Chapter 956: The Great Sun Sword Disciple in His Prime

Under this sword, the Ice Plain Heavenly Lord died!

Jiang Ding’s gaze flickered.

His eyes seemed hazy, blurred, affected by the karmic traces of the Annihilating Golden Sword, seeing a place impossibly distant.

That place was not even the Western Desert—it lay beneath an endless ocean, at the bottom of a ten-thousand-zhang abyss, where a colossal ice-crystal egg rested silently on the ground.

This scene had endured for countless years—perhaps several thousand, perhaps ten thousand.

It had always been this way, never changing, never visited by any life, unknown to all.

Crack!

At a certain moment, the ice-crystal egg changed.

A crack appeared on its shell, spreading rapidly until it covered the entire egg, crackling incessantly until it shattered completely.

Shriek!

Amidst swirling dust, a phoenix the size of a carriage emerged, its neck arched in song—a clear, melodious cry that spread across the land, bringing life to this dark, lifeless abyss.

“Tu Shan!”

“Tu Shan!”

“I will remember you, I will remember you—after you die, I will exterminate your bloodline, I will obliterate your Tu Shan Central Court, kill every human on earth, leave not a single chicken or dog alive…”

The voice emerging from this beautiful ice-crystal phoenix was pleasing to the ear, yet devoid of the ethereal holiness of a divine bird—filled instead with hatred, venom, chilling to the bone.

This, in fact, is the tradition of long-lived beings.

I cannot defeat you now—fine. I am sealed away, imprisoned for thousands or even ten thousand years—by then, every formidable enemy, every prodigy, will have aged, their strength greatly diminished, the perfect moment for revenge.

If still unsure, simply outlast them—do not even wait for their twilight years. Only after confirming their death will I open their coffin, desecrate their corpse, exterminate their bloodline, slaughter their clan, and laugh loudly upon their grave.

Since ancient times, beautiful women and mighty generals are not allowed to grow old in the eyes of men.

Even the greatest prodigies—can they defy time?

“Tu Shan!”

“Shuo Yang...”

The Ice Plain Heavenly Lord whispered coldly.

She etched these two names deep into her soul, never to forget, never to let them fade.

Yet she did not notice—a faint crimson hue had appeared in her eyes, unnoticed.

This crimson was ordinary, faintly metallic, a color common in nature, never remarkable.

But if someone were here and saw this blood-gold hue for an instant, their mind would instantly conjure the image of a slender youth in blue robes, a long sword at his waist.

This instinct was uncontrollable.

That blue-robed youth was watching her silently.

Even stranger—the blood-gold hue within the Ice Plain Heavenly Lord’s eyes was spreading, inch by inch, toward her cheeks, her neck, her body, her ice-crystal wings.

“Tu Shan...”

Soon, her entire body was covered in dense, intricate blood-gold sword scars—yet she remained unaware, still shrieking with venom.

Until, finally, a single fine strand of blood-gold hair grew from her cheek, falling beneath her eye—finally seen.

“What is this?”

The Ice Plain Heavenly Lord’s heart lurched.

Instinctively, she used her spiritual sense and demonic power to inspect herself—only to find her body powerless, utterly rigid, unable to move, stripped of all control.

“No!”

“What kind of devilry is this!”

The Ice Plain Heavenly Lord screamed in terror.

Through shimmering waterlight, she saw a shadow—a bird-like monster draped in blood-gold fur, thrashing wildly, uselessly.

As it struggled, it triggered some ritual—the blood-gold hairs stood straight like countless blades, piercing her spiritual core, piercing her flesh and blood.

“No! No...”

“Spare me...”

The Ice Plain Heavenly Lord wailed—fear, despair, hatred—but nothing changed.

Her final shred of spiritual essence vanished as each blood-gold blade pierced her body.

A demonic lord who had suppressed the Western Desert for ten thousand years was dead.

In this forgotten abyss, ten thousand zhang deep, her body pierced by countless blood-gold flying swords no larger than needles—no trace of life remained.

All of this, though seeming long, occurred in an instant—the Ice Plain Heavenly Lord died, was reborn through nirvana, then died again.

All of it happened within a single sword stroke.

Even her body, split into two mountain-sized halves, had barely begun to fall.

“See? I told you you’d die. I’m no waste like Shuo Yang Heavenly Lord.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Now, do you believe?”

Jiang Ding murmured to himself.

He looked toward the Hundred-Legs Heavenly Lord, driven back again by his sword, and toward Xi Ping’an, who had burned his incense divine power and led hundreds of thousands of divine guards in a furious charge.

The heavens and earth fell silent.

The Ice Plain Heavenly Lord—who had suppressed the Western Desert for ten thousand years, who was among the strongest of Heavenly Lords—was dead. Killed in mere exchanges, slain while others were attacking him.

Slain by a direct sword strike!

“Ice Plain... Ice Plain is dead...”

The Hundred-Legs Heavenly Lord stood frozen, eyes wide with horror, unable to believe it.

Then,

Shhh!

Without looking back, he burned his essence and fled wildly—ignoring all strategy, all future, all consequences—abandoning everyone.

The half-man, half-centipede Daoist flashed several times, fleeing desperately, vanishing from sight.

“Waste!”

“Fool! Fool!”

Xi Ping’an muttered.

“Kill!”

He was neither surprised nor disheartened—he burned his incense core again, raised his golden greatsword, channeled the power of a thousand li of land and sky, and led his hundreds of thousands of incense divine guards in a crushing downward slash toward the blue-robed youth’s head.

“Hahaha!”

“Xi Dao friend, why blame others?”

Jiang Ding said calmly: “What you have here is merely your incense divine path’s core body—if you die, your power plummets, but you still live. How can you compare to the Hundred-Legs Daoist?”

“But don’t worry—I’ll find your rat’s nest. The Yu Xianmen’s surveillance arts are unmatched in this realm.”

“You say the former Great Sun Sword Master placed a restriction on you, one that triggers my bloodlust? Fine—I won’t kill you.”

“But if you’re crushed by a rock, drowned in water, or killed by a passing Nascent Soul cultivator—that’s none of my concern.”

Clearly, Jiang Ding had thought of everything.

Boom!

A brilliant sun rose within the thousand-li Great Sun Annihilation Sword Domain, facing the morning sun, radiating endless annihilation, destruction, forbidden arts, and distortion, striking directly at Xi Ping’an and his divine army, who had burned everything to ashes.

“Kill!”

Xi Ping’an growled, raising his golden greatsword, leading his divine army in a direct assault.

Boom!

Boom boom!

A terrifying explosion erupted—space shattered instantly over dozens of kilometers, searing heat waves spread in all directions, triggering cataclysmic disasters—every living thing within dozens of kilometers perished.

“Kill!”

Amidst shattered spiritual light and surging waves, golden-armored divine generals charged again, raising their greatswords, never retreating.

“Good. Very good.”

“Your battle will is commendable. At least this much, you haven’t disgraced the name of Xi Yuan.”

Jiang Ding offered praise without hesitation.

Jing!

The Taiqing Flying Sword hummed softly, another sword strike descended, landing upon Xi Ping’an’s burning golden greatsword.

Boom!

Boom boom!

One sword after another!

Brilliant, scorching spiritual light exploded continuously, the void shattered repeatedly, and space boiled like water.

It was clear—Xi Ping’an’s power had surged dramatically; he could now stand toe-to-toe with Jiang Ding in direct combat, refusing to yield, charging wildly.

Though his path differed, he embodied the bloodthirsty, relentless fighting style of the Great Sun Sword cultivators.

The cost: his burning incense divine core, and the ever-diminishing incense divine guards.

The cost was his burning incense god-core, and the ever-dissolving incense god-guards.

Two swords,

Two swords,

Three swords,

……

The seventh sword!

Chen Xi once again slammed back the Taiqing Flying Sword, gasping heavily amid the shattered space, leaning his sword into the ground, his aura drastically diminished.

He no longer had the strength to stand!

He looked around—he saw that millions of Incense God Guards had all perished, each slain by the spilling rays of the Great Sun Annihilation Sword Qi.

The Incense God Core within him, the core essence of the Incense God path, the vessel of authority, had now turned translucent and hazy; even without external force, it would collapse and self-destruct within a few breaths, having burned all its power.

He had expended everything, burned everything—and yet, this was all.

He had endured seven swords.

That was all.

“The Sword Pavilion’s Great Sun Sword Son…”

Chen Xi let out a bitter laugh.

He knew he had faced the Great Sun Sword Son in his peak state—stronger than the same-rank Mingguang Zi.

This was once the pride of his sect, meant to be a pillar of his Dao path—but now it was his sect’s mortal enemy, his father’s mortal enemy.

Shhh!

The Taiqing Flying Sword struck again, a blade from the clouds, piercing through his third eye.

“Sword Pavilion…”

Chen Xi’s body stiffened, his eyes instantly dimming to darkness.

The next instant, his colossal golden-armored divine general form collapsed like a mountain crumbling, countless spiritual lights spraying in all directions, leaving not a trace of life.