Chapter 1: Chapter One: Call Me Dad—Dare You Answer? (New Book, Please Collect!)

Since Jiang Ziya invested the gods and the deities took their places, eight hundred years have passed in the Heavenly Realm.

One day in heaven equals one year on earth; now, the mortal world has reached twenty-nine thousand years later.

At this time, the land flourishes in harmony, the celestial ladle returns to Yin. In most regions of the Four Continents, grass sprouts blanket the earth in green, peach blossoms paint the hills red, and the vibrant energy of deep spring is plainly visible to the naked eye.

But this place is the Flowing Sands Domain.

Eight hundred li of flowing sands, three thousand fathoms of weak water. A goose feather cannot float; reed flowers sink to the bottom.

A great river stretches eight hundred li in length, extending millions of li from end to end.

Not only is it vast and boundless, like an endless ocean, but its waters are weak water—unsuitable for the survival of nearly all normal plants and animals.

Weak water is “light in weight,” easily stirred into towering waves by the wind.

The waves frequently scour the banks for ten or even hundreds of li, creating vast stretches of desert along the river’s edge.

“Damn sand barbarians! You killed my nine brothers and shot down my beloved steed—die, you bastards~~~~”

Ge Qing, squad leader of the Iron Cavalry, Deer Wild Guard of the Western Shu Kingdom, roared with furious hatred.

Before his thousand-li steed could collapse with a mournful cry, he leapt from the saddle—his nine-foot frame shot forward as if shedding gravity, his dark cloak snapping behind him like the wings of a soaring heron, swift and ethereal.

In a single breath, he crossed seven or eight zhang.

Like a gray heron snatching a lake fish, the next instant he was upon the small sand barbarian clad in a tiger-skin skirt.

As Ge Qing’s saber was about to fall upon the child’s tiny nape, his rugged, bearded face twisted into a cruel, triumphant grin.

“Boom!”

Suddenly, the small sand barbarian stumbled as if tripped, rolled forward, and hurled a gray, shapeless object backward—precisely striking the blade’s edge, exploding into a cloud of gray-white smoke.

Ge Qing instinctively raised his hand to shield his face, yet a layer of “ash” still clung to his skin; immediate, searing pain stabbed his eyes, nostrils, and mouth.

As if scorched by fire.

“Cough, cough—this is... quicklime?!”

No sooner had Ge Qing coughed a few times than he sharply sensed his “Xuanwu True Qi” surging uncontrollably, his internal organs nearly ruptured by the wild energy.

In fact, as he coughed, fine trails of blood had already seeped from his lips, nostrils, and corners of his eyes.

“How could my Xuanwu True Qi lose control... No, the Xuanwu True Gang is a secret art of the Meng family of Great Qin—most balanced and harmonious; it could never act without cause—”

Ge Qing’s heart surged with shock and rage; his mind raced through a hundred thoughts as he struggled to regain control of his inner qi.

The next instant, he realized: “You little brat—you didn’t just throw quicklime; you hid poison inside it—”

Before his roar ended, a glint of cold light pierced through the dust and reached his throat.

A seven-cun curved dagger, its blade a strange purplish-red.

“Cunning dog barbarian—this dagger is coated in poison.”

Ge Qing cursed inwardly, yet his expression grew calm and still.

In that instant, he carefully observed every minute expression and motion of the dagger’s wielder.

“It’s a girl... and so young...”

Ge Qing was deeply startled. Earlier, chasing on horseback, he’d only seen her back—her slender, agile frame, her ruthless, seasoned killing technique, her short hair barely covering her ears—he’d assumed she was a deformed, experienced sand assassin.

“Even if she’s a little girl, she must die—my brothers deserve peace!”

These thoughts flashed in an instant; all emotion in Ge Qing’s eyes was swept away by crimson killing intent.

His ten-man cavalry unit now had only him left—they were the Shu King’s elite guards!

Those brothers weren’t just comrades—they were fellow villagers, childhood friends from his own town. He would have to face their aging parents, their weeping wives and children.

“Go!” Ge Qing opened his mouth and softly uttered one word.

An invisible force erupted from his body; two contradictory sensations—weakness and strength—simultaneously struck his heart.

Strength came from the absolute safety and overwhelming power of the True Gang .

Weakness came from the massive drain—the true essence in his dantian would be spent in mere breaths.

“Thud!” Xiao Yu felt as if she had slammed into Pei En’s Shen Luo Tian Zheng.

Xiao Yu felt as if she’d collided with Peng’s Divine Law: Universe.

The dagger struck the “steel plate” and was flung away by a tremendous force, shooting like a meteor past her ear hundreds of meters away, snatching away a few strands of sweat-dampened hair.

The dagger struck a “steel plate” and was flung away by a colossal force, streaking like a meteor hundreds of meters past her ear, snatching away a few strands of sweat-dampened hair.

She let out a muffled groan, clutching her right wrist, bending her knees slightly, retreating in a zigzag, serpentine motion that kicked up clouds of sand.

Her wrist was fractured—but the bone hadn’t broken.

Her chest throbbed with dull pain—two ribs must be cracked.

Her nose felt as if she’d sprinted headfirst into a stone wall—numb, no pain, only silent wetness trickling down.

What was that?

The “qi wall” erupting from the cavalry squad leader was harder and more solid than most stone walls—could this be the legendary “immortal art”?

The “energy wall” erupting from the cavalry squad leader was harder and more solid than most stone walls—could this be the legendary “immortal technique”?

At least a martial master.

Xiao Yu clutched her right wrist, letting her nosebleed trickle over her pale lips, her bright eyes filled with clear pain and despair.

Xiao Yu clutched her right wrist, letting blood trickle over her pale lips, her bright eyes filled with clear pain and despair.

Before her, the gray toxic lime dust still covered a ten-square-meter patch of sand; within it, a transparent oval sphere shielded the Shu cavalry squad leader, all dust kept from touching his skin.

“Barbaric savages—how could you comprehend the divine martial arts of the Central Kingdom?!”

Ge Qing’s face was expressionless; in his right hand, the golden-ringed saber glowed within swirling True Gang as he stepped slowly out of the toxic dust.

“Sigh—this world, cultivation is the primary productive force! Damn it—why was I reborn among the illiterate sand barbarians of the Liusha River? If only I could access divine manuals...”

Xiao Yu rubbed her aching wrist, realigning the dislocated bone, her mind brimming with bitter reflections.

Ge Qing saw she was wounded, seemingly incapacitated, but his will to kill remained unshaken, his movements not a whit slower.

Ge Qing saw she was wounded, seemingly incapacitated—but his will to kill remained unshaken, his movements unhesitant.

A layer of translucent qi wrapped the blade; even from six or seven steps away, Xiao Yu’s face stung with sharp, cutting pain.

No doubt—this slash, if it landed, would cleave her small frame in two, even if her body were forged of iron or bronze.

“Father, don’t kill me!” Xiao Yu stepped back two paces and knelt, wailing.

“What?” Even Ge Qing, his killing intent so absolute, staggered slightly.

Mysterious, incomprehensible... but since she called him “Father” and not “Grandson,” why shouldn’t he gladly accept it?

Nonsensical, incomprehensible... but since she called him “father,” not “grandson,” why not accept the honor?

“Don’t kill me—I surrender! I... I’m alone, wandering half my life, lucky to meet you, my lord—I beg to become your adopted father~~ Father, Father!”

Xiao Yu’s face and eyes were filled with terror and panic—perfectly matching her image: shameless, irrational, screaming for mercy.

Yet her left hand already gripped another poisoned dagger bound to her calf.

“Without even a shred of shame—you kneel and call me father the moment you lose? You truly are uncivilized barbarians! Even the street thugs of Shu are more dignified.”

Ge Qing sneered, yet watched every move she made, amused and irritated: “Good child, this trick won’t fool your father.”

“Heh—this world where gods and Buddhas appear—call you father out of nowhere, and you’d actually say yes?”

Xiao Yu, cautious and silent, couldn’t help but flash a bright, smug smile across her face.

As if the despair and fear moments ago had been illusions... in truth, those expressions had been pure acting.

Before calling him father, she’d seen his protective True Gang like an eggshell—perfect, flawless... at least, to Xiao Yu, who knew no martial arts, there was no flaw.

In the barbarian tribes west of the Liusha River, not even a single complete book existed, let alone cultivation manuals.

In her eleven years, Xiao Yu had never seen a True Gang master; she had no understanding of Ge Qing’s “qi burst”—she didn’t even know it was called “True Gang ,” let alone find a flaw.

Now that she’d called him “father,” and he’d accepted—actually, before he spoke, she already knew he didn’t resist; no resistance meant acceptance.

She had a “Great Annihilation Dad” as a golden finger. She didn’t yet understand its nature, only that it had two activation modes: one, formal adoption as father; two, losing a fight and shouting “Dad!” on the spot.

Once he became her “adopted father,” she could “see” how to kill him.

At this moment, “Great Annihilation Dad” activated via the second method.

Like Taishang Laojun’s Purple Gold Red Gourd, whether you’re “Sun Wukong,” “Zhe Xing Sun,” or “Sun Lao Liu”—if you answer, the gourd swallows you.

The activation threshold of “Great Annihilation Dad” is even lower than the Purple Gold Red Gourd.

Simply saying “yes” activates it; even if you say nothing but inwardly accept—even if you’re just thinking of taking advantage, as long as you don’t firmly resist, it still activates.

Now, mid-battle, mid-life-or-death, she shouted “Dad!”—and driven by the subconscious belief that “if you don’t take the advantage, you’re a fool,” Ge Qing’s instinctive inner response was “Mm,” and “Great Annihilation Dad” activated.

After activation, as Xiao Yu stared again at Ge Qing wrapped in True Gang , a mysterious purple space in her mind rapidly sketched a tiny figure in dotted lines.

Inside the 3D dotted figure’s abdomen glowed a “fire”—the dantian “fire” extended hazy “fire lines” that wandered through Ge Qing’s body.

Xiao Yu guessed these were the pathways of his true qi.

Too blurry—she couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t understand.

The golden finger only granted one function: “Kill your adopted father, become the filial child”—it wouldn’t magically analyze her “dad’s” internal cultivation.

The dantian “fire” and the wandering “fire lines” were merely aids to help her perceive the flaw in the protective True Gang .

The outer True Gang , generated by the inner “fire,” was no longer a smooth, perfect eggshell.

It resembled a cocoon woven of threads—some threads broken, the cocoon full of gaps.

Cut along those broken threads, and the cocoon would shatter.

Xiao Yu activated her only known “mystical technique”—the Rooster Blood Breathing Method—using a specific breathing rhythm to stir her blood and qi.

Like an adrenaline shot.

Her face, neck... every exposed inch of skin flushed crimson; the arm gripping the dagger and her crouched legs bulged with fine, raised veins.

“Swoosh!”

In the instant Ge Qing’s saber slashed down, Xiao Yu vanished from his sight.

“Sssssss!”

He had no time to turn and find her—she moved faster than lightning, and a string of sparks erupted from the energy shield on Ge Qing’s left shoulder.

It was Xiao Yu’s dagger.

She had already appeared at his side, swiftly slashing the outer layer of his protective aura with the dagger.

It looked like wild hacking, but each cut landed precisely on the “vital points” of the aura shield.

“Sssssss, sssssss!” Her movements were too fast—the blade severed the “energy threads” of the aura, sending out a cascade of sparks.

The aura was too hard, like solid stone. The blade scraped against the “hard rock,” wearing down.

Though his strike missed empty air, thirty years of cultivation kept Ge Qing’s steps steady and his body agile—he didn’t stumble once.

But in the instant he turned his head, the dagger had already slashed seven or eight times across the aura’s surface along a chaotic, random path—Ge Qing thought it was utterly disordered, with no pattern whatsoever.

“The village fool’s crude barbarian—can’t even generate internal qi—and yet dares to—”

Before the cavalry squad leader’s mockery finished, the sneer on his face froze rigid.

“Shhhhh!”

He seemed to hear the sound of a large porcelain vase shattering.

The aura, which had perfectly encased his body, cracked into more than ten fragments, then instantly dissolved into swirling masses of “gale-force wind,” howling violently in all directions.

“Pfft!” With the aura shattered, Ge Qing’s “Xuanwu True Qi” immediately went out of control—dozens of places in his five viscera, six bowels, and all his meridians were damaged. His face turned as pale as gold paper; he spat out a mouthful of blood, his vision blurring.

“Sss!”

The next instant, his throat turned cold, his life and vitality draining rapidly.

“No! I’ve forged the invincible, unbreakable Zhenwu Aura—I’ll cross the Liusha River by year’s end to compete for a position in the Great Qin’s Yumen Guard! I... I won’t accept this!”

Even with his aura shattered and his qi raging out of control, Ge Qing did not lose consciousness.

On the contrary, after his throat was pierced, his mind became clearer than ever—he thought of his parents back home, his gentle wife, his mischievous son, Lord Lieyang, the Meng family’s Yumen Guard...

“Shhhhh~~ Be good, don’t thrash around—let the blood flow faster, let your mind go fuzzy, and the pain will fade~~”

Xiao Yu pressed her right elbow against Ge Qing’s head and, with her left hand, drove the dagger up and down, left and right, carving deep, wide gashes across his neck.

Like slaughtering a New Year’s pig, thick black-red foam gushed from the wounds, staining a large portion of her tiger-skin skirt red.

The “Aura Master”’s vitality was unexpectedly tenacious.

Earlier, Xiao Yu had already killed nine fully armed iron-clad cavalrymen.

Poison smoke, poison arrows, poison darts, poison nets, poisoned animal traps... even if none of them struck true at once, didn’t kill instantly, or didn’t drop dead on the spot, they at least had no chance to warn others—they died too quickly, letting her pick them off one by one like kites.

But someone like Ge Qing—core struck, poisoned by the Yu Clan’s deadly toxin—and still screaming, still struggling fiercely—she had never encountered such a thing in her life...

“I fear I’ll keep running into more like him—and each one stronger than the last.”

A shadow darkened Xiao Yu’s heart.