A fierce battle continued to rage beyond the heavens. Suddenly, a string of blood droplets rained down from the sky, hurtling toward the summit of the central peak. Mid-air, the droplets transformed into all manner of bizarre, flesh-like masses, each as large as a hill.

Wei Yuan had been waiting for the hidden True Lord to make his move this entire time. Now that he no longer needed to hold back, his aura shifted abruptly, and a colossal immortal sword appeared in his hand.

The sword looked unremarkable—and indeed, it was unremarkable. But when Wei Yuan held the colossal sword upside down and thrust it into the space before him, the Xu Clan’s Avatar-stage elder he had been hunting felt as if a heavenly tribulation were descending upon him. He frantically tried to flee, heedless even of the thunderous strikes locked onto him by the two puppets.

Wei Yuan flicked the blade, and a silent, resonant hum rippled out, instantly filling the surroundings with a sense of desolation and melancholy. It was like a dirge following the collapse of a ten-thousand-year-old dynasty.

The Avatar-stage elder’s primordial spirit trembled, and for a moment, his mind went completely blank. His thoughts on his next move were inexplicably erased, and he found himself utterly at a loss as to what to do next.

Of course, the state did not last long. His memories returned to him the very next instant. Unfortunately, his body was already erupting like fireworks and triggering every life-saving technique he had cast upon himself. The split-second distraction was enough for him to take countless blows.

A wisp of dark-red pill fire shot up from below, striking the elder’s ankle. Instantly, the mystic...