Deep within the unnamed mountain range, the thunderstorm that had raged on slowly began to ease, and by dusk, the rain had stopped. Though the horizon only held the faint glow of the sunset, a fragmented rainbow could still barely be seen in the distance.
As the sun dipped lower, that rainbow too seemed to slowly scatter and vanish.
The forest was now silent. Even the strong scent of blood had dissipated. Only the trail of corpses stood as grim testimony to the brutal slaughter that had taken place here.
Chen Heng's corpse lay on the ground, and even in death, his wide-open eyes seemed to retain a trace of will—unwillingness and disbelief etched into them.
Beside him, Bai Xiaochun was completely motionless. If his life were a flame, then at this moment, it was nearly extinguished—only a faint ember flickering in desperate struggle to survive.
After a long time, faint footsteps approached from the distance, crunching softly over soggy leaves, until the sound stopped beside Chen Heng's body.
It was an old man, dressed in a flowing black robe. His hair was completely white, fluttering in the breeze. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, and he radiated an ancient and desolate air. It felt as if he had existed in this world far too long—so long, that his very presence exuded the aura of death.
"A soul bound by obsession... the body is dead, yet the soul lingers. It might still be of some use."
His hoarse, ethereal voice echoed in the stillness. As it did, a crack split open on Chen Heng's forehead. Wisps of greenish energy drifted upward, forming a faint, palm-sized phantom of his soul.
It was Chen Heng—only now his eyes were blank, void of thought or reason, trembling slightly in the air.
The old man raised a finger. Instantly, the soul shadow was drawn into his fingertip and disappeared.
Having collected Chen Heng's soul, the mysterious elder turned his gaze toward Bai Xiaochun. His expression was complicated, gradually filled with a distant sense of reminiscence.
"Didn't expect... to see this again... the Undying Longevity Art..."
He slowly closed his eyes. After a long silence, he sighed, and that sigh seemed to bend the very fabric of reality, as if time itself slowed in this pocket of the world, isolated from all else.
Grass and trees around them withered, turning to dust in the blink of an eye.
Chen Heng's corpse, visible to the naked eye, began to rot rapidly. Within seconds, it had turned to bone, then crumbled into ash and merged with the muddy earth.
Only Bai Xiaochun remained. Not only did his body not decay, but unseen vitality surged toward him, pouring into his body and rapidly healing his injuries.
The old man stood unmoving like a statue. If one looked closely, they would notice something terrifying—he had no breath, no vitality. It was as though he didn't even exist in this world. He was like a wisp of a soul that refused to pass on.
At that very moment, in the Falling Star Mountains, within the territory of the Luochen Clan, the clan's patriarch—Old Ancestor Luochen—suddenly opened his eyes. An intense unease filled his heart. Though he had seen that many of the eleven people he sent out had died, Chen Heng's soul tablet was still intact. That eased his concerns slightly.
"It's just three outer sect disciples. Why is it taking so long… And why have so many of my clan died?"
He frowned, but reassured himself: "With Heng'er's cultivation, there should be no problem. He may already have killed those three juniors and is on his way back."
Despite this, the uneasy feeling persisted. His eyes narrowed as he immediately dispatched several more clan members, all at the seventh level of Qi Condensation, to investigate.
Pushing all doubt aside, he inhaled deeply, his eyes sharp with determination.
"No matter what happens, just one more day! In one more day, the Reversed Blood Ritual will be complete!"
He clenched his teeth. There was no turning back. He had no other choice. As long as he held out for one more day… everything would change!
Meanwhile, less than ten miles from the Luochen Clan's formation, in a remote valley, Hou Yunfei, pale and wounded, could no longer continue. He vomited blood and collapsed with a bitter smile.
"Junior Brother Bai… I'm sorry… I couldn't save you…"
Before losing consciousness, he clenched his fists tightly, consumed by grief and helplessness.
Elsewhere, Du Lingfei was disheveled, her once bright appearance now haggard and unrecognizable. Most of her meridians were broken, and her face was drained of life.
Her eyes were dull, like a walking corpse driven only by sheer will. She clutched a jade slip in her hand, and in her mind, only one thought echoed—
Escape. Send word to the sect. Save… Bai Xiaochun.
Step by step, falling and getting up again. Her clothes were in tatters, blood dried across her body. Her vision had long since blurred—but she pressed on, staggering forward.
Time passed slowly. She had long forgotten her pain, her life. She didn't know how long she had walked until suddenly, her entire body trembled—as if breaking through the surface of water—and a surge of clarity filled her lifeless eyes.
"I'm out…?"
Her dry lips trembled as she gripped the jade slip. For half a month, it had remained silent. But now—it suddenly vibrated, as though a distant invisible connection had just been established with the sect.
"Luochen Clan has betrayed us. Senior Brother Feng is dead. Senior Brother Hou—status unknown. Junior Brother Bai… led away the enemies to save us and is being hunted. This disciple, Du Lingfei, begs the sect for… immediate rescue!"
After transmitting the message, her body went limp, and she collapsed, tears streaming down her face.
She could not forget Bai Xiaochun's bloody figure as he returned to save them. Could not forget his tragic resolve as he lured the Luochen Clan away. Could not forget everything that had happened along the way.
"Junior Brother Bai, Senior Brother Hou… live on…"
Du Lingfei wept, her tears falling endlessly before she lost consciousness.
Almost the moment Du Lingfei's message reached the sect, in the South Bank's Xiangyun Mountain Task Hall, where things were always busy with outer sect disciples picking up tasks, a middle-aged man was quietly organizing jade slips.
Suddenly, one of the slips glowed. Calmly, he beckoned it forward. But when his divine sense swept over it, his expression changed drastically. He shot to his feet.
"The Luochen Clan… has rebelled!!"
His breath grew heavy. This was a major incident. Whether the report was true or not, it had to be reported immediately. Suppressing it would be a crime punishable by death. Not daring to delay, he took out a purple jade slip and sent a message straight to the Law Enforcement Hall.
Though Qian Dajin was part of the Law Enforcement Hall, his position was lowly. He had no authority to even approach this matter. Within moments, the Law Enforcement Hall mobilized. They worked with astonishing speed.
Within the time it takes for a single incense stick to burn, they confirmed the information was true.
Suddenly, war drums thundered across the entire South Bank, echoing in all directions. All outer sect disciples were stunned. They had never heard these drums before. But the inner sect disciples—whether in seclusion, training, or resting—immediately paled and looked up in shock.
"What happened?"
"The war drums… they mean blood must be spilled… a clan must be destroyed… Lingxi shall not rest!!"
Just as everyone trembled in fear, a cold and ancient voice echoed through the entire South Bank of the Spirit Stream Sect:
"I am Ouyang Jie of the Law Enforcement Hall. All inner sect disciples of the South Bank's three peaks—cancel all tasks, all activities, all seclusions. Assemble at the mountain gate within twenty breaths of time! No exceptions!"
At the command, disciples from Green Peak, Xiangyun Mountain, and Purple Cauldron Mountain immediately rushed out without hesitation.
No matter what they were doing, no one dared delay—not when the name "Ouyang Jie" was invoked. He was a Law Enforcement Elder… and known as the "Jackal Daoist."
Whenever he appeared, it meant only one thing—someone had enraged the sect beyond forgiveness. Blood must be shed. A clan must be annihilated.
Rumbles echoed in the skies as countless figures soared from every mountain, all heading toward the sect gate. More than two thousand inner sect disciples had assembled. Usually unseen, their sudden appearance shocked every outer disciple watching.
Alongside them, about five hundred Law Enforcement Hall disciples in black robes emerged. At the front—an elder with flowing red hair and overwhelming killing intent.
It was Ouyang Jie.
Now, with over two thousand cultivators surrounding the mountain gate, every face was cold and grim.
"The Luochen Clan has betrayed the sect. By order of the Sect Master—leave no one alive. Exterminate them all. Initiate teleportation!"
With a wave of his sleeve, a brilliant pillar of light erupted from the central Dao-seeding Mountain, forming a massive teleportation array that descended upon the gathering army.
Thunder roared. The teleportation was about to begin.
Every outer sect disciple gasped in awe, their hearts filled with pride and loyalty toward the sect.
Compared to the mighty Spirit Stream Sect, the Luochen Clan was but a tiny family with only one Foundation Establishment cultivator. And yet, for the sake of a few outer sect disciples, the sect had mobilized over two thousand people—including the fearsome Ouyang Jie.
This wasn't using a cow blade to kill a chicken…
This was: when killing a chicken—always use the cow blade!
Such a sect—willing to go to these lengths even for outer disciples—earned absolute loyalty.
The Spirit Stream Sect had stood for ten thousand years. From humble beginnings to its current might—there was good reason.
At that moment, atop Xiangyun Mountain, from the grand hall, Li Qinghou's expression was icy. His body shot out with a thunderous boom. An overwhelming killing aura erupted from him like a hurricane, sweeping the skies as he charged toward the teleportation array.