Wu Xiang saw Song Qianji seeming about to broadcast a voice transmission, but instead, he smiled:

“You think if you reveal your identity, they will all listen to you?”

His smile held no mockery; rather, it carried a sense of pity for all living beings, like watching a naive child struggling in vain.

On both banks of the Red River, over ten thousand cultivators practiced more than a hundred different cultivation methods, with diverse backgrounds, purposes, and personalities.

In plain sight, major sects and family clans observed with cold eyes; in the shadows, enemies of Thousand Channels or Northern Desert waited for their opportunity.

No one could make these suspicious people, each harboring their intentions, trust, and unite under his command with just a few words.

Even if he was the King of Thousand Channels, the strongest genius of the present age.

On the contrary, because of his identity, some would suspect his motives in secretly entering the secret realm and only speaking up now—wondering if he had calculated everything in advance with ill intentions.

If Song Qianji spoke up, it would only make the situation more chaotic. Those who trusted the Thousand Channels King would first clash with those who doubted him.

The more chaotic the crowd became, the harder it would be to escape, and they would eventually become a feast for the awakening flood dragon.

Wu Xiang smiled: “Master Song, others may not understand you. But to see you clearly, this poor monk has once gone blind.”

If Song Qianji stayed to kill him, he wouldn’t have had time to save the others.

If he went back to save people, he could only let Wu Xiang escape.

In this dilemma, Wu Xiang had precisely calculated the time, position, Song Qianji’s potential maximum strength, and all variables.

Even if Song Qianji had cultivated some art like the Divided Body Technique to split himself in two, the duplicate would inevitably be weaker than the original body, unable to either kill him or slay the flood dragon.

Most people perish from greed, wanting both sides but ending up with neither.

Song Qianji could only choose one.

…

The bright moon hid itself. The river waves rolled like crimson clouds.

The earth trembled slightly.

At first, no one paid attention—it was merely more rocks falling from the southern cliff face, more trees shaking on the northern bank, dropping more leaves.

The battle above the river was intense; the shaking earth and fluctuating spiritual energy seemed perfectly normal.

The cultivators, priding themselves on having seen grand scenes before, brought out more defensive magical treasures. Formation masters reinforced their protective formations.

Everyone still focused intently on the river, unwilling to miss a single move from the four combatants, while secretly transmitting messages:

“I just heard that Prince Wei is in a hurry. When dawn breaks, whether the river formation is broken or not, he will force his way across!”

“Since Prince Wei’s team entered the secret realm, they’ve been heading in one direction without stopping. Some scattered cultivators followed them and said they would rather leave unfinished demonic beast corpses behind than waste time, showing their clear purpose.”

“There must be a great treasure appearing nearby! After they and Thousand Channels determine a victor, we can quietly follow the winner… Hey, did you hear something?”

“Don’t panic, it’s Editor Ji manipulating the tenth layer of the formation. Let’s watch carefully!”

The trembling grew more violent, with shorter intervals between shocks.

“Thump, thump, thump.”

One, two—like the heartbeat of a massive creature beneath the ground.

The waves visibly grew murkier. Sediment that had settled on the riverbed for years and the corpses of dead fish and shrimp floated to the surface, turning the river water from red to black, like a pot of thick, tainted blood being constantly stirred.

The night breeze, once filled with the fresh scent of mountain forests and vegetation, was replaced by a strong putrid stench.

Suddenly, a great wind swept across the ground, the water surged, and a huge wave crashed toward the southern bank.

On the meadow at the foot of the cliff, cultivators watched the battle from their protective formations, accustomed to waves breaking on the shore and paying little attention.

But this wave was unusual, containing overwhelming power, pressing down with what felt like a thousand pounds of force, like a flood dragon charging skyward directly at the crowd.

The more alert cultivators hastily activated their magical treasures and flew up the cliff to avoid danger.

Those who moved too slowly couldn’t escape. Their protective formations were shattered by the black wave.

In an instant, miserable screams filled the area below the cliff, heart-rending.

Meng Heze couldn’t stop it in time and was engulfed by the wave.

“Pah, that tastes awful!” He split the black wave with one sword stroke, spat out a mouthful of muddy water, and turned back shouting, “Ji Chen, what the hell are you doing?!”

The battle had been exhilarating, but as it dragged on without resolution, fatigue set in, inevitably leading to irritation.

To his surprise, Ji Chen’s expression was even worse than his own: “It’s not me! Damn it, it’s not me!”

The formation lines that had previously been as responsive as his limbs now trembled violently. He realized he was losing his perception of the formation.

At first, he thought it was Wei Zhenyu’s people on the opposite shore using some powerful technique, but then he saw Li Ciquan’s face turn as yellow as gold paper, the silver threads bursting from his formation disc growing dim, appearing like spiritual energy exhaustion.

Zhu Sheng’s blue veins bulged on his forehead, the flames on his blade edge gradually weakening, seemingly suffering even more than he and Meng Heze.

On the northern bank, Wei Zhenyu opened his eyes and suddenly shouted: “Cease fighting!”

Li Ciquan and Zhu Sheng had also thought the opposite side had made the first treacherous move, but hearing Ji Chen say it wasn’t him, they knew something was wrong and quickly retreated.

Murky waves rose one after another. Meng Heze split them with his sword, creating an opening for them: “Something’s wrong. We’ll fight next time!”

Li and Zhu seized the opportunity to escape and rushed back up the cliff, their faces deathly pale.

Looking back, they saw the golden threads Ji Chen had sent out barely miss Meng Heze, who was now trapped in the middle of the river, almost submerged.

“Boom!”

Wei Zhenyu stood motionless, his sword light slashing through the air, breaking through the murky water and sending Meng Heze back to the opposite shore.

The scattered cultivators’ team panicked, faces turning ashen, like a group of mice in a maze, frantically spinning in place.

Lu Zhou anxiously scratched his hand: “Prince Wei has something serious happened?!”

Wei Zhenyu had no time to answer, only shouting: “Prepare for battle!”

All the Silver Armor Guards drew their swords simultaneously, silver light flashing like stars.

At the same time, Ji Chen helped Meng Heze to his feet and called out loudly: “Thousand Channels disciples, be careful!”

Black waves rolled, and ten thousand people ran around like headless flies, seemingly about to break into complete chaos.

Suddenly, a voice rang out, shaking heaven and earth.

It was an extremely deep male voice, coming from far away as if slowly descending from the highest point in the sky, or as if it had traveled across a vast distance and a long period:

“The underground palace of Blood River Valley is about to appear. The first trial begins.”

Echoes lingered along both banks.

“The underground palace of Blood River Valley is about to appear…”

The cultivators were greatly shaken. They all stopped and stared at the sky in a daze.

The underground palace of Blood River Valley?!

According to legend, it was the hidden inheritance of a great cultivator who had ascended. Within the underground palace were countless supreme cultivation methods and endless precious materials piled high.

No one had ever seen or obtained it, but which cultivator who came to Blood River Valley hadn’t heard the legend of the underground palace?

The crowd completely boiled over.

“They’ve been fighting for so long—there is a treasure here!”

“This is guidance from the remnant soul of an ascended predecessor!”

Many people bowed to the sky to show their gratitude and respect for the predecessor.

The crowd fell into a frenzy, but a very few remained calm. Wei Zhenyu vaguely felt something was amiss and signaled the Silver Armor Guards to remain quiet.

Ji Chen and Meng Heze also gestured for the Thousand Channels disciples to remain calm.

That voice slowly continued: “A two-thousand-year-old river flood dragon will appear. This is the first trial. All who contribute to slaying the dragon may enter the underground palace to seek treasures. Those who do not wish to enter the underground palace should leave quickly.”

It seemed this predecessor had a good temperament, as participation in the trial was not mandatory.

Cultivators who only wanted to watch and not risk their lives, or those with low cultivation, breathed sighs of relief and hastily grabbed their flying magical treasures to escape swiftly.

More cultivators were excited, eager to witness a rare great opportunity that comes once in a thousand years. Less than one-tenth of the people left.

Regardless of their initial intentions, their thoughts now were surprisingly similar—

As the voice from the sky said, the condition for entering the underground palace was to “contribute,” not to “slay the dragon.” Even landing a single strike should count as a contribution.

As for whether they could slay the dragon, since it was a trial, as long as they followed the predecessor’s instructions, how could they not succeed?

Ji Chen frowned tightly. Suddenly his ear tickled, and he heard a voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz entering his ear canal:

“The situation is urgent. Don’t ask questions. I’ll pass the Dragon-Slaying Formation to you tonight. Change your formation immediately.”

Ji Chen was overjoyed—it was Senior Brother Song!

His exhausted spirit immediately revived, and his body filled with strength.

He hurriedly nodded, but his eyes grew moist: “So Brother Song has been watching over us all along…”

Thousand massive waves parted toward both banks.

“Boom!”

The flood dragon emerged from the water with overwhelming force!

Its head was like a mountain, its eyes like fire. Its body covered the hundred-zhang-wide river surface.

“Roar!”

The flood dragon raised its head and roared in anger!

As it opened its eyes, it suddenly met with ten thousand pairs of eager eyes.

Eyes even hungrier and more eager than its own.

…

On the vast wilderness, heaven and earth stretched boundlessly.

Wu Xiang had already taken two sword wounds, one on his shoulder and one on his waist and abdomen. Blood gushed from the wounds, his appearance miserable.

“Song Qianji, you… you…”

He had heard Song Qianji dispatching troops and making arrangements step by step with his ears. His compassionate expression turned to astonishment.

The screams from the riverbank had, at some point, turned to cheers.

Song Qianji did not explain to him. Most assassins in the world die from talking too much; he would not make this classic mistake.

Only when his final sword thrust went in, as he felt the other’s life gradually slipping away, did he slowly tear off the voice-amplifying talisman and say:

“It’s been a long time since I did this. I’m a bit rusty.”

Indeed, it had been too long.

For him, tonight was not a choice between “killing one person” or “saving ten thousand.”

It was a choice between “leaving” or “staying.”

If he killed this man, completing the task Xian Jianchen had entrusted him with, he could return to Song Academy to live a good life planting gardens and growing flowers. No one would know he had been to the secret realm.

If he let this man go and went to the Red River to slay the flood dragon, he would be thoroughly entangled in the bloody storm of Blood River Valley. Missing this opportunity, as this man’s injuries gradually healed, their next encounter would surely be more difficult.

By using the Dragon-Slaying Formation that Chess Ghost had taught him, he had formally accepted this inheritance.

He had escaped the choice Wu Xiang had given him, but he hadn’t avoided the choice in his own heart.

Song Qianji sheathed his sword, wiping off the blood, and lightly slipped it back into its scabbard:

“Did you think I would earnestly persuade them about the danger and tell them to run? Or have Meng Heze and Ji Chen saved everyone?”

Wu Xiang opened his mouth, spewing a large mouthful of fresh blood. His voice was hoarse:

“Indeed, to determine victory from afar and control the situation requires using profit and fear. I always knew you weren’t soft-hearted, but I never expected you…”

Song Qianji clicked his tongue and muttered to himself: “No one wanted this. I didn’t want it either. If you want to blame someone, blame that bastard Xian Jianchen.”

The light in Wu Xiang’s eyes gradually disappeared, like a lamp being extinguished.

Song Qianji looked at his miserable appearance, recalling how in his previous life this man had once told him that “creation is harder than destruction, saving one person is harder than killing one,” and finding it absurdly ironic. He slightly bent down and reached out his hand.

Suddenly, he saw a strange smile appear at the corner of the other’s mouth, his voice barely audible:

“You are more suitable than I imagined…”

Before he could finish, he breathed his last.

Suitable for what?!

Song Qianji felt a stir in his heart. His five fingers descended, gently closing the man’s eyelids.