Chapter 451: The Divine Artifact Returns, Snow and Wind Descend

The two divine weapons crashed into each other with ferocious force.

The Turkic Khan held a heavy blade as dense as iron and stone; when swung, it tore through empty space, leaving behind layers of roaring Lei Ting, while Li Guanyi's Jiuli Divine Weapon, Jin Tie, struck later but arrived first.

The Jiuli Divine Weapon, Jin Tie, transformed into a broad sword that descended.

The blade was ink-black, yet rippled with golden waves, solemn and majestic.

When the two divine weapons collided, the force that erupted roared like Lei Ting; Li Guanyi felt a tremendous power explode at the point of contact, then reverse with a thunderous rush toward him.

The Turkic Khan was a hero who had reached life's extreme limit; his Wu Gong realm was stronger than Li Guanyi's at this moment.

The divine weapon he held had been used by generations of his steppe ancestors.

Now, upon the boundless steppe, as the undisputed lord of the grasslands unleashed his full might, the entire steppe's qi surged, surging in waves, pressing down upon Li Guanyi.

It was as if he stood against all heaven, earth, and living things of the steppe!

Li Guanyi's presence here was purely spiritual.

His three Jiuding were located far away.

He received little assistance.

One was true body, one was spiritual thought; one stood at the fiery peak before life's end, one was barely nineteen; one stood upon his own domain, embraced by heaven, earth, and all things, one came here merely with solemn authority.

Li Guanyi's initial assault held its ground, but when the steppe's qi added its weight, he began to struggle to hold back.

The mighty Tian Kehan laughed loudly: "Guest from afar."

"Are you going to fight against the heaven and earth of my steppe?!"

"How could you possibly win?!"

Li Guanyi's Jiuding roared, ready to unleash his attack.

Yet a dismissive scoff echoed beside his ear—

"Steppe fool, what nonsense are you spouting?!"

"Fighting the world? Hahaha, perfect! There's actually something this good?!"

"Kid, hold steady!"

The ancient dragon's roar rose from within the Jiuding, nearly suppressing the Jiuding's own resonance.

"Old man will aid you!"

The ancient dragon's bold laughter exploded in Li Guanyi's ear, aided by the Jiuding's power, thundering away—far to the southwest, within the Mystical Realm of Jiuli, the ancient dragon finally grasped the subtle mystery.

Though it had been stripped of eight hundred years of life to become this auspicious sign, it was still connected to the Jiuding; though this method of commanding qi through spiritual thought was something the ancient dragon could never master, no matter how hard it tried.

But for fighting? That was simple.

What does battle require?

Skill? Strength. Qi? Strength. Divine art? Strength!

Extending its claw, the ancient dragon pressed a crimson-gold claw against Li Guanyi's shoulder; its fangs slightly parted, a faint thread of crimson-gold flame swirling within its mouth, containing the primordial fury of the first beast.

"Fighting the world?"

"Perfect. I'll help you."

Upon the steppe, ripples spread across Li Guanyi's body; the Turkic Khan commanded the steppe's entire qi, while beside Li Guanyi, crimson-gold scales emerged, and phantom air shapes appeared.

Based on the ancient dragon's power, the Turkic Khan and the Thirteen Khans saw "Li Guanyi" with their own eyes.

Crimson-gold flames curled and glided through the air, taking the form of scales.

A five-clawed dragon's paw pressed against empty space, fangs bared; the faint spiritual thought of Li Guanyi was wrapped in qi, upon which faint crimson dragon patterns shimmered, his eyes still locked in the state of commanding qi—cold, distant, vast.

The Turkic Khan's expression shifted slightly.

What monarch is this?!

Such majesty?!

Li Guanyi held a broad sword, pressing down with one hand; the dragon's roar exploded, and the Turkic Khan felt the ferocious crimson dragon qi surging toward him, while the figure had already swung his sword.

The broad sword slashed horizontally; a golden gleam rippled along the solemn, majestic blade, spreading from the spine to the edge, then violently radiating outward.

The Turkic Khan suddenly sensed extreme danger.

It felt as if this sword did not cut flesh and blood.

But a nation's qi.

Cut Bai Di!

The Khan, cunning and sharp as the noblest falcon, beneath his boldness hid caution and prudence; he refused to bear the threat this sword instinctively evoked, and retreated顺势.

The crimson dragon's roar soared skyward; the ink-black long sword fell to the ground.

In the instant the Khan retreated, he saw the figure wielding the divine weapon, surrounded by the crimson dragon, step calmly beside the Thirteen Khan.

The Turkic Khan's expression hardened instantly.

Seeing the figure strike, the broad blade landed upon the Thirteen Khan's shoulder—not cutting with sharpness, but bearing the accumulated qi of Jiuli's thousands of years, bearing the qi flowing through the three Jiuding.

The pinnacle convergence of 【Sacrifice】 and 【War】.

Even as a prototype.

Even though it had not yet been fully forged, even though it had not yet reached the form of a true divine weapon's master, it was still beyond the capacity of a mere Thirteen Khan.

Can you bear the weight of ten thousand people?

Can you bear the filth of the world, the weapons of the world?!

The Turkic Thirteen Khan screamed, as if bearing a mountain, collapsing straight to his knees, his kneecaps smashing against the ground with a crisp crack of breaking bone; even after the bones shattered, he could not bear the crushing pressure.

His massive, bear-like frame toppled forward.

Hands pressed against the ground.

Wrists snapped with sharp cracks.

It looked like kneeling, like being led by a leash—but the rope binding this slaughtered sheep was not the cord of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, or faithfulness, but the blade forged from central plains' gold and fire.

Thirteen Khans said: "You, you……!!!"

"Who are you?!"

He saw the man standing tall, his body wreathed in the spectral form of ancient crimson dragon power, terrifying in might, his eyes cold and looking down upon him as if from the height of heaven.

A towering aura, naturally borne from having walked through a hundred battlefields, slammed down upon him like a storm—making the Thirteen Khans' scalp prickle, his body stiffen, his lips tremble—but not a single word could escape him.

Why? Why?!

Shouldn't this attacking enemy be fighting the Great Khan instead?

Why abandon the Great Khan in the midst of battle to come strike at him?

This makes no sense—could it really be because of those few words he just spoke?

But which mature monarch would fly into rage over such words?!

Was it because he had spoken of the sheep-tribute ceremony? But among the military strategists of the Central Plains, generals always provoke their foes on the battlefield to stir anger and gain advantage—this is even a required lesson in the art of war.

Or was it because of his plan to invade the Jiangnan region?

But the Central Plains and the steppe have always been ancient enemies—wasn't his desire to invade the Central Plains only natural?

Could it possibly be because of that so-called Xue family girl?

The Xue family's gold and silver?

But how could the granddaughter of a mere merchant possibly sway a monarch of such stature?

The Great Khan frowned, knowing he could not reach him in time, and said: "He speaks wildly, but among nations, diplomacy shifts constantly—do you intend to kill a khan merely for his reckless words?"

"Do you not fear that such an act will spark conflict between our Saibei steppes and your Central Plains—driving our iron cavalry southward to graze your lands?!"

"Do you understand the great tide?"

The Turkic Great Khan's voice was solemn, each word deliberate, pressing down with overwhelming force—as if the entire steppe's fortune stirred, as if heaven and earth itself descended upon him.

Li Guanyi's cold eyes turned toward him.

He gave no answer.

With a flick of his wrist, his sword slashed—the blade forged from Jiu Li's divine iron was razor-sharp; the Thirteen Khans' head fell, blood splattering the ground.

Executed!!!

The Thirteen Khans clutched his throat, the Turkic chieftain who had once dreamed of trampling the Central Plains and Jiangnan let out a low groan, then collapsed to the earth, life extinguished.

Even in death, his eyes remained wide with defiance, bewildered disbelief, staring blankly at the boundless sky.

The Turkic Great Khan: "…………"

The sword forged from Jiu Li's divine iron rested against the ground.

A clear, ringing chime of the blade slowly spread outward.

The lord, his eyes cold, one hand resting on the hilt of the broadsword, said:

"This… is the great tide."

The Turkic Great Khan was left speechless, staring at the corpse of the Thirteen Khans—same age, not vastly different in stature—life and death, the chasm of spirit so vast, he could only sigh.

Li Guanyi said: "If I hadn't killed him, would the Turks have abandoned their southern ambitions?"

The Turkic Great Khan could not answer. He stared at the Thirteen Khans' corpse, then after a long while, whispered: "... I cannot lie. Whether you spare him or kill him, a man cannot disguise his ambition."

"I will conquer this world."

"I was born upon this vast land, my spirit as boundless as the sky. My people labor daily to herd their flocks, yet still cannot feed all our kin—heroes of the steppe kill one another endlessly."

"But the finest lands of the world are held by you Central Plains folk—I cannot bear it. I believe you do not deserve them. Before death catches up to me, I will ride my steed to Jiangnan."

The Great Khan looked at Li Guanyi before him, his fury fading, replaced by solemn admiration:

"The Fire Qilin Army, Qin Wu Hou—you possess the bearing of a sovereign."

"Hou."

"Too small."

Li Guanyi was not surprised the Great Khan had recognized his identity.

In today's world, among the Central Plains warlords, the Great Khan knew Chen Dingye and Jiang Wanxiang—Chen Dingye had once been his ally against the Ying state, and Jiang Wanxiang was his peer among the mighty.

Beyond these two, who else could bear the weight of human destiny?

Who else could display such presence?

Only Qin Wu of Jiangnan—Li Guanyi, the Fire Qilin.

The Great Khan said: "The power of the Crimson Dragon Manifestation lives up to its reputation. I never imagined our first meeting would come this way." His eagle-like eyes fixed on Li Guanyi.

Though they spoke casually, their qi currents entwined.

Subtly, they clashed like opposing blades.

A chilling, unceasing killing intent stretched between them.

He wished to strike and slay Li Guanyi—but his earlier attempt had shown him that, in this state, he could not overcome the man.

Yet he understood the steppe's shamanism, and Central Plains' arcane arts—he knew such a state could not last. He looked at Li Guanyi and said: "You too seek to conquer the world. When we meet again, I will kill you with the Thirteen's blade."

Li Guanyi studied the Turkic Great Khan before him.

He too wished to unleash the power of the ancient crimson dragon and strike a sudden, lethal blow against this warlord whose hatred for the Central Plains ran deep—but in Li Guanyi's eyes, this Great Khan, nearly a Son of Heaven and divine general combined, had no flaw.

His aura was immensely profound.

His blood and qi were extraordinarily vigorous.

Though rumors claimed the Great Khan's lifespan was near its end, at his cultivation level, one could remain at peak vigor until death arrived.

He stood at the peak of the Ninth Heaven, seemingly even beyond it.

Holding a divine weapon, seated as emperor, aligned with heavenly fate, ruling the earth—qi of heaven, earth, and humanity converged upon him across the steppe, the Three Talents in perfect harmony, utterly invincible.

Li Guanyi's current state lacked troops, lacked military momentum.

And flanking the Great Khan's tent stood the elite Tie Futu.

Under these circumstances, Li Guanyi could gain no further benefit; accompanied by the low hum of the Nine Tripods, this opportunity born of the three tripods merging gradually dispersed, and Li Guanyi faintly sensed he would soon detach from this mysterious posture.

His expression remained unchanged as he raised his divine weapon, holding it horizontally before his body.

He replied: "Is your dream to ride your horse across the Central Plains?"

"So it was just a dream."

Li Guanyi, who had grown up with Murong Qiushui, even in this state of commanding destiny and detached spirit, uttered a cold, icy remark that pierced a hole through the Khan's grand ambitions.

He plucked the blade, humming softly, as the ancient crimson dragon's energy surged outward violently.

Li Guanyi顺势 "stepped forward."

And again, a thousand li passed; in a daze, the scenery before him shifted. The Turkic Khan's eyes grew cold, he drew his weapon and stepped forward, exiting his tent, glancing around—sure enough, Li Guanyi's figure was gone, and he could not sense Li Guanyi's aura anywhere.

"I've seen the methods of the previous two Living Buddhas—said to be a single thought traveling ten thousand li, rebirth in boundless Buddha realms—but in the end, it was merely reliance on the Nascent Soul's power, shifting and transforming, never manifesting such a spectacle."

"To wield such a method must not be done casually…"

The Khan held his heavy blade in one hand, gazing into the distance. The bleakness of the steppe had grown thick; massive white clouds hung low, and within the tent, the stench of blood slowly spread. He cast a sidelong glance at the corpse of the Thirteenth Khan.

The Khan paid no mind to his dead nephew; his sorrow and frustration were crushed beneath extreme vigilance and dread. He muttered: "Fire Qilin is fierce… one day, he will be my greatest enemy."

"Central Plains… could it truly be the land favored by Heaven and Earth?"

"Chen's tripod is decaying, Chen Fubì is dead, Jiang Wanxiang is old."

"Yet still, Fire Qilin rises."

"It's as if the blood of heroes never runs dry, never dies out!"

The Turkic Khan fell silent, then suddenly thought of the khans of the steppe, counting them one by one—none could stand against Qin Wu Hou. The thought filled him with despair, yet he suddenly laughed boldly:

"I do not believe it!"

He pressed the blade of his divine weapon against the ground.

"With this blade, with these iron steeds, with Tie Futu—I will flatten this world, cut down all your heroic spirit, crush your heroic bones, before I die. Beneath this long blade, let the Central Plains know no heroes again, break your spines."

"Let this land of Zhongtu swarm with cowards!"

He turned, his battle robe sweeping, his cloak flaring wildly—his resolve was clear.

…………

Li Guanyi's Nine Tripods' destiny shifted, the flow of power from the three tripods gradually dissipated—but this time, he still leapt an immense distance. In a daze, he looked up and saw a giant divine eagle circling in the sky.

The eagle's wings glowed with golden light; when spread, they seemed ten zhang tall, its gaze sharp, clearly startled by Li Guanyi's current state: "Who are you!!!"

"Why have you come to my boundless steppe?!"

Li Guanyi realized this golden-winged creature—whether a roc or a divine hawk—was the sacred beast and omen of the northern steppe.

The fourth ninth of the Nine Tripods' body glowed.

This final transformation had guided him to the side of the omen upon the vast steppe.

It seemed that after the three tripods merged, occupying one-third of the Nine Tripods, they naturally gained the ability to locate omens.

The divine hawk instinctively attacked Li Guanyi.

The ancient crimson dragon's power had been withdrawn; Li Guanyi raised his Jiu Li divine weapon, blocking each strike of the divine hawk, saying: "I mean no hostility."

The eagle asked: "If you mean no hostility, why come to my territory?"

Li Guanyi said: "To…" He had intended to say he wished to build goodwill, but seeing the hawk's piercing gaze—clearly a wary, suspicious nature—he paused, then said:

"I seek a venomous insect—a golden-water-born entity capable of bearing the sharpest sword qi in the world."

The eagle circled, replying: "I do indeed have such a thing." The celestial omen, deeply cautious and wary of this unprecedented visitor, deliberated long—choosing not to attack—and said:

"Besides, that thing is useless to me."

"Since you've come, follow me!"

The three tripods roared, riding the momentum of their merger, lifting Li Guanyi toward a distant place. The eagle still harbored suspicion and provocation toward this outsider.

He deliberately increased his flight speed drastically.

In flapping his wings, his speed surpassed even the crimson dragon's—extremely swift.

But Li Guanyi, in this state, moved as if his spirit willed it—mountains, rivers, earth, ten thousand li in a day—he kept pace with the divine hawk. The steppe vanished behind him; Li Guanyi arrived at the northernmost edge of the steppe.

In the south, it was only late autumn.

Though early winter plum blossoms had bloomed, it was certainly not yet the scene here—this vast steppe, blanketed in snow. The eagle, astonished that Li Guanyi could match his speed, circled the sky several times and praised:

"You're impressive."

"I don't know why you came here, but you truly have ability. Though I don't understand what you speak of, if you mean golden-water-born things, then it's right here."

Li Guanyi thanked him, and in his destiny state, he clearly saw—a venomous insect nestled beneath the ice of the snowy plateau. Though a venomous insect, it held no terrifying aura.

It resembled a jade-carved artifact, its body faintly trembling.

As if breathing, as if cultivating—the threads of qi flowing transformed into golden winds, stirring changes beneath the ice.

Li Guanyi faintly sensed an excruciatingly sharp aura striking his face.

His heart swelled with joy—he knew this must be the thing the Shiwaisan Sect's Wu Gu lineage had described: capable of bearing his great-grandfather's sword intent and qi, the foundation for his great-grandfather Murong Longtu's cultivation of the 【Continuing Life Venom】 Divine Art.

Indeed, to find something, you must find the "locals."

Had it not been for the Nine Tripods' transformation, lifting his thoughts ten thousand li, he would never have come here. Had he not met this omen, on this steppe larger than Chen and Ying, finding such a tiny venomous insect would be like searching for a needle in an ocean.

Li Guanyi's Nascent Soul stirred, intending to land upon the venomous insect.

The venomous insect, stimulated, awoke from its slumber—but as the Wu Gu lineage had said, it was extremely fragile. In an instant, Li Guanyi felt the venomous insect's Nascent Soul gripped by violent terror.

The venomous insect's emotion shifted.

The venomous insect's emotion sank.

The venomous insect's vitality began to decline.

I'll die right before you!

The eagle seemed to smack his beak: "Dead ball dropped."

Li Guanyi froze, helplessly calling out to the Nine-Treasure Cauldron: "Elder Nine-Colored Deer, take a look—can this venomous insect still be saved?" The Nine-Colored Deer's divine power was insufficient to sense it; the aura of the Ancient Crimson Dragon seemed to rise from within the Nine-Treasure Cauldron.

"... Scared to death? Simple."

Li Guanyi froze.

The aura of the Ancient Crimson Dragon flowed forth; in the void, faint ripples suddenly formed, coalescing into the body of the Ancient Crimson Dragon. Its deep, menacing dragon roar made the divine eagles' feathers stand on end, forcing them to retreat to one side.

The Ancient Crimson Dragon's claw pointed at the venomous insect.

The deep, menacing dragon roar declared: "Do not die!!!"

The dragon's roar reverberated, as if summoning tides from all directions.

Li Guanyi froze.

Isn't this just going to scare the bastard to death?

Yet at that very moment, the venomous insect, previously terrified and on the verge of death, stiffened—its vitality suddenly re凝聚.

Li Guanyi: "..."

Did it just get scared back to life?!?!

The Ancient Crimson Dragon, cold and haughty, spoke with utmost pride: "Regardless, I am the strongest auspicious being of the Ancient Era, Lord of Crimson Flames Scorching Heaven, Lord Zhu Long who Swallows the Sun."

"No falsehoods."

"Today, you have finally witnessed my divine power."

If one is to be scared to death, use divine might to shock their bloodline, shake their heart, force their blood to surge at high speed, make their heart pound violently from terror—achieving the realm of resurrection.

Powerful. Undeniable.

How can one not call it auspicious?

Li Guanyi was awestruck.

No wonder only this one required eight hundred years of lifespan.

But when he tried to take the venomous insect away, he discovered the Nine-Treasure Cauldron could not carry any being lacking human destiny's fortune—so he left behind the venomous insect, which might extend Elder Murong Longtu's life for several years, concealed by a thread of human destiny's fortune.

With his Nascent Soul power, he could only drag along a single strand of Bai Xue.

Li Guanyi, seeing the snow-white expanse, suddenly felt a faint stir in his spirit—he recalled a letter from long ago.

The Nine-Treasure Cauldron's transformation was nearly complete; Li Guanyi was about to leave, yet he stirred his Nascent Soul, wrapping the northern snow in his sleeves—as the auspicious artifact, the Nine-Treasure Cauldron's final act was to carry this within it.

In Jiangnan's Yicheng.

A girl in black robes, over which a blue linen coat was draped, stood quietly by the third-floor window of the Changfeng Tower. Autumn deepened, nearing winter; early-blooming cold plum blossoms opened, tiny buds, utterly charming. Xue Shuangtao gently caressed the plum blossoms she claimed as her own.

In her letter, she had compared herself to a southern plum tree that had never seen frost or snow.

That person's fame grew ever greater across the land, yet he also seemed to grow ever farther from her.

He now commanded thousands of troops, possessed renown that shook the world—while she was but a single thread of wind.

Merely a southern plum tree, after all, could never rival the grandeur of the world.

As she pondered this, a sudden gale arose; leaves in Yicheng rustled and fell. The Changfeng Lady heard the wind chimes below the tower tinkling, reached out to still them—and paused, stunned.

Early winter plum blossoms bloomed.

Flecks of white snow descended from the sky, settling upon the plum branches.

The girl, long settled here, reached out, gazing at the faint snow that blanketed only this city, this courtyard—seeing southern plum blossoms dusted with snow, all things silent, breathtakingly beautiful—she extended her hand, lost in stillness:

"... It's snowing."

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