Yet at this moment, Zhao Li, noble prince that he was, could only watch helplessly as those fragments of the laws of heaven and earth—which should have belonged to him—surged like a hundred rivers returning to the sea toward an obscure, nameless martial wanderer.
The sensation felt as though a dull, rusty knife were being unhurriedly plunged straight into his heart.
The canopy above his head had shrivelled to the size of a fist, cowering into a trembling ball of golden light.
The nine golden dragons upon the canopy no longer held their draconic forms, resembling nine loaches pinned by their vitals, pitifully huddling together without even the courage to raise their heads.
Zhao Li stared fixedly through the window at the tattered young man leaning on an old spear upon the reef beach.
Blood vessels spiderwebbed across the whites of his eyes, and a dark, suffocating savagery churned within his still-intoxicated gaze.
“Daoist Master.”
When he spoke, his voice was unnaturally calm.
Yet having resided in the prince's manor for twenty years, Qingyangzi understood his master's temperament all too well.
The calmer he appeared, the more terrible the impending storm.
Years ago, a retainer had let slip a drunken remark, claiming that the Third Prince's sword techniques were inferior to a certain sword instructor in the Second Prince's manor.
Zhao Li had uttered a mere “Is that so?” in this exact tone back then.
And the very next day, that retainer's corpse was found floating in a canal outside the city.
“Your Highness.”
Qingyangzi swallowed hard.
“Since this prince cannot have these things...”
Zhao Li turned around, his bloodshot eyes pinning Qingyangzi in place as the corners of his mouth slowly curled upward into a smirk.
There was not a trace of warmth in that smile, only a near-cruel ruthlessness.
“...that man shall not have them either.”
He took a step forward, stepping directly onto a burning array line.
Golden-red flames licked at the soles of his boots, yet he was completely oblivious.
“Go. Kill him for me.”
Qingyangzi's pupils shrank dramatically.
Originating as a lay disciple of Mount Longhu, he had cultivated the Dao for many years. Though expelled from his sect, the Daoist precept of awe toward the karma of heaven and earth was etched into his very bones.
Someone who could stand firm amid the residual sword qi shockwaves of two Earthly Sword Immortals—someone whom the laws of heaven and earth actively drew so close to—could never be a simple Second Rank martial artist.
Killing such a person would inevitably incur tremendous karma.
Yet with a single glance at Zhao Li's eyes, Qingyangzi swallowed every word back down.
“This poor Daoist obeys.”
Qingyangzi gave a low response, tucked his horsetail whisk into his waist, and gripped the Black Iron Heaven-Measuring Ruler with his right hand.
The markings on the ruler were still jumping wildly, but the intensity was gradually subsiding.
The golden-red glow of the Sky-Stealing Sun-Swapping Formation was also slowly fading, its array lines extinguishing inch by inch like a wilting spider lily.
This formation, which had cost him decades of painstaking effort, had become an utter laughingstock before this young man who had appeared out of nowhere.
Qingyangzi forced a bitter smile in his heart.
“Your Highness, that young man is currently undergoing a baptism of the laws of heaven and earth, making this his moment of weakest defense.
If we strike now, he will not even have the chance to fight back.”
His voice returned to its usual composure.
Hearing this, the smile on Zhao Li's lips widened further, the bloodshot veins in his eyes growing even thicker than before.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Qingyangzi nodded and held the Heaven-Measuring Ruler across his front, its markings lighting up once again.
Only this time, what shone was not an eerie blue, but a dark purple so deep it approached pitch black.
That was another usage of the Black Iron Heaven-Measuring Ruler.
Not for laying down formations, but for slaughter.
“Your Highness.”
Qingyangzi lowered his voice to a whisper.
“What else is there?”
Zhao Li furrowed his brows in impatience.
Qingyangzi fell silent for a breath.
“If this poor Daoist fails... Your Highness must leave Jinyang City immediately. Pay no mind to me, pay no mind to anyone else—return straight to the capital.”
Zhao Li's brows knitted tight. He was about to say something, but Qingyangzi had already swept out of the pavilion, swooping down toward that spearman.
Silence fell over Wangchao Pavilion once more.
Standing alone by the window, Zhao Li gazed out at the Eastern Sea—churned into utter chaos by sword intent—and suddenly smashed his fist hard against the window frame.
The nanmu window frame let out a dull, heavy thud, wood shavings fluttering down.
“Why him?”
His voice squeezed out from between his teeth, every single word laced with bone-deep malice.
He was asking Heaven, asking the unfair martial world, and asking that young spearman who had emerged from some unknown corner to snatch away all his fortune.
But no one answered him.
Only the two colliding sword lights over the Eastern Sea completely drowned out his question with earth-shattering roars.
“This prince would like to see just how many lives you have to compete with me.”
Upon the reef beach.
Naturally, Chen Zui had no idea that a Third Prince he had never even met hated him to the very bone.
Nor did he have the leisure to think about such things.
At this moment, his head felt as though it were splitting open, and every muscle in his body throbbed with agony.
The internal energy flowing through his meridians was like boiling water, bubbling furiously.
When the two sword immortals had clashed with full force earlier, the laws of heaven and earth had shattered in all directions, and those fragments of the laws had surged into his body like a swarm of locusts.
He had merely stood there doing nothing, yet those things had burrowed into the crown of his head as if they cost nothing at all.
The incoming fragments of the laws went wild inside his meridians.
He mobilized all his internal energy in an attempt to suppress them, only to discover that his internal energy was laughably vulnerable compared to those law fragments.
Just as he gritted his teeth and held on for dear life, a crisp system notification rang out deep within his mind.
【System detected that the host has successfully delivered the message on behalf of Gu Yiyou to Sword Immortal Shen, truthfully informing him.】
【System detected that the host has upheld pure sincerity, kept his promise, and risked death to fulfill righteousness, triggering a resonance with the Heavenly Dao.】
【Passive Skill: Purple Qi from the East has been triggered.】
【The Heavenly Dao senses this and bestows a gift: Fragments of the laws of heaven and earth are converging in vast quantities.】
When Chen Zui heard these words at the time, only a single thought crossed his mind.
I'm done for.
The next second, he was completely overwhelmed by that overwhelming deluge of law fragments.
As those law fragments flooded in, every single piece carried the residual sword intent erupted from the battle between the two Earthly Sword Immortals.
Two distinctly different sword intents went wild within his meridians, neither yielding an inch, neither conceding to the other.
His meridians throbbed with intense pain from being torn by the sword intent, every inch of bone and flesh protesting against this sudden gluttonous feast.
“Is this supposed to be an opportunity?”
“This is fucking trying to take my life.”
But he couldn't speak those words out loud.
Because it simply hurt too much.
Leaning heavily on his spear, he held on with all his might to keep from collapsing.
The spectating crowd atop the city walls also noticed this scene.
“W-What is going on here?”
Qin Tiegu almost dropped his wrought bronze staff.
“What on earth did he do?”
A-Tong poked his head out from behind the martial artist in tight attire, his eyes wide and round.
“Big Brother Chen is glowing! Look, he's glowing all over!”
Chen Zui was indeed glowing.
It was an extremely faint, purple-gold radiance.
Seeping out from his dantian, it flowed slowly along his meridians.
Wherever it passed, his skin became almost translucent, allowing the faint contours of the bones beneath to be glimpsed.
That purple-gold radiance was not blinding, yet it carried an aura that made one instinctively want to bow their head.
“Fortune baptism...”
A knowledgeable old martial artist atop the city wall muttered, his voice brimming with disbelief.
“This is a fortune baptism! A phenomenon that only appears when the laws of heaven and earth shatter on a grand scale! What on earth is this kid's background?”
“Old Qin.”
Hearing this, a martial artist from Furnace-Listening Pavilion swallowed nervously.
“Along the way... did we speak a bit too loudly to Young Hero Chen?”
“Shut up.”
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