Eastern Region, Qing Province
Feathered Immortal Sect
Venerable Ju Yang stood with his hands behind his back, his figure shrouded in a hazy golden mist. His voice was deep and steady as it echoed through the hall.
"According to reports from our scouts, your father's Wind-Thunder Sect has been destroyed. The one who acted was the Peak Master of Misty Peak from the Xuantian Sect."
Boom!
The handsome young man in the sun-patterned robe instantly erupted in fury. Veins bulged on his forehead, his eyes blazing with space-rending killing intent as a terrifying aura surged from his body.
His greatest fear had come true.
His father was already dead.
Chen Xiao clenched his teeth, his voice filled with hatred. "What realm is that person?"
Venerable Ju Yang replied calmly, "According to information circulating outside, he is a newly advanced Nascent Soul cultivator."
"Nascent Soul?"
Chen Xiao laughed in extreme rage. "I kill Nascent Soul cultivators like slaughtering chickens!"
Before joining the Feathered Immortal Sect, he had once believed Nascent Soul cultivators were unreachable existences. That was only because in the remote Wasteland Province, Nascent Soul cultivators were rare to the point of legend.
After leaving the Wasteland Province and entering the Feathered Immortal Sect, he finally understood how vast the world truly was. What he once worshipped as lofty and inviolable was merely common here.
With daily cultivation and endless resources, Chen Xiao's strength had advanced rapidly. As his horizons expanded and his status within the sect rose, his disdain for cultivators from the Wasteland Province deepened. He even came to loathe his own origins, which was why he had not returned for so many years.
Yet he never imagined that a Nascent Soul cultivator from such a small sect would annihilate his father's sect.
The hatred of patricide was irreconcilable.
"Master," Chen Xiao asked in a low voice, recalling something, "what about Elder Mu? Who killed him?"
This incident was indirectly tied to him, and it had already caused dissatisfaction among the sect's upper echelons. It was like an ink stain on pristine paper, something that could affect his future prospects. The thought made Chen Xiao feel deeply aggrieved.
Venerable Ju Yang shook his head slightly. "It's still unclear. However, all signs point toward the Xuantian Sect. The problem is—what capability does such a small sect possess to kill Elder Mu? Just that Nascent Soul Realm Peak Master of Misty Peak?"
"In that case, the true culprit must be someone else," Chen Xiao said without hesitation.
He never associated Elder Mu's death with Ye Junlin. Based on the gap in cultivation and strength, it was simply impossible.
One had to understand—
The Feathered Immortal Sect was a top-tier cultivation holy land of the Eastern Region. Cultivators who emerged from here possessed terrifying foundations and divine abilities. How could they be compared to natives from a barbaric place like the Wasteland Province?
No matter the truth, one thing was certain.
The Xuantian Sect had to be annihilated.
And that Misty Peak Master had to die.
"This time, an ancient Secret Realm has appeared in the Wasteland Province," Venerable Ju Yang said. "The sect will dispatch Elder-level powerhouses to accompany you. Remember—you represent the Feathered Immortal Sect. You will compete with disciples from other major forces. As for revenge, you may act after the event concludes. Your master hopes you can distinguish priorities. Do you understand?"
His tone was solemn.
Chen Xiao understood the weight of this matter and did not dare show the slightest defiance.
His gaze sharpened as he bowed deeply. "Your disciple obeys!"
"Go."
"Yes!"
Watching Chen Xiao's departing figure, Venerable Ju Yang nodded in satisfaction. This was his most outstanding disciple, the champion of the sect's grand competition. As his master, Ju Yang naturally shared in that glory.
"With the cultivation resources bestowed by the Old Ancestor this time," he murmured to himself, "I am confident I can break through the Tribulation Transcendence bottleneck and step into the Mahayana Realm."
As everyone knew—
Soul Formation is known as a Divine Lord.
Body Integration is known as a Heavenly Lord.
Tribulation Transcendence is known as a Venerable or Supreme.
And Mahayana was also known as a Quasi-Immortal.
Just being associated with the word "Immortal" was enough to show how terrifying the power of that realm truly was.
…
The Wasteland Province—this remote and nearly forgotten land—suddenly became famous throughout the Eastern Region due to the appearance of an ancient Secret Realm.
Immortal Imperial Dynasties, cultivation families, and sects of all sizes were shaken by the news. Shock quickly turned into excitement, and countless forces began to mobilize.
"Damn! The Wasteland Province actually has an Immortal opportunity? Isn't that place known as a backward, barbaric land?"
"It must be a stroke of outrageous luck. The cultivators of the Wasteland Province are about to rise!"
"Hahaha, Fellow Daoist, you're far too naive. The cultivators there have always been poor and weak. How could such an Immortal opportunity ever belong to them?"
"That's right. Several top forces of the Eastern Region are already preparing to send teams to plunder resources. The locals will only be able to watch."
"Why are we still talking? Let's hurry over. If we're late, we won't even get a sip of the soup!"
Across the Eastern Region, warships streaked through the skies. Some cultivators rode spirit beasts, others flew on swords, all rushing toward the Wasteland Province without hesitation.
At this moment, the Luo Tian Secret Realm had not yet opened, but the area outside was already packed.
Cultivators filled both the sky and the ground. Voices overlapped, and the atmosphere was chaotic and restless.
Naturally, those gathered first were cultivators of the Wasteland Province, having the advantage of proximity.
"With the appearance of this Secret Realm, four of the five major sects have already arrived!"
"Hm? Why hasn't the Xuantian Sect shown up? Are they backing out?"
"That's unlikely. After all, they destroyed the Wind-Thunder Sect. Their strength can be considered top-tier within the Wasteland Province."
Suddenly, a hearty laugh echoed through the air.
A terrifying aura spread outward, causing countless cultivators to stiffen and instinctively turn their heads.
"Soul Formation?!"
Scalps went numb. It felt as if icy water had been poured over their heads.
The Sect Master of the Banshan Sect shouted in delight, his face flushed with excitement. "The Old Ancestor has emerged from seclusion!"
High in the sky, an elderly man in loose robes stepped forward with his hands behind his back. His complexion was rosy, his bearing ethereal, and his presence alone caused the surrounding air to feel heavy.
His gaze was sharp like lightning, impossible to meet directly. The cultivation aura radiating from his body was deep and unfathomable.
"This old man has just emerged from seclusion today," Ouyang Feng said calmly. "Upon hearing that an ancient Secret Realm has appeared here, I knew it must be the will of heaven."
"This Secret Realm will be entered first by my Banshan Sect. If any of you disagree, step forward. This old man will accompany you to the end."
His voice thundered across the sky, and within a radius of fifty kilometers, cultivators felt their minds shake and their blood churn.
After countless years in seclusion, Ouyang Feng had finally broken through to the Soul Formation Realm. The exhilaration in his heart demanded release, and this was the perfect stage.
"Old Ancestor is mighty!"
"Old Ancestor is invincible!"
The cultivators of the Banshan Sect erupted into cheers, their pride reaching its peak.
"Do you submit?"
Ouyang Feng looked down from above, his tone indifferent and domineering.
The representatives of the Tianjian Sect, Changhe Sect, and Xiaoyao Sect were visibly shaken, awe filling their eyes.
Soul Formation.
That was Soul Formation.
In the Wasteland Province—where even Nascent Soul cultivators were rare—the appearance of a Soul Formation cultivator was like a ferocious flood dragon descending into a pond of fish.
An existence that could not be opposed.
The Old Ancestor of the Banshan Sect, who shattered this boundary, would be remembered as a milestone by all cultivators of the Wasteland Province.
"We respectfully obey the Divine Lord's decree," the Sect Master of the Tianjian Sect said, his eyes filled with envy as he stepped forward and clasped his fists.
The other sect masters followed suit, speaking in unison:
"We respectfully obey the Divine Lord's decree!"
Seeing this, the surrounding loose cultivators no longer hesitated. The situation was decided.
One after another, cultivators in the sky descended to the ground, not daring to remain at the same height as Ouyang Feng, fearing they might offend this newly born Divine Lord.
When a Soul Formation cultivator appears, who dares contend?
"Hahahaha!"
Ouyang Feng laughed loudly, satisfaction surging through his chest.
From this day onward, he was the undisputed number one expert of the Wasteland Province.
Rumble!!
Suddenly, countless unfamiliar and terrifying auras surged in from all directions like a rising tide.
"Oh—!"
Ouyang Feng's body swayed violently. He was about to erupt in anger when the scene before him froze his thoughts completely.
He stood there, dumbfounded, as if struck by a paralysis technique.
In the sky, massive warships appeared one after another. Every vessel was refined from rare treasure materials, their surfaces carved with complex formations that radiated overwhelming pressure.
Flags fluttered in the wind, each bearing a distinct emblem that represented a different powerful force.
At the same time, cultivators flew on swords or rode spirit mounts, releasing their cultivation without restraint as they charged forward with domineering momentum.
"Tianwu Holy Land has arrived! Natives of the Wasteland Province, retreat immediately!"
"Wuying Sect is here! Scram if you know what's good for you!"
"The First Army of the Pingtian Imperial Dynasty is clearing the way! Those who block us shall die!"
"This ancient Secret Realm belongs to my Huangji Sect! No one is allowed to snatch it!"
Roars and shouts rolled across heaven and earth like thunder.
Golden Core cultivators—normally rare sights in the Wasteland Province—were now as common as cattle. Even Nascent Soul cultivators appeared one after another without end.
"Hm? The Wasteland Province actually has a Soul Formation cultivator?"
An outsider spoke casually.
Ouyang Feng was simply too conspicuous. While all other native cultivators stood obediently on the ground, he alone remained suspended in the sky.
Swish—swish—swish—swish!
In an instant, hundreds of vast divine senses swept over and locked onto Ouyang Feng.
Cold sweat poured down his face. Every hair on his body stood on end.
"Soul Formation… all of them are Soul Formation!"
He howled inwardly, his blood turning icy.
He had struggled for countless years to break through to the Soul Formation Realm, becoming a once-in-a-hundred-thousand-years figure in the Wasteland Province.
Just when he was intoxicated by invincibility and pride—
Hundreds of Soul Formation cultivators descended upon him at once.
Anyone would collapse.
At that moment, Ouyang Feng's face turned deathly pale. Trembling, he cupped his hands and forced a stiff smile.
"Fe–Fellow Daoists, this old man is Ouyang Feng, Old Ancestor of the Banshan Sect. You may simply call me Xiao Feng…"
"Shameless old thing," a legion commander from an Immortal Imperial Dynasty snapped coldly.
The man wore dragon-scaled treasure armor and held a massive halberd. His gaze was filled with contempt.
"Trying to act young in front of us? Get down and stay there. You have no right to speak here."
Laughter erupted from all directions.
Cultivators from the other thirteen provinces of the Eastern Region looked at Ouyang Feng as if he were a clown.
"You—!"
Ouyang Feng's face alternated between green and pale, his chest heaving as rage and humiliation choked him.
"Old Ancestor…"
The cultivators of the Banshan Sect were stunned. They never imagined that their proud Soul Formation Old Ancestor would be reduced to this level of humiliation.
"You eyesore," another Soul Formation elder from a major sect sneered.
"Why are you still standing there? Do you really think you're qualified to stand on equal footing with us?"
"These natives of the Wasteland Province truly don't know their place," a green-robed sword cultivator said mockingly.
"Even if they break through to Soul Formation, they're still the lowest class."
"Exactly. They don't understand the rules at all."
"Breaking through to Soul Formation doesn't change what they are."
"Old geezer, hurry up and get lost. Don't embarrass yourself further."
Mocking voices overlapped one after another, each word slapping Ouyang Feng across the face.
This time, it wasn't just the Banshan Sect.
All cultivators of the Wasteland Province clenched their fists, their eyes burning with anger.
Because the humiliation wasn't directed at one person.
It was aimed at the entire Wasteland Province.
Ouyang Feng's expression twisted. A surge of bitterness rose in his heart.
Was being born in the Wasteland Province a sin?
Did it mean he deserved no respect?
Even cultivators whose realms were lower than his dared to point at him and mock him openly.
Did they really think he had no temper?!
"Fellow Daoists!" Ouyang Feng shouted, his face flushed, veins bulging on his neck.
"This old man was born in the Wasteland Province and rooted here! The land may be harsh, but its people are not lowly!"
"I am a Soul Formation cultivator! On what grounds must I lower my head and let you trample me?!"
The moment his words fell—
Boom!
Vast killing intent surged forward like a tidal wave.
Soul Formation cultivators from multiple external forces released their auras simultaneously, crushing down on him.
Ouyang Feng's body trembled violently. His heart pounded wildly, fear seeping into his bones.
"You… you all…"
His scalp tingled. He swallowed hard.
He had just broken through to Soul Formation. Tens of thousands of years of life still lay ahead of him.
Why gamble it all here?
After a brief struggle, Ouyang Feng clenched his teeth and slowly descended.
"Hahahaha! Wasteland Province cultivators really are afraid of death!"
"Trash will always be trash!"
Laughter exploded once more, filled with disdain.
Ouyang Feng's face burned as if it had been slapped raw. But for the sake of survival, he endured it.
Suddenly, his heart trembled.
Below him, the cultivators of the Wasteland Province stood in silence.
Disappointment filled their eyes.
Those countless dim gazes pierced into his chest like blades.
The cultivators of the Banshan Sect stared at their Old Ancestor in disbelief.
In that instant, it felt as though the sky had collapsed.
Their faith shattered, and their hearts turned cold.
Ouyang Feng felt an agony in his heart, as if billions of ants were gnawing at it, a sharp, relentless pain. A voice echoed faintly in his mind, growing clearer with every breath, until his breathing became heavy and uneven.
"No!"
"This old man is the Soul Formation cultivator of the Wasteland Province—the number one person of the Wasteland Province!"
"If even this old man considers himself lowly, then what future does the Wasteland Province have?!"
"Even if I retreat today and survive in disgrace, it will leave a Heart Demon. Life would be worse than death!"
His thoughts snapped into clarity.
Resolve replaced hesitation.
Ouyang Feng's eyes hardened, blazing with determination. The suppressed fury within him exploded, sweeping through his entire body. His blood roared like molten lava, burning through his meridians.
His descending figure abruptly halted.
Then—
Boom!
He shot upward like a meteor, rising violently back into the sky.
Under countless stunned gazes, Ouyang Feng's hair whipped wildly in the wind. Two beams of cold light tore through the void from his eyes as he threw back his head and roared, the sound like a tiger's howl and a dragon's cry, fierce and unrestrained.
"Cultivators of the Wasteland Province—what is there to fear in battle?!"
"Whoever is unconvinced, step forward and face this old man!!!"
His voice thundered across the heavens, filled with the resolve to face death as if returning home.
Swish!
A piercing sword cry echoed through heaven and earth.
An ancient, heavy sword appeared in Ouyang Feng's hand. Its blade was engraved with continuous mountain patterns, radiating a blazing yellow halo, bright like a small scorching sun.
He raised the heavy sword and pointed it forward.
Amid the countless figures filling the sky, his body looked thin and solitary—
Yet incomparably dazzling.
"Old Ancestor!!"
The disciples of the Banshan Sect roared, their eyes bloodshot.
"It's appeared!" the Sect Master shouted excitedly. "The strongest spiritual weapon of the Banshan Sect—an Eight-Rank Treasure Artifact, the Kunshan Sword!"
The Kunshan Sword—unyielding and indestructible.
The undisputed protecting treasure of the Banshan Sect!
"Senior…"
The cultivators of the Wasteland Province were shaken to the core. The dimness in their eyes vanished, replaced by blazing light.
"Impudent!"
"Arrogant!"
"Old fool, you're courting death!!"
Angry roars erupted like a raging storm.
Many external cultivators were thoroughly enraged, feeling openly challenged. Killing intent surged as several prepared to strike together.
Yet under the overwhelming pressure, Ouyang Feng stood straighter than ever.
His gaze burned brightly, unyielding conviction carved into his brows.
"Come fight!"
He roared, throwing aside all concern for life or death.
"Let's kill this old dog together!" someone shouted viciously.
Just then—
An arrogant voice rang out from the crowd.
"Everyone, wait."
The speaker was a middle-aged man wearing a purple-gold crown and a dragon-embroidered robe, reclining casually on a luxurious carriage. Several ferocious spirit beasts pulled it, their bodies emanating thick, bloody qi that inspired fear.
"King Zhennan of the Shuntian Imperial Dynasty of Wu Province," someone said in a low voice, wary.
"A Late-Stage Soul Formation powerhouse."
King Zhennan chuckled lightly, his tone playful.
"This old geezer is nothing more than a cultivator from the Wasteland Province. If all of us gang up on him, wouldn't it become a joke once word spreads?"
"How about this," he continued lazily. "This king will demonstrate a bit of skill and suppress him with a single hand."
Hearing this, the surrounding cultivators nodded inwardly.
It made sense.
One by one, they chose to stand aside and watch coldly.
"Old dog," King Zhennan sneered, lifting his hand and striking out like lightning, "let me show you how vast the gap between you and us truly is!"
Boom!
Vast qi condensed into a gigantic hand that blotted out the sky, carrying overwhelming power as it slammed down toward Ouyang Feng.
"Die!"
Ouyang Feng roared, swinging the Kunshan Sword upward. A thick earthen-yellow sword light tore through the air, its aura surging violently.
Rumble!
The collision shook heaven and earth. Shockwaves rippled outward, cracking the ground below.
When the dust settled, Ouyang Feng still stood, gripping the heavy sword.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"He actually blocked it?"
King Zhennan's smile vanished, his eyes turning cold and predatory.
He stepped off the carriage and appeared before Ouyang Feng in an instant, his raised palm curling like a dragon's claw.
Earth-rank top-tier technique—Soaring Dragon Claw!
A terrifying pressure crashed down.
Ouyang Feng clenched his teeth and raised the Kunshan Sword to block. The qi within his body surged like a raging torrent, pouring out without restraint.
Clang!!!
Metal colliding sound rang through the sky.
Ouyang Feng's body was blasted downward. He slammed into the ground with a deafening crash, his hair disheveled, blood spilling freely from his mouth. Still, he forced himself upright, gripping the Kunshan Sword tightly, his eyes burning with unwillingness.
"Hmph. Truly a useless piece of trash," King Zhennan said coldly.
Outwardly calm, he was seething inside.
Relying on his higher cultivation and striking with full force, yet failing to kill this man in a single blow—it was humiliating.
"Again!" Ouyang Feng roared.
The opponent was undeniably powerful. Without the Kunshan Sword shielding him, his physical body would have been destroyed earlier.
"This old fellow actually has some backbone," several Soul Formation cultivators thought silently.
King Zhennan laughed in anger. Still daring to provoke him?
No longer holding back, he unleashed one technique after another, charging forward with killing intent.
Ouyang Feng steadied himself and raised the Kunshan Sword once more.
Sword light surged skyward like a blazing sun.
As the Old Ancestor of the Banshan Sect, he pushed his sword techniques to their absolute limit. With the support of his spiritual treasure, he forcibly held King Zhennan at bay.
Before long—
King Zhennan grew increasingly irritable. His breathing became heavy, and a wound opened across his chest, blood flowing freely.
He was completely enraged.
Abandoning all restraint, he raised his hand and summoned his spiritual treasure.
A Ninth-Rank Treasure Artifact—the Primordial Hammer!
The hammer descended like a meteor. Its violent wind pressure swept across the battlefield, forcing many cultivators to stagger back in alarm.
Boom!!
The Kunshan Sword nearly flew from Ouyang Feng's grasp.
His entire body convulsed violently. Qi and blood surged chaotically within him. Still, he sneered through bloodstained lips.
"Didn't you say earlier… how shameful it would be?"
King Zhennan's eyes burned with fury. His voice thundered.
"Old geezer, this king wants you dead!"
The Primordial Hammer crashed down again and again, its momentum fierce and unrelenting.
At last, Ouyang Feng could no longer endure.
A single blow sent him flying. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body smashed into the ground, carving a deep crater and raising clouds of dust.
"If you kneel and beg this king," King Zhennan said arrogantly, hammer in hand, "I might consider sparing your pathetic life."
He wanted more than victory.
He wanted to crush Ouyang Feng's dignity—and break the backbone of every cultivator in the Wasteland Province.
Ouyang Feng lay on the ground, soaked in blood. His aura was faint, his body trembling, like an old dog on the verge of death.
Gone was the lofty presence he once had as a Divine Lord.
Yet in the eyes of the Wasteland Province cultivators—
He was still their number one Divine Lord.
"Senior… that's enough…"
Voices choked with grief rang out.
"Old Ancestor!!"
The cultivators of the Banshan Sect wept openly, their hearts breaking as they cried out.