The Saint Spirit Race could bear descendants, but those offspring were no longer true Saint Spirits. At most, they carried the bloodline of the Saint Spirit, but they lacked the genuine abilities of a true Saint Spirit. In name, they were still considered part of the Saint Spirit Race, but strictly speaking, they weren't authentic members.
As such, the race was divided into two factions. One consisted of true Saint Spirits, born directly from the heavens and earth—innate lifeforms of pure origin. The other faction was made up of descendants spawned from the bloodlines of Saint Spirits. These two types led to a natural schism: the Saint Spirits themselves, and their offspring, known as Saint Offspring. In terms of nobility and status, the Saint Spirits clearly stood at the top.
In talent and potential, the Saint Offspring could not compare to the true Saint Spirits. However, being born of Saint Spirit blood, even these descendants possessed overwhelming strength, rivaling the top-tier races. So much so that even Saint Offspring were considered peerless prodigies when out traveling the world. On the battlefield, they were proud and unstoppable.
"Is the Stone Emperor a true Saint Spirit or a Saint Offspring?"
Yi Tianxing's eyes flickered with a strange light as he asked.
"The Light Elf didn't give a direct answer. But whether he's a Saint Offspring or a true Saint Spirit, the bloodline coursing through his veins is undeniably powerful. The Saint Spirit Race is small in number, but every single one is a top-level powerhouse. For him to host something like the Rare Fruit Banquet, he must be immensely confident in his strength."
Yao Yue shook her head slightly in response.
These kinds of secrets were top-level intelligence outside their circles. The Saint Spirit Race was shrouded in mystery—no one really knew who was a true Saint Spirit and who was a descendant. But one thing was certain: with such a prestigious background, the Stone Emperor had the clout to make such a bold move.
"Regardless of whether he's a Saint Spirit or an Offspring, his connection to the Saint Spirit Race is undeniable. His title, 'Stone Emperor,' clearly relates to stone. The Stone Bloodline signifies the earth itself—solid, unmovable, unmatched in might."
Yi Tianxing showed no change in expression or attitude at the revelation.
Whoever the Stone Emperor was didn't matter. His stance toward the Human Race was far from friendly. Their visit—friend or foe—was yet to be determined.
The Light Elf left as abruptly as she had arrived.
Still, their journey continued uninterrupted. This was just one of many unusual encounters—a brief but vivid scenery along the road.
It was said that seeing a Light Elf was a sign of powerful luck. Supposedly, it would bring great fortune in the coming days. But whether that was truth or myth remained unproven.
The war chariot raced forward through the skies.
Suddenly, the sound of violent combat erupted ahead.
Blades flashed fiercely across the battlefield, unleashing waves of bloody slaughter.
"Human cultivators."
Yi Tianxing's eyes scanned the scene and softened just slightly.
There were Human cultivators ahead. Their aura was distinct—easily recognizable on the battlefield. Anyone with sufficient cultivation couldn't fully hide it.
"Who is that? Such a domineering blade aura... What kind of horse is that? It charges like rolling thunder!"
Lian Xing blinked curiously.
They could see on the battlefield ahead a tall man clad in green armor, with a green headscarf, and elegant long facial hair adorning a striking crimson-red face—a most unique appearance.
In his hand was a massive guandao, and with every swing, blade light flashed like lightning. Mounted beneath him was a warhorse covered in red scales, radiating a faint glow of crimson flame from within.
Clearly, this was no ordinary steed.
"Red face, long beard, green robe, guandao... That blade technique... It's familiar. That's Guan Yu!"
Yi Tianxing's eyes sparkled with astonishment. That outfit and face—there were few in history who matched such a combination. And among them, the most likely candidate was the legendary Martial Saint of history, Lord Guan Yu.
Moreover, the blade technique was unmistakable. It was the Spring and Autumn Blade Art, which Yi Tianxing had once witnessed Guan Xiong use in the Golden Sand Desert. According to legend, this technique was passed down from Guan Yu himself, who had been deeply inspired by the Spring and Autumn Annals.
This man's technique was clearly far more refined than Guan Xiong's—faster, sharper, and more decisive. Each strike seemed to summon a green dragon, every blade light cold as the moon.
He advanced through the battlefield like a god of war.
Facing him were waves of Eternal Night legions—mainly Zerg warriors.
With each flash of the blade, corpses piled up behind him. The road ahead was soaked in blood—a literal path of flesh and bone carved by a single man's power. None could last more than a breath against his blade.
Yet, a formidable figure emerged to oppose him—not just another Eternal Night warrior, but a powerful foe from the Shadow Demon Race.
This Shadow Demon floated midair, cloaked in black. He observed the Human warrior below with icy disdain, while wave after wave of Eternal Night forces charged in from all sides—fearless and unrelenting.
"Coward! If you have any guts, come down and face Guan in single combat! Using these ghostly tricks—what kind of so-called genius are you?"
The red-faced man bellowed in rage. With a swing of his guandao, more soldiers were cleaved apart, their bodies exploding into blood.
"It's the Shadow Demon Race. He's controlling the shadows of the Eternal Night troops."
Yi Tianxing's gaze sharpened.
The Shadow Demons were born with shadow-controlling powers. Their mastery over shadow-based divine abilities was legendary. He knew this well—his clone Yi Tianxie had once captured a Shadow Demon and obtained their Shadow Demon Codex. Their shadow manipulation bordered on the divine.
"My husband, should we intervene?"
Yao Yue glanced at the Human general with a complex expression.
Such a war general was rare—a peerless warrior among warriors. If they could form ties with him or recruit him into Great Yi, it would greatly strengthen their kingdom.
Having now fully pledged herself to Yi Tianxing, she naturally began considering things from his long-term perspective.
"No rush. If that really is General Guan, then this situation might not trouble him at all. Let's observe for now."
Yi Tianxing's tone remained calm. They weren't far from the battle. Hidden in the clouds, they could arrive in a few breaths if needed.
"Kill!!"
The red-faced man roared, swinging his guandao in a devastating arc.
In that moment, an incredible vision appeared—a towering mountain rising from the void, only to be split in half by a heavenly blade. The cut was clean and terrifying, the blade intent piercing both soul and stone.
The blade embodied Spring and Autumn.
Spring for life, Autumn for solitude. Together, they represented the cycle of rebirth, life and death.
Thus, the Spring and Autumn Blade Intent was none other than a blade of life and death, a blade of slaughter. One slash, and you are sent to your spring or autumn.
More than that, Spring and Autumn represented the Warring States—an era of endless conflict and conquest. War and death were eternal themes.
Spring and Autumn Blade Art – "Mountain-Cleaving Strike"!
Crack!!
With a thunderous sound, a massive blade light—over a hundred feet long—split the battlefield in two. It shattered dozens of Eternal Night soldiers in an instant, turning them to mist and meat.
A huge gash opened on the ground, a brutal road of destruction carved by the guandao.
But it wasn't over.
The blade light twisted suddenly, rising from below in a sudden strike aimed directly at the Shadow Demon in the sky. The void tore open in its wake, revealing a dragon's tail striking back with ferocity.
Spring and Autumn Blade Art – "Dragon's Tail Lash"!
This strike was divine, flawless in its timing—no one saw it coming.
"Hmph! Impressive blade intent—but it's not enough to kill me."
The Shadow Demon's body instantly melted into shadow, diving into the battlefield's other shadows. He was too cautious to face the blade head-on.
Normal shadow techniques could easily dodge physical blades—but blade intent was different. Blade intent could slice through both illusion and reality.
Suddenly, from the shadow under the general's feet, a jet-black sword shot forth, stabbing toward his throat like lightning.
Its precision and lethality were unmatched—quick, silent, deadly.
Yet the general's senses were near supernatural. He sensed the ambush the instant the blade emerged, shouting as he turned his guandao to parry.
Too fast.
The shadow sword vanished and reappeared from another angle, targeting his back.
Once again, blade met sword—dodging, parrying, dancing.
In mere moments, a bizarre scene unfolded: shadow swords flashing from every direction, all targeting the general's vital points. Yet none managed to land a blow.
His guandao danced like a whirlwind—deadly, precise, and impenetrable.