Chapter 333: No Holy Son, But There

While pondering, a surge of celestial aura suddenly erupted from the dark forest before Wanshi Mountain.

That aura was like a celestial fan unfurling toward heaven, blazing with brilliant white light, slashing through the mist-shrouded sea of ten thousand acres of forest.

The thick mist drifting through the woods shattered instantly, swallowed by countless waves of churned earth, blending yellow and white into one chaotic mass.

At this sight, countless figures atop the Wanshi peaks rose to their feet.

Soon, tens of thousands of cultivators took to the air, pouring down from the mountains like a torrential downpour, flooding into the forest.

The swirling spiritual energy surrounding them formed vortexes of crushing force, shredding the flat layers of forest mist in an instant.

The fully refined transcendent beings of the upper five realms had already torn open the barriers ahead, crushing the monstrous, corrupted demons for ten li—they could wait no longer.

After all, if the distance grew too great, they might lose track of those transcendent masters.

The closer they got to the relic, the fiercer the lethal traps would become; if they fell too far behind those masters, they might be scattered outright.

As they howled forward, tens of thousands of cultivators landed and pressed ahead along the dense mist.

Their direction of advance was west to east, and as they moved, they began spreading out toward the north and south.

Thus, the relics were clearly distributed along the ancient imperial burial grounds spanning the borders of five provinces, spaced far apart—this allowed them to sweep forward in unison, leaving not a blade of grass behind, and re-forming the encirclement as a continuous band, binding all relics together.

"Around every relic, death lurks everywhere. Be cautious when you enter."

Ji You turned to Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu: "When the sky falls, taller people will hold it up. If you feel you can't bear it, staying behind others isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu nodded obediently: "We'll do as Young Master says."

"Remember to say hello to Gongshu Chou for me."

"Young Master, be careful too—don't always be the tall one. The Master of the Mirror says she's ultimately looking for a tool to continue her bloodline. Young Master, please don't get hurt."

Ji You knew the stubborn, prideful nature of the ghostly girl. He looked at them both: "Before such a great calamity, my strength is negligible. But before we reach the relic, things won't get any easier. Right now, timing is everything. Once we reach the relic, it'll be the big shots' turn to act."

After these brief instructions, Ding Yao and Zhuo Wanqiu bowed and hurried after the Lingjian Mountain disciples, while Ji You joined the Tian Shu disciples, walking through the air before landing in the forest, merging with the vast crowd as they plunged into the deep woods.

The mist here was extraordinarily thick and gloomy, clinging to the eyes like a filter, refracting the sky above into a strange hue of green tinged with dull yellow.

The surrounding air was thick and viscous, filled with dust-like particles that constantly irritated the senses.

The location of Dahuang Forest should be on the southwest side…

Ji You flew forward continuously, recalling the distribution of the relics and adjusting his path.

Just as they were about to catch up with the immortal sect masters, a black line surged from the mist, stretching endlessly, then twisting and bending before their eyes.

In an instant, piercing shrieks erupted from all directions.

Countless demonic seeds surged like crashing waves, charging straight at them, their rising, murderous aura sweeping forward in an instant.

Merely from their aura, the cultivators from immortal sects and noble families knew these demonic seeds were stronger—and far more brutal and greedy—than the ones plaguing the outside world.

These were likely former disciples of the immortal sects.

They had been transported by the Bu family into hidden caves, then surged out with the corpse tide, later gathering around the relics to become their guardians.

At this moment, Ji You summoned from his Bai Yu gourd a black iron heavy bow; as his arm tensed, the bowstring was drawn taut at full speed.

ZZZZZZ!

The arrow shot forth at blinding speed, piercing straight ahead, spewing a cloud of black mist.

In the sudden encounter, chaos erupted instantly.

At the forefront, the Wenda Sect surged ahead alone.

The greatest danger in large-scale battles is being cut off, scattered, then picked off in small groups.

Their best choice now was not to stand and fight, but to charge forward swiftly—never letting themselves fall too far behind the sect masters and pavilion lords ahead.

Thus, the speed of breaking through the corpse tide became the critical factor.

In other words, while these demonic seeds were killable by sheer force, they would inevitably be slowed down—the key was mass destruction.

At this moment, the Wenda Sect's Holy Son hovered ahead, his trembling celestial cauldron annihilating the corpse tide.

Within the mysterious heavenly patterns, divine light flowed across the surface of the imitation celestial cauldron, coalescing into intricate, intertwined laws of the Dao, transforming into immense offensive power.

The robed man moved as if through an empty land, his gestures scattering limbs in all directions.

The Wenda disciples followed closely behind, clearing surrounding demonic corpses under the protection of the sacred artifact, their pace unslowed.

Meanwhile, Huo Xingzhong and the Chen twin siblings soared into the air, sending the Bai Yu Dao Stele and the Eight-Sided Celestial Bell crashing forward.

The massive celestial bell plunged into the corpse tide; the heavenly force of destruction spread instantly with a deep, resonant chime, tearing a gaping hole in the front line.

Simultaneously, the Bai Yu Dao Stele flowed with divine light, its radiance roaring forth, incinerating the rushing demonic seeds into flying clouds of ash.

The importance of the sect's Holy Son was laid bare here, and the might of the immortal sects—and the belief that they would one day rule the world—deepened further in every heart.

During this process, the direct disciples of the three sects also observed one another, some with subtle rivalry.

"The Wenda Sect's celestial cauldron truly lives up to its reputation—its power shakes all eight directions."

"Hu Brother overstates it. Your Shanhai Pavilion's celestial bell is truly astonishing—the crushing force rivals a collapsing sky."

"Then let's see who breaks through this corpse tide first."

Shang Xiyao said nothing, but the celestial cauldron before him instantly swelled several times, spewing even fiercer divine light.

The six immortal sects appeared harmonious on the surface, but in truth, they maintained only a fragile balance.

After the calamity subsides, the immortal sects will be weakened, countless noble families destroyed—this world is destined to remain chaotic for a long time; competition and struggle are unavoidable.

Now, demonstrating sect prestige is especially vital—especially before another immortal sect in the southern region, one long ambitious and watchful.

Shang Xiyao narrowed his eyes, sending a cold, arrogant killing intent crashing down upon the corpse tide.

Just as he reopened the front, a murmur began rising behind him.

Several direct disciples turned to look and saw many disciples gazing southward.

With their own Holy Son holding the front, the rear disciples naturally had more freedom to observe the movements of other immortal sects.

After all, the endless line of demonic seeds still fought desperately to encircle them, cutting off their link with the front—so fast was their charge that if allies failed to keep pace, they might be flanked from either side.

The evidence proved their fears were not unfounded.

As everyone pressed forward faster under the protection of their respective Holy Sons, the northern Xuan Yuan Immortal Mansion gradually fell behind, its advance halted the moment it encountered demonic corpses.

Someone began shouting orders for them to hurry.

It was bad enough that Xuan Yuan Immortal Mansion had no direct disciple—but worse, a large portion of its most gifted disciples came from the Chu family.

After Chu Xian killed two people and left the mansion, those Chu disciples vanished; now only a few descendants of the Zhong mainline and their guardians were tearing through the corpse tide.

But this method was inevitably slower than having a sacred artifact lead the charge.

Zhong Qi, the eighth son of the Xuan Yuan Patriarch, now had a dark, brooding expression.

Though all disciples in the mansion these past half-year believed their father had chosen the third son as the artifact-bearer, only he knew he was the true heir.

To appease the Chu family, the third son had been forced into the spotlight, while he remained hidden behind the scenes, never granted the chance to wield the sacred artifact.

Of course, Xuan Yuan Pearl had its imitation—crafted over a thousand years, tempered by the sacred artifact's primordial essence.

But without ever attempting to master the sacred artifact, without its primordial essence recognizing him, he could not control the imitation.

In Zhong Qi's view, if he had an imitation sacred artifact in hand, he would not be so helpless.

Yet in such a situation, if only their mansion suffered, it would be embarrassing—but Xuan Yuan disciples knew the Tian Shu Academy might be no better off.

Indeed, others, as worried about Xuan Yuan as they were, also watched the central-north direction, fearing Tian Shu Academy might falter and leave the center exposed.

Yet they were surprised to find Tian Shu Academy's charge was no slower.

Ahead of the corpse tide, the three imitation artifacts—the cauldron, the bell, and the stele—radiated immense power, summoning vast divine light, cutting through the enemy as if through empty air.

Yet in the central-north region, a torrent of furious swords now blazed forth, no weaker than the sacred artifacts' might…

With a thunderous crash, Ji You leapt from the ground amid surging airwaves, the earth beneath him instantly cracking.

Scorching energy roared from his body, burning through the forest mist; his frame tensed, and within him rang a roar like crashing ocean waves.

Behind him, dozens of spiritual swords, radiating chilling sword intent, rose into the air, trembling, then surged forward to slaughter the corpse tide.

Yes, speed was essential now.

Fortunately, his swords had always been swift.

Beneath the dense web of powerful sword qi, the demonic seeds charging toward Tian Shu Academy cracked apart inch by inch, exploding into clouds of ash with a single boom.

The arrogant sword qi did not wane—it tore straight through the corpse tide, its massive blade-light like a scorching, blazing dawn, carving a deep, lasting gash through the dense forest mist.

The moment the corpse tide was split, the spiritual swords rose again, humming as they bore the heavy sword qi once more, emitting joyful sword cries.

Surrounding cultivators looked up, gazing at the figure whose sword intent swallowed the heavens, whose every gesture carried the stars down to kill.

Tian Shu Academy had no Holy Son—but after the Youxian Gathering, everyone knew: Tian Shu Academy had a monster.

Born in the countryside, he should have been merely a footnote in Tian Shu's history—yet now, among the Holy Sons of immortal sects wielding sacred artifacts, he fought with his sword, undiminished.

Among them, Lingjian Mountain disciples were different—they didn't just watch the man, they watched the sword.

The blade was straight and slender, about three feet long, three fingers wide, with a raised central ridge and sharp edges on both sides, its lines simple, fluid, balanced, and steady.

As the sword qi flickered, the blade's forged patterns, shaped by countless hammer blows, were clearly visible; at the center of those patterns lay a square stamp: ZHU JIAN GE.

Many lowered their heads, staring at their own swords—identical to the hovering spiritual blades—and felt complex emotions.

These were spiritual swords from the Jianzhuang Forge in Lingzhou; aside from slightly different patterns, all dozens were uniform in design.

The quality of these swords was decent—fifteen silver taels each…

Ji You's swords had always been like this—he came from humble origins, with little money.

It was said that years ago, fearing Chu He's sword might shatter his own in the Autumn Duel, he had scoured everywhere to raise money for a new blade.

These swords couldn't even match the private collections of decent swordsmen, let alone the supreme power of sacred artifacts.

Yet now, the vast sword slaughter fell again—BOOM—piercing the reformed corpse tide.

The three sacred artifacts, also slaughtering the corpse tide, seemed disturbed by the sword qi, trembling violently—causing Shang Xiyao, Huo Xingzhong, and the Chen siblings to freeze in place.

For a thousand years, human history has been rigidly stratified: immortal sects, noble families, immortal villas—from top to bottom, hierarchy absolute.

Some say this hierarchy is determined by talent and cultivation speed: those from noble families with better cultivation are sent to immortal sects, others remain at home, while the weaker ones enter immortal villas.

But in reality, the speed of cultivation can be compensated for with elixirs and spirit stones.