Previously, when Ning Yao ventured out alone, intending to break through the formation first, the demon forces at the front hesitated. But as soon as Ning Yao cleaved through the ranks, leading six sword cultivators, and approached the golden river, the demon army on both sides of the battlefield quickened their assault, eager to distance themselves from this “Sword Immortal” whose strikes were too swift and lethal.

At that moment, Ning Yao appeared to be a “supervising officer” pushing the front line. The demon army pressed forward with all their might.

Thus, after Fan Dache took flight on his sword before the other two, he inexplicably found himself, a lone Golden Core cultivator, chasing after an endless demon horde.

Fan Dache reckoned that for this deed alone, he deserved a flagon of the most expensive Green God Mountain wine. His war merits were enough, and he finally wouldn’t have to borrow money from Chen Sanqiu to buy drinks.

Chen Ping’an glanced at the battlefield ahead. The formations of the demon army at the rear grew denser and thicker, surging forward with incredible speed. Moreover, the higher the realm of the demon cultivator, the further they kept away from the three of them in the back – though in truth, they were only trying to avoid Ning Yao, and by extension, him and Fan Dache.

He remarked, “The sword cultivators on both flanks will be under significantly more pressure because of us.”

Ning Yao said, “Then we should strive to meet the sword cultivators at the front as soon as possible. How shall we proceed?”

Chen Ping’an, standing on the sword-forging longsword, was becoming more accustomed to flying close to the ground. He swiftly rolled up his sleeves and said, “This time I’ll open the way, you guard the rear. If any Golden Core or Nascent Soul demons appear, leave them to you.”

Ning Yao asked, “You’re not planning to unleash your flying sword?”

“Only fists. It’s a good chance to hone my martial arts bottleneck.”

Chen Ping’an stated, “Don’t worry, my speed in clearing the way can’t compare to yours, but it won’t be slow compared to other battlefields.”

Ning Yao nodded. “Then just focus on your fists.”

Chen Ping’an took a deep breath and shot forward on his sword like a rainbow. Catching up to Fan Dache, he spoke to him telepathically, “Dache, you stay in the middle and unleash your sword. No matter what happens, don’t worry about it, just keep moving forward. I might not be able to take care of you perfectly, but with Ning Yao guarding the rear, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Fan Dache replied with a firm voice, “Understood!”

Actually, when the Second Shopkeeper addressed him as “Dache, ah,” Fan Dache knew he needed to be extra careful.

In an instant, Chen Ping’an, clad in two tailor-shop robes, abruptly accelerated on his sword. Flying straight as an arrow, he howled forward.

During the sword flight, with still over a hundred zhang separating him from the demon army, Chen Ping’an already assumed his fist stance. One foot stomped down, causing the sword beneath him to slant downward and plummet. It could no longer bear his weight, becoming a true ground-skimming flight. In Fan Dache’s eyes, Chen Ping’an’s figure vanished in place. Although he hadn’t used the Inch-Shrinking Talisman, it produced the same effect. Could it be that after just a year in the Golden Body Realm, he’d already broken through, becoming a Grandmaster of the Distant Wanderer Realm?

Ning Yao chose to fly on her sword this time, explaining to Fan Dache, “He’s currently still in the Golden Body Realm, not yet the Distant Wanderer Realm. Wearing three magic robes is no longer for survival, but purely to suppress his fist intent, combined with a certain degree of sword-qi suppression. The three aspects mutually temper each other, a form of training. Like those martial artists in the pugilistic world who tie sandbags to their feet all day.”

The reason Ning Yao was willing to say so much was, of course, because it involved Chen Ping’an.

And also, Fan Dache was a mutual friend of her and Chen Ping’an, and Chen Ping’an cared for Fan Dache the most. It wasn’t just because Fan Dache’s realm was lacking, but it seemed that in Fan Dache, Chen Ping’an could see many shadows of his past years. Tiny fragments that, when pieced together, would naturally feel particularly close.

But Ning Yao couldn’t understand the specific reasons behind this. She believed that when Chen Ping’an had time, or when the Hidden Official was finally able to steal some leisure from his busy schedule, he would naturally tell her.

Ning Yao added, “When he was young and just starting to learn boxing back in his hometown, he tied bags filled with pebbles to his legs. The first time he went out to travel, he used half-a-catty talismans and eight-tael talismans. He’s long accustomed to it. He doesn’t even know how he is when he goes all out with his fists. Since he doesn’t know how heavy or fast his punches are, then his opponents will be even more clueless.”

As she spoke, Ning Yao unleashed a sword strike. It was aimed at a Golden Core demon cultivator from another battlefield who had glanced at her from afar. Ning Yao sensed it, and her sword, a sword immortal, left a single line, as if slicing tofu. Especially the targeted demon cultivator, his body split in half, exploding into pieces on either side. A golden core was shattered, affecting countless others.

Ning Yao was inexplicably reminded of a small thing.

She remembered when Chen Ping’an was still a boy, carrying a locust-wood sword case containing two swords, when he first came to the Sword Qi Great Wall to find her. When they were alone, he liked to strike up conversations, talking about many things from the countryside and marketplaces, like the carpenter using an ink line. A master carpenter with excellent skills could draw a very accurate line.

Ning Yao rarely glanced more closely at the battlefield after her sword strike. It was quite similar.

Fan Dache simply didn’t know how to respond.

In fact, standing beside Ning Yao was unimaginably stressful.

His good friend Chen Sanqiu had secretly told Fan Dache that when he and friends like Diezhang were one realm lower than Ning Yao, it was still alright. But once both sides were at the same realm, one would truly doubt their existence. Am I really a sword cultivator? Is this realm of mine fake?

However, Fan Dache watched Chen Sanqiu leisurely drinking his wine, complaining, but with a smiling face.

The Second Shopkeeper had once said that wine was the best fishing rod in the world, able to hook the words in a drunkard’s heart to their lips, especially our Bamboo Sea Grotto Heaven wine, which was even more extraordinary.

Perhaps being able to be friends with Ning Yao was something even a favored son of heaven like Chen Sanqiu would find both stressful and worth happily drinking to.

Fan Dache cautiously paid attention to the surroundings of the battlefield. It was empty, seemingly without danger, but Fan Dache still worried that some treacherous demon cultivators were hiding beneath the ground, waiting to stab him with a sword or smash him with a magical treasure.

Such things happened often on the battlefield.
Fan Dache had once witnessed with his own eyes a sword cultivator of excellent talent, his peer, who, through a moment of carelessness, was ambushed by a Mountain-Moving demon cultivator hidden beneath the earth. The demon had accurately predicted the path of the sword, burst from the ground, seized the cultivator by both ankles, and tore him in two. On the battlefield, the truly terrifying enemies were often not those powerful demons whose bottleneck realm and destructive force dominated a certain sector. One could avoid their sharp edge unless certain death awaited. More to be feared were those demon cultivators who, unconcerned with battlefield merits, sought only to hone their cultivation. They struck with insidious methods, excelled at disguise, always aimed for a single, fatal blow, killing unseen, and if a strike failed, they would retreat decisively. Such demon cultivators thrived on the battlefield, surviving for a long time, secretly prowling through various engagements, accumulating considerable merit through their deeds.

It was said that the youngest Fifth Realm sword immortal in the desolate lands, the great demon named Shouchén, had risen to power through this treacherous path.

Even more frightening was that Shouchén, even after becoming a Fifth Realm sword immortal, still preferred to act in this furtive manner, concealing his great demon aura, deliberately suppressing his sword immortal aura, and continuing to join the battlefield as a Golden Core demon cultivator, waiting for the opportune moment.

Because of this, Ah Liang had personally sought out Shouchén’s movements in a certain battle. He was eventually located by Ah Liang, who unleashed a sword strike from afar, but Shouchén, being a sword immortal himself, and having used a protective talisman from his mentor, managed to escape the battlefield.

Fan Dache suddenly paused.

Wasn’t his own Second Shopkeeper just like that? And arguably the founder of that style?

It was a pity he had become the Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Otherwise, even if the Second Shopkeeper didn’t act as his array-guarding sword master, allowing Chen Ping An to roam freely across the battlefields, coupled with becoming a sword cultivator, being a pure martial artist, and Chen Ping An’s ability to grasp the subtleties of the battlefield and accurately calculate the strengths of both sides, he believed that neither merit accumulation nor growth speed would be any less impressive than that great demon Shouchén.

Ning Yao’s sword immortal style was certainly breathtaking, inspiring longing in the heart.

But no matter how much they revered and admired her, Ning Yao was simply Ning Yao. No one of her generation in the Sword Qi Great Wall could emulate her.

However, the Second Shopkeeper’s fighting style could be learned, even by Fan Dache. With enough effort, close observation, and diligent memorization, it could be transformed into one’s own strength, improving cultivation. On the battlefield, even a slight increase in odds could help a sword cultivator overcome some unexpected event.

On the battlefield ahead, Chen Ping An, no longer wielding his sword, deliberately plunged into the thick of the enemy, landing in the center of a heavily fortified demon formation.

His stance opened wide, his boundless martial intent flowing like a river, similar in effect to Ning Yao’s earlier use of sword qi to create a small, self-contained world.

Anyone careless or bold enough to approach, would first have to contend with his martial intent.

A demon whose body was naturally as large as a pavilion, having cultivated into a cultivator, possessed two natal treasures specifically used to enhance his protective abilities, allowing him to rampage across the battlefield with his naturally strong physique.

But Chen Ping An, with his fists, cleared a path, cutting the demon in two like a long sword, the surging blood scattered and pushed back by his martial intent.

A thousand punches are not as good as a single strike.

Chen Ping An fought with only one punch.

One man trapped in the formation, surrounded by enemies on all sides.

He still strived to kill with a single punch, damaging their foundation, shattering their souls.

Each punch seemed to conserve energy, but in reality, each punch was extremely powerful, moving forward without hesitation, the purity of his martial intent faintly causing the surrounding sword qi to give way.

A demon cultivator unable to dodge, a burly figure, two zhang tall, swung a large hammer down upon him.

Facing the legendary Ning Yao, perhaps all one could do was wait for death, but against this “young man” with no sword, only extremely high-level fist techniques, at least they didn’t lack the will to fight.

Chen Ping An reached out a hand, stopping the descending hammer, his entire body shrouded in shadow. Chen Ping An shifted his ankle slightly, transferring the enormous force to the ground. Even so, his knees sank into the earth.

He could have dodged but didn’t, enduring a heavy blow, and deliberately delaying his movements slightly, to make the hidden demon cultivators believe they had an opportunity.

A demon military strategist clad in refined iron armor, wielding a saber in both hands, approached Chen Ping An, his momentum like a rainbow, and slashed at him.

Another Golden Core cultivator flicked his sleeve, throwing out two golden talismans, one painted with the True Form of the Five Peaks, the other with meandering rivers, then raised a palm, lifting it heavily.

The ground around Chen Ping An was first frozen by the Golden Core cultivator’s spell, sealing off an area of several dozen zhang.

The golden mountain talismans manifested five mountains of different colors, each only the size of a fist. Four of them hovered around the young martial artist, only the Central Peak of the talisman crashed towards his head.

Chen Ping An, who was holding up the large hammer with one hand, raised his left hand and directly grabbed the jet-black magical saber, thick with uncleanliness, near its blade. The pure martial intent of his palm clashed with the black saber light, sparks flying.

With a twist of his wrist, he dragged the military strategist, who desperately refused to release his saber, in front of him, to collide with the miniature mountain created by the golden talisman.

The hammer-wielding demon, having fulfilled his duty of luring the enemy, temporarily retracted his weapon, swinging his arm high, wanting to try again.

Seeing that the situation was bad, the military strategist demon, unwilling to suffer the impact of the Central Peak or be accidentally struck by the subsequent hammer blow, decisively abandoned his saber and retreated, kicking the young man in the chest, using the momentum to retreat.

In the next moment, Chen Ping An, who had been using the monkey fist stance taught by Zhu Lian, suddenly transformed into the peak fist stance of Zhong Qiu. The slender “young man,” with his slightly slumped shoulders and hunched back, immediately returned to his normal posture. His martial intent changed, becoming even more profound, directly shattering the surrounding spell seal. He punched the miniature Central Peak. As his fist touched the small mountain, a ripple of wildly scattered martial intent surged, shattering the mountain into a burst of golden light.

Chen Ping An, still holding the saber near its blade in his left hand, slid backward, dodging the burly demon’s second hammer blow.
The figure withdrew the blade in his left hand slightly, while his right hand loosened into a palm-knife stance, then struck down, cleaving the magical blade into two halves. The demon race cultivator of the strategist school, who originally intended to detonate this vital weapon of attack, suffered a reversal of fortune, coughing up a mouthful of vital essence blood. He glanced at the youth still trapped within the Four Peaks Encirclement Formation, then, without hesitation, rode the wind away from the battlefield.

The four mountain peaks, formed from condensed golden talismans, were small, yet their suspension in the air still possessed the imposing aura of mountains rooted in the earth.

They surrounded the black-clad youth and the hammer-wielding brute within the formation, only lacking the central mountain peak, leaving it slightly incomplete.

Fortunately, another golden talisman had transformed into a water dragon stretching dozens of feet long, ultimately forming a pattern of mountains stabilizing the flow of water.

The burly demon race cultivator, dragged into a desperate fight with the youth, no longer cherished his life. On the battlefield, some feared death even more than certainty.

Wielding his great hammer, the burly demon unleashed his ferocity. Within the confines of the Four Peaks Formation, assaulted by the water dragon, he charged straight at the youth whose fists possessed unreasonable power, aiming to exchange his life for the latter’s!

In the end, he was struck through the chest by the youth’s fist. Before that, however, the water dragon had repeatedly slammed into him, eroding his flesh and bones into a blurred mess. This outcome was likely unforeseen even by the Golden Core demon, resulting in a mutual pitfall where a companion died first, only for the other to follow suit. After the youth killed the burly demon with a punch, he tapped his toes, leaped high, pressed down on the latter’s head, and slammed it against the water dragon. The burly demon, choosing to self-detonate his Golden Core, perished in body and soul along with the water dragon.

The Golden Core cultivator fixed his gaze, watching the youth tear away his tattered magical robe, revealing another robe worn beneath.

The mask on his face, also shattered, was casually discarded by the youth and tucked into his sleeve. Even the great hammer on the ground vanished, stored within a dimensional pouch.

Without hesitation, the Golden Core cultivator abandoned the Four Peaks Talisman and employed a unique technique, transforming into several wisps of green smoke, each tunneling away in different directions.

Chen Pingan did not deliberately pursue this Golden Core cultivator. The removal of the robe freed his fist intent, and with his enhanced fist force, he pushed away the tottering miniature mountain peaks. Charging forward, he unleashed four punches from afar, four golden rays erupting and instantly claiming the lives of nearly a hundred demons on the battlefield. With no mask to conceal his face, someone in the demon army shouted “Hidden Official,” and the army, which had been attempting to form a battle formation under supervision, scattered in a complete rout.

Chen Pingan’s path of advance no longer involved a straight charge. Instead, he chose to draw a large circle on the battlefield, then shifted slightly forward, killing with his fists those who fled the fastest.

He unleashed his pure martial artist true energy, punching relentlessly. When it was about to be depleted, he would seek an opportunity to catch his breath. If the situation was perilous, he would grit his teeth and endure.

On the battlefield, what could be more daunting than facing a tenth-realm martial artist’s fist? Dealing with the latter was a true matter of life and death. So-called physical resilience was like paper before the fist of a tenth-realm martial artist at the peak of the ninth realm. One could only rely on guesses, gambles, instincts, and, even more, a near-divine, intuitive understanding to move with the punch.

For Chen Pingan, as long as there was no Nascent Soul sword cultivator assassin lurking nearby,

the so-called being trapped alone on the battlefield was not a battlefield at all, but a series of one-on-one duels.

Li Er once said that in the duel where he nearly accidentally killed Song Changjing, the prince of the Great Li was, of course, talented, but his fist was too light at the time. However, Song Changjing was able to hold out for so long because he was not just a martial artist but also a warrior tempered on the battlefield. Long exposure to honing his fist techniques on the battlefield naturally gave him an aura of “one against ten thousand.” If this aura was thoroughly tempered and refined, returning to simplicity, opponents would feel as if they were facing an entire army, causing them to be hesitant and restrained.

Now, Chen Pingan was seeking this first level of aura on the battlefield. Among the thousands of mountains and rivers, how many high mountains and great rivers could truly approach?

As long as one’s punches were heavy enough, one’s movements swift enough, and one’s eyes keen enough, it was simply a matter of wading through water and crossing mountains, traversing each place “slowly.”

After that, Chen Pingan, caught up in the excitement of the battle, became increasingly pure. Whether walking or flying, he maintained the six-step stance at all times, unleashing only the Iron Cavalry Charge, Divine Man Drumming, and Cloud-Steaming Marsh styles.

Although Li Er was a tenth-realm martial artist, he did not speak much about the principles of fist techniques when he was feeding Chen Pingan punches in the Lion Peak Immortal Mansion ruins. Occasionally, he would say a few words, frankly stating that they were all things he often heard Zheng Dafeng say. Li Er said these things to Chen Pingan because he thought they might be useful, but a few words about fist principles had no weight and could not pressure anyone.

Among them was the sentence, “With enemies in sight, unleash the fist; without enemies in mind, achieve divine connection. The fist is supreme, everywhere within the law, always unhindered by the law.”

This time, Chen Pingan would neither abuse the roaring, ferocious demon races with his fists nor show mercy to the young demon race cultivators filled with fear and pleading in their eyes.

A pure martial artist simply throws punches.

Those with superior skills live, those with light fists die.

On the battlefield, the martial artist Chen Pingan was somber and cold-eyed.

Ning Yao only reminded Fan Dache once, “Don’t get close to him.”

Chen Pingan’s thoughts grew fewer and fewer, putting aside all past considerations, infinitely approaching Li Er’s so-called state of “forgetting oneself and remembering the fist.”

He did not use earth-shrinking talismans, nor did he use First Day or Fifteenth Day talismans. He did not even unleash the pine needles or Thunder Cough that could guide his movements.

As for the two natal flying swords, Caged Bird and Moon in the Well, they were of great use and would definitely not appear early.

At this moment, Chen Pingan had even completely forgotten that he was a sword cultivator with four flying swords, including two natal flying swords.

At the thickest point of the demon army’s formation, the fist intent arrived before the person.

Ning Yao was still searching for the high-realm Golden Core and Nascent Soul demon races.

Fan Dache still had little to do. Fortunately, compared to when Ning Yao opened the array by herself and the rest of the party just followed along on their swords, Fan Dache had more opportunities to unleash his sword this time as Chen Pingan opened the array with his fists.

Before, Ning Yao opened the array too quickly with her sword.
On the north-south battle lines of the left and right flanks, the two groups of sword cultivators engaged in fierce combat below the city were still far from the golden river, not even halfway there. Moreover, their speed of breaking through formations and slaying enemies would only slow down as they progressed. It was highly likely that before reaching the halfway point, they would need to retreat back to the Sword Qi Great Wall, alternating with the second wave of sword cultivators on the city walls to conserve their strength, in order to cope with this attritional war littered with corpses.

Elsewhere on the vast battlefield between the golden river and the city walls, the fastest group of sword cultivators currently carving a path southward had only managed to advance halfway, and that was only because the Nascent Soul sword cultivator Qi Shou was helping lead the charge.

Diezhang and the other three returned north, joining forces with over a dozen sword cultivators from the adjacent battle line who were advancing southward, to crush the demon armies.

The four young, prodigious sword cultivators stood in a line, spaced seventy or eighty zhang apart. They no longer pursued speed or depth in carving through the enemy ranks, but instead focused on inflicting as many casualties as possible on the demon armies. Thus, all four sword cultivators began to tread upon their long swords – Zhenyue, Hongzhuang, Jingshu, and Zidian – displaying their swordsmanship and unleashing their respective natal flying swords, slashing their way back to the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Chen Sanqiu’s natal flying sword was named “White Deer.” One of its inherent abilities was the image of a white deer carrying a sacred fungus. On the battlefield, a white deer as large as a house would appear, with the sacred fungus it carried being none other than Chen Sanqiu’s natal flying sword. The white deer was naturally covered in sword light, with snowflakes of light swirling around it, and it could autonomously gather spiritual energy, making it incredibly mystical.

On the battlefield, the white deer, its entire body radiating snowy sword light, rampaged wildly, its destructive power immense.

Legend had it that before Chen Sanqiu nurtured his natal flying sword, he had a dream one afternoon in his youth. A sika deer approached him, kneeling on all fours, and voluntarily recognized him as its master.

Therefore, it was said that Chen Sanqiu, known for his charm among the younger generation of the Sword Qi Great Wall, had every right to be.

He had a good family background, a good temperament, a handsome appearance, good interpersonal skills, and excellent aptitude and talent. Aside from the fact that the young master Chen’s drinking habits were slightly questionable, he was virtually flawless.

Furthermore, such a divine creature as the White Deer was often associated with the ethereal literary fortune. Therefore, Chen Sanqiu, who had obtained one of the ancient Dali imperial swords modeled after the White Jade City, the “Jingshu” (Classic), complemented it perfectly. This was because Chen Sanqiu’s natal flying sword was one of the rare ones that possessed two inherent abilities. Besides the manifestation of the White Deer upon unleashing the flying sword, it could also invisibly enhance Chen Sanqiu’s literary fortune. Thus, Chen Sanqiu was not only a born sword prodigy but also a natural scholar.

One must know that in the vast world, among the Confucian Sages who had reached the Sword Immortal realm, in the Three Academies and Seventy-two Colleges, there were only two such individuals.

Unfortunately, Chen Sanqiu was born in the Sword Qi Great Wall, where scholars were scarce. Most importantly, Chen Sanqiu’s surname was Chen, so he could not go to that foreign land filled with academies and the sound of reading.

Sword cultivators who could earn the title of genius in the Sword Qi Great Wall all had their own stories.

Any sword cultivator who liked to drink could get dead drunk, and even if they drank themselves to death, they would have a reason.

Ning Yao always followed closely behind Chen Ping An, who only focused on throwing punches.

Ning Yao faintly sensed an idea in Chen Ping An’s mind, a thought that perhaps even Chen Ping An himself was unaware of.

If my fists could reach beyond the heavens, then on the battlefield south of the Sword Qi Great Wall, anyone who opposed me, Chen Ping An, would die without needing to draw their sword.

Ning Yao didn’t think this was bad, but she also felt that it might not be the best, for one simple reason: he was Chen Ping An.

So Ning Yao called out, “Chen Ping An.”

On the battlefield, Chen Ping An immediately stopped punching and turned around, somewhat puzzled.

Fan Dache experienced a moment of instability in his sword heart, just a strange feeling that flashed and disappeared.

Ning Yao said, “Keep punching, I’m behind you.”

Chen Ping An paused, unsure why Ning Yao would say these words, but he still nodded with a smile.

The robe he had borrowed from Pang Yuanji’s clothing shop was already torn and put away. The one he was currently wearing was so tattered that there was no need to even bother putting it away; he simply dispersed it with his fist intent, like dandelion seeds scattering in all directions.

Not only that, but he also put away the cyan robe from the Ning residence, leaving him wearing only a long robe made of the most ordinary material.

Chen Ping An took a deep breath and exhaled a large mouthful of stagnant blood. Unknowingly, within a radius of several dozen zhang around him, there were no longer any living demons on the battlefield.

Chen Ping An shook one wrist and lightly clenched and unclenched the other fist. His bare bones were exposed, which was perfectly normal. It was painful, of course, but this long-lost, familiar feeling actually put him at ease.

What was the point of practicing fists and cultivating without enduring some pain?

Chen Ping An looked into the distance, and finally raised his gaze to discover the large character carved on the wall, which was all too familiar.

The character was truly written poorly.

Chen Ping An subconsciously looked up at the sky.

You can be late, but don’t not come.

Even if it was just returning to the Sword Qi Great Wall, his half-hometown, just to take a look, as for whether to draw his sword or not, he could decide after arriving.

Chen Ping An reached out to grab something, but then remembered that the long sword from the sword shop had already shattered.

So, he took out the demon blade belonging to a Nascent Soul demon of the Mountain Moving lineage from his close-quarters storage space. It was narrow and sharp, its treasured light shimmering.

Chen Ping An grasped this already masterless demon blade, which was of extremely high quality, a first-rate magical treasure. He lightly weighed it in his hand; its weight was sufficient, so he would continue to break through the formation.

A moment later.

Fan Dache couldn’t help but turn his head to look behind him.

Ning Yao was rubbing her brow.

And in front of the two of them, Chen Ping An was slashing wildly with the blade.

Fan Dache felt that this was probably what “chopping the rebels” looked like.

In an instant.

Ning Yao delivered a sword strike.

Not to save Chen Ping An, even though the attacker was a deeply hidden Nascent Soul sword cultivator assassin.

And cooperating with him, choosing to assassinate Ning Yao, was none other than the Jade Purity Realm sword immortal who was skilled in concealment.

If they were ordinary immortal dao partners, even if the higher realm cultivator wouldn’t save the lower realm one at this moment, they would inevitably hesitate for a moment.

However, Ning Yao had no distractions, and her sword heart became even clearer and brighter.

She could kill the enemy, and he could live.

Ning Yao believed in herself, and even more so in Chen Ping An.

Ning Yao, who had deliberately suppressed her realm at the Golden Core bottleneck for many years, instantly and effortlessly ascended to the Nascent Soul Realm bottleneck.

After unleashing her sword, Ning Yao was still able to spare some attention to glance at the city wall.

Chen Qingdu stood on the city wall with his hands behind his back, a smile on his face.

Wei Jin, standing beside him, said with a wry smile, “Greatest Sword Immortal, why deliberately suppress Ning Yao’s breakthrough?”

Chen Qingdu smiled, “There’s no rush. There’s no need to deliberately compete for those empty titles, like becoming the first sword immortal under the age of thirty in history. Is that necessary?”
Even after becoming a Sword Immortal at the age of forty, Wei Jin still couldn’t comprehend it. “Ning Yao wasn’t forced; her progress was natural. Senior Sword Immortal, why would you mobilize the entire Sword Qi Great Wall’s sword dao to suppress Ning Yao at the Nascent Soul bottleneck?”

Chen Qingdu chuckled, “Am I Wei Jin?”

Wei Jin was left speechless.

He somewhat missed the days when Senior Zuo and Senior You were on the city wall.

The meaning behind the Chief Sword Immortal’s words was, “Do you think *you* are Chen Qingdu?”

Chen Qingdu continued, “Sword dao suppression? You underestimate that little girl, Ning.”

In the desolate wilderness, the old man in grey robes remained indifferent to the intensity of the great battle, his eyes closed in meditation within his tent.

Just then, the old man opened his eyes and spoke with a smile directly to Chen Qingdu, “That breaks the rules.”

Chen Qingdu replied, “Unconvinced? Want to come to the city wall and have a fight?”