth curling up slightly. "Too bad—you've come to the wrong person."

"Arrogant fool!" The Lingxiao Sword Lord bellowed, drawing his sword. The blade's cry pierced the clouds. "Everyone, attack together—cut down this demon!"

The moment the words left his mouth, dozens of prodigies simultaneously triggered their spiritual power. Swords, fist seals, talismans, spirit artifacts—all surged like a raging storm, an overwhelming tide sweeping toward where Ye Xuan stood.

Ye Xuan silently watched that onrushing wave, then slowly set down the roasted meat, and spoke with quiet calm.

"Ying'er, step back."

"Okay!" Ying'er obediently snatched up the half-roasted beast leg, scampered to a distance behind a large boulder, and peeked out, her eyes sparkling as she watched.

Ye Xuan stood up. The hem of his robes lifted lightly with the mountain wind, his hair streaming like fine threads. He raised his gaze to the overwhelming assault hurtling toward him—calm, unruffled, a faint, detached smile on his lips.

"That's all?"

He said this softly, then raised a hand, curled his finger, and snapped it outward once.

"Grand Primordial Limitless Sword Qi."

In an instant, a brilliant gray sword-light burst from his fingertips. In the air, it split from one to two, two to four, four to eight—then eight to countless more.

In the blink of an eye, thousands upon ten-thousands of sword rays appeared like scattered stars, blotting out the sky above the cliff. Each was as fine as a silk thread, and each as sharp as could be.

The sword rays met the onrushing deluge head-on, unleashing deafening thunders. The shockwaves shattered the rocks below the cliff into fragments. And yet, those attacks that seemed capable of destroying heaven and earth were, in front of Ye Xuan's sword qi, torn apart as easily as thin paper.

"Impossible!"

"What kind of sword qi is this—why can't we block it!"

"Run!"

The prodigies screamed in terror and turned to flee. But those thousands of sword rays pursued them like shadows, too fast for anyone to react.

One cultivator after another was pierced through by the sword rays. Blood rained down. Bodies plummeted from the sky, slamming into the rocks below with dull, heavy thuds.

Within a few short breaths, more than half of those dozens of prodigies had either been slain or gravely wounded, the scene so gruesome that it was hard to bear looking at.

Only that Lingxiao Sword Lord, relying on his profound cultivation, managed to barely withstand the impact of the sword aura—yet even he was left in a wretched state.

Most of his Dao robe was torn to shreds, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and traces of blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. The arrogance in his eyes had shattered entirely, replaced by a terror he could not suppress.

He stared at Ye Xuan, his voice trembling slightly.

"You... just who exactly are you?"

Ye Xuan looked at him indifferently. There was no anger in his gaze, no killing intent, not even the faintest ripple—as if he were looking at some insignificant passerby.

"I told you already," he said calmly, "just a wandering cultivator passing by."

"Impossible!" Lingxiao Sword Lord gritted his teeth. "With your strength, you cannot possibly be a wandering cultivator! Which sect's master are you? Who taught you? Why would you make enemies of all the prodigies under heaven—"

"Believe it or not."

Ye Xuan cut him off, his tone utterly flat. He raised his right hand, and a sword aura coalesced at his fingertip. "And besides, you no longer have the chance to keep asking."

"Wait!"

A flicker of panic dashed through Lingxiao Sword Lord's eyes. "You cannot kill me! I am an elder of the Grand Xuan Heaven Sect. If you kill me, the Grand Xuan Heaven Sect will never let you go!"

Ye Xuan heard these words and fell silent for a moment.

Then, he smiled.

There was something in that smile that was hard to put into words—an untamed purity that only a youth could possess, reckless and unburdened by consequence.

"The Grand Xuan Heaven Sect," he repeated the name slowly, his tone calm, as though reciting the name of some unfamiliar place, "and so what?"

With that, he flicked his finger, and the sword aura shot through the air.

"No!"

Lingxiao Sword Lord's final cry faded into the mountain wind. His body was pierced through by the sword aura, plummeting from the sky and crashing heavily against the rocks below. Then, silence.

The cliff fell quiet once more.

Ye Xuan withdrew his hand and glanced down at the scattered forms strewn about. There was no ripple in his eyes, no delight—only the look of someone who had just watched an utterly unremarkable play, and lightly turned his gaze away.

"Ying'er, collect the spoils."

"On it, husband!" Ying'er bounced out from behind the boulder, clutching the half-roasted demon beast leg, her eyes sparkling like stars. She trotted over cheerfully and deftly began gathering the storage rings scattered all over the place.

Ye Xuan sat back down at the cliff's edge, picked up the thin branch he had set aside, and resumed roasting his meat.

The flames swayed gently in the wind, and the aroma of the demon beast wafted out once more.

Beneath the cliff, the sea of clouds churned, and heaven and earth stretched wide and boundless, casting the white-robed figure like a subject in a painting—untroubled and solitary, proud and serene.

This was Ye Xuan.

With a sword aura as his brush and the prodigies as his pieces, he tossed this world into chaos—and yet, through it all, his expression never once changed, and he carried the greatest weight with effortless ease.

The spirit of youth, once spent, can never be reborn.