When the Great Dao calls for conflict, a battle of life and death commences, akin to opposing armies, arrows nocked and ready. There is no surrender, no yielding of the path.

As Jiang She drew his battle-worn spear, Chen Ping’an invoked a sword immortal banner, a relic from Li Zhen, and plunged it into the earth.

This banner, recently bound as a life-essence treasure, had been sparingly infused with power, residing atop the “Mountain Shrine” forged from Five-Colored Soil. Now, a sacred grotto was consecrated for it alone. From the banner arose eighteen ethereal sword immortals with silver eyes, clad in robes woven from enchanted talismans.

Jiang She, a towering figure of might, transformed into a streak of iridescent light. Across the land, his spear traced arcs of shimmering stardust, shattering the sword immortals like brittle glass, denying them even the chance to unsheathe their swords.

Each touch of the spear against the sword immortals was like a scattering of snowflakes.

In a blink, Jiang She stood before Chen Ping’an, met by a pair of golden eyes, a sight most loathsome.

Chen Ping’an, with a subtle thought, attempted to recall his sword immortal banner, but Jiang She shattered the link with a thrust of his spear.

A grim smile touched Jiang She’s lips as he seized the unanchored banner and snapped it in two.

A muffled thunder rumbled within Chen Ping’an as he retreated.

A meticulously crafted sword immortal banner, etched with thousands of runic inscriptions, along with its consecrated grotto, were rendered worthless.

Jiang She knew this youth possessed many such life-essence treasures. Few dared to casually forge such a quantity. If victory in battle were merely a matter of amassing magical artifacts, then every cultivator, regardless of age, would wield hundreds. However, Chen Ping’an’s approach was not without merit. As a “half-One,” his foundation was strong, his appetite insatiable, unafraid of excess. Give him another two or three centuries, allow him to open all thousand-odd Qi apertures within his body, and then fortify each with a life-essence treasure, and he might even scoff at the power of the heavenly tribulation upon his ascension. A novel approach, yet futile against Jiang She.

Jiang She shook his head, warning, “Such paltry trinkets cannot test my mastery. Do not humiliate yourself with such trifles. Unleash your true weapon!”

As he spoke, Jiang She surged forward, his spear aimed at Chen Ping’an’s heart. Yet, Chen Ping’an advanced, heedless of the approaching spear, which pierced his chest. With a twist of his wrist, he raised a thunder seal array, crackling with lightning like writhing dragons. He struck Jiang She’s face with the full force of the array, obliterating it and sending Jiang She stumbling backward, though his spear, true to form, widened the wound in Chen Ping’an’s chest.

Retreating a dozen paces, Jiang She steadied himself.

Truly, a body of refined purity, coupled with the Cloud-Water physique and Water Essence realm, allowed the wound to heal with astonishing speed. From his sleeves, two daggers emerged.

One, inscribed with “Morning Dew,” was truly named “Chasing Deer.” The other, bearing the inscription “Evening Haze,” Chen Ping’an called “Severing Deer.”

Barely evading Jiang She’s spear, which aimed for his throat, Chen Ping’an closed the distance, daggers in hand. A radiant constellation of the Big Dipper appeared beneath their feet. Jiang She, surprised, watched as his second strike missed, unable to cleave the youth in two. Chen Ping’an, employing some arcane art, thrust both daggers, simultaneously from the stars of Dubhe and Mizar, toward Jiang She’s temples. At that moment, the stars shifted, placing Jiang She near the Alkaid star. Jiang She smiled, deeming it but a paltry trick to compensate for the lack of true Spatial Displacement.

Even with the aid of a star chart, the Daoist’s arcane steps were too slow.

Without prowess, all advantages of time and place were naught.

Jiang She did not even bother to shift his stance. With a mere turn of his head, he evaded the “Evening Haze” dagger, then struck the “Morning Dew” dagger with his palm, shattering the ancient Cao Zi blade into shimmering dust.

Then, he seized Chen Ping’an’s face, returning the favor, twisting his wrist and sending the youth sprawling.

The earth trembled as Chen Ping’an crashed into the ground, the surrounding area cracking in a spiderweb of fissures.

Jiang She raised his foot to crush Chen Ping’an’s heart, but the youth dissolved into eighteen streams of sword light, reforming in the distance. Jiang She, disdaining pursuit, merely tilted his spear, channeling a torrent of Daoist power into a focused beam, shattering Chen Ping’an’s abdomen. The wound healed at a noticeably slower pace.

Chen Ping’an remained impassive, though a hint of bewilderment flickered in his eyes. How could Jiang She possess such speed?

Jiang She, since drawing his spear, had not employed a single martial art, nor any immortal spell. He fought solely with his martial prowess.

Moreover, they stood upon an ancient battlefield, where the laws of Heaven favored those who wielded the spear and severed the heads of gods. The sword cultivator’s life-bound swords were a rare exception to the distortion of time, granting the power to cleave through all obstacles. Jiang She, without invoking his fate-bound divinity, within this martial sanctuary, could he truly ignore the temporal currents?

Above all, Chen Ping’an had long invoked his life-bound flying sword “Caged Bird,” anchoring himself within the battlefield, moving as smoothly as a boat sailing with the wind. Jiang She, however, seemed trapped in a realm of frozen glass, hindering his soul and spiritual energy.

Curse it all, Jiang She was indeed mighty.

If a Jiang She yet shy of his peak was so formidable, what of the Dao Ancestor who reigned supreme millennia ago?

No wonder Bai Jing, on the night-sailing ship, had whispered that, during their ancient conflicts, the Dao Ancestor had grown weary of Jiang She’s relentless pursuit.

Jiang She advanced, smiling, “Ascension Realm cultivators know little of the vastness of the Fourteenth Realm, and peak martial artists know even less of the Eleventh.”

The sky darkened, as if veiled by storm clouds. Jiang She glanced upward, seeing a white jade mushroom, large as a mountain, descending upon him.

With a sidelong glance, Jiang She remained steady, and struck it, effortlessly shattering the mushroom, creating a deluge of jade rain.

“Did your sword-wielding master never tell you? Every aspiring immortal, every Qi cultivator, is but a thief, scooping water from the river of time.”

As Jiang She advanced, a river-shaped sword of raging torrent of water rushed toward him. The river, pregnant with sword energy, crashed against Jiang She. After a time, Jiang She emerged from the water, unharmed. Before him lay a massive green lake, seemingly endless.

Jiang She saw through the illusion. Both were but miniature realms forged of swords, life-bound treasures capable of shaping the landscape at will. The true essence of the swords lay in two short dragon blades from Chen Ping’an’s “Dragon Abyss” Water Mansion, inscribed with “Defilement” and “Lake.”

“Which cave domain does not seek water? Who among the cultivating masses is not a maggot festering on the corpse of a god? We martial artists have no such affliction.”

Jiang She walked upon the water, each step suppressing the sword intent beneath the surface.

Another miniature flying sword emerged stealthily, but was intercepted and repelled by Jiang She’s spear.

Were it not for a hint of demonic energy clinging to the sword, and the lingering echoes, Jiang She might have failed to detect it so quickly.

It was the life-bound flying sword “Celestial Melody” of a Zongrong Sect demon cultivator. The sword had been reduced to ash upon contact.

This was the power of a spear for battling arrays. Items of insufficient rank would shatter upon contact.

It was a pity for the enemy, whom with these chaotic arts, and the advantages of a minor realm over an Ascention realm fighter could have held an advantage.

In an instant, the sky above Jiang She transformed from day to night, revealing a field of stars, the Twenty-Eight Constellations.

Jiang She scrutinized it, discerning a tangible object at its center, along with twenty-eight talismans, “painting” lifelike images of the constellations. Jiang She recognized them, recalling the Jade Emperor Temple in Guze Zhou of Azure Vault Continent. It was as if Chen Ping’an had “invited” them to this place, the gods returning to their celestial abodes. Oddly, there were signs of both sun and moon in the heavens above.

The constellation array was merely cycling, still gathering power, and for the moment, posed no immediate threat, and so Jiang She ignored it.

Whether a mere illusion or Chen Ping’an’s trump card, time would tell.

Jiang She was content to observe, like a curious spectator.

“A pity you are neither martial artist nor sword cultivator, lacking purity. The divinity you despise is the only path to purity.”

Ignoring the lake, Jiang She strode directly onto its muddy surface, suppressing the writhing sword energy beneath.

Even one as arrogant as Jiang She could not help but admire the wealth Chen Ping’an had amassed.

“Eating martial fate, spirit energy, magical treasures, gold coins, Dragon-slaying platforms…all as a feast before execution, all a wedding gown for divinity.”

“Heed my warning, it cannot be contained. The result of this tug-of-war is preordained. Cease your struggle, and concede half the prize. Allowing divinity to fully flourish is, in its way, a form of freedom.”

“Fight, then, and cease your prattling.”

When did Chen Ping’an don the robes of a Daoist, a lotus crown upon his head, a white whisk in his left hand, and a miniature White Jade Capital pagoda in his right.

His Daoist aura was as thick as tangible substance, radiating resplendent gold and purple, and his face was framed in wheels of the sun and moon.

Finally, he spoke, mocking Jiang She.

In the “Daoist’s” hand, a counterfeit White Jade Capital, with its five cities and twelve towers, each imbued with faint, precious light, and glittering with Daoist mysteries.

Jiang She laughed derisively. Within the lake, a green-tiled pavilion materialized, and from it emerged a white-clad swordsman, as though preparing wine for guests. With a hearty laugh, he proclaimed, “Brave one, skillful indeed. Speak your name, drink with me, and then ascend the mountain to join our brotherhood!”

Jiang She felt nothing but confusion, and moved, smashing the swordsman’s phantom with his spear.

Though a phantom, an ordinary martial master would expend countless efforts to defeat it.

Jiang She surmised that he faced an illusory version of an Eleventh Realm martial artist, a mere fabrication.

Daoist Chen Ping’an smiled, “So many words lessen your air of superiority. Learn from me, and swiftly master the art of preserving one’s spirit.”

With a flick of his whisk, the Daoist said, “You, a violent wretch, a traitor to the Great Dao, dare to run amok? Surrender and die!”

Jiang She scoffed. Was Chen, a true warrior, was now acting as a false Daoist?

The lake churned, revealing hundreds of thousands of spectral soldiers, each arrayed in formation, with banners and generals leading the charge from their military tents. The lake thrummed with the sounds of iron armor, hooves, and thunderous drums. The killing intent coalesced in the sky, forming heavy black clouds, and the hovering clouds swarmed with divine soldiers, countless as locusts.

Jiang She strode into the pavilion without hesitation, draining the warm wine in one draught. He nodded in approval.

Discarding the empty flask, Jiang She declared, “Array Execution.”

If Jiang She had previously relied on brute force, this was an invocation of law. The words “Array Execution” echoed throughout the heavens and earth. The spectral soldiers and cloud-dwelling deities, numbering in the millions, were all destroyed.

In an instant, the realm was filled with smoke, lamentations, and the wails of countless women.

Jiang She paid it no heed. A commander of armies would not concern himself with such ephemeral trifles. A heart of iron was a requirement for the art of war.

“Daoist friend, halt your steps. Perhaps you should pause and observe this book.”

The Daoist unfurled a scroll, depicting battlefield after battlefield, both recent and ancient.

Having revealed a “war scroll,” Chen Ping’an tossed his whisk towards Jiang She.

The whisk dispersed into countless threads of causality, ensnaring Jiang She’s immense divinity.

Jiang She frowned, his countenance betraying unease. “Such degenerate sorcery dares to taint my golden body?”

The divine apparition shattered the golden threads.

“Is Jiang She not an outer demon?”

At the same time, Daoist Chen Ping’an formed a hand seal, chanted an incantation, and smiled, “I shall shatter it, and uphold the way.”

Jiang She’s shoulders shifted, and the golden avatar blazed with light, incinerating the causal threads.

Chen Ping’an, watching this unfold, did not seem surprised. Martial artists cared little for karma.

Perhaps angered by Chen Ping’an’s actions, Jiang She plunged his spear into the earth, then held his hands together, rotating them in a simple gesture.

Scholars of the Hundred Schools debated the leftward and rightward turns of the Dao.

To Jiang She, such academic pursuits were dull.

I shall dictate the flow of the Great Dao!

Heaven and earth tilted, like a grinding stone, unstoppable. All beings and all things within would be reduced to dust.

As expected, the scroll before Jiang She was easily torn apart, and the lake beneath his feet vanished. The fabric of reality itself seemed to warp.

Discarding the scroll and whisk, after uttering “Uphold the way,” Daoist Chen Ping’an narrowed his eyes in observation.

Chen’s cave dwellings, located in five fundamental life-bound objects, added to the ten chosen from the Chu King’s mountain range, made fifteen life bound treasures in all.

This meant that during his seclusion, Chen Ping’an had forged ten additional life-bound treasures.

Yet, an unknown fourteenth realm entity had harassed and ambushed Chen Ping’an, forcing him to repeatedly abandon his seclusion, wasting precious time.

He had been forced to rush the forging of his life-bound treasures, and had omitted several key items, or had failed to refine them to perfection.

Chen Ping’an believed these obstacles to be inconsequential, but within days, he faced Jiang She.

Chen Ping’an’s intentions had been simple.

His training as an Immortal included refining swords, eating gold coins, searching for Dragon-Slaying Stones to enhance his life-bound flying swords, and augmenting his foundations and Daoist power.

The creation of life-bound treasures allowed him to achieve multiple goals at once.

Like brawlers in the streets, skill was unnecessary; overwhelming force would suffice.

In the mountains, victory was a matter of quantity, drowning one’s opponent in magical artifacts.

A simple idea required complex preparation.

His ultimate goal was to find an unique ascension technique.

Thus, he had guided and observed Ding Daoist’s teachings, protection, and apotheosis.

Daoist Chen Ping’an lifted his gaze towards the heavens.

The barrier of the Azure Vault Continent blocked the way forward.

The heavenly star chart was created from an ancient inkstone, used to hold coins. The back of the inkstone bore the carved eye pillars of the Twenty-Eight Constellations.

During his time secluded at a mountain retreat, Gu Can had offered a method of crafting objects, and Chen, inspired, used it to craft the ink stone into a miniature heaven, verifying its effectiveness and deserving the name of divinity.

His talisman techniques had a rustic, ancient feel, enough to deceive even the most seasoned of immortals, making them believe it was the work of an ancient Daoist.

From that day forward, he had crafted several swords, using materials that varied in rank.

Underneath a celestial realm that mirrored both sun and moon, they battled, putting all they had into the effort. Although Jiang She seemed to be succeeding, it seemed as if Chen was simply allowing the Daoist’s spiritual energy to be used up.

Ultimately, all this was building towards the inevitable clash between the two.

Chen Ping’an held aloft a miniature White Jade Capital, and within its South Blossom City, a Daoist clad in lotus robes held the Six-Fulfilled Seal, which bore a celestial edict.

The scene shifted, and a great avatar emerged from South Blossom City, dwarfing Jiang She. Yet, Chen Ping’an shrank to the size of a mustard seed, hiding within the White Jade Capital.

The White Jade Capital collided with Jiang She’s grinding stone of heaven and earth, producing a heart-wrenching screech.

The White Jade Capital managed to halt the turning of the grinding stone, shaking the entire realm.

Chen Ping’an’s robes swayed with the city.

Jiang She adjusted the spear, but instead of breaking the fake capital, he decided against it.

Chen Ping’an was waiting to observe the perfect opportunities to strike, and Jiang refused to let that happen.

“So, Jiang She does not have the confidence to slay me outright.”

The Daoist laughed, “If you were certain of victory, why would you care if I learned the routes and subtleties of destroying the White Jade Capital?”

Jiang She rubbed his chin, understanding. “A martial artist’s foul mouth is indeed annoying.”

“So fond of spectating, watching my monkey show?” Jiang She seemed to lose patience. “If you do not reveal yourselves, your comrades will be beaten to death!”

He harnessed the Great Dao, trapping the White Jade Capital and the divinity of Chen Ping’an.

Jiang She surged backward, merging with his avatar, seized his spear, and struck the Daoist avatar, sending jade shards flying. As the Daoist stumbled backward, the White Jade Capital followed.

Jiang She impaled the Daoist’s heart, causing the White Jade Capital to glow.

“The feat of breaking rocks on one’s chest,” Jiang She laughed. “Do you applaud? No payment required.”

“Jiang, friend of the Dao, do not be hasty.”

Within the White Jade Capital, Chen Ping’an smiled. “Do not damage our harmony.”

Such was the force of these words that he angered even the great Jiang She.

Jiang She redoubled his efforts, his spear piercing the White Jade Capital.

In all clashes, martial artists and cultivators draw on their physical strength and spiritual energy. Each destroyed life-bound treasure wounded the root of one’s Great Dao.

It was more dangerous than depleting decades of Daoist power, becoming a source of future obstruction.

How many life-bound objects had Chen Ping’an lost today?

Jiang She began to suspect.

Did he intend to go against the norm?

Despite his many identities, Chen Ping’an had numerous flaws, such as lacking a yin and yang spirit.

If one assumed that his own soul was already incomplete, one could forsake all things.

“A process of subtracting the Great Dao.”

His goal was a single, pure Daoist heart.

What he knew of the other realms would prove to be his greatest downfall.

That the boy intended a plan from which none had ever returned.

“What skills are you using?” Jiang demanded.

The Daoist in white suddenly unleashed a massive force.

“You use the energy from your core,” Jiang realized.

Jiang stabbed his spear forward, but he never made contact.

With his other arm, Chen took hold of an old seal, infused with thunder.

“Such trivial energy!” Jiang shouted.

“Such is the world, Jiang. Trivial men triumph!” Chen responded.

The two lunged at each other, swords ready.

A true warrior does not discriminate between right and wrong.

One of the best parts about the whole situation was that they each now realized the full strength of the other.