Around Chen Ping’an’s waist hung a wooden牌 (pái, plaque/token) made of Osmanthus wood. On the front was etched a strange saying: “Born in the bright moon, the human world unfolds in sequence.” The back read, “Fan’s Osmanthus Guest,” not “Distinguished Guest,” which was rather peculiar. Moreover, this Osmanthus wood牌 (pái) personally gifted to Chen Ping’an by Fan Er, had tiny characters secretly carved onto it: “Friend of Fan Er.” This was undoubtedly Fan Er’s handiwork, a fellow who would secretly hide two pounds of dirt under his bed, perfectly capable of such a thing.

Soon, someone appeared to welcome Chen Ping’an, arriving slowly and gracefully. There was not a hint of alluring charm in her movements. She was a middle-aged woman, of only average appearance, yet possessed a remarkable bearing – refined and serene. Moreover, Chen Ping’an observed her Qi and knew her to be a cultivator of the Middle Five Realms. She introduced herself as one of the nominal managers of Osmanthus Island, joking that she was taking advantage of her age, and that Young Master Chen could call her Aunt Gui – Gui, as in Osmanthus. Chen Ping’an then greeted her as Aunt Gui, saying that this trip to Upside-Down Mountain would involve much trouble.

The woman smiled and shook her head. “We business people never consider a visit from a distinguished guest to be any trouble at all.”

She pointed to the wooden牌 (pái) at Chen Ping’an’s waist, explaining, “With this Osmanthus Guest牌 (pái), which only our Family Head can bestow, Young Master Chen enjoys a 30% discount on all purchases on Osmanthus Island.”

Then, the woman couldn’t help but chuckle, her smile filled with a hint of affection. “That little Fan sent word to me, his aunt, so Young Master Chen can get another exception and receive a 40% discount.”

Although Chen Ping’an nodded, he secretly resolved in his heart that unless he fell head over heels for something, he would not buy anything on this intercontinental journey. After all, if others treat you as a friend, you must treat them as friends too. Therefore, doing business between true friends wasn’t something Chen Ping’an was good at, as it was difficult to grasp the right balance.

The woman, Aunt Gui, led Chen Ping’an toward a grand mansion called Osmanthus Palace, introducing the customs and traditions of Osmanthus Island along the way. She specifically mentioned Osmanthus cake and Osmanthus wine, urging him to try more of them, saying that they were available in Chen Ping’an’s private courtyard, and he shouldn’t hesitate to ask the Osmanthus maiden serving as a maid in the courtyard for them.

Chen Ping’an did not refuse, patting the sword-nurturing gourd at his waist and laughing, “I like drinking.”

The woman glanced at the “vermilion wine gourd” and smiled. “That’s good then.”

Osmanthus Island had thousands of Osmanthus trees, with the ancestral tree, a towering ancient tree on the mountain peak, older than Old Dragon City. It was planted by a Farmer Immortal from the Central Earth Divine Continent. Osmanthus Island’s ability to serve as an intercontinental ferry, remaining undamaged for thousands of years, even slowly growing as the tree roots spread across the mountain, coupled with the Fan family’s unique soil-adding techniques, was all thanks to that ancestral Osmanthus tree. The Fan family’s Osmanthus wines, which were priced sky-high and still in short supply, were also because the Osmanthus flowers used for brewing were taken from thousand-year-old Osmanthus trees. Wealthy merchants who had close ties with the Fan family of Old Dragon City occasionally acquired them, often using them as gifts or for solitary drinking.

Passing through the gates of Osmanthus Palace, the woman led Chen Ping’an through corridors and courtyards. The courtyards did not appear luxurious, but rather resembled a humble abode with small bridges and flowing water. Finally, the woman led Chen Ping’an to a courtyard called “Gui Mai.” Seeing Chen Ping’an looking up at it with a thoughtful expression, she explained, “Osmanthus is called Gui because its leaf veins resemble the Gui ceremonial jade of Confucian rites. This courtyard, though not large, is the most spiritually rich place on Osmanthus Island.”

Chen Ping’an felt it was a waste of talent. He was not a cultivator, so the thickness of the spiritual Qi was meaningless to him. Such a blessed land would be better off letting others pay to stay. He tentatively said, “Aunt Gui, I’m a pure martial artist. It’s too wasteful for me to live here. Can I change to another courtyard?”

The woman smiled softly. “It’s not about money. Young Master Chen, just stay here without worry. Given the relationship between you and our young master, I wouldn’t be surprised if this place became your exclusive courtyard in the future, and Osmanthus Island no longer opened to outsiders.”

These two sentences struck a chord with Chen Ping’an. Thinking of Fan Er, Chen Ping’an felt at ease and walked into this elegant and tranquil Gui Mai courtyard.

A beautiful young woman was already waiting in the courtyard, standing tall and graceful. Her temperament was on the cool side, and even just standing quietly, she stood with great charm. But upon seeing the woman and Chen Ping’an, she immediately smiled at Chen Ping’an, saying sweetly, “Young Master Chen, my name is Jin Su, Jin as in gold, Su as in millet. In ancient books, it’s another name for Osmanthus. I will be taking care of your food and daily life from now on.”

The cool girl’s smile had a style like when my flower blooms, all others are slain.

Chen Ping’an was a little reserved, subconsciously cupping his fist in return. “Then I will have to trouble Miss Jin Su in the future.”

Then, he felt a little lost, took down the wine gourd, and quickly drank a mouthful of wine.

The woman was good at reading people and keenly noticed a slight change in the young man, but she didn’t think too deeply about it. The world was full of things, and it was normal for a young man to have some secrets.

The woman excused herself and left, but at the door, she saw a familiar face, both unexpected and within expectations, which was the old coachman from the Fan family who drove the two to Osmanthus Island. The woman asked with a smile, “Does Young Master Fan have any more instructions to give?”

The old coachman seemed quite respectful to this Aunt Gui, shaking his head and smiling, “I am entrusted by the Family Head to go to Upside-Down Mountain with Young Master Chen. During this period, I’m afraid I will have to live in the Gui Mai courtyard.”

Aunt Gui’s expression showed even greater surprise, and she asked, “Does Jin Su need to live elsewhere?”

The old coachman nodded. “It’s best that way. Let her choose a closer courtyard and deliver some food every day, no need to worry about anything else.”

Although Aunt Gui was puzzled, she didn’t say anything more. She turned her head and said hello to Jin Su, whose expression remained unchanged, and left together.

The old coachman did not forget to remind her, “The Family Head instructed that I also have to trouble Madam Gui to have the ancestral Osmanthus tree on the mountain top share some of its shade in the Gui Mai courtyard, to avoid unwanted prying eyes.”

Aunt Gui nodded. Jin Su, the girl who had won first place among hundreds of Osmanthus maidens on Osmanthus Island, couldn’t help but turn her head to look at the old coachman and the straw sandal-wearing youth.

After Aunt Gui and Jin Su left the Gui Mai courtyard, a cool mountain breeze swept through, and at the same time, the courtyard was shrouded in shade, but it was only a fleeting moment, and afterwards, it was still sunny.
The old coachman, addressed as “Grandpa Ma” by Fan Er, faced Chen Ping’an and spoke with candor: “My name is Ma Zhi, a guest retainer of the Fan family. I am a Golden Core realm sword cultivator, but my talent is not high, and my killing power is weak. Even against Chu Yang, a retainer of the Fu family in the same realm, I am no match. This time, I, Ma Zhi, am here at the behest of the Fan family head, who in turn was requested by Mr. Zheng of the Dust Medicine Shop, to accompany young master Chen in a sword trial.”

Upon hearing the name “Mr. Zheng,” Chen Ping’an knew this must be part of Zheng Dafeng’s reward for his assistance, and he once again clasped his hands in salute within the small courtyard.

The old man smiled and nodded. “No need to rush. I reside in the side room of the courtyard. Today, young master Chen should rest well and explore Osmanthus Island. Otherwise, once the sword trials begin tomorrow, young master Chen may not have such leisure time.”

The old man walked towards a side room. After closing the door, he chuckled, “If Mr. Zheng wasn’t joking, then the Fan family’s hospitality on Osmanthus Island is a bit excessive. Can that young martial artist truly endure it? Even if I, Ma Zhi, am the worst of the Golden Core realm sword cultivators, I am still a ninth-realm swordsman after all.”

As he spoke, a jet-black flying sword, a foot long, emerged from the old man’s Qi cavity. After manifesting, it began to circle the old man slowly, its sword qi thick and trailing streams of black fireflies.

The room filled with frigid sword qi, and the heat of midsummer vanished instantly.

Chen Ping’an stayed in the main house facing the courtyard gate. After closing the door, he carefully opened the package that Zheng Dafeng had tossed at his doorstep.

Inside was a book with the fresh scent of ink, impeccably printed, titled “Sword Arts Canon.” It was likely that Zheng Dafeng, through the Fan family’s connections, had found a trustworthy printing house and personally overseen its publication. The mere sight of the title’s four characters revealed considerable skill, making it hard to associate with the carefree Zheng Dafeng.

Besides the “Sword Arts Canon,” there was also an unremarkable cotton pouch. Chen Ping’an weighed it in his hand. The number of coins inside was not large, about a dozen or so. Chen Ping’an mistakenly thought they were Minor Heat coins or Grain Rain coins, but when he opened it, he was shocked and quickly covered the pouch. It was a bag of gold essence copper coins, the kind that could make Grain Rain coins call for their grandpa! Chen Ping’an knew very well how precious gold essence copper coins were. How did the Falling Phoenix Mountain and other peaks come into his possession? It was the result of tossing out gold essence copper coins, one by one!

Chen Ping’an didn’t even count the number or identify the types of gold essence copper coins, whether they were sacrificial coins, welcoming spring coins, warding coins, or all three. Without a word, he directly stored them into his inch-square treasure, the Fifteenth.

Finally, only a jade token and a letter remained.

The jade token had no inscriptions or carvings, just a simple, square token, but its texture was delicate, feeling like the finest silk in the world. It was clearly a good, old object, but Chen Ping’an’s current perception couldn’t discern just how good.

Chen Ping’an opened the letter. The handwriting was indeed the same as the title of the “Sword Arts Canon,” undoubtedly Zheng Dafeng’s personal script. The letter succinctly covered several matters. This sword manual wasn’t of a high Dao, but it was already the pinnacle of martial arts. The sword techniques it contained were all about returning to simplicity, very suitable for a straightforward person like Chen Ping’an to study diligently. The fifteen gold essence copper coins were repayment for five Wen.

As for the jade token, Zheng Dafeng only mentioned three words in the letter: “Nirvana Treasure.”

Beyond that, there was no further introduction, no origin, no instructions on how to use it.

But even just those three words were weighty enough.

When the young Cui Chan traveled to the Great Sui Dynasty, this Grand Preceptor of the Great Li carried with him, precisely, a Nirvana Treasure.

At the end of the letter, Zheng Dafeng said that Ma Zhi’s accompaniment in the sword trial was just a small bonus in the three-way deal, meant to help Chen Ping’an better adapt to the intangible “oppression” of the Sword Qi Great Wall on a pure martial artist. Therefore, the Golden Core realm sword cultivator Ma Zhi would unleash his Natal Flying Sword, both to guide sword techniques and to teach Chen Ping’an how to fight against a Middle Five Realms sword cultivator.

Speaking of this matter, Zheng Dafeng became less frugal with his words, even adding a few sentences about how “one must endure hardship to rise above others.” But even just holding the letter and looking at the words, Chen Ping’an could imagine Zheng Dafeng’s face filled with a cheap, sly grin as he wrote. Chen Ping’an knew full well that Zheng Dafeng had heard about his Third Realm training, so he didn’t plan to let him be comfortable in the Fourth Realm. He was probably secretly gloating at the Dust Medicine Shop right now, and the thought of Chen Ping’an suffering on Osmanthus Island would make him feel like he was drinking wine even when drinking cold water.

Otherwise, the old swordsman wouldn’t have asked Chen Ping’an to finish sightseeing on Osmanthus Island today.

Chen Ping’an had no choice but to jump into the pit that Zheng Dafeng had dug.

He carefully put away the sword manual and the jade token. Nirvana Treasures could also be stored in the inch-square treasure.

Chen Ping’an inexplicably thought of He Xiaoliang of the Divine Talisman Sect. Her inch-square Nirvana treasures were numerous, a dazzling array.

But thinking of this Daoist immortal, whose first impression was initially so good, Chen Ping’an now felt only a heavy gloom in his heart.

Chen Ping’an exhaled a breath of stale air and went out to explore Osmanthus Island.

Looking down from the summit, the ferry had not yet set sail, and many Qi Refiners were still boarding at the foot of the mountain.

Withdrawing his gaze, Chen Ping’an looked ahead, at the magnificent scenery of the boundless sea on three sides, a breathtaking sight that made one feel insignificant.

Chen Ping’an remembered something.

About the word “strongest.”

The old man surnamed Cui in the bamboo building said that his Third Realm was the strongest Third Realm under the heavens.

Not of Treasure Bottle Continent.

Later, Zheng Dafeng mentioned this in casual conversation, saying that Li Er was once the strongest Ninth Realm martial artist with the most solid foundation, but now that he had entered the Tenth Realm, Chen Ping’an guessed that Li Er should have temporarily lost the title of “strongest.”

Chen Ping’an gazed into the distance. Cui Chan said that this Vast World was extremely large, with five lakes, four seas, and nine continents, such as Treasure Bottle Continent, Ju Lu Continent, Ai Ai Continent, Bo Suo Continent, and Golden Armor Continent, surrounding the largest Central Earth Divine Continent like stars around the moon. And the Central Earth Divine Continent had several great dynasties, and only if the Great Li annexed half of Treasure Bottle Continent could its territory compare with them.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but think about a question.

Did the legendary Eleventh Realm of martial arts, the Martial God, exist under the heavens?

The young Cui Chan chuckled at the time, without giving an answer.

Golden Armor Continent.

In an ancient battlefield ruin where the spiritual energy was extremely thin, the huge statues that were dozens or hundreds of Zhang tall “in life” had all collapsed to the ground, none spared, stretching out like a shattered mountain range.

This place had become a natural forbidden zone for the Qi Refiners of the continent.
Routinely, gusts of unfathomable gale winds would sweep across the heavens and the earth, akin to blades scraping bone for those Qi Refiners in the Middle Five Realms below the Earth Immortal Golden Core stage.

At the site of the most imposing, overturned, and broken Buddha statue, one that appeared to have once held a flower and smiled benevolently before collapsing, its arm had snapped off at the shoulder. The entire limb lay across the land, the flower held in the Buddha’s fingers long since shattered. Of the five fingers, only three remained, one pointing towards the sky, a single digit towering over ten zhang in height. One could only imagine the grandeur of this divine statue in its complete and undamaged state.

A barefoot, white-robed young woman stood upon the finger, eyes closed, hands forming incantatory seals, facing the wind.

Her face was unremarkable, like any ordinary girl one might encounter in the streets.

A gale wind surged, crashing against the Buddha’s finger and the girl standing atop it like a tidal wave.

The girl did not open her eyes, but her lips moved slightly, as she uttered in the local dialect of Golden Armor Continent, “Open.”

The gale wind split in two, as if cleaved asunder, roaring past both sides of the Buddha’s finger. Only stray wisps managed to graze the girl’s face, instantly carving shallow bloody grooves, which vanished in the blink of an eye, her countenance restored.

The wind carried away the fragrance of orchids from the girl.

Near the Azure Loquat Continent, atop a towering mountain peak that pierced the sky like a cone, only the summit was a circular depression, shaped like a bowl, a bottomless well. Faint flickers of light reflected off the well’s walls. Within the “mouth” of this active volcano, a burly man, naked as the day he was born, sat cross-legged on a black reef, chin resting on his hand, lost in thought, oblivious to the surrounding rolling flames and magma, and the scorching heat.

The man possessed naturally occurring double pupils.

He frowned slightly, muttering, “This Golden Body Realm threshold is proving rather difficult to breach. I suppose I have only myself to blame for consuming so many spiritual elixirs. Two hundred pounds? Or three hundred? It seems I can no longer foolishly treat those things like meals once I ascend to the Golden Body Realm. Not to mention, the daily necessity of defecation is quite troublesome, truly unbecoming of a Sixth Realm Martial Artist.”

A swift flying sword silently descended from the mouth of the well, piercing the burly man, causing him to slump to the ground and slide limply into the sea of fire.

The natal flying sword, no larger than that of a common swordsman down the mountain, did not relent. It darted swiftly around the inner walls of the volcanic crater, sending countless loose stones tumbling into the fiery abyss.

Elsewhere in the Northern Azure Loquat Continent, the owner of this flying sword, with his cultivation and the sharpness of his natal blade, would have likely pierced through an entire mountain range. Yet here, the sword’s attempts to cut into the crater’s rocky walls met with extreme resistance.

A long-robed old man, carrying a long sword on his back, stood at the crater’s edge. After striking the man with double pupils, the old man’s voice thundered throughout the well, “Finally found you, you dog-slaughtered bastard! Don’t play dead, I know you’re tough. Never mind, you chose this inescapable death trap yourself. After you’re buried here, reduced to ashes, perhaps your sins will be slightly lessened.”

The old man extended his joined index and middle fingers, reached behind his shoulder, and lightly stroked the hilt of his sword.

His sword left its scabbard, soared into the clouds, and then plummeted back down, plunging from the crater straight into the sea of fire. As the sword pierced the fiery magma, a deafening roar erupted, sending waves of flame several zhang high.

Within the fiery abyss, a blurred figure could be seen swimming rapidly, the long sword thrusting like a harpoon with each swift strike.

At the base of the volcano, four figures were slowly ascending, each performing their own respective tasks. An old Daoist priest affixed talismans onto the rocks, one by one. A monk formed hand seals, gently pressing them onto the earth. Another unfurled a seemingly endless scroll, laying it across the ground like living moss. And finally, an elderly scholar wielded a calligraphy brush, writing down the teachings of Confucian sages upon the ground.

The old man at the summit, attempting to slay the villain with his two swords, mocked himself, “For me, a Golden Core Realm Sword Cultivator, to hunt down a mere Martial Artist not even in the Seventh Realm, it truly requires such elaborate preparations.”

The old man thought of the series of tragic events, not only the calamities that had befallen his own sect but also the countless innocents who had perished, and the fury in the heart of this Golden Core swordsman erupted. With a face contorted with rage, he said, “You, who kill for mere amusement, deserve to die! A hundred deaths are not enough to atone for your sins!”

On a battlefield, war drums thundered.

In the midst of a grand army, upon a hastily constructed high platform, a man in brocade robes lounged lazily on a couch. Appearing to be not yet thirty years old, two young women with captivating beauty sat at either end of the couch, one massaging his temples, the other gently tapping his legs.

Even more astonishing, behind the man stood the main commander’s banner, fluttering in the wind.

One of the beauties, acting as a handmaiden despite her striking looks, cautiously tapped the young man’s leg and glanced at the other woman, smiling coquettishly, “Young Master, I heard that there’s an Eighth Realm Sword Cultivator and a Ninth Realm Strategist assisting the enemy camp this time. It seems that our Precious Bloom’s former husband truly loves her. Risking everything in a fit of anger for a beauty, so touching. Young Master, why don’t you just return Precious Bloom to him? A reconciliation would be a wonderful tale. Besides…”

At this point, the alluring beauty raised a hand, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Besides, you’ve already tasted enough of our Precious Bloom, and she’s so petty, never willing to share her favors with her sisters, doesn’t she spoil the Young Master’s fun? There’s no such overbearing maidservant under heaven.”

The other captivating woman, known as Precious Bloom, remained indifferent, only gently pressing her thumbs against the young man’s temples, carefully massaging them.

The young man with brocade robes narrowed his eyes and chuckled, “Precious Bloom is shy; my Young Master cherishes her. As for you, you can withstand some teasing. If I, this Young Master, were foolishly concerned about you, being too gentle and unromantic, wouldn’t you rebel?”

The leg-tapping woman’s face flushed with anticipation, arching an eyebrow at “Precious Bloom.”

The latter remained oblivious to the provocation.

The young man in brocade robes lightly raised his foot, “Remove my boots for this Young Master!”

The woman’s eyes instantly burned with passion as she knelt before the couch, trembling hands removing the young man’s boots.

The man sat up, stretching languidly, “Our Soaring Cloud Continent is only slightly larger than that Treasure Bottle Continent, how boring.”
He stood barefoot, reaching into the woman’s, “Qiexiu’s” collar, finally retrieving a golden sphere carrying the warmth of her skin. With a gentle squeeze, he instantly donned a suit of silver armor often mistaken for the Dew-Receiving Armor of strategists. Its peculiarity lay in the various scars covering it, especially the small hole in the chest, as if pierced by a long sword.

Clad in the nameless precious armor, the young man took a few steps forward, then suddenly turned his head, smiling at the woman named Qiexiu, “Your former husband was inferior to me in every way, except for one thing I can never catch up to him on: telling jokes.”

Extending an arm, he pointed towards the distant enemy banner, a smirk playing on his lips, and said to the woman, “Like hiring sword cultivators and strategists. Your young master almost died of laughter.”

The beauty, Qiexiu, having removed the young man’s boots, sat on the ground, leaning against the couch, and burst into laughter, her charm captivating.

The young man turned towards the enemy formation, laughing heartily to the heavens, “Other men’s concubines are fine, but another man’s widow is even better!”

The man, now clad in armor as white as frost and snow, soared into the sky, breaking through the air, directly leaping over his own army’s cavalry formation, like a white rainbow suspended in the sky above a million soldiers.

In the northernmost reaches of the Aiyaizhou Continent, an endless expanse of icy wilderness stretched, with fierce blizzards raging, obscuring the sun.

A figure draped in a snow-white sable coat, occasionally pressed tightly against their body by the wind and snow, revealed a slender form. Beneath the deeply lowered, enormous sable hood, shone a pair of bright eyes.

A black-sheathed long saber hung at her waist, only a small portion visible.

From time to time, she would extend a hand from within the great fur coat, lightly stroking the saber hilt with her thumb.

Revealing a section of jade-like, fair wrist, whiter than the snow itself, and shimmering with a crystalline luster.

It seemed to be a young woman.

Yet she dared to walk alone in this bone-chilling, icy land, in the northernmost part of Aiyaizhou, one of the Nine Continents.

Even a Golden Core cultivator might not be so presumptuous as to travel alone this far north.

The woman pulled out an iron-hard steamed bun, gently tore off a piece, and swallowed it, her gaze fixed ahead.

This extremely cold region of Aiyaizhou was desolate and uninhabited, but often frequented by great demons, taking advantage of the opportune environment, making them extremely difficult to deal with. Among Golden Core cultivators, except for sword cultivators, few were willing to come here and endlessly entangle with those cunning and insidious demonic beasts. Once they incurred the wrath of the many, they would often be surrounded, truly a case of having no one to call upon for help.

The woman stopped, having just finished the steamed bun.

From within the snowy mist ahead, a massive snow wolf’s head slowly emerged.

As it appeared, the wind and snow suddenly ceased within a hundred zhang radius.

The woman adjusted her sable hood, raised her head, and confronted the snow wolf, as tall as a small mountain.

She burped.

Then, only a single blade strike.

After a moment, the world remained unchanged, and she had already begun to sheathe her blade.

She continued forward, smiling, “I’ll borrow your head for a bit, to exchange for some powder and rouge money.”

When she had walked right up to the snow wolf, the great demon collapsed like a mountain, crashing to the ground.

She looked at the massive wolf head, severed with a single stroke, and was somewhat perplexed. Was she really going to carry such a big head back?

So she turned to look into the distant snowstorm, raised her hand in greeting, and said, “You, come over here, help me carry this head back, and I’ll spare your life. As a reward, you can have the rest of the snow wolf’s corpse.”

Afterward, the woman returned through the snowstorm, followed by a Mountain-Moving Ape holding the bloody wolf head in both hands.

Even though several great demons were lurking near the snow wolf’s headless corpse, drooling with covetousness, none dared to cross the boundary line.

In the vast world of Haoran, there were Five Lakes and Four Seas, each with immense territories.

On a collapsed, “sunken” landmass, now submerged by a large lake.

At the bottom of the lake lay the ruins of an ancient battlefield, where a man was hunting the lingering spirits of fallen heroes, capturing them and placing them in a small fish basket at his waist.

Above a vast sea, high enough to seem like one could reach the firmament of Haoran with a hand, the sky was divided into two layers of churning clouds, separated by over a hundred li. In the higher cloud sea, there was a negligible gap, where a lean, long-browed old man sat cross-legged beside the cloud well, holding a jade-green fishing rod, but without any fishing line.

In the lower cloud sea, about seventy or eighty li away from the old man, a large group of cloud whales was flying by.

The old man made a casting motion, and at the tip of the bamboo fishing rod, a faint silver line could be seen, extremely fine, reflecting in the sunlight.

The fishing line wrapped around a giant cloud whale, several li long, and the innately powerful cloud whale began to struggle violently.

The old man yanked the fishing rod backward, standing up at the same time. The fishing rod was pulled into an incredible arc, and the old man laughed loudly, “Good fellow! You’ve got some strength!”

The two sides were locked in a standoff for the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, and the old man ran back and forth across the cloud sea, gripping the fishing rod, cursing and ranting, looking extremely comical.

A pure martial artist capable of traversing vast distances by riding the wind must be at least in the Eighth Realm.

Even an Eighth Realm martial artist would be more than capable of killing a cloud whale, and would be confident in confronting a group of them.

But the mystery of the old man’s fishing lay in using his true Qi to condense a hair-thin fishing line, and purely with this he was confronting the cloud whale’s divine strength, constantly unrelenting; that was the most shocking thing.

A pure martial artist’s strength lies in the word “pure”.

In the Central Earth Divine Continent, a once-powerful entity, one of the Nine Dynasties of Haoran, had been destroyed, its national destiny severed.

Generally speaking, a force capable of destroying such a large dynasty would have to be an even greater entity from among the Nine Dynasties.

But this time, it was not so.

In the capital city, amidst the war-torn, smoke-filled imperial palace, a lone rider advanced slowly, and wherever they passed, the generals and soldiers scattered like the receding tide.

This rider directly rode towards the grand hall, renowned throughout the Nine Continents.

The warhorse did not follow the steps along the dragon walls to enter the hall, but its hooves directly trampled on the dragon walls, like a wild horse ascending a mountain slope.

The rider was tall, clad in golden armor, with a face-concealing visor.

They held a long spear covered in talismans and flowing with golden light, much longer than ordinary iron spears used in battle formations.

The mount was a dragon colt, a descendant of a Flood Dragon, incredibly divine and rare in the world.
This mounted general wore a sheathless sword at her waist. The blade was dull and marked with rust, bearing the faint impression of two ancient, worn-down characters.

Before riding her steed into the grand hall, this martial hero, renowned for her nation-shattering achievements, suddenly raised her arm high, extending a middle finger towards the heavens.

After making this gesture, the mounted general seemed to await a response from the firmament, but only the serene clouds drifted by. After pausing momentarily to rein in her horse, she gently urged it forward, the horse’s hooves crossing the threshold of the grand hall. Before the mounted general lay the dragon throne, reputed to be the most precious seat beneath the heavens.

The martial woman lowered her head, glancing at the sheathless longsword.

She had heard that the scabbard remained in that insignificant place called Treasure Bottle Continent. Should she dispatch someone to retrieve it, or make the journey herself?

The martial woman removed her faceplate and helmet.

Revealing a cascade of raven-black hair, flowing down like a silken waterfall.

She, not he.

A Goddess of War in female form.