She slightly tightened the five fingers of her right hand, and her dark-gold finger bones let out a low rumble.
Crack!
Under the watch of one hundred thousand cultivators whose Dao Hearts were collapsing, that guardian divine weapon of the Cangyun Sect—which had accompanied Zhao Chengfeng for over a century and drank the blood of countless experts—was directly bent, deformed, and ultimately shattered with a loud bang by Su Yueli as if she were pinching clay.
Countless green fragments of the flying sword turned into a sky full of dazzling iron filings, scattering and slipping through the cracks of her fingers.
“Pfft—!”
With his vital divine weapon completely destroyed, the soul inside Zhao Chengfeng's body immediately suffered a severe backlash.
He violently spat out a mouthful of blood, his entire aura instantly withering. His originally ruddy face turned as deathly pale as a corpse within a microsecond.
“You... what kind of monster are you?!”
Zhao Chengfeng stared fixedly at Su Yueli, endless terror finally welling up from the depths of his eyes.
He had cultivated for over a thousand years and survived countless battles, yet he had never seen anyone use pure physical strength to crush the vital divine weapon of a Tenth Realm grand cultivator into iron filings with their bare hands. This completely shattered the most fundamental common sense of the cultivation world.
“Flee!”
At this moment, only this single thought remained in his mind.
This black-robed woman wearing a mask was no mundane ant at all; she was an ancient, ferocious deity clad in human skin!
However, before the spiritual energy in Zhao Chengfeng's body could circulate again, and before he could even take half a step backward, a gold-red afterimage had already stretched across the void.
It was too fast. In the face of the pure physical explosive power of the early stage Myriad Tribulations Realm, the movement techniques that Tenth Realm cultivators took pride in were as slow as a snail's crawl.
Su Yueli's figure crossed the void without causing the slightest fluctuation of spiritual energy. There was only a violent wind pressure that compressed the air into a vacuum due to her extreme speed.
Boom!
A dull, physical sonic boom suddenly exploded in front of Zhao Chengfeng. Su Yueli's straight punch had already arrived before his chest.
This punch was clean and swift, devoid of any brilliance from immortal techniques. Yet in Zhao Chengfeng's vision, this punch felt like a meteorite crashing down from the outer realms. The suffocating physical pressure completely evacuated all the air within a hundred-foot radius of his body.
“No... Sect Master, save me!”
Zhao Chengfeng let out a desperate scream. At this life-or-death moment, he forcibly summoned the immortal soul he had nurtured within his body for a thousand years, attempting to abandon his physical body and flee.
But before his immortal soul could even step out of his sea of consciousness, Su Yueli's punch had already landed squarely on his chest.
Boom—!
An indescribable, terrifying physical strength poured out in an instant. The moment Zhao Chengfeng's Tenth Realm physical body—which was strong enough to withstand a great tribulation—came into contact with the fist, it exploded directly into a cloud of blood mist in mid-air.
Bones, internal organs, and meridians all turned into the finest nothingness in an instant.
Within that scattering blood mist, a grey-blue immortal soul only an inch tall, wearing an expression of absolute terror and carrying the remnants of Zhao Chengfeng's soul power, screamed as it tried to flee toward the depths of the golden palace.
That was Zhao Chengfeng's final chance of survival. As long as his immortal soul remained intact, he could seize another body and start anew.
“Since you are here, don't bother leaving.”
Su Yueli stood amidst the blood mist with a calm expression, not a single drop of blood staining even the hem of her clothes.
At this moment, the dark-gold Martial Weapon Patterns inside the ring on her right index finger—Xiaohei, which locked down her aura—suddenly began to circulate frantically.
Whoosh—!
A terrifying suction force capable of completely devouring souls burst forth from within the ring.
The moment Zhao Chengfeng's Tenth Realm immortal soul, which had just fled several yards away, came into contact with this suction force, its forward momentum suddenly stiffened.
“What kind of treasure is this?! Let me go! No—!”
Accompanied by screams, Zhao Chengfeng's immortal soul was completely unable to resist this devouring force. In less than a single breath, the grey-blue immortal soul was dragged back, turning into a stream of light that was swallowed whole by Xiaohei.
On the surface of the ring, the dark-gold patterns flashed briefly before returning to its plain, rusty iron appearance.
Silence.
On the main square, only the unevaporated blood mist drifted down onto the white jade floor under the mountain wind, making a rustling sound.
A Tenth Realm Grand Elder, highly renowned in the Great Li cultivation world, had been completely and physically laid to rest by this masked, black-robed woman in the most primitive, unreasonable, and brutal manner in the span of just two short breaths. Not even a shred of his immortal soul remained.
At this moment, all one hundred thousand cultivators felt something deeply rooted in their minds cracking and shattering.
What had been the ironclad law of the cultivation world since ancient times? It was the supremacy of spiritual power and the peerlessness of divine abilities. The physical body was merely a smelly skin bag to house the soul, and mundane martial artists were nothing more than low-class laborers not even worth mentioning.
Yet now, a martial artist without a shred of spiritual energy had shattered the body of a peak Tenth Realm late stage expert with a single punch of the most brutal and pure physical strength, even obliterating his immortal soul on the spot.
“Absolute power... shatters all laws?”
A Ninth Realm sect ancestor sitting in the front row spoke with a tremble, his voice filled with unconcealable dread.
On the main seat of the high platform, the originally arrogant Young Sect Master, Lu Feiyu, was now trembling like a leaf. He gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, his knuckles turning white from overexertion.
The moment Zhao Chengfeng exploded into blood mist, Lu Feiyu felt true fear.
Beside Lu Feiyu, on a grand, pure gold throne radiating a faint immortal light, the current Sect Master of the Cangyun Sect, an Eleventh Realm mid stage expert—Lu Cangtian—also slowly sat up straight.
In his eyes, hidden in the shadows of the immortal light, the cold indifference that usually viewed all things as ants finally vanished completely at this moment. He locked his gaze onto Su Yueli, his voice as deep as a tolling bell:
“The pinnacle of the martial path... Myriad Tribulations Imperishable.”
“To think that in this world, someone has actually walked that dead martial path—which has been severed for tens of thousands of years—to this very step.”
Su Yueli stood amidst the vast pools of blood. With a trace of disgust, she shook off the slight trace of Zhao Chengfeng's blood remaining on her right hand.
With a flick of her wrist, the dark-red blood was dispersed by her pure physical force field, evaporating into a wisp of blue smoke.
Her loose black robe rustled in the mountain wind, and the carved white ghost mask glinted with a cold, eerie light in the biting wind at the peak.
She slowly raised her head, casting her cold, completely emotionless gaze directly toward the very top of the high platform.
“One.”
Su Yueli's red lips parted slightly, and a whisper devoid of any emotion drifted from beneath the mask.
“Next, it is your turn.”
Stepping through the bloody water on the white jade steps, she walked forward, step by step, toward the high platform.
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