The Lord Emperor had appeared, striking at this most critical moment. His formidable strength was beyond all question — he was absolutely the equal of the Undying Empress and the old woodcutter.

The old woodcutter was drenched in blood, a wound between his brows still seeping steadily, his body in poor condition — yet right now he alone could hold back the Lord Emperor.

The area fell silent at once. Every person held their breath, watching in taut, anxious focus.

Nine rounds of celestial sun sank to the west, and in the light of the setting sun the entire palace complex of the Heavenly Court was bathed in a layer of sacred, luminous splendor, making it all the more solemn and hallowed.

“Hand it over.” The Lord Emperor spoke, extending one hand. Encased from head to toe in crimson dragon armor, his physique was tall and powerful, his fingers long and forceful — the mere act of extending his hand caused swaths of imperial-path runes to manifest throughout the surrounding void.

“It would be of no use to you.” The old woodcutter shook his head. His eyes were deep and profound, carrying a luster of quiet wisdom. “You have spent your days consumed by regret and remorse. Your Dao-heart is already lost. Even if a true immortal scripture were placed before you, you could never achieve the Dao.”

“Give it to me!” The Lord Emperor’s voice went cold and flat. His aura surged severalfold in an instant. The old woodcutter’s words had struck at his deepest wound, and the hand before him blazed with roaring flames, erupting in crimson-blood radiance.

The immortal tree had already been wrenched free of the earth, suspended in the void before the Heavenly Palace — hovering between the two of them. Its entire body was dim and muted, its bark cracked and splitting, without a trace of luster.

So this was the Undying Tree before which the Supreme Emperor had chanted sutras and into which he had poured the divine fluid of his life spring? Many people widened their eyes, feeling even more deeply troubled than before. That those who stood on the very threshold of the Dao would contend so fiercely for it was itself statement enough.

The old woodcutter shook his head and did not yield a single step.

In truth, a field had long since formed between the two of them, with the immortal plant swaying between them. How terrifying the divine force at that level might be was difficult to articulate — one moment of imbalance, and it might reduce this undying medicine to ash.

So neither dared use full force, both proceeding with great care.

“Then let battle decide it!” the Lord Emperor declared. His full head of hair swept outward, his body taking on the form of a dragon, coiling and leaping into the sky.

Roar!

A great bellow. An enormous crimson dragon materialized in the cosmos — blood-red from head to tail, scales glittering and serrated, as if forged from phoenix-blood scarlet gold. And upon the dragon’s head stood a vermilion bird, looking down at all below.

The crimson dragon coiled and surged, its supreme physique blazing with light, slashing downward to shatter rivers of stars.

The old Daoist rose to meet it, pushing out one palm with utter calm and no sign of exertion — seemingly without a trace of effort, not even a flash of divine radiance. Yet something terrifying occurred: before him, swaths of stars dimmed and went dark, an entire expanse of sky plunging suddenly into blackness — while that blood dragon convulsed violently, its cries resonating through the nine heavens.

That single palm was too terrifying. Without sound or fanfare, it had obliterated a river of stars — enough to make any onlooker shudder.

A clanging sound rang on and on. Around the Lord Emperor, nine ancient characters appeared in succession, lighting up one by one — like nine celestial suns blazing in the sky, wreathing him in their radiance below.

These were nine ancient characters from the scripture of the Dao — capable of reinforcing one’s very being, of manifesting a kind of permanence and eternity, carrying within them an indestructible force. Now they revealed a formidable defensive power.

Bang!

The old woodcutter’s ten fingers became like drilling spikes as he thrust forward — his offensive force immense and overwhelming. Ten beams of immortal light shot forth, like the great archer Yi shooting down the ten suns, ten arrows moving the heavens!

All nine ancient characters shuddered, erupting like suns on the verge of destruction, releasing a terrifying aura that swept through the heavens and became a vast cosmic storm.

Ye Fan’s expression changed. He was very familiar with those nine ancient characters from the Dao scripture — he had deployed them many times himself, and understood their subtlety and their profound, mysterious power well. He had never imagined someone could break through them in this way.

This was a form of imperial-path technique. But what mattered most was the old woodcutter himself — he possessed a power to transform the mundane into the miraculous. Ten beams of immortal light split the heavens with a resounding, ear-splitting clang.

Roar!

The crimson dragon soared upward with a great bellow, opening its maw to release a blazing torrent of fire — surging waves of heat so vast they caused some stars to melt into liquid before finally crumbling to dust.

Acting on the defensive was not the Lord Emperor’s preference. He went on the offensive. The nine dimmed ancient characters blazed back to life with even more brilliant radiance — and he himself charged forward.

The old woodcutter swept one hand through the air, and a dark fish appeared — carrying the supreme force of the Great Yin as it pressed forward to crush the scorching tide of flames. The two collided, causing annihilation across that entire region.

Hiss!

Suddenly, the vermilion bird perched atop the crimson dragon’s head spread its wings in a great flutter, dancing through the nine heavens — transforming into a bolt of blood-colored lightning that struck downward.

The Lord Emperor carried the bloodline of the Vermilion Bird. The reason he had manifested a crimson dragon form was entirely due to his armor — for the most fundamental power of his bloodline was the Vermilion Bird.

That strike shook the ancient and blazed through the present — far beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. The small, flame-red bird was not large, yet its divine power was supreme beyond the world — one sweep of its wing nearly struck the old woodcutter’s body directly.

Clang!

A bolt of snow-white blade-radiance shot into the sky. The woodcutting blade from behind the old Daoist’s back left its sheath, and its blade-force rolled in surging layers — like a vast, boundless ocean flooding forward.

The Vermilion Bird gave a long, piercing cry that split the cosmos.

And the radiance engulfed that entire region. Those watching from within the ruins of the Heavenly Court could see nothing clearly.

When all fell still, the old woodcutter’s body swayed. The blood covering him was far more than before — and particularly along the left half of his body, a terrifying crack had appeared, his flesh nearly splitting in two.

That had been the force of the Vermilion Bird’s wing splitting the heavens!

On the other side, spots of blood had appeared on the Lord Emperor as well — struck by the sweeping blade-force. A terrible killing force had bored a bloody hole through his shoulder.

Suddenly, the Lord Emperor’s figure vanished. Deploying the Vermilion Bird’s technique of crossing three thousand worlds, he brought time to a standstill and pierced downward in reverse, going for the immortal tree.

The old Daoist moved to intercept and gave chase. The two clashed repeatedly in the void, and this time the battle truly ignited — thousands upon tens of thousands of Dao blooms erupting into brilliant flower.

Swaths of runes emerged — a supreme vibration of fundamental law.

Pop!

Suddenly, the immortal tree within the ruins of the Heavenly Court emitted a faint sound. Its root structure crumbled, reducing to ash — while the trunk itself fell to the ground.

The Lord Emperor unleashed a sharp cry and dove downward. The old woodcutter moved to block him. After several more great collisions, both descended before the ruins of the Heavenly Court.

“The root system was a replica — convincing enough to deceive the eye. The true immortal tree of the Supreme Emperor is already gone. Its roots were removed by someone long ago!”

The slovenly old man with yellow teeth was so furious he hurled his wooden bucket to the ground. The golden lightning essence within it poured out, sending every powerful cultivator fleeing in panic — that substance was absolutely capable of injuring a Great Sage.

“An empty effort — the immortal plant has been removed.” The Lord Emperor stood in hollow loss, then his eyes abruptly turned cold and forest-dark once more. He looked toward Ye Fan, the Black Emperor, and the others in the distance — and the killing intent laid bare in his gaze was unmistakable.

Hiss!

He sent out a beam of divine radiance to annihilate them. Xiao Nannan was not present, so he had nothing holding him back.

Bang!

The old woodcutter shifted his position and blocked the attack.

“You involve yourself in far too much,” the Lord Emperor said coldly, the crimson dragon armor across his body flaring with light, his aura surging even stronger.

“Old thing — have you already forgotten how not long ago you were sent running in complete terror by a little girl? And yet you’re still trying to play it cool.” The Black Emperor mocked him without mercy.

“All of you — leave.” The Lord Emperor swept his gaze over the slovenly old man and the big-bearded man, then fixed it on the old Daoist. “You as well — step aside and leave this place to me.” Last of all, he looked toward Ye Fan, the Black Emperor, and the others. “These people must die.”

At this point, everyone could see it — the old Daoist appeared to have lost the strength to fight. His condition was at its absolute worst. The blood wound between his brows struck by the Undying Empress was worsening, the injury unable to close — and after the recent clash with the Lord Emperor, it had grown even more severe.

The Lord Emperor now stood with nothing to fear. He threatened the old man just so, demanding he step away — or else a bloody catastrophe would follow.

“You overestimate yourself far too greatly. Even among those equally on the threshold of the Dao, even gravely wounded as I am, you cannot necessarily impose your will upon me.” The old Daoist spoke calmly.

Behind him, Ye Fan drew the Green Lotus, the Monkey raised his divine iron staff, the Demon lifted his stone implement, and the Black Emperor began laying down a great formation — all of them preparing for a decisive confrontation none could predict.

“Then let you all die together.” The Lord Emperor had gone mad. He had lost everything not long before — his Dao-heart had shattered — and now he was in a near-pathological state. What he could not obtain, he would destroy.

The Supreme Emperor’s immortal tree had been the vessel for all his hope — and now it was nowhere to be found.

The old woodcutter drew his woodcutting blade with a clear, ringing sound — dark on the spine, bright as snow on the edge — slicing through the star-sky. The blood across his entire body began to burn, his Primordial Spirit left his body, and his physical form slumped softly to the ground.

Boom!

The entire blade blazed more brilliantly than any river of stars, condensing within it all the essence of the old Daoist’s vital spirit. His Primordial Spirit had merged into it. He no longer had the strength for a prolonged battle or a bloody exchange of wounds — so he unleashed his most ferocious single strike, intending to end the fight in the shortest possible time.

The maddened Lord Emperor snapped to sudden clarity. This form of battle was the most dangerous — two beings on the threshold of the Dao staking their very lives, one of them liable to fall at any moment.

In just that one instant, the heavens and earth shook ten times — like ten blows at the moment of creation. To the onlookers’ horror, the aura that erupted was terrifying beyond measure — comparable to the dark chaos of more than three hundred years past.

Many felt their skin crawl. The woodcutting blade and the Lord Emperor collided ten times, each impact sending forth visions of the cosmos at its very beginning, with all manner of chaotic divine forms roaring and raging.

At last, the crimson dragon armor shattered. A great dragon was torn apart. And the Vermilion Bird that burst forth from within, though it gave a shrill, desperate cry, could not escape its killing doom — the woodcutting blade struck it directly.

Pfft!

A blood-soaked head flew through the air, fell before the ruins of the Heavenly Court — and then burst apart into a mist of flesh, the Primordial Spirit obliterated.

Clang!

The woodcutting blade fell to the ground. The old Daoist’s Primordial Spirit was dim beyond measure as it returned into the body that had collapsed upon the earth. With great effort he rose and flew back to the Dao Platform, his eyes without luster or light.

This was a victory at devastating cost. He had paid an enormous price.

The Lord Emperor was dead — cut down by another’s hand. One of this age’s rarest and mightiest supreme powers had been slain just like that. It felt deeply unreal.

Blood splattered down, heralding the downfall of a colossus. Everyone understood — the Spirit Court was finished. Not a single thread of hope remained.

“The Lord Emperor has been killed!”

This swept through like a violent storm — the news spreading in all directions, rolling out like a tide. Some immediately crossed the star-sky and departed.

The Spirit Court would fall. It was inevitable, and many had already begun making other arrangements.

The headless body cracked apart inch by inch, then dissolved into a pool of blood, and finally burned away — leaving nothing behind. The Lord Emperor was gone.

“The world is about to descend into great chaos. The Undying Empress seeks to walk a blood-drenched path to the Dao, bathing in the sacred blood of ten thousand living beings. I intend to build a Dao Palace — to restore order to the cosmos and bring an end to the bloodshed.”

In Zhou Yi’s steadying embrace, the old Daoist rose with great difficulty and spoke slowly.

His tone was flat and even — yet the words spread throughout all heaven and earth. Like an ancient divine being returning from the furthest reaches of time, even the stars in the cosmos ceased their motion for that brief moment, with only those words reverberating on.

On that day, the Dao Palace — founded by the old Daoist’s own hand — was formally established, shaking the cosmos. Its ranks were filled with masters and powerful cultivators beyond count.

On that day, the Spirit Court was destroyed. The Lord Emperor’s line of succession was severed, swept clean by several great powers — every last trace wiped away.

On that day, the Undying Empress proclaimed to all beneath the heavens her intention to build an undying dynasty. From among the ten thousand living beings, powerful cultivators came flocking like clouds — all from races that had once revered the Undying Celestial Emperor as their supreme divine sovereign.

On that day, the Underworld stirred. Many witnessed countless yin armies crossing through the various great star regions — traversing the rivers of stars — as though marching toward some battlefield.

On that day, the divine organization also made great moves. In certain regions, ancient stone idols of the gods suddenly began to glow.