Group Brawl at Zhenyue

Sword light and fist shadows clashed and intertwined across the wasteland.

Gu Changyuan’s speed grew faster and faster, his form leaving afterimages in the Domain of the Unmoving King.

His swordsmanship was fierce and varied, no longer relying on the enhancement of laws—only the purest sword techniques, the most fundamental sword stances, and swordplay driven by primal power: slicing, stabbing, lifting, slashing, chopping, cleaving, smashing, hooking, and sweeping. Each strike landed precisely on Zhenyue’s weak points.

His sword intent transformed into countless strands of killing intent, subtly restraining every move Zhenyue made.

Zhenyue’s fists and feet also accelerated, propelled by the power of the mountain; each of his attacks carried a dark golden afterimage.

His physical body was indeed among the top tiers of the celestial realm, that mountain-like heaviness forcing Gu Changyuan to expend several times more power than usual just to break through his defenses with each slash.

But Gu Changyuan’s sword began to move even faster.

His body was adapting to this rhythm of battle, adapting to this pure physical collision without the protection of laws.

Not only that, but while fighting, he was simultaneously eroding Zhenyue’s sea of consciousness with his spiritual power.

A Celestial Emperor’s spiritual power was indeed far stronger than that of an ordinary cultivator.

But in Gu Changyuan’s eyes, the opponent’s spiritual insights were barely worth noticing.

Zhenyue’s sea of consciousness lay before him like a fortress reinforced layer upon layer. The fortress walls were thick, but Gu Changyuan had all the time and patience in the world.

He didn’t need to storm the entire fortress—he only needed to find a single crack.

And he found it.

A sharp glint flashed in Gu Changyuan’s eyes.

A powerful spiritual attack burst forth from his brow, like a long-accumulated undercurrent finally finding an outlet, pouring deep into Zhenyue’s sea of consciousness through that crack.

In that instant, Zhenyue felt as if something had pierced through his mind, leaving a brief blankness.

The blankness lasted only a moment.

Less than a breath—not even time enough for a full inhalation.

But in that single moment, Gu Changyuan seized his opportunity.

He erupted with force, and his powerful sword intent burst violently, surging toward Zhenyue.

“Sixth Calamity: Burial of All Realms.”

A colossal sword light slashed forth, carrying an overwhelming, sweeping momentum and the destructive power to annihilate the laws of all worlds. It tore a massive rift straight through the Domain of the Unmoving King as it charged toward Zhenyue.

Zhenyue’s pupils contracted sharply. He wanted to restore the Domain of the Unmoving King, to sew the rift back together, to suppress the invading force once more.

But the sword light was already before him—no room for delay or hesitation. He could only raise both arms and cross them in front of him, the mountain’s power condensing before his palms into a thick, dark golden barrier.

That dark golden barrier shattered like glass under the impact of the sword light, scattering countless tiny golden fragments through the air.

The sword light’s remaining force did not dissipate entirely. After breaking the barrier, it still carried residual power and slammed heavily into Zhenyue’s chest, sending him hurtling down from the sky like a boulder launched by a catapult, crashing violently into the ground.

“Boom——!!!”

A massive crater formed on the earth.

Gu Changyuan gave his opponent no chance to catch his breath or recover. The moment Zhenyue hit the ground, Gu Changyuan descended after him. The pitch-black longsword, wrapped in the killing aura of sword intent and the pressure of wind, stabbed toward the figure rising in the crater.

Zhenyue had barely stood up at the bottom of the crater. His purple robe was tattered, revealing a body covered in wounds. His eyes were filled with shock and defiance.

He raised his right hand, palm outward, and a golden light surged from his palm, forming a massive golden shield projection before him.

It was an ancient shield. On its surface were carved patterns of mountains and rivers, each line faintly glowing, emanating a dense, earth-like aura.

Gu Changyuan’s longsword struck the shield with a dull, reverberating clash.

Gu Changyuan hovered in midair, looking down from above at Zhenyue in the crater, a mocking grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Already forced to reveal your trump card? This Tianheng isn’t all that impressive.”

Rage flared on Zhenyue’s face.

“Hmph.”

He let out a cold snort.

“Just sneaky tricks. Do you really think a Tianheng is only capable of this?”

As he spoke, he raised his right hand again, and another light appeared from his waist.

It was an object shaped like a chain, dark gold in color, several zhang long, made of dozens of small gold rings linked together. Each ring bore a mountain imprint, exuding the same origin—but a far more violent aura—as the mountain shield.

Gu Changyuan watched his opponent’s display, watching the ancient shield and the chain, watching the flames of fury in Zhenyue’s eyes. His heart remained calm.

He no longer had any desire to continue sparring.

He had already fully grasped all of Zhenyue’s techniques. The tempering of his own physical body had reached its expectations, and the effectiveness of his spiritual attacks had been verified. All that remained was the cleanup.

“Since you’ve come to this.”

Gu Changyuan’s voice was light, and then he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

“Snap.”

At that crisp sound, ten rifts were torn open in the surrounding void.

Ten figures stepped out from the rifts, their movements unhurried and steady. With each step they took, a powerful, undeniable aura spread across the sky above.

Ten Celestial Emperors had been summoned directly by Gu Changyuan—those from the Zhuge, Gongsun, and Xuan Yuan clans.

Their faces showed a trace of confusion, pulled here abruptly by the force of a teleportation array.

But when their gazes fell upon the figure in the crater below, their expressions instantly changed. Their eyes turned sharp as blades, filled with killing intent and barely restrained fury.

That look—as if they held a grudge against each other. Actually, no, they did hold a grudge!

Zhenyue, one of the Tianheng.

When the Imperial Court waged war against the five great clans of the Central Continent, he was one of the leading generals.

Zhenyue watched the ten figures land, and his expression shifted from anger to frozen shock.

He recognized them—the five Celestial Emperors of the Zhuge clan. He remembered each of their faces.

“So it’s you.”

His voice remained steady, but a barely noticeable tremor had crept in.

“I didn’t think you’d dare to show yourselves.”

Gu Changyuan floated in midair, leaning slightly sideways against his sword, looking down at Zhenyue in the crater with a mocking gaze.

“The Imperial Court has been arrogant for so long that you’ve gotten carried away, huh? Running into so many Celestial Emperors, and you still roar that loudly? What, do you think the other Tianheng are still around?”

Zhenyue opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Gu Changyuan gave him no chance to keep up his tough talk.

“Go ahead.”

Gu Changyuan’s voice was calm, carrying an unquestionable certainty.

“Remember to leave him breathing—I still have use for him.”