Jiang Wang abandoned the thought of observing his opponent. As soon as the arena materialized, he transformed into a meteor of flames, roaring closer.

In Niu Hanxun’s vision, a meteor flashed across the vast dueling platform, then solidified into a human form – a youth with exceptionally resolute eyes.

Just as he was about to unleash his soldier’s aura with full force, the five elemental energies within his body suddenly collapsed into chaos, binding him from the inside out with cords of elemental power.

This disruption didn’t last long. With his current strength, he could easily suppress such minor chaos within his elemental energies.

But as his body regained freedom, he heard the sound of birds.

*Chirp chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp!*

No, it wasn’t just birdsong.

*Clang clang!*

*Woooo!*

*Boom boom!*

*Zheng zheng!*

Chimes, flutes, drums, lutes, zithers, reed organs, sheng…

Some sounds were unfamiliar, others familiar, but all were incredibly beautiful. A beauty he had never experienced before.

Eight sounds played in unison, eight tones resonated together.

He felt as though he were being torn into countless fragments, disassembled into different parts by each sound. And as this Dao technique poured into him without reservation, this feeling became reality.

A swarm of fiery sparrows rushed forward, then exploded, taking him with them.

Only one thought remained in his mind.

“So… so strong!”

—

Mo Zhu was a disciple of the Mo family from Jucheng.

The surname “Mo” didn’t necessarily mean anything. Many disciples of the Mo sect changed their surname to Mo to signify their lifelong devotion to the sect.

Mo Zhu’s parents were among them, so he naturally inherited the surname.

Many others were in a similar situation, such as Mo Jingyu. However, Mo Jingyu was already a renowned genius across the nations, while Mo Zhu remained unknown.

Many people unfamiliar with the Mo sect often mistakenly believed that the sect was dominated by families with the surname Mo.

But this was a misunderstanding.

Even within the Mo sect, few truly bore the surname Mo; many had changed it. It was similar to Daoists or monks taking Daoist or Buddhist names upon entering their respective orders, but more relaxed. It wasn’t mandatory, nor did it grant any special treatment within the sect, and one wouldn’t be discriminated against for not bearing the surname Mo. It was simply a matter of personal dedication.

Mo Zhu’s Moon Key was obtained in a dream. He woke up one day and it was there. He didn’t know how others acquired theirs and had never discussed it.

Over the years of cultivation, he had become quite strong. He was ranked seventy-third in the Tenglong realm within the Illusionary Heavenly Realm. While traveling around the surrounding countries, he had rarely encountered opponents of the same realm who could defeat him. However, this was likely due to his low profile; he rarely displayed his true strength in the real world.

In the current Mo sect, two trends dominated the field of mechanical automatons: increasing complexity and increasing size.

But Mo Zhu had his own inclinations and choices. The embodiment of his mechanical art was a single mechanical axe.

A sharply designed mechanical battle axe.

Compared to the thousands upon thousands of puppet crows or the towering mechanical giants that could flatten mountains, a single mechanical battle axe seemed unremarkable.

But only Mo Zhu knew how much effort he had poured into it.

He spent five hundred merit points to project this mechanical axe into the Illusionary Heavenly Realm.

Fortunately, he was now among the top hundred in the Tenglong realm, and as long as he maintained this ranking, he received a fixed amount of merit points as a reward each day. Ten points in the Youmai realm, eighty points in the Tenglong realm. This was equivalent to securing the rewards of one victory. This was a mechanism to encourage active participation in battles within the Illusionary Heavenly Realm.

Wielding his mechanical battle axe, Mo Zhu ascended the dueling platform.

Before him stood a handsome young man, holding a very ordinary sword that was likely not a projection of a real-world weapon.

His stance was firm, his eyes resolute, his aura confident.

This was a formidable opponent.

Mo Zhu analyzed him silently.

He wasn’t one for outward expression, but his mind was sharp.

The handle, meticulously adjusted countless times, fit perfectly in his hand, each finger resting comfortably.

He gently pressed a point, and a subtle curve extended from the axe blade.

The most brilliant aspect of this mechanical battle axe was that he had purely used mechanical arts to inscribe three thousand six hundred and fifty-one axe techniques within it. It could respond to all kinds of extreme situations.

There was a famous Confucian saying that perfectly described the Mo sect’s combat style:

“The superior man is not born different, he simply makes good use of tools.”

The superior man is no different from ordinary people, but he is skilled at using tools.

No other school was as adept at using tools as the Mo sect.

The Mo sect believed that the reaction of a mechanical automaton was superior to that of a living being. If it wasn’t, it meant the automaton hadn’t been perfected yet.

Because mechanical automatons were consistent, precise, and never made mistakes.

And for Mo Zhu, he had already analyzed Jiang Wang and made the most suitable range selection.

His combat style was to control the overall direction while the mechanical axe made precise responses. This ensured that he could always make the best possible response based on his own conditions.

Although it was just a mechanical axe, it was essentially fighting by controlling a mechanical puppet.

He might lack sudden bursts of power, but he was also unlikely to make mistakes. His seventy-third ranking was exceptionally stable and well-deserved.

And now, he was ready.

This had nothing to do with confidence; without stability, a puppet was meaningless.

Then, Mo Zhu saw the young man move. The long sword was drawn, and he was already upon him.

Those eyes, once gentle and resolute, instantly transformed, reflecting the changing sea.

Weathered, yet fierce. Sorrowful, yet uplifting.

They were the eyes of an old man, but far from ordinary.

They were the eyes of a hero, but one nearing his twilight.

The sword thrust was straightforward but exhausted all possibilities.

The old general had seen countless life and death.

He was completely at a loss for how to respond, losing his ability to think, unable to even narrow down a suitable range. He discovered that the three thousand six hundred and fifty-one axe techniques he had painstakingly collected through his travels were all useless!

Despite this, the mechanical battle axe still struck out with its peak killing power, unwavering.

Mechanical puppets don’t feel confusion, for they have no thoughts.

This was the superiority of mechanical arts.

It allowed him to maintain a shred of confidence amidst his bewilderment.

But the sword still pierced his heart, as if it had never encountered resistance.

His battle axe had clearly struck, but it was as if nothing had happened.

Yet, he had already lost.

“What kind of swordsmanship is this?” Mo Zhu wasn’t one for idle chatter, but he asked. He was genuinely curious and wanted to know the answer.

Then, he heard a clear voice say – “Old General’s Twilight.”

Truly… a fitting name.

He thought as he left the dueling platform.

—

Jiang Wang, fighting without reservation and at full strength, advanced triumphantly.

Niu Hanxun and Mo Zhu were just two of his defeated opponents.

The Eight-Sound Fire Sparrow and the Sword of Humanity allowed him to reach the top fifty with almost no resistance.

After the top fifty, the battles became slightly more difficult.

By the top twenty, he had to go all out in every match.

And the time it took for the dueling platform to find an opponent grew longer and longer.

Chong Xuansheng knew he was trying to climb the ranks in the Illusionary Heavenly Realm, using various experts to hone his newly formed Sword of Humanity and perfect his combat system, so he tried his best not to bother him with anything.

This was a rare period of time without any distractions, allowing him to dedicate himself to fighting in the Illusionary Heavenly Realm.

And it allowed him to discover secrets he hadn’t noticed before.