Chapter 219: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! (6k)

At this moment, hearing Zhou Qing’s question, Second Uncle slowly opened his eyes, looking as if he hadn’t had enough.

“I haven’t really looked into it much—the eastern border of the Shengwu Empire borders a level-four cultivation nation called Jiuli.”

“That cultivation nation also borders four others, one of which appears to share a border with a level-five cultivation nation.”

He rubbed his chin, straining to recall, “That level-five nation… let me think—ah yes, Tianyun Holy Dynasty. That’s what it’s called, I think. Too far away—I’ve never been there.”

After hearing this, Zhou Qing’s eyes lit up.

“Tianyun Holy Dynasty? Then No. 6 must be from that nation!”

Not long after the Four Flowers Gathering at the Crown, No. 6 had mentioned this in the Divine Ruins Heavenly Palace, but No. 4 and No. 5 didn’t believe it.

After all, Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown was already exceedingly rare, let alone the unheard-of Four Flowers Gathering at the Crown.

Moreover, between the Shengwu Empire and the Tianyun Holy Dynasty lay several level-four cultivation nations. Even if No. 6 were a Cutting Spirit cultivator, it would be impossible for her to arrive so quickly—or hear of the Four Flowers Gathering at the Crown.

So it seems she was either within the Shengwu Empire’s borders or staying in a neighboring country.

Next time, I can test her.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” Zhou Qing asked, curiosity rising after hearing that eerie chuckle again.

Second Uncle waved his hand, wearing a mysterious expression. “Nothing. That Xuan Yuan kid showed up—I won’t go to the banquet. Just make up some excuse.”

No sooner had he spoken than a knock came at the door.

“Brother Zhou, His Majesty and the others have returned and have prepared a victory banquet—they’ve invited you over. By the way, is Brother Siyun here? His quarters seem empty.”

The voice came from outside the door—Xuan Yuan Yichen.

Zhou Qing glanced at Second Uncle, shrugged helplessly, and rose to step out of the room.

…

At the banquet, Xuan Yuan Shuo was extremely pleased.

Since the four-color formation began to decay, he had spent every day in constant anxiety.

Any slight disturbance from the Three Demon Mountains made him instantly alert.

Feng Lao, the Demon Emperor of Taiyao Mountain, acted unpredictably and had secretly infiltrated the interior multiple times—he had secretly followed and monitored him each time.

He had even begged his elder brother for help, hoping to find that level-four formation master again to repair the formation.

But the answer was that level-four formation masters were rare even in level-five cultivation nations—finding one was no easy task.

Helpless, he summoned the empire’s two highest-ranked level-three formation masters—Su Lishan and Wu Tiangang.

And he gave them without reservation the precious jade slip recording the formation.

Yet, after over five years, consuming vast resources and effort, the two had not only failed to solve the problem—they’d made the situation worse.

He had assumed the formation would remain half-dead indefinitely, but then Lin Daochen and Zhou Qing’s group arrived and repaired it completely in just three days.

What did this prove?

It proved that without finding the root cause, all other efforts were futile.

Su Lishan and Wu Tiangang had appeared diligent in patching the formation, but in truth, they’d only done surface work—blindly performing trivial repairs.

Worse, when they made mistakes, they rushed to blame others, nearly causing the entire formation to collapse.

Now, with the formation fully repaired, the heavy stone in his chest had finally lifted.

At this banquet, lanterns blazed brightly, the hall thrummed with noise, and the spacious hall was filled with exquisite delicacies, the air rich with wine.

Xuan Yuan Shuo raised his cup, stood, and scanned every person present, his face brimming with relief and gratitude.

“Today’s formation repair is entirely thanks to the efforts of Master Lin and young Zhou Qing and others—let us raise our cups to them!”

The commanders of the Nine Armies, including Xuan Yuan Shuo’s disciples, the Ninth Imperial Prince, and the Princess, all rose, raising their cups high in salute to Zhou Qing and Lin Daochen and the others.

Zhou Qing, Lin Daochen, and the others quickly stood, humbly bowing.

Yan Xiao Hu, drinking beside them, sighed softly after seeing No. 4 drink tea instead of wine.

Such a young man, ruined by Brother Du Kui.

But not drinking is good—it doesn’t interfere with matters, and Lu Yaoyao clearly dislikes No. 4 drinking.

But he couldn’t help it—he was already used to the drink; he’d never change in this lifetime.

“Brother Zhou, I’m Lu Jinghong, Left Deputy Commander of the Longxiang Army. I heard you defeated Jiangpo Army in less than half an hour—is that true?”

After three rounds of wine, a burly middle-aged man rose, cup in hand, and strode over.

Each army had two deputy commanders—left and right—both holding the Soul Transformation realm; Jiangpo Army was the right deputy commander.

Those unaware were stunned, including the Seventh Imperial Prince Xuan Yuan Yichen, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Jiangpo Army was a Soul Transformation expert—nearly invincible in his realm. How could Zhou Qing have defeated him?

Wait—

Xuan Yuan Yichen suddenly realized and probed Zhou Qing’s aura—he found it sealed like the ocean, not a trace leaking out.

“Could he… already be Soul Transformation? How is that possible?”

A few years ago at Bai Yu’s Tai Xu Academy, though he advanced quickly, he’d only reached Nascent Soul. He’d even congratulated him on repairing his Golden Core.

How much time had passed? He hadn’t caught up to his senior brother Ghost Mastiff—and now Zhou Qing had left him far behind.

Across the table, Jiangpo Army met his comrades’ gazes, feeling awkward, and pretended to drink to hide it.

Zhou Qing merely smiled slightly.

On the space vessel coming here, Second Uncle had given him a list, along with each person’s general aura and cultivation level.

This Lu Jinghong was another disciple of Xuan Yuan Shuo, at early Soul Transformation—roughly equal to Jiangpo Army.

“Jinghong, step back—you don’t pick your timing!” Just as Zhou Qing was about to speak, Xuan Yuan Shuo spoke with quiet authority, tinged with reprimand.

Lu Jinghong realized his blunder and immediately bowed to Zhou Qing in apology.

“Brother Zhou, I’m sorry! I’m just like this—after a bit of wine, I lose control. Please forgive my rudeness.”

He turned to return to his seat.

But Zhou Qing smiled and said, “Brother Lu, you’re too modest. I’ve long admired your name. Since we’re idle now, why not spar?”

Lu Jinghong’s eyes instantly lit up.

He was naturally battle-hungry, always longing for worthy opponents to test and improve himself.

Ever since learning Jiang Jiedi had been defeated by Zhou Qing, he’d been itching to fight.

Especially since Jiang Jiedi told him this man’s aura was bizarre—able to effortlessly shatter others’ auras.

He didn’t believe it—but it only stoked his curiosity and desire to challenge.

Now that Zhou Qing brought it up, he immediately looked to his master.

Xuan Yuan Shuo was also curious, but seeing their expressions, he merely shook his head slightly, a faint smile in his eyes.

“Fine, fine—if you’re both so eager, go to the training ground and spar. But remember—stop at the point. Don’t harm your brotherhood.”

Hearing Xuan Yuan Shuo’s approval, everyone grew excited.

This was the best appetizer for wine.

The Seventh Imperial Prince Xuan Yuan Yichen, however, wore a bitter expression—this scene confirmed his suspicions.

…

Everyone immediately moved to the training ground!

The two entered and stood facing each other.

Lu Jinghong radiated fierce battle intent; Zhou Qing remained calm, aura sealed.

“Wait!” Just as everyone anticipated an exciting duel, a voice suddenly rang out from the side.

Everyone turned—Yan Xiao Hu nervously swallowed, sweat beading on his palms.

Then he gritted his teeth, slapped his storage bag, and a gambling table appeared, landing firmly on the ground.

He pulled out five supreme-grade spirit stones and placed them on the table, his voice trembling: “Odds three to one—supreme-grade spirit stones only. Anyone want to bet?”

Second Uncle wasn’t here—he had to seize this chance to strike it rich.

Seeing the familiar gambling table, everyone exchanged glances; several army commanders couldn’t help laughing.

As rough frontier guards, their daily lives were dull—what they loved most was slaying demons, drinking, sleeping, and gambling.

They hadn’t expected to meet a kindred spirit—and this Nascent Soul mid-stage kid had the nerve to lay down five supreme-grade spirit stones at once—so they wouldn’t hold back.

Seeing dozens of onlookers eager to bet, Yan Xiao Hu’s heart jumped—he quickly added, “Only five bettors! If I lose, I can still afford to pay!”

Yan Xiao Hu hadn’t expected so many to have supreme-grade spirit stones—if he won, he’d make a fortune.

But what if he lost?

Then No. 4 and the others would just walk away, leaving him here to pay off the debt in flesh—he’d be trapped for centuries.

He trusted No. 4, but nothing was certain.

Today, he’d just test the waters.

Shiiii!

Quickly, five full-stage Soul Transformation army commanders appeared before Yan Xiao Hu, as if afraid of missing the big bet.

Each tossed down five supreme-grade spirit stones, voice loud and firm: “I’m in!”

Seeing the five already seated, others groaned in frustration, muttering “Too fast!” and stood helplessly watching the bet begin.

As for Xuan Yuan Shuo, watching this, he only smiled and shook his head, eyes full of indulgence—after all, this was his usual pastime.

Yan Xiao Hu stared at the twenty-five supreme-grade spirit stones before him—thrilled yet terrified, already regretting his impulsiveness.

If he lost, he’d owe seventy-five—yet he owned only these five in total.

Zhou Qing, in the arena, saw this and sighed.

But soon received Yan Xiao Hu’s mental message.

“No. 4, please—I might be ruined here! Afterward, we split it fifty-fifty!” Yan Xiao Hu pleaded desperately.

Zhou Qing immediately countered: “Four-six!”

“Do you have any idea how much risk I’m taking?” Yan Xiao Hu cried out in panic.

“Alright then, if I lose, I lose—no real loss anyway.” Zhou Qing feigned nonchalance.

“No, no! Fine, four-six it is!” Yan Xiao Hu hurriedly said.

Watching Zhou Qing slowly pull out the broken sword, Yan Xiao Hu prayed again: “Heavenly Bodhisattva, please protect Old Si, protect me—I only took this one risk, never gambling again!”

Lu Jinghong, seeing Zhou Qing draw a rusted, broken sword, did not lower his guard.

According to Brother Jiang’s tip, though the sword looked broken, it was incredibly resilient—even his spear’s full-force strikes left no mark on it.

At this moment, Lu Jinghong took a deep breath; the alcohol’s haze vanished, replaced by a sharp battle intent.

In his hand, a black blade had appeared—its surface ink-dark, etched with unknown incantations, radiating a chilling cold.

“Brother Zhou, forgive me!” Lu Jinghong roared. As spiritual power surged around him, he shot forward like a fully drawn bow.

Zhou Qing’s expression remained calm. In the instant the blade neared his body, he vanished in a flash—like a ghost.

Lu Jinghong’s first strike landed on empty air.

“Incredible speed!” Lu Jinghong was stunned.

Zhou Qing had already reappeared behind him, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

“Such a dominant blade aura—then I won’t hold back!” Zhou Qing smiled, gripping the broken sword and charging forward.

Lu Jinghong snorted, countering with a flash of blade light.

Instantly, metallic clangs rang continuously; the force of their clash shook the surrounding air.

Yan Xiao Hu’s head swung wildly back and forth, utterly tense.

Others’ pupils glowed with different colors—only then could they keep up with the dazzling speed of two Nascent Soul cultivators.

After multiple probes, Lu Jinghong suddenly pulled back.

He gripped the hilt with both hands and raised the blade overhead.

Suddenly, black mist surged from around him, within which faint dragon roars echoed.

From the thickening mist, a pair of blood-red pupils slowly emerged, radiating a terrifying aura of pressure.

“Didn’t expect Deputy General Lu to unleash his realm so quickly—looks like Zhou Qing really has some skill.”

“True. As a formation master, he could’ve used formation discs or flags—that’s within the rules—but he doesn’t seem to intend to.”

“Forget him—Lu’s ‘Dragon Abyss Roaring Waves’ realm was forged by venturing into Blood Prison Mountain, observing the Dragon Emperor for years.”

“So he’s a madman—but he succeeded. Now his power is terrifyingly dominant.”

…

As others murmured, Lu Yaoyao and the rest grew uneasy.

Zhou Qing stood still, waiting until Lu Jinghong’s realm fully unfolded, then felt its nature before slowly raising his hand.

He spoke softly, yet his voice carried the weight of cosmic law: “Break.”

Instantly, a golden ripple exploded outward.

With a thunderous *boom*, Lu Jinghong’s realm shattered the moment it touched the ripple.

The black mist dissipated; the dragon roars faded.

His body staggered, retreating unsteadily, face as pale as paper, blood trickling from his lips.

“This… how is this possible?” Lu Jinghong stared at Zhou Qing in disbelief.

Even Xuan Yuan Shuo and others narrowed their pupils.

What kind of realm was this? So brutally dominant!

Jiang Pojun sniffed.

See? That’s how my realm got destroyed—still don’t believe me?

Zhou Qing gave Lu Jinghong no chance to recover—he closed the distance at blinding speed.

“Great Thunder Sword Art, Fourth Form: Execution!”

Terrifying lightning, like hundreds of giant serpents, crashed down amid countless sword qi…

…

*Crash!*

Zhou Qing timed it perfectly—less than half an hour, Lu Jinghong was blasted backward, rolling several times before finally stabilizing.

To be fair, he was slightly stronger than Jiang Pojun—he’d used nearly seventy percent of his power this time.

“Brother Lu, my apologies!” Zhou Qing hovered in midair, bowing slightly.

Lu Yaoyao, about to cheer excitedly, felt a gentle tug from Lu Yuanzhi beside her.

She snapped back to reality, immediately scanning the crowd—especially Xuan Yuan Shuo on the main seat.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes sparkled with uncontainable joy, nearly crescent-shaped.

Yan Xiao Hu had no such restraint—he could no longer suppress his wild joy and shouted triumphantly.

Then, in a flash, he shoved all the supreme spirit stones into his storage pouch.

“Made it! We’re truly rich now!”

Twenty-five supreme spirit stones—he’d never seen so much wealth in his life.

Lin Daochen watched the tall, pine-like figure in the air, his eyes filled with admiration.

This kid wasn’t just a genius in formations—he was equally unmatched in cultivation. This was a true prodigy!

At this moment, aside from a few close ones rejoicing, everyone else stared blankly at the scene, faces etched with shock and disbelief.

Deputy General Lu Jinghong of the Longxiang Army… lost like this?

Felt like a dream.

Especially Xuan Yuan Shuo—his usually composed expression now betrayed a flicker of surprise.

Lu Jinghong and Jiang Pojun had both risen through brutal, real combat.

Nearly invincible in their own realm—yet now, both had been defeated by a young man devoted solely to formations.

It seemed impossible.

The commanders of the Nine Armies stared wide-eyed—especially the Longxiang Army commander, who knew better than anyone how formidable Lu Jinghong was.

But less than half an hour? That’s humiliating.

Prince Xuan Yuan Yichen’s gaze was complex. Since learning of the Ghost Mastiff’s breakthrough to Nascent Soul, he’d felt invisible pressure.

So he’d come to the frontier to train—but what was the result?

Those two brothers had quietly left him far behind.

Jiang Pojun, standing nearby, felt a mix of emotions.

This scene replayed his own match with Zhou Qing.

Just as swift, just as decisive.

Kneeling on one knee, Lu Jinghong stared blankly at Zhou Qing in the air, eyes filled with confusion.

On his own ground, before so many eyes—how had he lost so foolishly?

Especially the five army commanders—they’d trusted him, betting over twenty supreme spirit stones.

But soon, his pain and resentment faded, replaced by calm acceptance.

“Brother Zhou, I lost—honestly, I accept it.” Lu Jinghong bowed, then exhaled deeply: “Today’s battle taught me much. Thank you.”

Though defeated, he felt honored—he now saw his own limitations clearly.

Zhou Qing returned the bow, humbly saying: “Brother Lu, you held back. In a life-or-death battle, I’d have lost long ago. Thank you for your mercy.”

“Mercy? Pfft. Lost is lost. I, Lu Jinghong, can take defeat—no need to flatter me!”

Lu Jinghong waved his hand, laughing heartily.

He saw wins and losses clearly—he could let go. Failure wasn’t shameful; what mattered was learning from it.

With that, Lu Jinghong turned to Xuan Yuan Shuo on the main seat, a flicker of shame in his eyes.

Losing on his own turf, before so many, betrayed his Master’s teachings and expectations.

He pressed his lips tightly, bowed once, then vanished into the crowd.

Watching him, Zhou Qing felt a surge of admiration.

He respected such open-minded people—no pretense, no posturing.

Lu Jinghong was one. Jiang Pojun was too!

But now, he felt an unfulfilled hunger.

Especially after that battle, his own realm seemed replenished, inching closer to completion.

After Nascent Soul, every step forward required not just spiritual power—but realm advancement.

Like when Second Uncle took him, armed with dirt on sect masters and elders, forcing them to use perfected or complete realms so he could absorb their essence.

Perhaps coming to the frontier, besides repaying Second Uncle’s debt of heavenly qi, had brought him unforeseen benefits.

Only these frontier veterans could give him this feeling.

Their realms weren’t just unique—they carried a special killing intent.

This sensation, now emerging, couldn’t be missed!

Thinking this, Zhou Qing’s heart surged with excitement—he drew a portion of blood qi and spiritual power from the golden flower.

Instantly, his entire aura returned to peak—vast, powerful, overwhelming.

Then he turned his gaze to the two others on the field.

The left and right deputy generals of the Hanyuan Army—Qin Liao and Xie Heng.

They were also on Second Uncle’s list.

After two banquets, introduced by the Seventh Imperial Prince, he had become acquainted with everyone.

“I’ve long heard of your names—would you be willing to spar with me?” Zhou Qing said with a smile, his eyes gleaming with fierce battle lust.

Upon hearing this, both men froze.

“You want us both at once?” Qin Liao thought he’d misheard.

Zhou Qing nodded, his eyes sharp as blades, and assumed a challenge stance.

In an instant, everyone present was stunned.

This was too arrogant—he’d just finished an intense spar, yet didn’t rest or recover, and now dared challenge two at once.

And these two were the left and right deputy generals of Han Yuan Army, both at the early stage of Soul Transformation.

One would be manageable, but as comrades and fellow disciples, if they fought together, their combined strength wouldn’t be far below a mid-stage Soul Transformation cultivator.

Yet upon reflection, young men were naturally fiery, especially after a recent victory—some boldness was understandable.

(End of Chapter)