Deep in the back mountains.
In stark contrast to the chaos outside.
The battle here unfolded with a kind of grim, orderly precision.
Those fighting were no longer ordinary inner disciples, but Personal Disciples under the command of Elders from every peak and valley.
Their cultivation was formidable — the weakest among them had reached the ninth level of the Qi Refinement Realm, and more than a few had achieved the Perfected tenth level of the Qi Refinement Realm.
At this moment, they moved in groups of three to five, forming simple sword formations. Their spiritual energy blazed and intertwined like precise scythes, cutting down the stronger demon beasts surging up from deeper within.
An elder with white-streaked hair but a face that showed little sign of age swept his longsword through the air with steady, mountain-like composure.
Each swing carried the sound of wind and thunder, effortlessly cleaving a peak second-rank Ironclad Rhinoceros in two as it attempted to break through the defensive line.
Not far away.
A seemingly frail middle-aged scholar wielded a slender, flexible sword with nimble, elusive movements.
Every flick of his blade found a demon beast's vital point — precise and lethal.
Just then.
A sharp sword light streaked in from the horizon, landing lightly near the two men.
As the sword light dissipated, it revealed a silver-haired woman with a cool, composed expression — none other than Shen Hongmei, Elder of Spirit Sword Peak.
Her robes bore faint traces of dark crimson blood, yet her aura remained steady and unhurried.
"Master!"
The white-haired elder and the middle-aged scholar immediately sheathed their swords and bowed, their voices respectful.
Shen Hongmei gave a slight nod, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield to confirm the defensive line was holding.
"Master, are you injured?" The white-haired elder noticed the bloodstains on Shen Hongmei's robes with a sharp eye and asked with concern.
Shen Hongmei waved a hand dismissively. Her tone was calm, though it carried a barely perceptible trace of weariness:
"It's nothing — just a surface wound. Together with the other Elders, we've temporarily contained a Seventh Rank Golden Sun Demon Dragon. It drained us considerably."
"A Seventh Rank Demon Dragon?!"
The middle-aged scholar beside her cried out in shock, his face etched with horror.
"That's a terrifying existence equivalent to a cultivator who has managed to form her golden core!"
The white-haired elder drew a sharp breath as well.
Shen Hongmei's expression grew grave. "Indeed. This is no small matter. I've already notified the Sect Master. Until he arrives, we absolutely cannot let it break free."
She looked at the two of them:
"I was worried about your side, so I came to check. Song Shufan, Feng Zikun — has this defensive line let any powerful demon beasts slip through?"
The middle-aged scholar Song Shufan quickly bowed:
"Reporting to Master — your disciple and Senior Brother Feng have faithfully followed your orders and held this position without allowing a single demon beast above second-rank to pass."
Shen Hongmei nodded, then turned to the white-haired elder with further instructions:
"Feng Zikun, you are the most experienced here — keep a close watch over things. This beast tide is unlike any before. Do your best to minimize casualties among the disciples." Though her tone remained cool, the care she held for her disciples was unmistakable in her words.
"Understood, Master!" The white-haired elder Feng Zikun answered with solemn resolve.
Shen Hongmei said nothing more.
She shifted her stance, about to transform into sword light and depart.
She knew that even with all the Elders' careful arrangements, the back mountains were simply too vast — it was inevitable that some creatures would slip through to the outer areas and cause casualties among the disciples.
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This was a price that could never be entirely avoided during the annual demon beast unrest.
Yet, just as she was about to leave, an inexplicable unease stirred within her heart for no clear reason.
The silhouette of a young man quietly surfaced in her mind.
That Qi Refining disciple who had unexpectedly found his way into her heart deep in the back mountains — the one she had bestowed so many gifts upon. Chen Yang.
"That little rascal… I gave him a jade token, and he hasn't come to Spirit Sword Peak to find me even once…"
A rare, inexplicable flicker of annoyance rose in Shen Hongmei's heart, but it quickly dissolved into a thread of indescribable worry:
"The valley must be in chaos right now. He's a newly promoted inner disciple — I hope he doesn't do anything reckless…"
At that thought.
Within those cool, composed eyes of hers, a faint, almost imperceptible tenderness surfaced — one she herself had not even noticed.
The frozen lake of her heart, sealed for a hundred years, rippled for the first time because of a single person — clearly and unmistakably.
"Once this is over, I must go find him myself for a talk…"
That thought settled in her heart. A flash of sword light, and she was gone.
* * *
At the same moment.
Deep within another stretch of the back mountains — a far denser, more primordial ancient forest.
Chen Yang had pushed his speed to its absolute limit, tearing through the woods like a wild hound fleeing for its life.
Yet the terrifying presence behind him clung to him like a shadow, drawing closer and closer with every passing second!
The roar of the thirty-meter crocodile sent sharp pain through his eardrums, and the reeking gale it unleashed nearly knocked him off his feet.
Just as he felt he was about to be overtaken and braced himself for a desperate last stand, everything changed in an instant!
The beast roars, the howling wind, the thunderous bellowing of the giant crocodile behind him — all of it vanished in a fleeting moment!
The entire world plunged into a deathly silence, as though every sound had been wiped away by an invisible hand in an instant!
This absolute silence was even more terrifying than the cacophony that had preceded it!
Chen Yang skidded to a halt, turning back with wary, bewildered eyes.
The thirty-meter crocodile that had been relentlessly pursuing him had also stopped — strangely, inexplicably.
It raised its massive head, and within those cruel, slit-pupiled eyes, there appeared an almost eerily human emotion — a mixture of fear and reverence — as it stared fixedly at the sky above!
Chen Yang instinctively followed its gaze upward.
The next moment.
He witnessed a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life. His pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints!
High above in the darkened sky, the heavy cloud layer was forcibly torn apart by some invisible power!
A creature of unimaginable size slowly revealed itself — just a glimpse, just a fragment. A dragon's head!
Deer antlers, a camel's head, rabbit eyes, a serpent's neck…
Every feature matched exactly what the storyteller in the county town teahouse had described with animated fervor — back when he was still a mortal, holding the hand of his wife Zhao Yanran.
Yet the colossal being before him inspired nothing remotely auspicious.
Instead, it stirred a primal terror born from the very instinct of life itself — the absolute dread and insignificance of an ant gazing up at the heavens!
"A dragon… it's really a dragon…"
Chen Yang murmured in a daze.
A cold, despairing dread took root in his heart.
Just then, the enormous dragon head within the clouds seemed to notice the thirty-meter crocodile below — a creature no larger than a speck of dust by comparison.
Without any superfluous movement, it simply opened its vast maw —
Roaarrr——!!
A Dragon's Roar beyond all description erupted!
The sound did not travel through the air — it struck directly at the depths of the soul!
It carried within it a supreme majesty and a force of utter annihilation!
The thirty-meter crocodile bore the full brunt of it.
It couldn't even manage a dying cry. Its massive body was struck as though by an invisible colossal hammer; the black killing aura surrounding it instantly collapsed, its scales — harder than refined iron — shattered piece by piece, and its entire body slumped to the ground like wet clay. Its life force was extinguished in a fleeting moment!
And Chen Yang, who had only been caught in the aftershock, felt an irresistible, terrifying force slam into both his divine soul and his physical body!
Pfft——!
His knees buckled, and he crashed heavily to the ground, spewing a great mouthful of blood!
Crimson threads of blood seeped from his eyes, his ears, and even his nostrils!
The entire world blurred and fell silent in his perception.
All that remained in his ears was a deafening, incessant ringing!
Had it not been for the formidable physical body he had forged through the Nine Revolutions Body Tempering Art, combined with the immense vitality contained within the Yimu Immortality Art spontaneously shielding him at the critical moment — frantically repairing his damaged meridians and organs — even the mere aftershock of that single Dragon's Roar would have been enough to blow him apart entirely!
"I'm going to die… I'm really going to die here…"
Chen Yang's consciousness grew hazy. Flashes of everything since he had come to the mountain flickered through his mind — the humiliation of being a laborer, the defiance of the promotion trial, the moment he became an inner disciple…
All of his efforts seemed laughably futile and powerless in the face of such an absolute gulf in strength.
He desperately tried to rouse the spiritual energy within him, only to find his qi sea frozen solid — he couldn't summon even a thread of spiritual energy.
The gap was simply too vast!
Like a firefly before the full moon!
Just as he had given up all hope and was preparing to close his eyes and await death…
A white figure appeared without warning, stepping between him and that terrifying Dragon's Might.
The newcomer stood with their back to him. Their frame appeared slender, yet they stood like an invisible wall, blocking the vast majority of the devastating Dragon's Might aftershock.
Chen Yang's vision was blurred and his ears rang without cease — he couldn't hear a thing. He could only make out that the figure's silhouette seemed somehow familiar.
He watched as the white-robed figure looked up toward the dragon head half-hidden in the clouds, seemingly muttering something in a low voice — but Chen Yang could no longer hear it.
Then, the figure slowly turned around.
What swam into Chen Yang's hazy vision was a face with a touch of androgynous refinement, the corners of its mouth habitually curled in a teasing smirk —
Lin Yang!
It was actually Lin Yang!
Zhao Yanran's cultivation partner — her Senior Brother!
How could he be here?!
Whether it was the shock of facing an enemy, or the injuries within him surging beyond control, a sudden violent rush of qi and blood overwhelmed him. Chen Yang's head lolled to the side, and he fell completely unconscious.