The half-skull of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders’ twelfth rider, sent spinning through the air, was filled with unwillingness — and boundless terror — as he was cut down just like that, tumbling down toward the cold stone street.
Then his body pitched over into the pool of blood. Blood welled and poured forth in a flood. The entire avenue was soaked crimson — a sight that scorched the eye and snapped one fully awake.
Neeeeigh!
The violet-scaled beast screamed. Its master had fallen; blood splattered across it. In the very first instant it thrashed and reared, its enormous hooves crashing down toward Ye Fan.
Splat!
A streak of violet blood erupted upward. Ye Fan’s sword cleaved off its head. White bone fragments littered the ground as its massive corpse toppled onto the stone avenue, blood running in a small river.
“Ahh…”
The remaining riders were stunned. They roared with fury, and every manner of divine weapon came crashing down — like a shower of meteors falling from beyond the domain, powerful and imposing, radiance blazing fiercely.
No one would ever have thought events would unfold this way — openly butchering a seeded powerhouse in the public street, without any restraint. This was utterly lawless.
“Kill him! Don’t let him escape!” The Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders bellowed.
With a hum, Ye Fan sent his sword reverberating — and the entire world trembled with it, interfering with the laws of the Great Dao, shattering every secret technique that came crashing toward him.
In the same moment, the black iron sword in his hand traced a strange arc — like a mountain antelope hooking its horns on a cliff, leaving no trace of its path — drawing every weapon that had fallen toward the high sky.
Boom!
The divine weapons smashed through the heavens. Not a single one came down. Dozens and hundreds of li away, the sky was shattered, the stars shaking across all directions.
This was the weapon-character technique, deployed by Ye Fan through a single sword — every weapon offered by the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders rendered entirely useless.
From walking out of the small tavern to the open, unrestrained killing — all of this was accomplished in a single breath of time. Ye Fan was like a bolt of lightning in human form. No one could stop him.
When the stillness came, Ye Fan stood on one side of the street, iron sword dripping blood. The Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders stood on the other side. A brief and sudden silence.
Then, immediately after: a deafening uproar. The entire city boiled over. Never before had anyone shown such monumental audacity — the shock was staggering.
“Am I seeing this correctly? He killed two of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders — seeded-level powerhouses — with one sword stroke each, in open daylight in the street?!”
“A drop of blood splattered onto my face. Where does this person come from — daring to strike like this, without any restraint whatsoever?”
“The Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders have met their match — two of their own killed in broad daylight on this very street. Is there any humiliation greater than this? This person’s boldness is extraordinary — he has opened a chapter in the history of the First City of the Human Race that has never been written before!”
It was as though a meteor had struck the center of the city — sending massive waves rippling outward. Many could scarcely believe it. It was too outrageous.
“Kill!”
There was only an instant of stillness. Some among the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders shook with rage, doing everything in their power to cut Ye Fan down. Every form of immortal light erupted skyward.
Heaven and earth became as a great cauldron, boiling with the laws of the mortal world. This place became a hell. They encircled Ye Fan from all sides, divine light without end, submerging the entire length of the street.
Were it not for the ancient forbidden array formations within the city, it would not have been only this street — the entire city would have been shattered to pieces, reduced to a field of rubble and ash.
“I will kill you ten thousand times over and still my fury will not be spent. I will extract your primordial spirit and seal it forever in the Nine Serenity Death Star, to suffer the torment of purgatory for eternity!”
Someone screamed, eyes bloodshot. Killing Ye Fan alone was not enough to vent the rage — only the most cruel and brutal methods used against cultivators would do.
Ye Fan moved with extreme velocity — like a flash of light in motion, weaving between every divine weapon, withstanding every technique, fighting with total abandon.
That iron sword — no sacred weapon — nonetheless unleashed a heaven-shaking power in his hands. It rang ceaselessly, its edge-light tearing through the heavens and earth.
A cold snort rang out. The second-ranked figure of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders made his move. Until now he had been watching coldly. He rode the pale dragon, a halberd with a painted sky-dragon design appearing in his hand — weight unknown, perhaps tens of millions of pounds or more.
He was clad head to toe in cyan-gold armor, the pale dragon beneath him its own kind of terrifying creature. Together they were one — like a demon-god descending from on high, the halberd swinging down like the cleaving apart of heaven and earth.
This great halberd weighed tens and hundreds of millions of pounds — a true inherited sacred weapon of renown, its cyan shaft and gleaming blade cutting through the firmament with a terrifying wail.
All around it, as if shadowed by spectral forms, divine apparitions and demons seemed to roar — following the great halberd as it cleaved through the cosmos, shattering everything in its path — terrifying beyond description.
In the distance, every person changed expression. The second-ranked figure of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders was far more powerful than anyone had anticipated. He could slay saints.
Even the seven or eight riders already engaged in combat were shaken. Only they knew how terrifying the leaders ranked at the top truly were — far beyond the rest of them.
The tenth-ranked rider shouted: “Die a hundred deaths, and still you cannot atone for your bloody sins — spend the rest of your miserable life in penitence on the Nine Serenity Death Star!”
Screaming with vicious savagery, overflowing with killing intent, he worked in concert with the great halberd descending from above — pressing toward Ye Fan, targeting his immortal platform at the brow.
The others howled and roared as well, exhausting every ability in their possession. Secret techniques and divine weapons came down like a torrent of meteorites — powerful and fearsome, all converging on Ye Fan alone.
Crack!
A fracturing sound rose from the street. The ancient seals had partially broken down, draining the color from every face present. How terrifying was this great halberd?
At this moment, eight people were attacking Ye Fan at once, positioned at eight directions around him, plunging him into mortal peril.
In everyone’s eyes, with this halberd descending, there was simply no way Ye Fan could defend against it. Yet in that very instant, he caught the halberd’s blade with his bare hand.
Clang!
A trembling note rang throughout the entire city. Many who heard it had their souls jolted — then blood spilled from their mouths. The destructive power of that single blow spoke for itself.
“What? Impossible — how did he stop that blow with his bare hand? What is this person? How powerful is his physical body?”
Everyone was stunned. They simply could not believe what they had seen. Ye Fan had not used the iron sword to block — for against a sacred weapon, it would certainly have shattered. He had actually used his left hand, flicking it against the halberd blade — with no blood spraying at all.
“That halberd was enough to kill a saint — and he… stopped it!”
The movement-character technique flickered beneath Ye Fan’s feet, carrying him through an ethereal haze, the walking-character technique deployed to its fullest — evading every other attack, every divine weapon and secret technique brushing past him by the thinnest of margins.
It was like dancing on a mountain of blades, like strolling before the gates of hell — threading through a life-and-death situation with something that looked almost graceful and unhurried.
He broke out of the encirclement of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders. To have accomplished that in the previous instant was something remarkable indeed — none of the assembled powerhouses believed they could have done the same.
“To penitence on the Nine Serenity Death Star…” the tenth-ranked rider of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders began to say — and his savage, cruel expression froze in place.
Because an iron sword had threaded through layer after layer of radiant barriers, piercing through every obstruction, and landed on the man’s body in that fractional gap of an instant.
Splat!
A sword through the skull!
The black iron sword entered through his brow bone and exited from the back of his head. Blood dripped in a slow trail. The blade was stained with white brain matter — a gruesomely grisly sight.
No one had anticipated that Ye Fan’s attack would be of such absolute, world-toppling sharpness.
It was not some exotic technique — it was a common sword style, simple and direct, winning through sheer speed: comparable in velocity to lightning itself, breaking through all laws and techniques.
In this moment, Ye Fan was like a death-god. His black hair unbound, his body tall and powerfully built, his eyes colder than winter lightning.
Crack!
He used the black iron sword and with one forceful flick, levered the skull cap of the tenth-ranked rider completely off. Blood shot high into the air.
Filled with utter disbelief, the tenth-ranked rider’s eyes lost focus. He toppled backward into the pool of blood, dying there — the crimson of his blood spreading outward.
Everyone was left thunderstruck. How could this person be so powerful — seizing the one opening amid a surrounding assault and driving a sword through one of the riders, killing him in a display of breathtaking brilliance?
“Get back!”
The second-ranked figure of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders gave a sharp command. He intended to act personally now. The painted sky-dragon halberd gleamed with cold metallic light as it descended once more — as though to cleave the heavens themselves open.
Among the riders ranked at the front, it was clear that those positioned highest were many times mightier than those behind. Their power reached to the heavens; even their mounts were sacred beasts. One could well imagine their combat strength.
Hmm!
Yet at that very moment, another terrifying figure intervened — moving even faster than the second-ranked figure in his cyan-gold armor.
It was Gu Ling — the leader of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders, who had been watching with cold eyes until now. He finally made his move. Purple war spear in hand, he thrust it forward in an instant, piercing straight through.
Boom!
It was as though heaven and earth had collapsed. The power of this single spear was overwhelming. As the purple spear shot out, it was like a violet sun detonating — waves of fire and light swept through the sky, and everything was suffused in purple. Many powerful cultivators felt their courage fail; some were forced back, blood streaming from all seven orifices, by the sheer force of the aura alone.
It was a stroke of breathtaking, resplendent brilliance.
It carried a deathless vitality within it. Radiance blazing ten thousand zhang in every direction, every star in the sky seemed to tremble — on the verge of falling. The entire ancient city shuddered as though it might come apart.
An extraordinarily magnificent spear strike. The leader of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders — his bare upper body exposed, his dense black hair flowing loose, his bronzed skin reflecting the brilliant light of the purple war spear — was cast in an even wilder aura. Like a divine being awakened.
“Kill…”
The other Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders all roared. Their leader had moved — what enemy could not be cut down now? All of them followed his assault, converging everything on Ye Fan.
Ye Fan’s eyes went cold. He swung the iron sword in his hand — ancient and unadorned, yet immense and majestic — meeting the purple war spear head-on with his common blade.
Darkly it swept down, like a black river of sky descending. Ye Fan drove a mortal weapon against a sacred artifact, clashing iron against the purple war spear.
The others all changed expression. Those riders’ eyes went merciless. They knew — this iron sword simply could not withstand the blow.
And indeed, the crack of shattering came right on cue. The black iron sword burst apart on the spot.
Yet the fragments blazed like fireworks, gorgeous and brilliant — like a shower of meteors scattering in all directions. Every shard was deadly.
Ye Fan deployed the weapon-character technique, directing dozens and hundreds of fragments to strike every rider — a wailing, terrifying wind that howled through the air.
Splat. Splat…
Blood bloomed in the air. Muffled sounds of impact rang out. All of the riders outside the top five — their bodies erupted with sprays of blood, knocked backward without control, taking sword wounds. They could not stop it.
The sight was horrifying. Surrounded by the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders, Ye Fan had repeatedly wounded his enemies — stunning every person present to their absolute limit.
In the distance, the Feathered Immortal and Mu Guanghan both blinked their beautiful eyes, watching in rapt attention. Tuoba Yu, the Bitter Ascetic, Ou Ye Mo, and others had appeared as well.
“Stop!” A group of powerful iron-clad figures rushed in like a tide of steel.
The city’s soldiers had arrived. Every one of them had once walked the Ancient Trial Path — each one extraordinary, and their strength was dreadful.
Leading them was the squad leader who had once clashed with Ye Fan upon entering the city — the same one who had sat as a guest in the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders’ residence. He called out with icy authority: “Those who act with violence in the First City of the Human Race — kill on sight!”
It was plainly directed at Ye Fan’s Dao-body. The man’s blood energy surged to the sky as he leveled his bronze war spear at Ye Fan.
His words had barely fallen when Ye Fan’s Dao-body shot skyward. The speed of the walking-character technique rivaled lightning, and in the same motion it launched a fist capable of shaking the heavens and earth.
Splat!
His fist — and his entire body — punched straight through the eleventh rider of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders.
A fist of absolute dominion over heaven and earth. Nothing could stop it — fast and ferocious, blood energy like an ocean, strength raised to its utmost extreme. Ye Fan drove his fist through this person, emerging through a spray of blood mist and shattered bone.
Everyone was left speechless. Even with the city soldiers present, he had paid them not the slightest heed — striking without hesitation, decisively and brilliantly — truly beyond all measure of strength.
Only one person seemed entirely at ease: Ye Fan’s true body sat right beside the street where the battle raged, raised a cup of wine toward his Dao-body in a salute — and drank it down in a single draught.
At the sight of this, the expressions of countless people changed all at once.