Mo Lin, however, remained still.
Sigh, "Flowing Mirage Sword Art: Echoing Blades."
Clang! Clang!
His sword shimmered, and in an instant, the battlefield was filled with afterimages—phantom swords that mirrored his every move, slashing in unison. Bai Rong's daggers met an endless sea of golden steel, and for the first time, his movements faltered. A single misstep. A moment's hesitation.
Mo Lin's hand shot out.
In a blur of motion, his fingers clamped around Bai Rong's wrist, his grip like an iron vice. Bai Rong's eyes widened in horror as he realized—He couldn't move. As is caught in time, Mo Lin's moves were just too quick.
Swoosh!
Mo Lin moved swiftly in a single thrust, his blade piercing Bai Rong's heart.
"H-H…ho—" Bai Rong staggered, his breath hitching as blood foamed at his lips. He looked down at the blade lodged in his chest, his body trembling as if he couldn't comprehend the outcome. His fingers twitched, his aura flickering… then fading into nothingness.
Thump!
Bai Rong collapsed to the ground, his lifeless body crumpled into the blood-soaked earth.
Only Ji Xian remained. But he didn't look like someone who was going to do anything about it anyway.
His expression twisted in a mix of rage and fear. "Y-You old bastard…" he hissed, stepping back.
Poof!
Without a single hesitation or another word, Ji Xian turned to flee, his figure blurring as he channeled every last drop of his Qi into a desperate escape.
"Really?" Shaking his head, Mo Lin exhaled. "Flowing Mirage Sword Art, Falling Petals."
Swoosh!
Suddenly the entire scene turned into a beautiful Autumn, with colorful petals floating in the cool breeze as if it was actually peaceful and not in the middle of a battle. The petals seemed simple, yet, they carried genuine intent within—as if they were indestructible.
This single demonstration just proved that Grand Elder Mo Lin has really managed The Small Realm of Perfect Completion with the Flowing Mirage Sword Art. Mo Lin could now shape reality with his will, subjugating weaker foes—though at this point, it's still pretty much a mirage, it is by no chance any weaker.
Boom!
A single golden flash.
Ji Xian's body stiffened. "I-I…" His whole body gave out on him, and he crashed onto the ground, his spine severed in one clean stroke.
Bang!
"Pant! Pant!" He was still alive—but crippled and his Core broken. His fate was even worse than death.
Mo Lin turned, his blade gleaming under the flickering flames of the sect hall.
Meanwhile, Cheng Feng—no longer the man he once was—had become a monster.
His form was twisted, his remaining arm pulsing with dark energy, veins blackened as the demonic corruption overtook him. He stalked the battlefield with maddened glee, cutting down disciples as if they were insects, his blade howling as it drank their blood.
A young disciple, barely past his first tribulation, stumbled in terror before Cheng Feng's looming shadow.
"Please—"
Thump!
A single stroke, and his head was rolling on the ground. Cheng Feng had already lost his humanity—not just that, but also his sanity. The Demon Corruption was more of a possession of one's body than a mere amplification of power. This is the Hall's sinister technique for their undead army, a forbidden art that was frowned upon by almost everyone.
"Hahaha!"
Cheng Feng laughed, a sickening sound, and turned towards another. A young girl, clutching a broken sword, tears streaking her soot-stained face. She looked at him with a tear-stricken face begging for mercy—
But Cheng Feng's smirk only grew wider.
Whoosh!
His blade swung but a brilliant light intercepted.
Clang!!!
A senior disciple from the Bright Sword Peak, his face bruised, stepped between them, parrying the attack at the last moment. "Demon!" he spat, eyes burning with fury. He'd always looked up to Cheng Feng, yet he allowed himself to fall so low.
Cheng Feng grinned. "Demon? No." His voice was distorted, monstrous. "I am a god."
Clang!!!
The two clashed almost immediately, but it wasn't even a fight but rather a one-sided slaughter. Cheng Feng overpowered him within seconds, his strikes fueled by pure hatred and corruption. His sword cut deep into the disciple's shoulder, nearly cleaving him in two.
"Noo!" The young girl screamed as blood splattered across her face.
Cheng Feng's smile widened even more sinister, raising his blade for the final strike.
"Enough."
A thunderous voice echoed through the ruins as a figure landed between them. The presence alone caused the air to tremble.
Cheng Feng's laughter died in his throat.
As Grand Elder Mo Lin stood before him, his robes tattered, his sword gleaming. His presence alone crushed the madness, forcing silence upon the battlefield.
Cheng Feng sneered, though a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "You think you can stop me, old man?"
He knew that for Mo Lin to be here it meant that the three Grand Elders failed.
Mo Lin's gaze did not waver. "Why don't we find out?"
Meanwhile, near the Tower Gates, Lei Jiang, the Thunder Fist Butcher, stood like an unstoppable storm.
His muscles pulsed with golden lightning, his every step shattering the earth beneath him. His eyes were fixed on the massive doors of the Sword Tower, a place where only the chosen could enter.
Yet, before him stood two stubborn unrelenting figures, both battered, bruised, and bleeding.
Lu Shen and Wei Jun—though their bodies wavered, their eyes remained unyielding.
"You two should've run when you had the chance." Lightning surged around his fists, a golden aura so powerful that it distorted the air itself.
Lu Shen gritted his teeth. He could barely stand. Meanwhile, Wei Jun's arm was dangling uselessly, blood dripping from his fingertips.
And yet… they did not budge. "Run? Even if it costs us our lives… you will not access our Sacred Grounds." Lu Shen grumbled.
Lei Jiang smirked, "Then die."
BOOM!
He vanished in a blur of golden light—reappearing directly in front of them. His fist shot forward like a divine hammer.
Bang! Bang!
In a split second, Lu Shen managed to erect a protective shield blocking Lei Liang's attack. The shockwave destroyed the pillars close by, leveling down some trees.
Wei Jun took advantage of the split second to summon his martial soul.
Boom!
The entire atmosphere began to shift, temperatures surging dramatically.
"Finally, someone worth it." Lei Jiang smirked, cracking his knuckles.
Rumble!
The earth trembled.
Not the soft rumble of distant footsteps. No, this was something greater. The very mountains quivered as if an ancient god had turned its gaze upon the battlefield. Cracks slithered across the ground like living veins of golden fire, pulsing with an immense, divine pressure as the War God appeared from the ground, standing tall like a colossal tower. Its two blades shimmering clean, as if polished for war.
Beside him, Lu Shen also summoned his martial soul… His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, and his breath became steady and stable by the moment.
Meanwhile, a storm of blood and chaos raged across the entire sect. Screams of dying disciples echoing through the shattered valley as the crimson sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the slaughter. Torn banners, broken weapons, and fractured spirit stones littered the ground—a true graveyard of ambition and failure.
A deep, resounding draconic growl erupted from within Lu Shen. The clouds gave way as an overwhelming surge of energy blasted out, rippling through the battlefield. The wind roared, and the sky itself seemed to bend under the weight of an ancient presence.
His tattered robes whipped against the force of his aura, his eyes glowing with an ethereal light as his hands slowly rose. The wind howled. The sky darkened. A golden radiance poured from his body, illuminating the battlefield like a celestial beacon.
Rumble!
The heavens split open as a roar—deeper than thunder, heavier than the ocean, grander than the heavens themselves—erupted from the void above. The fabric of reality tore apart as a colossal dragon emerged, its scales gleaming like molten gold infused with shadows of endless abyss.
Its eyes—shimmering like twin suns of pure divine might—swept over the battlefield, and every cultivator below, enemy and ally alike, felt their souls quake in submission.
The Sovereign Dragon.
It coiled around the sky, its sheer size distorting space, making it seem as though the sky itself was a living entity, writhing with power. Each movement carried the weight of celestial authority, forcing weaker martial souls to tremble and cower.
Lu Shen hovered majestically before it, standing in midair, his body a silhouette against its overwhelming brilliance. The sheer force of its presence made the ground rupture, sending massive chunks of land flying into the air, orbiting around him as if he had become the center of a new world.
The Sovereign Dragon let out another roar, shaking the entire region. Waves of golden-black energy erupted outward, forming a swirling vortex of pure dominance.
Lu Shen raised his head—and the dragon moved in perfect synchrony.
Sigh!
His breath was calm, but it carried a power deeper than words, deeper than reason. It was law, a command. And under the Sovereign Dragon's gaze, those who defied it would feel their bodies locked in place, unable to resist.
The heavens rumbled. Lightning tore through the sky in golden arcs. The winds spiraled like a celestial hurricane, forming a golden storm around Lu Shen and his Martial Soul. The battlefield was no longer a place for war—it had become a divine trial, a test of who was worthy to stand before a Sovereign.
A burst of golden abyssal fire erupted from its maw, vaporizing entire sections of the battlefield in an instant.
And Lu Shen, hovering before the colossal dragon, spoke again. "Your treachery ends here."