The azure robes, clinging close, seemed to shatter as if struck by a titan’s fist, the form within splintering in twain. No longer did Qing Tong possess that ethereal grace, sleeves trailing in the dust. In his stead stood a corporeal manifestation, a Yang God Outer Body, an elder of imposing stature. His arms were thick with coiled muscle, his beard and hair like newly fallen snow. Barefoot, he stood upon the earth, smooth as a mirror’s surface.

A flicker of surprise touched the old warrior’s face. He retreated, sliding backward a dozen paces upon the polished ground before regaining purchase. A single twitch of his wrist, a gesture so slight, sent tremors through the very air, like a dragon shaking its scales. His accumulated martial intent poured forth, a river of golden energy made visible, coalescing into a shimmering, liquid aura. It rendered this self-proclaimed “halfway to godhood” elder a vision of an immortal, wreathed in incense smoke.

Qing Tong, whose flesh had been forged to nigh-unbreakable strength, appeared genuinely taken aback. Could a mere martial artist, even one at the pinnacle of cultivation, albeit one diminished from the Tenth Realm, possess such strength?

His gaze turned, a glint of amusement within it, toward the distant point where the Night Wanderer blade remained suspended. This, it seemed, was a purely martial challenge, a “questioning with fists.” What else could it be? Surely a sword cultivator not even of the Jade Pure Realm would not dare challenge an Ascended Realm master to a duel of blades? That would be suicide.

Where Qing Tong had stood, a crimson robe now billowed, stirred by unseen winds that tugged restlessly at the sleeves. In contrast to Qing Tong’s surging, unrestrained martial spirit, Chen Ping An’s was a quiet inferno, banked deep within.

Qing Tong did not rush. He need not seek this creature out. The neither-man-nor-ghost would deliver himself willingly to the door. The gulf in power was so vast that Qing Tong could stand unmoving and absorb dozens of blows, only to respond with a single, decisive counter.

This faceless martial artist, lacking eyes or expression, merely bowed slightly at the waist.

*Here it comes.*

Qing Tong narrowed his eyes, accelerating the flow of his pristine Zhen Qi. Within his microcosm of a body, mountains and rivers stirred, lightning clashed in the heavens, and the very earth trembled. This was but a nascent godhood, an empty shell. A true master of the ultimate martial arts realm possessed a body that was a pantheon, a temple to the gods. The warrior’s Zhen Qi served as the sacred incense smoke that connected heaven and temple.

*I am god.*

Despite years of relentless effort, Qing Tong had taken a shortcut, erecting an airy edifice upon an unsteady foundation.

The approaching figure followed an arcing path, moving with the velocity of a shooting star. The trailing afterimage was like a fiery dragon. Yet Qing Tong remained rooted to the spot, merely shifting his weight, offering no evasion, only a palm raised to meet the oncoming fist.

The collision echoed like a thousand bronze bells, the vast expanse of the Void Realm behind Qing Tong rippling with an outward-spreading shockwave of martial force, vast as a lake.

Qing Tong seized the young warrior’s fist, lifting it upward, preparing to deliver a crippling kick. But something was amiss. His other hand, previously held behind his back, flashed forward, covering his face. Then, a foot connected with his palm, the force driving his hand back into his own face, sending Qing Tong staggering backward.

He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. The pristine white of his robes groaned as seams stretched and threatened to tear.

The figure in crimson stood once more where Qing Tong had been. His left arm hung limp, unnaturally twisted. With a flex of the shoulder, a series of pops and clicks resonated as the arm spun, swiftly returning to its proper alignment.

The white-haired elder tugged at the corners of his mouth, beckoning with a hooked finger.

“Again.”

They moved with blinding speed, a flurry of afterimages – crimson and white – painted the air, like a hundred petals scattering in the wind. Qing Tong made no attempt to return the blows, only parrying.

He would use this opportunity to measure the “Celestial Official,” the vaunted young man whose praises were sung across the land.

Qing Tong, unruffled, leaned back to evade a sweeping kick. He shifted his weight, raising an arm, the hand transforming into a blade. His opponent vanished, and Qing Tong stepped aside, using his shoulder to slam the crimson-clad figure away, sending him hurtling through the air.

Chen Ping An landed heavily in the distance.

Qing Tong scoffed.

*Still just flesh and blood.*

While showing no sign of faltering, far from the end of his strength, if this was the extent of Chen Ping An’s speed and power, then his reputation was greatly inflated. Of course, the youngster surely possessed hidden trump cards, as yet unrevealed.

“Shall I lower my cultivation to match yours?” Qing Tong asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Or are you simply here to test my martial skill, my physical strength, and the intricacies of my fighting style?”

Chen Ping An remained silent.

Qing Tong considered this. Then, he took the initiative, shifting with lightning speed, traversing ten li in an instant. Yet the figure in crimson was already there, dogging his heels. With a faint smile, Qing Tong spun, appearing ten li away once more. Again, his opponent mirrored his movement. Qing Tong leaped upward, a streak of white streaking skyward, quickening his pace by a third. Still, Chen Ping An pursued, striking with a fist aimed at Qing Tong’s brow. Any Jade Pure cultivator, any ordinary Tenth Realm martial artist, would have been slain by such a blow, their head exploding like an overripe melon.

Qing Tong simply turned his head, clapping a hand against the figure’s forehead. With a sudden burst of strength, he slammed the crimson figure down. The mirrored surface of the earth shattered, leaving a gaping crater.

The crimson figure had not been entirely ineffective, however. Qing Tong felt a flicker of annoyance as he dabbed at the blood trickling from his cheek. Not a wound of any consequence, merely an embarrassment.

“How curious,” Qing Tong murmured.

Despite showing no sign of summoning forth his Zhen Qi, Chen Ping An was able to change direction at a faster speed. He unleashed the next punch with an almost instinctive speed.

Qing Tong squinted, no longer dismissive. For the first time, he scrutinized the flow of the oncoming fist, searching for some insight into the nature of this skill. He observed the trembling sinews in Chen Ping An’s arm, the surge of blood, the expansion of veins. To a master martial artist, these were the mountains and rivers of the body, the path of the fist, the intention made manifest. This, hidden deep within the flesh, was the true foundation of a martial artist’s strength, far surpassing mere surface techniques.

Five or six blows landed before Qing Tong grasped the core of it. This strike was profound, almost impossibly elegant. Each was unique, but so similar.

It was not a simple repetition of the same blow. It was the same action with a thousand little changes that made each unique.

Like attempting to perfectly replicate calligraphy, each character was similar, but uniquely unique.

The angle of approach, the stance – all were different. And the pace of Zhen Qi flow was the same, steady like the ocean. It was a dynamic method that maintained a static whole.

Each blow had the same effect as the first, each strike with the same attitude.

It was a surprising, amazing, and pleasing revelation to Qing Tong.

*Is it possible to use the same blow multiple times?*

After dozens of punches, Qing Tong started to realize the truth: they would never end.

Would this figure continue striking endlessly, so long as he could endure the punishment? Not only did the force of the blows increase with each strike, but the speed of the crimson-clad figure was rapidly improving, now rivaling an immortal’s ability to traverse the land.

Every blow landed, and over a dozen booms echoed against Qing Tong.

After the 20th blow, Qing Tong grit his teeth and changed stance. He raised his fingers in a sword incantation, his other hand forming a Five Thunder Seal. As he did this, a glow radiated from Qing Tong’s seven facial orifices, the lights of the Big Dipper mingling in the air. He opened his mouth in a roar that seemed to shake the very heavens as he returned a punch of his own.

But even that was not enough to halt the onslaught. Qing Tong absorbed another five blows, returning two.

He refused to believe Chen Ping An, a mere first realm Qi Practitioner, could be so strong. Even if the blows themselves harmed the warrior’s body, how much could he take? What if Qing Tong collapsed and tumbled to the Mountain Peak Realm. If he tumbled to the Essence Realm then he would be a part of the 10th Realm, but if he tumbled to the Mountain Top Realm, then he would lose everything.

Blood trickled from Qing Tong’s facial orifices. Seemingly monstrous, he was not actually injured, but his inner microcosm was in turmoil. From the dregs of his Pure Qi, a black dragon twisted atop a mountain, mist rising as rain began to pour. In another region, a Great White Snake transformed into a Divine Dragon and soared in the skies.

The ability to combine cultivation and martial arts was invaluable, once the gates of Golden Body and Ultimate Mastery had been overcome. Barriers vanished and martial arts became sorcery as Qing Tong moved his power.

The old elder’s eyes glowed, one gold and one silver, the power quickly vanishing.

Between Qing Tong and Chen Ping An appeared a ripple in the air, thin as a mirror blocking Chen Ping An’s way.

From the mirror came another crimson robe, striking exactly as Chen Ping An had done.

It was a mirror asking Chen Ping An to exchange blows.

Chen Ping An instantly shut his eyes. The mirror instantly shattered, revealing a second crimson robe, just like the original, thrusting a fist with rigid steps.

Without a second thought, Chen Ping An rapidly sped up his Pure Qi, the strength pouring out as he spun. He raised a chop, slashing at the mirror self and decapitating it.

Qing Tong could not resist his curse. A young boy with a heart of stone! But of course, the child had grown in the battlefield of Sword Qi Great Wall.

Chen Ping An stopped, holding, hunched, his cold gaze moving. He continued his drumming and looked around to see Qing Tong raising hundreds of mirrors. A dozen crimson robes, each preparing the first thrust, approached Chen Ping An on all sides, the fists real and true.

Chen Ping An did not know how long he could maintain this mirror.

Chen Ping An was a flower blossoming in the night. He did the worst thing imaginable in Qing Tong’s opinion and met the mirror selves with his own fists.

Dozens of mirrors shattered and spilled, scattered Qi running amok. Red rain fell in the skies.

Chen Ping An opened his mouth, his voice the grinding of stones on metal. “Exchanging blows and taking the skills is a talent. But if one steals, it is not.”

Although the strange mirror was a sorcery of some kind, it was most certainly a blow.

Qing Tong’s smile was tight, a difficult position to be discovered in. “I lost myself, I will stop it here.” He already had the edge, there was no point to stealing.

It was obvious that Qing Tong was at ease here, his master status shining through.

One problem was Chen Ping An, who seemed bottomless and eternal.

Qing Tong’s three strikes had not been much, but a blow of that caliber would have mortally wounded a normal warrior. How could Chen Ping An be unfazed?

What was more, this young Celestial Official was aware of Qing Tong’s actions, and could still counter them?

Qing Tong smiled, “An empty land is boring, I will make a battlefield for us.”

With a snap of fingers, a city appeared. The city was as wide as the greatest capital in the Middle Earth Divine Continent. Inside were palaces and markets, a mountain range, and a single jutting mountain that split through the clouds.

Qing Tong stood atop the halls, holding his hand out. “Chen Ping An, I will spend an incense stick with you.” It meant that Qing Tong would try and no longer act as a tutor.

He saw the pathetic young man and scoffed. If not for his status, he would never be in a position to talk with him, let alone exchange blows. If he lost this exchange, then Chen Ping An would need to take the loss, leave, and never meet Qing Tong again. He would not interfere with Chen Ping An’s duty to the world, but they would never meet again.

He also forbade Chen Ping An from taking the Sword Qi Great Wall here. All that would do is hurt both of them.

Qing Tong’s demeanor changed and he tapped his toes. The palaces crumbled into dust.

As he unleashed a blow, Chen Ping An blocked with both hands. He carved a path through the city. The elder stepped, strolling leisurely along the new carved groove. “When Cao Ci met you, how much did he hold back?” It was not mockery. To be compared with Cao Ci was something of a feat. Many in this world thought the same, and even the Four Heavens were no different in that regard.

Chen Ping An leaped from the groove, his robes unblemished. He stretched his limbs. Qing Tong felt his smile start to falter. It was not fear but anger. Qing Tong, the master of talismans, saw light sparking and burning around the young man. Ash flew in all directions. These were the death throes of dozens of talismans, remnants of spiritual power revealing the effects.

The effects were to slow his pace, to increase the burden, to weigh down a cultivator with the weight of a warrior. In the end, all this man wanted was to slow down Qing Tong!

Qing Tong had seen brazen and arrogant, but he had never seen someone so young act in this way. Was he just looking to die?

The young man seemed to see Qing Tong’s thoughts. He would kill the immortal realm warrior!

Qing Tong nodded. He despised these warriors for a reason.

—

Xiao Mo did not want to be in the way, and he receded for over a hundred li. He sat with his legs crossed, placing the green cane on his legs.

Qing Tong was a cultivator, and an ascended one at that. He was not to be feared, otherwise, he would never have opened the doors when they arrived. Xiao Mo was instead interested in Qing Tong’s so-called ‘few great talismans’.

The weight of his Young Master’s blows had no limit. The first was an exchange, split between lowering the cultivation and refusing to do so. The next was to divide the result. For example, the fight with Pu Shan would involve removing a half-weight talisman.

But at that time, the viewers were not strong enough to see it, while Xiao Mo was. While he was not at the Battle of the Peaks, he was still there to observe. At the time, Chen Ping An did not remove all the talismans, and left 20% or 30% to suppress his blows.

Chen Ping An moved too fast and even Ye Yunyun could not track his movements.

There were two kinds of states right now: the one who wins and the one who dies.

The difference was Chen Ping An’s heart. Was he fighting to win or to die?

His fight with Cao Ci was the 2nd to last on the list. While both held back, with a promise to hold back 20%, their fight had been real and true.

Every step had a different scenery.

So what state was Chen Ping An in now?

Xiao Mo looked up. His Young Master’s blows were beautiful as ever. Xiao Mo suddenly thought of something. The Pu Shan Grass Clouds school was made up of both cultivators and warriors. It was possible that it was tied to Qing Tong. Was it Qing Tong’s ‘seed’ in the world?

A path emerged, full of golden Plane Tree leaves that stretched to Xiao Mo like a snake. Qing Tong’s second self, the martial artist exchanging blows with Chen Ping An, stepped on the path and turned into a handsome youth in a robe of snow and starlight. He was right next to Xiao Mo. The youth snapped his fingers and lit an incense stick, beginning the clock. Qing Tong laughed as he reminded him, “If Chen Ping An cannot win in two quarters, he needs to leave.”

Xiao Mo nodded. “In that case, you will send my Young Master out, and I will send you on your way.”

This second self sat and watched. “Ten thousand years apart, we meet again! What fortune.” The youth had the mind of an old man. Xiao Mo was reminded of a nameless youth who stared into the water with a sad face. “You will have fortune,” said Xiao Mo, causing Qing Tong to sigh. To be born into a sword family was a fortune beyond all else, a reward for talent and blood.

“How can you talk like that?” asked Qing Tong. To be a sword cultivator was to have a fate far exceeding others. The floral demons could never reach that status. The initial opening of the mind was hard. “We are unable to move and face disasters. You people have no idea what we undergo. Many of you reach in mere years what takes us a lifetime of effort.”

“Why would I know that?” asked Xiao Mo. That was the way of the warriors, never changing!

Xiao Mo looked at the incense and asked, “A half-divine? Is that a saying these days?” Qing Tong smiled. “To go 90 miles is to go halfway.” Qing Tong had been true to his nature.

Xiao Mo felt the change. “How can you show off so much if you never show your true self?” Qing Tong was well aware of this but joked, “You follow that Young Celestial Official so much, have you never heard, ‘do not listen to things you shouldn’t listen to’?” Xiao Mo had a real name, the Silkworm Spider.

He knew about Xiao Mo’s strengths. After the two suns of the heavens, Xiao Mo had captured the Heaven Path and trapped the sun in his web. After devouring the sun, he was suppressed by the Thunder Lords of the Heavens and chased throughout the lands. He was captured by the Heavenly court before the rage was soothed and he was contained.

In reality, Qing Tong was very surprised to see the restrained Xiao Mo here today. Xiao Mo had suppressed his sword.

Xiao Mo asked, “What grudge do you have against me?” Qing Tong was surprised. “When did I hold a grudge?”

Xiao Mo patted the Green Staff and laughed. “You don’t hold grudges against sword cultivators?” Qing Tong lost his smile. It had not been easy.

“These sword cultivators only want to destroy and break, they only care about their pleasure, they do not care for the world. They care little for the path.” Xiao Mo nodded and did not deny it. “Have you suffered at their hands?” asked Xiao Mo. Qing Tong’s face darkened. “I will not force you to speak if you do not want,” said Xiao Mo.

He did not like complaints. Qing Tong moved his fingers over a Plane Tree leaf. It was a puppet fanning the winds.

“Years ago, three young sword cultivators stirred up a ruckus. I was unfortunately caught in the middle and my path broke,” Qing Tong slowly said.

The three were Yuan Xiang, Guan Zhao, and Dragon Lord.

Qing Tong raised his fingers and stroked his cheeks. Strange words floated over his face, as if tattooed there. Xiao Mo saw the old words and nodded. “Yuan Xiang would have done that.”

Yuan Xiang was a troublemaker and always the one to pick up trouble. Stealing wine, for example, was something Yuan Xiang would do. Xiao Mo would never forgive him. But still, Yuan Xiang had been one of the greatest to leave the wall.

He had died at the very doorstep of the ancient heavenly halls and fought on until the end without a word. He did not see the Heaven’s Gates and it was said that he carved a path forward. It was as if he had wanted to carve a path forward.

“I will die first.” It was the statement made by the old Sword.

Xiao Mo asked, “Other than this?” Qing Tong laughed. “Then there was the last priest who walked here and gave me a bad time.” The man had left the Wall for a land of treasure, landing in the Maple Leaf Continent.

When Qing Tong was nice to him, he got kicked in the face. Then there was the boy who arrived with the Sword Qi Great, Chen Qing Du’s old sword. It was Chen Qing Du’s warning to Qing Tong that he needed to care for the boy, or suffer the consequences.

Chen Qing Du could have warned him with a message, but he had not.

Chen Qing Du had not had a talent at cultivation, but he had eventually reached the height of swords. Compared to the other arrogant warriors of the heavens, Chen Qing Du had been well-loved. He was silent and rarely caused trouble. He only practiced his sword.

Silent people are the most deadly.

Xiao Mo clicked his tongue. “Qing Tong, do you have a natural hatred for swords?” Qing Tong was silent as he looked at the field. “Are you not worried about Chen Ping An?” Xiao Mo stayed silent.

The Young Master was well prepared and needed no help. All he wanted now was to know how to ask the Young Master to let him fight. It had been a while since he last performed his duty. He now finally understood why the sword Qi in the Maple Leaf Continent was so weak. Neither the number of sword cultivators nor their strength was to be feared.

It was not because Qing Tong was a tree, it was more about the aura that he had. The mountains and rivers were like the web of the silkworm, slowly changing everything. The sects, the people, and even the weather seemed to follow, to create a kind of choice.

All it took was the saying, ‘Birds of a feather flock together’. Bi Xiao’s friend was behind the Maple Leaf Continent with Qing Tong as the face to maintain this facade.

Unfortunately, Bi Xiao had left for Green Underheaven.

Otherwise, the Young Master would have found the Maple Leaf Continent much easier.

The Qing Tong second self watched the battle. “Even now, you’re not worried?” he asked. The other simply smiled.

These rookies only ask stupid questions.

There was, after all, a limit to growth. Especially after Chen Ping An’s tumble in the Wild Lands. Even if Cao Ci was here, what could he do with his low cultivation?

Xiao Mo saw the youth walk to the entrance of the Maple Leaf Continent as he joined the Essence Realm.

The strength of the moment sent shivers throughout Qing Tong. But at the time, Chen Ping An had been fighting against a Heavenly Chosen One of the Three Mountain Wealth Lands and Qing Tong did not dare to interfere.

The Maple Leaf Continent was large, but Qing Tong had planted roots here for ten thousand years and woven his web. He could sense everything. If there were people and affairs that affected him, Qing Tong would search for the truth.

That old ox demon had acted against the Ape with the Sword and Qing Tong had never interfered because he had the status of Guardian of Demons and could not interfere.

Fourteenth Realm warriors were rare.

This elder and his companion were old friends with Xiao Mo. That was a blessing. Not one person held greater status than the other, it was just a harmony of two different people. It was then that Qing Tong could not resist his sigh. “Why don’t you go to Green Underheaven and see old friends and reach the 14th Realm before returning?”

Xiao Mo spun, staring and asking, “Are you allowed to call me ‘Xiao Mo’?” Qing Tong instantly grew silent. It was as he had previously stated, Chen Ping An was the deadly one, not this ancient sword cultivator. But at the moment, the inverse was true.

Xiao Mo ignored Qing Tong, Chen Ping An had removed his talismans. The Qing Tong second self smiled as he could not resist. He coughed and apologized, “I am sorry, I was enjoying myself. Forgive me.” Xiao Mo was not angered at this honesty. It was all practice so far.

It was only now that both sides began to take things seriously. As the elder thrust a punch, a section of his arm revealed an array of golden runes etched onto the very bones under the muscle. The writing was old, the spells and diagrams coming from a variety of sects and methods.

Qing Tong’s arms had been forged into mountains, the runes holding them together as veins. This crimson clad youth was thrown into the walls, shoving his hand back and standing. Qing Tong did not follow because he knew what would happen, but he was starting to understand his opponent.

This attack was not heavy but hard to deal with. Several areas in Qing Tong’s body had come into play as hundreds of runes flickered, and began to fade like ash in the skies. Qing Tong began to grow wary.

The red blur wandered through the roads, and the white beam sped, demolishing all buildings in their way. Qing Tong would knock his enemy away before returning another.

Something was off. Chen Ping An was repeating five different blows, like a student who had memorized just enough before an exam. It was visible from the start that his power was growing quickly, though small.

Qing Tong kicked the youngster hundreds of feet away as he broke through a rich man’s home. Chen Ping An landed near a tree. “You make them?” asked Qing Tong. It was a good stance and good strength for a beginner.

“He did,” replied Chen Ping An.

It was five kinds of strikes from Cao Ci. Cao Ci had stated he had created thirty different kinds, and only used half of them. He did not care if people learned them, most could not.

“Those who learn will survive, those who repeat will die.”

Chen Ping An did not wish to learn, he only wished to strengthen his body. Different strengths and positions could hone a different part of the body. The strikes of others are the stones that make a sword. “Is this stealing now?” asked Qing Tong.

“Learning,” replied Chen Ping An.

“Is there a difference?” asked Qing Tong.

As he spoke, lightning crackled at Qing Tong’s feet. He had teleported to the spot with his punch. “If you’re going to be a hero, be the best you can be.”

This thrust came from the same spot Chen Ping An had used, from the drum rhythm. “No matter how you steal or learn, all you have to do is master it.” Qing Tong was not discouraged and felt that all he had to do was practice.

“The thrusts are just for show, and you will be the true killer.” Qing Tong settled and released his Pure Qi.

Chen Ping An rolled over. Qing Tong laughed. “I will give you a quarter of an incense stick. Are you good?” Chen Ping An stood, took a deep breath, and laughed. “If you speak of blows, then you are not fit to be a half god. Are you better with weapons?” Qing Tong scoffed. “Could I beat you with my hands tied?”

“It is a shame. If I were better, I’d give you a good showing,” said Chen Ping An, gesturing to the knife. “I am going to draw a weapon, you better be good.” Qing Tong tossed his knife and gestured with his hands. “You may use whatever weapons you wish.”

Chen Ping An smiled. “You’re not going to say what happens to the winner or the loser at the end?” Qing Tong replied, “We’ll fight until one of us gives up.”

“Of course.”

He slowly drew the knife. Chen Ping An then ran his fingers and the knife was a colorful mess. Qing Tong paused, as if he had been caught cheating.

“That’s the Slash?” Qing Tong asked.

Chen Ping An did not reply and pulled out a second. “Guess again.” Qing Tong shuddered.

He stared. Qing Tong felt a surge of danger. No longer holding anything back, he prepared a blow of his own. He saw an image in the skies, a visage of a broken past.

A floating head and limbs played the pipa.

A headless figure blew the flute.

A girl with no bottom half played the strings as if she were to be sliced in half.

A person with no arms floated with the drum.

It was a strange sight. Qing Tong was vexed at the Divine Weapon of the Executioner and knew the adage, “Those who have seen the blade are not lucky.”

This was relative to the Jiao Dragon. This sword was death incarnate.

Chen Ping An stepped forward with the slash of many colors. The Executioner opened a door to the Netherverse, a gate as fine as a light. Qing Tong heard, “It is not smart to talk so much when you are fighting. If I had those hands, they would have come already. It is just a loss.”

“I will take advantage of you now.”

The earth cracked, a cave opening to the skies.

The pipa player was instantly shattered with a thrust.

The flute player turned into dust.

The girl was skewered on the sword, dragged through the skies, her blood sprinkling.

The speed was too fast!

Qing Tong felt himself going against the rhythm. That was one of the worst things one could do in martial arts. Qing Tong stood upon the towers. “Was this the plan all along?” he asked.

That stance was mocking him in laughter. The vision was a lie, but dangerous to even look at.

Qing Tong steeled himself. It was this man that he hated, not the blade. His strength was strange. It was not crazy, evil, or violent. It was dead, emotionless, and pure nothingness. It was as if he had reached the extreme of humanity.

Qing Tong summoned a large sword, green and filled with talismans. It poured energy. Standing on the walls, Qing Tong sneered and dragged the sword behind him. “Do not blame me when you are short a limb, it is all your fault.”

Chen Ping An spun the girl into pieces and raised his head with a smile. “Let me give you some advice, people who talk a lot die quickly.” The other self floated and frowned.

At the moment, there was something more to fear here.

The strength was too strange. The Qing Tong watched as Chen Ping An was in a state of the self, as if he had lost his mind.

The golden leaves started to turn, blown by a wind that rushed in a single direction. Behind the great mountain, the pure Qi was at a peak. The mountain shattered.

Xiao Mo gripped the cane. “Ask him yourself.”

The Pure and Other Self were connected. Qing Tong sighed. “At this point, it will be hard to end this.”

Xiao Mo was surprised. What was going on here? But it was fine, Xiao Mo did not care and only wanted to see the upcoming events. This had only just begun!

Even Xiao Mo did not know what the Young Master was thinking. All Xiao Mo knew was that the Young Master had not released his full force.

Chen Ping An had revealed to Xiao Mo that his best strengths were from the mountains. Only half.

It was with his hands, one or the other.

Before the thrust, Chen Ping An had flung away the sabers.

Xiao Mo gripped the Green Wood and stood firm. Qing Tong was nervous, but relieved at what was happening.

Xiao Mo smiled, “Is it a shift in weather?” Qing Tong changed the topic, “Don’t you want to see your friends in the Green Underheaven?” Xiao Mo only smiled. Qing Tong wanted to say more, but he did not. Xiao Mo said, “The you in the town is still holding back, waiting for the moment after the end of the quarter.”

Qing Tong shook his head. “With no timer, Chen Ping An could only lose.”

“Who is it then?” asked Xiao Mo. Qing Tong could only shake his head. By the rules of the halls, the gain belonged to the Qigong Mansion and the Truth Temple.

“When the Ape with the Sword killed the Genius, that was because they knew he was worth five warriors,” Qing Tong said. They had tracked the monkey to the dragon temple.

“The demons call me Old Freak,” he spoke to the demon and destroyed its soul and mind, and pinned the demon within the crown and left it there. He also gave the Maple Leaf Clan their new location. All to trap Chen Ping An.

Now the ruins could still have some power left. Qing Tong was secretly pulled on board by the temple, with the order to do something with Chen Ping An. Xiao Mo looked at the incense and grabbed the staff as he began to rise.

Qing Tong asked, “Are you going to…?” As the clock ticked down, Qing Tong grew more nervous.

Xiao Mo smiled, “You misunderstand.” The field had moved outside, with each Pure Qi changed.

Chen Ping An had changed much on the trip. He closed in the caverns and took it to heart.

It was a thrust.

It was like the wind was picking up. And Qing Tong was no longer happy.