The words cracked through the silence like a thrown brick.
Mei Qingxue covered her mouth and giggled.
Shen Lanyue sighed, though her eyes were not as cold as she wanted them to be.
Ning Huang jerked back as if struck by lightning.
Her face turned fiercely red.
The flush reached her ears.
"You—"
She tried to struggle out of Long Shenyu's arms, but her injuries made the motion weak, and Long Shenyu's embrace remained firm.
He chuckled.
"Careful. You are still wounded."
"Let go."
"You were holding me first."
"That was different!"
"Was it?"
Ning Huang glared at him, but the glare lacked its usual killing force. It was too shaken, too embarrassed, too alive.
Long Shenyu smiled and hugged her closer, letting his Qi flow gently through her meridians to calm the chaotic lightning within her. The warmth of it steadied her before she could resist. Her shoulders relaxed despite herself.
That only made her blush harder.
The watching crowd was lost.
Completely lost.
A moment ago, they had been trapped in the terror of life and death, watching forces beyond their understanding clash above the city. Now Long Shenyu was soothing Ning Huang in his arms while smiling as if the entire battlefield existed for his amusement.
The contrast was absurd.
It was also terrifying.
Because not once had his blade left his hand.
Not once had the killing intent fully faded.
Long Shenyu lowered his head and gave Ning Huang one more kiss, lighter this time, at the corner of her lips.
Ning Huang stiffened again.
Before she could scold him, his gaze shifted.
The warmth vanished.
His eyes moved toward Luo Zhenmu and Lu Jiangheng.
"It's time to clear up these wastes."
The words were spoken indifferently.
No rage.
No hatred.
Just a decision.
Luo Zhenmu's body stiffened.
Lu Jiangheng's heart nearly stopped.
The two Verdant Edge cultivators had been trying to move backward without drawing attention. Slowly. Carefully. Not fleeing, because fleeing would admit fear. Not staying still, because staying still felt like waiting for execution.
Luo Zhenmu was still wounded from Long Shenyin's spear. The injury in his shoulder had been sealed, but the destructive force had not fully dispersed. Every circulation of Sky Qi scraped against it like metal grinding over bone.
Lu Jiangheng was worse.
His previous wounds had already damaged his confidence. Now terror layered over them until his Sky Qi barely moved smoothly. His face had gone gray, and his fingers twitched near his sword hilt without committing to the draw.
Long Shenyu was about to turn.
But before he could move, Long Shenyin vanished.
There was no warning.
No footstep.
No ripple.
One instant she stood near the broken thunder mist.
The next, she appeared in front of Luo Zhenmu.
The air between them exploded backward.
Luo Zhenmu's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Too fast!
He was a 4th layer Sky Lord, an inner deacon of Verdant Edge Sword Sect. He had fought beasts, criminals, rival sword cultivators, and rebellious Lower Domain clans. He had stood above cities and watched Origin Core cultivators bow like grass before wind.
But this spear woman's speed did not make sense.
Her cultivation was Origin Core.
Her pressure was not.
Luo Zhenmu's face turned pale white.
"You dare kill me?" His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady. "I am an inner deacon of Verdant Edge Sword Sect! Our Sage Rulers will come! My sect will hunt you to the ends of—"
Long Shenyin sneered.
"Then I will kill them too."
She thrust the Black Tyrant Sun Spear.
No flourish.
No mercy.
Luo Zhenmu reacted with all the skill of a 4th layer Sky Lord.
His sword flashed free.
Verdant Severing Sword Qi erupted in layered green arcs. Wood-wind resonance spun around him, forming a rotating shield that was both offense and defense. Every layer carried cutting force. Every strand of sword Qi was designed to redirect pressure, slice apart incoming momentum, and chew through the force behind an enemy's weapon.
It was a proper Noble Domain sword inheritance.
In River Ridge, even the Qin Family's strongest elders would have knelt in awe before such skill.
The green light formed a full barrier in less than a blink.
Luo Zhenmu poured everything into it.
Sky Qi.
Sword intent.
Wood-wind resonance.
His wounded shoulder screamed as he forced the circulation past its limit, but he did not stop. He knew if he held back even a little, he would die.
The Black Tyrant Sun Spear struck.
The world seemed to darken at the spearhead.
The weapon did not pierce like an ordinary spear. It descended like a black sun compressed into a single point, carrying weight, momentum, slaughter, and crushing suppression all at once.
The first layer of Verdant Severing Sword Qi shattered.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The rotating shield screamed as it collapsed inward.
Luo Zhenmu's eyes bulged.
Impossible!
His sword intent tried to cling to the spear and cut apart its momentum. The Black Tyrant Sun Spear did not slow. The destructive force inside it rolled forward like an army trampling a forest.
Green sword light burst apart.
Wood-wind resonance scattered into broken fragments.
The spear passed through every defense.
Then it tore through Luo Zhenmu's head.
There was no second exchange.
No final technique.
No desperate reversal.
The spear entered between his brows and came out the back of his skull, dragging a burst of blood and shattered bone into the air. Luo Zhenmu's body went rigid. His sword fell from his hand.
The inner deacon of Verdant Edge Sword Sect died with his eyes wide open.
Long Shenyin flicked her spear.
The corpse dropped.
It fell from the sky without dignity.
Lu Jiangheng watched Luo Zhenmu die.
Something inside him broke.
"Ah—!"
The scream that burst from his throat was shrill, raw, and utterly unlike the proud envoy who had once arrived in River Ridge with Verdant Edge authority behind him.
He turned to run.
He did not care about face.
He did not care about sect dignity.
He did not care about Zhao Chuan, Lei Yunhe, the Qin Family, or the eyes of the entire city.
He only wanted distance.
One step.
That was all he managed.
Long Shenyin glanced at him.
Annoyance crossed her face.
She lifted one hand and waved.
A line of black-red spear pressure swept across the air.
Lu Jiangheng's body froze.
For a fraction of a breath, he remained whole.
Then he burst into blood mist.
No corpse remained.
Only a red cloud spreading through the wind.
The speed of the killing chilled even Zhao Chuan and Lei Yunhe.
Luo Zhenmu was a 4th layer Sky Lord.
Lu Jiangheng was still a Sky Lord envoy.
In the Lower Domains, either one could have forced city powers to bow. In River Ridge, their arrival had been enough to stir the Qin Family into confidence and make countless cultivators believe Long Shenyu's arrogance had finally reached its end.
Yet one died in a single spear thrust.
The other died from a casual wave.
Luo Zhenmu's corpse fell first.
The body of the Verdant Edge Sword Sect inner deacon dropped from the sky with no dignity left in it. His chest had been torn open by spear force, his sword aura scattered, his once-proud green robes soaked dark with blood.
Silence swallowed River Ridge City.
Long Shenyin's black-red slaughter aura curled around the spearhead. It did not blaze wildly anymore. It flickered in short, dangerous sparks, like embers left behind after a battlefield had been burned clean. Her expression held no triumph. No excitement. Not even much interest.
She looked down at the blood staining the ruined street and scoffed.
"Pathetic."
That single word drifted across the broken city district. It was not loud, but every cultivator heard it. Every Qin elder. Every hidden spy. Every wounded guard crawling behind cracked walls. Every servant who had once believed Sky Lords were untouchable.
Long Shenyin tilted her head, her lips curling with open contempt.
"A bunch of trash sword cultivators wearing borrowed confidence. If their main sect is this pathetic, I'm going to be disappointed."
Several Qin elders nearly choked.
One of them instinctively looked toward the corpse, then toward the shattered rooftops, then back at Long Shenyin as if hoping he had misheard. Another lowered his head so fast his neck cracked. Nobody dared respond.
Trash sword cultivators.
That was Verdant Edge Sword Sect she was insulting.
An average Noble Domain sect with an 8th layer Sage Ruler ancestor. A power that could command cities like River Ridge without even sending its true core disciples. A sect whose outer pressure alone had shaped Qin Family ambition for years.
Yet Long Shenyin called them trash in public.
And worse, she sounded genuinely bored.
Long Shenyu glanced over from where he stood with Ning Huang held against him.
He looked at Long Shenyin.
Then he shrugged.
"We'll see very soon."
The way he said it made people's hearts twist.
He spoke as though the Verdant Edge Sword Sect would naturally send more people, and those people would naturally become entertainment if they were strong enough.
His words carried no fear of Sage Rulers. Not even respect.
It was as if Sage Rulers were only a higher grade of problem, not a wall that could crush him.
That realization made the silence heavier.
And in that silence, Zhao Chuan and Lei Yunhe turned pale.
With Luo Zhenmu and Lu Jiangheng dead, only the two of them remained.
Their earlier arrogance had been burned away. Their pressure as Heaven's Edict Thunder Palace envoys still existed, but it now hung around them like torn banners after a storm. Zhao Chuan's robes were ragged, his thunder gauntlet cracked, and blood stained the corner of his mouth. Lei Yunhe's spear hand was steady, but his eyes had grown sharper with fear.
Then Long Shenyu's gaze shifted to them.
No killing intent erupted.
No roaring aura descended.
He simply looked at them.
And that was worse.
His eyes were indifferent, deep and cold beneath their lazy surface, as if he were not looking at two Noble Domain envoys but two insects that had crawled too close to his sleeve.
Ning Huang felt his arm tighten slightly around her waist.
It was a small movement. Almost casual. Yet warmth spread through her body from that contact, cutting through the chill left by the battle. She looked up at him, lips parting as if to speak.
She wanted to tell him not to go too far.
She wanted to tell him Heaven's Edict Thunder Palace was not like Verdant Edge.
She wanted to tell him Zhao Chuan and Lei Yunhe were only envoys, and killing or crippling them would pull the sect's gaze down completely.
But the words caught in her throat.
Long Shenyu did not look down yet.
His voice remained mild.
"Since you two came all the way down here, I'll give you a parting gift back."
Zhao Chuan's pupils contracted.
Lei Yunhe understood first.
He understood because he had survived by not mistaking pride for strength. Long Shenyu's tone was too calm. The space around his finger had already begun to tighten. There was no time to argue, no time to bargain, no time to preserve dignity.
He roared, "Zhao Chuan, everything!"
The two moved at the same time.
Zhao Chuan slammed his remaining thunder gauntlet against his chest.
A dull boom sounded from within his ribs. Blood sprayed from his mouth, but the blood did not fall. It burned in the air, transforming into white-gold lightning that wrapped around his body in violent arcs. His Heaven's Edict robes flared, layer after layer of defensive runes igniting across the fabric.
Behind him, a vague thunder decree manifested.
It was half-formed and unstable, only a borrowed shadow of true sect authority, but it still carried the oppressive dignity of a Noble Domain inheritance. The decree hovered behind him like a command from the heavens, every stroke formed from crackling lightning script.
Zhao Chuan screamed, "Edict Thunder Guard!"
Thunder condensed into armor.
A white-gold shield unfolded before him, then another, then another. Each shield carried a different mark of judgment. Some resembled ancient characters. Some resembled thunder beasts. Some were only jagged formations of light, but every layer released enough pressure to make weaker Origin Core cultivators cough blood.
Lei Yunhe thrust his spear into the air.
His lightning was not as arrogant as Zhao Chuan's. It did not blaze like a decree. It flowed like a storm gathering over a battlefield, steady and disciplined. Spear shadows appeared around him, one after another, circling with tight precision. Seven rings formed, each ring rotating in a different direction.
His face was already pale.
His lips had lost color.
But his eyes were clear.
"Seven-Layer Judgment Spear Wall!"
The arts overlapped.
Thunder became shields.
Spear shadows became rings.
Bloodline force burned.
The two sect tokens at their waists hummed violently, trying to borrow a trace of distant authority from Heaven's Edict Thunder Palace. Message jades hidden in their robes cracked under the strain. Loose lightning crawled over the broken street, making fragments of stone dance in the air.
The pressure swept outward.
Weaker cultivators dropped to their knees. Some covered their ears. Some pressed their palms to the ground and trembled. Even the Qin Family elders felt their internal qi grow chaotic. This was no ordinary defense. This was the desperate defense of two Sky Lord-level envoys burning bloodline power, sect arts, and protective treasures at once.
For a single moment, River Ridge City seemed to be drowning beneath thunder.
Then Long Shenyu lifted one finger.
There was no grand movement.
No battle cry.
No gathering of sword clouds.
Just one finger.
A strand of sword light flashed out.
The world darkened.
Not because the sun vanished. Not because clouds covered the sky. The sword light was simply too sharp, too dense, too absolute. For an instant, every other source of light seemed unworthy of existing beside it. It was a thin line of darkness edged in gold, and within that line was a cold sharpness that made every sword cultivator present feel pain in their bones.
Qin Roujian's breath stopped.
That was not ordinary sword qi.
It did not only cut flesh.
It carried internal severing force. Circulation-breaking force. A kind of cold precision that aimed not at the surface of a defense, but at the rhythm holding that defense together.
Long Shenyu flicked his finger.
The sword light descended.
Zhao Chuan's Edict Thunder Guard lasted less than a breath.
The thunder decree behind him split from top to bottom. The white-gold shields burst apart like torn cloth. One layer vanished, then the second, then the third. The defensive runes on his robes flashed wildly before going dark. His remaining gauntlet cracked again, the sound sharp enough to reach every ear.
The backlash hit him like a hammer.
Blood burst from his eyes and nose.
Zhao Chuan tried to roar, but only blood came out.
Lei Yunhe's spear wall collapsed an instant later.
Seven layers of spear lightning rotated faster, trying to grind away the sword light. For half a heartbeat, the rings shone bright enough to blind mortal eyes. Then they burst apart into countless droplets of lightning. Each droplet hissed in the air before fading.
Lei Yunhe coughed blood before the attack even touched him.
His spear trembled.
His fingers split open.
The sword light finally landed.
It did not explode in a grand display.
It smashed through them with brutal simplicity.
Zhao Chuan and Lei Yunhe were driven out of the sky like broken stones. Their bodies tore through the air, hit the ground, bounced once, and carved two long trenches through the ruined street. Broken slabs flew up around them. Thunder exploded in scattered bursts, but the light inside that thunder was thin and failing.
Zhao Chuan vomited blood so violently his chest spasmed.
His white-gold lightning flickered around him in ragged arcs, trying to protect him from the sword force already inside his meridians. It failed. Every pulse of lightning made the sword force cut deeper.
Lei Yunhe tried to plant his spear into the ground.
The spearhead pierced stone.
For one moment, he almost stood.
Then his knees buckled.
He dropped forward, one hand gripping the shaft of his weapon, his shoulders shaking. His meridians were filled with Long Shenyu's sword force. Whenever he circulated lightning, the foreign edge answered, slicing through his pathways and turning his own energy against him.
The city remained silent.
Nobody cheered.
Nobody shouted.
Even breathing felt dangerous.