Chapter 395: Falling

Crack!

A thick bolt of lightning crashed down from the sky; Ku Ye’s white hair whipped wildly as all his arts converged beneath his black blade.

Using the intent to kill as the blade, he infused it with myriad techniques, causing thunder and fire to resonate.

Since events had spiraled far beyond his control, Ku Ye’s eyes burned with icy fury; in a rage, he slashed down the blazing, ten-thousand-art killing blade from beneath the pitch-black night.

Intense qi surged violently, splitting the four directions apart, and as it scraped through the air, it raised towering waves.

Seeing this, Ji You’s entire bloodline boiled; he spurred his spiritual fire to blaze fiercely, forcing the compressed qi within his flesh straight into his limbs and meridians.

Then his aura abruptly retracted; his fists drew back to his waist, his entire being sinking like a deep abyss returning to the void, as if stepping into an eternal night where even time froze.

Nothing. Nonexistence. Before nothingness.

This was the final punch of the Shaking Mountain Fist: Hundred Rivers Return to the Sea.

As a common fitness manual available at any market stall, the Shaking Mountain Fist was not a particularly refined body technique.

Ji You practiced it only to balance the qi within his body, never truly treating it as a combat art.

Only today, at this moment, did he intend to rely entirely on this fist to dissipate force and kill his enemy.

The roaring punch surged toward the heavens; after the profound stillness of Hundred Rivers Return to the Sea came the earth-shattering roar of the fist’s intent.

Boom!!!!!

The black blade, infused with myriad arts, shattered under the impact; exploding thunder and fire scattered like falling stars.

Amidst the thunder that cracked open the night, spiritual energy flooded the heavens once more, surging like a wild river, gathering through the night sky as its channel, rushing entirely toward the figure swinging his fist, pouring into his entire body.

A vast pressure descended from the sky; Ji You tensed every muscle, and with a puff, his spiritual fire burst from his skin, blazing fiercely.

Somewhere in the void, a crack echoed—as if an invisible restraint had been shattered, and his entire aura roared outward.

Then he ascended against the sky; the Hundred Rivers Return to the Sea punch violently shredded the crumbling black blade and charged toward Ku Ye, whose eyes were wide with disbelief.

Beneath the fist’s power, holding the weight of ten thousand acres, the veteran Spirit Traveler, who had killed countless souls, was instantly shattered—half his body exploded into blood and flesh mist.

The searing pain tore a deafening scream from him, but the response was a second strike, instantly following.

Under the earth-shattering punch, Ku Ye cracked like a fragile clay doll—from his forehead to his waist, every inch shattered, his dimming gaze locked unblinkingly on Ji You.

Some things had passed many years ago, and after his long slumber, his memory of them was faint.

Only when spiritual fire erupted from Ji You’s skin did he vaguely recall the figure from long ago—standing in a downpour, fist dominating the eight directions, striking down the Immortal-Approaching.

No, such a legacy should not exist anymore.

Otherwise, the mass ambush that came from all eight directions all those years ago would have meant nothing.

Psssh—

Ku Ye, pierced through by the punch, let out a piercing shriek before exploding into a rain of blood.

The veteran Spirit Traveler, who had slept for a hundred years and survived from the old era, finally returned his soul to the Dao, ending his prolonged, blood-soaked life in a furious fist-killing.

And at the very moment the fist landed, Ji You’s spiritual fire had coalesced into a single, blazing blue sun.

He sat at its core, his fist intent retracted, slowly closing his eyes, which had blazed with golden light.

Amidst the surging spiritual fire, the wounds on his face healed rapidly; the slash across his shoulder mended visibly before their eyes; his aura surged upward, making his sharp brows and starlit eyes appear even more heroic.

He was dead. Ji You, mid-cultivation breakthrough in mortal peril, interrupted his ascent, found the man, then re-broke through under lethal threat, and finally punched a true Spirit Traveler to death—his breakthrough now nearing completion.

The scions of noble houses, disciples of immortal sects—including Chen Luo, Chen Xi, and Huo Xingzhong, the three direct disciples of the immortal sects—all looked up, their eyes trembling.

Some recalled the lone figure who had entered the academy years ago, always solitary, a perfected Lower Realm cultivator.

Others vaguely saw the swordsman in the courtyard, silent, sword in hand, listening as others urged him to bow slightly to the Elder Hall.

Still others saw the tall man by the cold lake, smiling faintly, telling them not to worry about marrying down—he would never accept such a union.

In a blink, six years had vanished; today, he could punch a Spirit Traveler to death, his aura shaking the heavens.

“How could this happen…”

Huo Xingzhong stared at the unshakable figure within the blue sun, his Dao heart trembling violently.

Chen Luo and Chen Xi were pale, speechless for a long while.

Facing death, fighting for fate—they felt an overwhelming pressure on Ji You that they could not bear to confront.

In the long silence, gradually, sect wanderers came to their senses, and with hearts full of awe, they pulled out spirit platforms and sent messages to their own sects.

The Mountain Sea Pavilion stood on Five-Color Cliff; the grand hall atop the eastern cliff was the meeting chamber.

At that moment, the elder patriarchs of the Huo clan were gathered in the meeting chamber, sipping tea and chatting about the aftermath of the Wenda Sect’s success—such as the fate of Fengzhou, and the teahouses, relay stations, and artisan workshops they had acquired.

Honestly, for these immortal clan mainlines, such worldly enterprises held no real value.

But they could assign them to their disciples or collateral branches to manage, and receive tribute in return—this was acceptable.

“These worldly assets in Fengzhou seem trivial, but their profits are substantial. The three of us should negotiate: each take three-tenths, keep some for collateral branch youths, and entrust the rest to allied noble families to operate.”

“As for the joint harvest system in Fengzhou, we can keep it going—it’s still excellent, and ensures stable tax revenue.”

Elder Huo Deyu, of the Wujiang realm, spoke as he glanced at the head of the Elder Hall, Huo Chang: “Brother, what do you think of this arrangement?”

Huo Chang was about to agree when his attendant disciple rushed in, whispered something in his ear, then handed him a message scroll.

Huo Chang took the scroll, unrolled it silently, and his smile faded; his eyes froze.

Even as he read, Huo Deyu continued speaking.

“If you hadn’t lost Youyun two provinces to the barbarian demons, Fengzhou—bordering them—would’ve been a rich prize, fit to be the empire’s granary. But now it’s too close to the demon clans. Unstable.”

“So what? Let the farmers live there—what’s wrong with that?”

“Your idea, Brother Deyu, is sound—but don’t forget, that land belonged to the late husband of the Jianzhu. Taking Fengzhou isn’t realistic.”

“Why not? They’re only spiritual partners, not married—legally, it doesn’t count. Lingjian Mountain is far to the south; they can’t possibly reach Fengzhou in the far north. She can’t use her sacred artifact to force it to stay barren!”

The ones speaking with Huo Deyu were fellow mainline elders: Huo Qiwén, Huo Yanyang, and Huo Mingqian.

Around them, other elders listened, nodding, shaking heads, laughing along.

But as they chatted, they suddenly noticed the meeting chamber growing quieter—until only their own voices remained.

Huo Deyu, highly perceptive, sensed the shift; he looked up and saw the high-ranking elders all frozen in silence.

He blinked, about to raise his hand and ask—when a nearby elder handed him a scroll.

“What’s this?”

“The Spirit Traveler sent by the Wenda Sect is dead.”

“?”

Huo Deyu blinked, unrolled the scroll; Huo Qiwén, Huo Yanyang, and Huo Mingqian leaned in, reading the message.

The Wenda Sect dispatched a Spirit Traveler to assassinate Ji You during his breakthrough. Initially, the operation succeeded—disturbing his cultivation, causing spiritual backlash.

But Ji You, despite grave injuries, tracked the assassin’s location, broke through a second time mid-battle, refined his qi with his fists, and crushed the Spirit Traveler with a storm of fist aura.

In an instant, the entire meeting chamber fell silent—no noise, no chatter.

Second breakthrough. Fist-killing a Spirit Traveler. Each word in the message sounded like a fairy tale.

They knew Ji You was strong—that was why the three sects wanted him dead. But they never imagined his strength was this extreme…

“He killed a Spirit Traveler before even completing his breakthrough—what will he become after?”

“This boy has always been unconventional, and with the Jianzhu of Lingjian Mountain backing him, after this breakthrough, he’ll surely press harder on tax matters.”

“The Wenda Sect has never been trustworthy…”

“Prepare yourselves. I suspect our tax revenue will shrink further—soon we may have to perform on street corners for coins.”

“Performing? That’s a joke. But the joint harvest in Fengzhou might actually become ours.”

Amidst the murmurs, countless elders stared grimly, their voices heavy with dread.

Especially the Huo Yu line, fallen on Danshan, and the Huo Ku line, pierced through the heart at the Discourse Assembly—they breathed faster.

They had viewed the Wenda Sect’s strike as revenge. Who knew even that failed?

Now they regretted it—why hadn’t they struck when he was just emerging, when his power was still controllable? Now they watched helplessly as he dominated the region.

But then again, they realized it wasn’t anyone’s fault back then.

After all, who could have imagined a man from Fengzhou, with no noble lineage, would rise to this level?

Huh—the night wind howled.

As the meeting chamber fell utterly silent, a vast aura suddenly enveloped the Hall.

That aura was like a celestial immortal descending—magnificent, powerful. All Huo clan elders rose instantly, bowing respectfully toward the door.

Beneath the thick night, the Master of the Mountain Sea Pavilion, Huo Jun, arrived.