Chapter 779: There Is Only One Southern Emperor in the South Continent

The roar received no response.

The Southern Emperor was engulfed in starlight and heavenly fire, slowly consuming his essence until his round arms began to tremble uncontrollably.

The crimson treasure chariot before him emitted a dragon’s roar like a great bell, its entire body blazing like a radiant sun, appearing as a vast, boundless ball of fire.

BOOM—

The Southern Emperor finally collapsed, violently flung away by the charging fire dragon chariot.

His massive body was torn open by a horrifying gash; this top-tier demon of Great South Continent now resembled a bloated, ruptured sack, rolling helplessly several times before coming to rest.

In the silent, empty expanse of white clouds, only the Southern Emperor’s heavy breathing remained.

“Huh… huh…”

Even under these conditions, the young man still did not appear, silently hiding behind the banner array, draining his will and strength.

The Southern Emperor had faced countless dangers in his life; even before gaining his current power, he had been hunted by powerful masters from great sects far stronger than himself.

But never before had he felt such overwhelming dread, with not a single glimmer of hope for victory.

It’s time to go… or I’ll never leave.

The Southern Emperor abandoned his clumsy performance, slowly rising to his feet. His aura was clearly at its weakest point, barely holding back the erosion of starlight and heavenly fire, yet his gaze grew even more resolute. No longer could he surge forward as before—so he staggered forward step by step.

The roaring fire dragon treasure chariot would strike without warning from the clouds, once again hurling the indigo-colored mountain of flesh away.

But each time, the Southern Emperor slowly rose again.

He no longer mocked or wasted even a shred of strength; his eyes remained fixed straight ahead, seeing only the four remaining flickering stars.

Finally, the Southern Emperor stood before another massive star.

He raised his arm weakly, then clenched his five fingers tightly.

THUD!

Earlier, a single palm strike could have shattered this star far larger than himself; now, he could only crack its surface slightly.

Yet in an instant, his fists rained down like a storm.

The entire star slowly shattered, soon collapsing into half its former size.

At that moment, a dark bell appeared in the heavens.

As it swayed gently, the dull chime released a torrent of tribulation energy, carrying the massive treasure bell with it into a surging ocean that roared and washed over the indigo mountain of flesh.

“ROAR!”

The Southern Emperor planted his feet firmly, halting his retreat, then marched step by step back to the broken star.

His breath rasped like a broken bellows, his skin once again sagging into thick, flabby folds, trembling slightly—he was clearly exhausted—but before the ocean could slam him back again, he roared and raised his fists once more.

“You remember—I am—”

“The Southern Emperor!”

In an instant, a deafening explosion shattered the heavens as the broken star, like the others before it, crumbled into dust.

Simultaneously, the Nine Suns Banner, half-destroyed, could no longer sustain the illusionary array.

The vast white clouds, like a curtain, were violently ripped away by an invisible hand.

The Southern Emperor stood within the ocean, like an unshakable mountain, or a drenched primordial beast, hunched over, staring fixedly ahead.

Before him appeared a roaring fire dragon treasure chariot.

A six-armed Dharma body, shimmering with golden light, stood atop the chariot, charging across the sky with unstoppable force; heavenly fire flared like red silk around his six arms, and in the next instant, six golden fire fists slammed simultaneously into the Southern Emperor’s chest!

AUNG!

The Southern Emperor rolled backward, flying through the air.

When he finally landed, sprawled on the ground, the gaping wound on his chest and abdomen now consumed his entire body.

Despite such grievous wounds, the mountain of flesh trembled slightly—it was laughing.

“I… won…”

He opened his mouth, revealing a grotesque, icy grin.

He pushed with both hands, slowly lifting his body from prone to half-kneeling, then striving to stand fully upright.

So the Nine Suns Banner and the fire dragon chariot were all the opponent had.

Now, the one who should tremble in sleepless fear is this little beast.

“….”

In the government courtyard of Liuli Mansion, Yan Lan’s pupils trembled slightly.

The three Regional Commanders had witnessed firsthand how many techniques this demon had endured—and still, he stood.

The infamous atrocities recorded in ancient texts now seemed to leap from the pages, taking tangible form as this mountain of flesh, suffocating all who watched.

At that moment, all three men’s eyelids twitched.

A figure in black robes swayed forward—the seemingly exhausted young man stepped calmly onto the Southern Emperor’s skull.

Instantly, the Southern Emperor’s rising motion froze.

“ROAR—”

He emitted a low, muffled growl, yet could not lift his head: “You dare… challenge me?”

Shen Yi gave no reply, standing silently with hands at his sides.

Yet the movement of his robes grew increasingly violent.

On his pale arms, veins swelled like coiled dragons, quickly spreading to his neck.

Shen Yi tilted his head slightly, lips tightly pressed.

Behind him, the towering Bodhisattva Dharma body raised one arm again, driving the demon-subduing mace—symbolizing the ferocious tiger and the earth—like a dagger straight into the Southern Emperor’s lower back.

Amid a thunderous roar, the drenched beast suddenly surged upward a thousand zhang.

He had walked so many steps—how could he fall now, at the final one?

CRACKLING—CRACKLING—

The Southern Emperor’s skull rose inch by inch, repeating his earlier act, roaring again: “I am—”

SSSHHH—

Shen Yi’s black robes tore open, blood beads oozing from his skin.

Earlier, a casual move by the Southern Emperor had nearly crushed the three Regional Commanders, each wielding six-six sets of demon-slaying orders.

Though Shen Yi possessed ninety-one primordial orders, he was still merely a cultivator of the Six-Six Transformation realm—never having completed his transformation.

Yet facing the Southern Emperor’s rise, he showed no retreat; instead, he stomped forward heavily.

THUD!

The Southern Emperor’s raised head was slammed back down, his roar cut off mid-sentence.

Shen Yi finally parted his tightly pressed lips; his clean white teeth were already soaked in crimson blood, thick fluid spreading across his jaw, soaking his robe.

“Remember this.”

He brushed his hand across his jaw, glanced down at the flesh mountain beneath him, voice hoarse: “There is only one Southern Emperor in the South Continent.”

“That is me—Nanyang.”

As he spoke, Shen Yi’s bleeding palm fell calmly.

Before the eyes of all Liuli Mansion’s people, the majestic golden Dharma body slowly raised both arms, taking hold of the Vermilion Bird longsword behind him.

The golden body gripped the hilt tightly, holding the long blade upside-down, its tip pointing directly at the Southern Emperor’s skull.

Instantly, crimson patterns surfaced along the blade, surging upward into four fiery lines stretching from earth to sky—like the wings of a divine bird, or chains tethering the sword.

The entire heavens turned blood-red.

The next instant, the blade fell.

SPLASH—

The entire Vermilion Bird longsword pierced straight through the mountain of flesh’s skull.

Amid the blazing, sky-piercing crimson flames, Shen Yi stood coldly before the massive blade, his tattered sleeves no longer flaring wildly—only gently stirred by the flame-wind, marking the end of this struggle.

The Southern Emperor’s body suddenly stiffened, as if struck by lightning; his furious eyes gradually lost focus.

The coiled dragon mace on his back, the demon-subduing mace in his lower back, and the ocean of water engulfing his body—all seemed to form a strange connection with the Vermilion Bird sword piercing his skull.

The energies of the four artifacts intertwined, forming a dark-golden halo upon his skin.

This was Shen Yi’s realm.

Through the restraint of the Nine Suns Banner and the fire dragon chariot, he had successfully implanted this realm into the Southern Emperor’s body.

“Huh… huh…”

The Southern Emperor’s body slumped helplessly, staring blankly at the clear sky—strangely, he offered no rebuttal to Shen Yi’s words.

The techniques this man had shown were utterly insufficient to secure victory.

Throughout the entire battle, he had countless opportunities to turn the tide.

Yet the opponent never granted him even one.

Moreover, this Nanyang General could not have won merely through caution.

He hid when he should hide—and when he needed to strike fiercely and decisively, he never hesitated.

He committed no mistakes, no carelessness—and seized every single opportunity! This was the most terrifying thing.

A desperate smile appeared at the Southern Emperor’s lips; the moment the halo on his skin became perfectly whole, his pupils lost all light.

【Killed Third-Rank Flesh Lingzhi, total lifespan: ten thousand kalpas, remaining lifespan: eight thousand two hundred kalpas, absorption complete】

“….”

The entire Liuli Mansion fell utterly silent.

The three Regional Commanders sat stunned in their chairs, having witnessed firsthand what was surely the pinnacle battle of Great South Continent.

Though all three were at the Third Rank, they could only feel suffocation.

Wu Shan’s breath froze; in his vision, only the dark silhouette within the blazing immortal sword piercing the heavens remained.

All the grand words he had tossed and turned over night after night could not match the shock of the Southern Emperor’s final, casual remark.

Once the arrogant Southern Emperor, that terrifying, world-ending figure streaking across the sky.

Now he knelt silently at the other’s feet.

“My lords.”

Ye Lan walked slowly behind the several Garrison Commanders of Zhennan, wiping their blood with a handkerchief, then looked up at Shen Yi in the sky, his voice strangely hoarse: “Nanzhou is alive.”

From this very moment of the Southern Emperor’s death, Nanzhou could never again assemble a force of demons and evils capable of threatening the Divine Dynasty’s stability.

Unless a great sect intervened directly… but that would violate their original intent of siphoning the imperial qi of mortals.

Neither the Patriarch of the Bodhi Sect nor the Patriarch of the Three Immortal Sects would allow their disciples to commit such short-sighted acts—they sought to replace the Human Emperor, not destroy the very roots of his incense.

In other words, Nanzhou had become the only unbroken continent in the entire Divine Dynasty, solely through the strength of one man!

“And what of him…?”

Yan Lanting slowly turned his head; the elderly man of high rank now trembled at the lips.

After accepting the Southern Emperor’s death, his stunned mind finally regained some clarity, and he began to understand certain things.

Even this Southern Yang General could not create something from nothing.

The reason he possessed such overwhelming power over Nanzhou was because he had seized it from those great sects.

Just as the Southern Emperor had once called him… Bodhisattva.

Nanzhou is alive—then what fate awaits the “traitor” who shattered the Southern Sumeru’s grand design?

“I don’t know.”

Ye Lan’s hoarse voice carried a faint tremor of tears.

The last time he felt this helpless was years ago, on the night he learned his sect had been wiped out.

No matter how hard he strained his mind, he could not imagine how Shen Yi would escape this quagmire—how could the true Buddhas and Bodhisattvas of Southern Sumeru let him go?

Could anyone in this world truly survive the hands of those beings who transcended the two realms and stood beyond the Five Phases?

“…”

With Shen Yi’s current cultivation base, every word spoken within the Glass Palace was crystal clear to him.

Yet his face showed no trace of sorrow.

The matter was not yet over; it was far too soon for grief or lamentation.

Shen Yi stepped down from the Southern Emperor’s body, then turned back to watch the flesh mountain slowly wither, soon shrinking from a towering, vast mass into a single broken lingzhi mushroom, no taller than his boot.

Only by witnessing this firsthand could one grasp its awe.

Such a tiny plant had somehow climbed to the position that shook all of Nanzhou.

Shen Yi bent down, picked it up, then stepped into Grand Void.

The interface instantly unfolded.

The eight thousand years of demonic lifespan he had just acquired dissolved into a sky of golden mist.

Shen Yi seized the final eight golden threads from it.

The ultimate of transformation meant completing his own Dao path.

The Guardian Bodhisattva’s form was now nearly perfect; adding anything further would only seem superfluous.

This final stroke…

Shen Yi gazed at the Golden Body seated within his core; his soul hesitated no longer, drawing all the extra golden threads and smearing them onto the Golden Body’s third eye.

He would open the form’s eye, so it might eternally observe the workings of this heaven and earth.

To become part of it.

In an instant, the golden threads converged into a molten stream, forming a blazing vertical pupil at the form’s brow!

Simultaneously, Shen Yi glimpsed a fleeting, utterly simple Dao pattern on the form’s surface—like a child’s idle stroke with a twig, seemingly meaningless.

“Immovable…”

Yet Shen Yi somehow knew how to speak its name.

Alas, the pattern vanished instantly.

At his current realm, he had not truly touched this level—only a fleeting glimpse.

The ultimate of the Nine-Nine Transformations—take one more step, and one attains Great Freedom!

“Huh.”

Even before the lure of the Dao, Shen Yi swiftly calmed his heart.

He turned and stepped directly out of Grand Void, chasing after the direction beyond Nanzhou.

…

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A lithe figure desperately fled through the mountains and forests.

Its breath trembled—it was terrified beyond measure, daring not to use aerial teleportation, relying solely on its legs to run itself to exhaustion.

Finally, with its last step forward.

The Dragon-Lizard Elder finally escaped the Divine Dynasty’s borders—but before any relief could touch its face, before it even exhaled, its entire body froze in place.

“So you’re here.”

The mocking voice at its ear brought a bitter expression to the Elder’s face.

It did not turn; it lowered its head in defeat: “My lords… this humble demon truly… lacks the strength.”

At least five or six footsteps rustled nearby.

One stepped forward calmly, patted the Dragon-Lizard Elder on the shoulder, and smiled: “Don’t worry—I said you could do it, and you can.”

(End of Chapter)