"It's over."
Zhang Qingyang's face showed a smug smile as his five fingers clenched with full force, ready to crush Yang Cheng's wrist. But in the next instant, his smile froze.
Even Yang Cheng himself wasn't fully aware of how terrifyingly strong his body had become with the Primordial Golden Body and his Innate Divine Strength. Zhang Qingyang's strength was not small, yet he found he couldn't crush Yang Cheng's bones at all.
And right at that moment—
"It truly has ended!"
Yang Cheng's power erupted like a storm. An unimaginable force burst out, and his wrist easily slipped free from Zhang Qingyang's grip. As it broke free, Zhang Qingyang felt as if his own fingers were about to snap. Forced by the searing pain, he let go.
"Crimson Flood Dragon Divine Fist!"
Yang Cheng's fist shot forward.
Zhang Qingyang couldn't dodge in time. Yang Cheng's punch slammed directly into his chest.
Boom!
That punch surged out like a crimson flood dragon leaping from the sea, violent power pouring down in an instant. Zhang Qingyang's chest caved in sharply, his protective qi shattered like fragile paper, and his entire body was blasted away like a cannonball, smashing brutally against the mountainside behind him.
"Rumble!"
The mountain wall collapsed, stones flying everywhere.
The disciples of Luofu Mountain turned pale, and the archer youth even cried out in shock: "Senior Brother Zhang!"
At that moment, none of them dared underestimate Yang Cheng again.
From within the dust, Zhang Qingyang slowly stood up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing first with rage, then turning colder and colder.
"Good. Very good…"
He wiped away the blood. His aura surged again, rising even more violently than before, unleashing a crushing pressure that swept across the battlefield. This presence was already frighteningly close to a Martial Emperor.
"Yang Cheng, I have to admit… you are worthy of my full attention now."
His voice sank low. The long blade in his hand trembled with a buzzing hum, blood-red patterns spreading across the blade as if some ancient beast was awakening.
"Blood Hell Slash of the Other Shore, Second Form—Dragon-Slaying!"
He stepped forward. His figure carried the weight of a raging tempest as he closed in on Yang Cheng in an instant. The blade light streaked across the sky like a bloody moon, its edge sharp enough to tear through everything.
Yang Cheng's eyes sharpened. He lifted his wooden sword in defense.
Clang!
Blade and sword collided, sparks scattering wildly.
The impact left Yang Cheng's tiger's mouth tingling, cracks faintly appearing on his grip. He had to admit, Zhang Qingyang's strike carried more force than he had expected.
"Not bad."
Yang Cheng's brows lifted slightly, battle intent burning brighter in his gaze. This Zhang Qingyang truly lived up to his reputation as the future Vice Sect Master of Luofu Mountain. He really had some skill.
Zhang Qingyang sneered coldly. "This is only the beginning."
His blade technique shifted again. The long knife flickered like an illusion, splitting into three ghostly shadows that slashed toward Yang Cheng from three directions with lightning speed.
"Luofu Mountain's secret art—Three-Shadow Divine Blade."
Shen Muxue's expression changed as she spoke.
The three blade shadows weaved between real and illusory, each one carrying a killing intent sharp enough to take a life.
But Yang Cheng's eyes remained calm as still water. His perception was razor sharp, and with the experience of a Martial Saint, Zhang Qingyang's trick meant nothing to him.
In the blink of an eye, he saw through the truth behind the shadows.
Buzz!
His wooden sword darted out like a swimming dragon, striking precisely at one of the shadow blades.
Clang!
The struck blade shadow instantly solidified into real blade force, only to shatter completely under Yang Cheng's strike.
"Useless."
Zhang Qingyang let out a cold snort.
Sure enough, the other two shadows suddenly solidified, one slicing for Yang Cheng's neck, the other for his waist.
Among the three shadows, only one was real. But the Three-Shadow Divine Blade always concealed two killing moves within.
Even if Yang Cheng destroyed the true one, the hidden blades would still cut down at the critical moment.
The power of the real shadow blade didn't vanish. Instead, it merged into the other two shadows, making the killing strike even deadlier.
"Not bad, but still a bit too green."
Yang Cheng's body spun sharply, his wooden sword carving a sweeping arc to cut down the shadow blade aimed at his neck. Normally, this would leave him unable to avoid the one slashing toward his abdomen.
Star-Shifting!
Yang Cheng redirected the neck strike, forcing it into the blade coming for his abdomen.
Clang!
The two shadow blades collided, exploding into fragments together.
Zhang Qingyang's face twisted in shock. He hadn't expected Yang Cheng to break the technique this way.
Yang Cheng gave him no time to recover.
Boom!
The ground under Yang Cheng's feet shattered as he kicked off with explosive force, driving his fist straight toward Zhang Qingyang's face.
Zhang Qingyang reacted with lightning speed. He tilted his head aside, avoiding the punch, and his blade surged upward in a sharp slash aimed directly at Yang Cheng's wrist.
Yang Cheng's fist turned into a claw. His five fingers hooked down, snapping onto the spine of Zhang Qingyang's blade, while his right leg lashed out like a whip, smashing into Zhang Qingyang's knees.
Bang!
The strike staggered Zhang Qingyang, forcing him to stumble.
But his reflexes were frighteningly quick. With a shake of his blade, he tore free from Yang Cheng's grip, flipping backward to pull distance between them.
The disciples of Luofu Mountain were already numb with shock.
"Yang Cheng, you are truly strong."
Zhang Qingyang drew in a deep breath. Madness flickered in his eyes.
As he spoke, both hands tightened on his blade. His blood qi boiled over, the blood-red patterns on the blade fully igniting, as if countless vengeful souls were howling.
"Blood Hell Slash of the Other Shore—Final Form, God-Slaying!"
Zhang Qingyang unleashed everything.
This strike had already surpassed the limits of his current strength, but at this point, he had no choice left.
Rumble!
He swung the blade. The heavens and earth seemed to change color.
A torrent of blood-red light poured down like a waterfall, shaking the entire valley.
This strike was no longer merely close to Martial Emperor level—it was a strike on par with a Martial Emperor's blow.
Yang Cheng's eyes narrowed with a strange glint, but there was not even the slightest thought of retreat.
His qi roared within him, surging madly. On his wooden sword, threads of destructive sword energy coiled and hissed.
"Northern Sea Sword Codex, Third Form—Kun Swims the Sea!"
His sword cut forward, unleashing a vast surge of sword qi that seemed to transform into a colossal kun, colliding head-on with the blood-red torrent.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The collision erupted in deafening blasts. Explosive shockwaves tore across the battlefield, rolling outward like a tidal wave. Stone, trees, and grass in the surrounding mountains were reduced to dust.
The disciples of Luofu Mountain staggered back again and again, pale from the terrifying force.
The archer youth's face was ashen. "Th-this… this is still Martial King level combat?"
Lin Shu and the others were equally shaken.
"There's always someone stronger."
"This Zhang Qingyang is indeed fierce."
"If it were us, we'd be doomed. But too bad for him—he met the Crown Prince."
The Nineteen Tiger Generals felt their hearts lurch with fear, but soon relaxed.
They were under the Crown Prince's banner.
The ones who should tremble were not them, but the Luofu Mountain disciples. Deep inside, they were already silently mourning for them.
These Luofu Mountain disciples had come at the worst possible time.
When they arrived, His Highness had already collected the corpse of the Scorpion King.
That Scorpion King had been a half-step Monster Emperor.
If they had seen the body, they would never have dared look down on His Highness.
But since Yang Cheng had already put it away, they never saw it.
So they misjudged and chose to attack him.
And reality had proven their mistake.
As the dust settled, the battlefield in the valley came into view.
Zhang Qingyang was on one knee, his long blade driven into the ground, blood spilling continuously from his mouth. He was clearly heavily injured.
On the other side, Yang Cheng stood tall with his sword in hand—unharmed, not even his clothes had a tear.