Chapter 49: The Grand Void Sword God’s Arrival

“Murong Yuntian, you…!”

Nan Tian had believed Murong Yuntian to be his ally, only to find himself utterly betrayed.

“What ‘you’ is this? Do you, as the head of the Nan Family, possess such paltry magnanimity?” Murong Yuntian stated.

“Nan Family Head, have your childish antics not yet run their course? Was there truly any flaw in Island Master Shen’s words?” Jun Jinghong interjected.

“By what right do you, a mere mainland inhabitant, presume to meddle in the affairs of the Eastern Sea sects!”

“I merely find your conduct, Nan Family Head, to be rather unbecoming.”

Jun Jinghong’s expression was as frigid as ice, her aloof demeanor only serving to ignite a fiercer rage within Nan Tian.

“What insolent creature are you, to dare address this family head with such disrespect!”

“Then tell me, do *I* possess the qualifications?”

No sooner had the words left their lips than countless golden sword projections materialized across the plaza, imbued with a majestic aura. They streaked across the sky like bolts of lightning, their piercing, metallic hiss reverberating through the air.

Immediately thereafter, a woman of breathtaking beauty, seemingly untouched by the mortal coil, materialized upon the plaza. Her delicate form was cloaked in a white and crimson Daoist robe, her three thousand strands of raven hair swaying gracefully above a waist so slender it seemed one could not grasp it. A faint trace of makeup adorned her oval face, and a subtle crimson hue graced her moist, sensuous lips.

Her majestic, captivating eyes instilled a sense of breathlessness in every cultivator present, while the golden sword insignia etched upon her brow drew gazes irresistibly, making it impossible to hold eye contact for long. Combined with her mature and solemn demeanor, she epitomized an extraordinary immortal presence, her very being radiating the potent oppression of a true superior.

“Now, utter those words again!”

An immense, crushing pressure surged directly towards Nan Tian.

Nan Tian, however, was instantly forced to his knees by this overwhelming aura. He attempted to circulate his immortal essence in resistance, only to find it utterly unresponsive.

‘Such formidable power.’

Every cultivator present felt the terrifying weight of this aura. Even mighty Immortal Emperors like Shen Xiulan and Murong Yuntian were struck by the profound insignificance of their own power beneath its oppressive might.

“Grand-Ancestor.” Jun Jinghong advanced, offering a respectful salute.

“It is well that you are unharmed.”

Xi Chaoyuan scrutinized Jun Jinghong from head to toe, her gaze lingering until she confirmed the absence of any injury, only then allowing a measure of relief to settle.

“The Grand Void Sword God?!”

A wave of astonishment swept through the cultivators. Who, exactly, was the Grand Void Sword God? If the Green Lotus Sword God, Yun Yi, had single-handedly dominated the Eastern Sea with her blade, then Xi Chaoyuan was the architect who, starting from nothing, forged one of the mainland’s most formidable sects, the Grand Void Sword Pavilion, in a mere millennium.

Xi Chaoyuan’s face remained as cold as frost as she gazed down at Nan Tian, who lay prostrate on the ground like a cowering dog. “Do I possess the qualifications?” she stated icily.

“I… I… I…”

Nan Tian’s words now came out in a desperate stutter, the immense pressure rendering him incapable of forming complete sentences. Yet, he knew he had to speak, for he believed that under this crushing force, he would perish as swiftly as a ‘flash in the pan’ if he did not.

‘What am I to do! Family experts, come quickly!’ Nan Tian could only plead within his heart, ‘Family experts, please, hasten to my rescue!’

Yet, at that very moment, it seemed Heaven itself had heeded Nan Tian’s desperate plea, for a divine consciousness descended from the boundless sky.

“Grand Void Sword God, for this old man’s sake—”

“Mere grumbling. Since when have insects dared to interject?”

The instant a golden sword qi cleaved through the heavens, its fierce, terrifying killing intent emanated outwards, creating ripples across space. As the cultivators beheld the fissure-like golden sword qi, a profound sense of shock involuntarily seized their hearts.

‘What an incredibly potent force of the Sword Dao!’ Shen Xiulan mused inwardly, a tremor of fear running through her. ‘Perhaps I no longer need to worry about Xian Yuan’s future. Should I simply prepare the funeral banquet? If Jun Jinghong were ever to discover this, the consequences would be unimaginable.’

How could such an overwhelming sword qi possibly be resisted? Shen Xiulan, an Immortal Emperor herself, had been utterly incapable of discerning the depths of that previous sword strike. Was this the true power of the Quasi-Saint True Self realm?

What Shen Xiulan failed to realize, however, was that Xi Chaoyuan had reached the perfected stage of the Quasi-Saint True Self realm, a pinnacle often referred to as the Sub-Saint level.

Beyond the Immortal Emperor realm, Dao Venerables are categorized into three stages, while Quasi-Saints are split into two: the Self and the True Self. Within her sect, Shen Xiulan had witnessed numerous Quasi-Saint Self ancestors employ their arts and could, at the very least, comprehend their workings. Yet, Xi Chaoyuan’s demonstration was akin to a Qi Condensation realm cultivator attempting to grasp a Quasi-Saint level technique.

“Ah!!!”

Just then, a soul-piercing wail erupted from the heavens, unmistakably signaling a grievous injury.

Within the Nan Family Elder Hall, upon the most prominent jade throne, the Nan Family Old Ancestor sat, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, his robes rent and tattered. A golden sword scar marred his right cheek, the sword qi having directly blinded his right eye. Beneath the ragged cuff of his right sleeve lay only an empty space; his entire right limb had been cleanly severed by Xi Chaoyuan’s formidable sword qi.

“Damn her! Does she not fear the calamities of the mortal world?” the Nan Family Old Ancestor raged.

****

East Heart Island Conference

Witnessing his family’s Old Ancestor vanquished in an instant, Nan Tian plunged into utter despair. Moments ago, as the voice from the sky resonated, he had sensed the familiar aura of his own ancestor. He had foolishly believed his ancestor could teach Xi Chaoyuan a lesson, only for the outcome to be a swift and devastating defeat, his ancestor perishing before ever achieving victory.

“I… I… I am unworthy. I am despicable. I am a wretch.”

Nan Tian remained on his knees, his eyes vacant, his lips trembling as he confessed. He understood that after this day, their Nan Family would be utterly reduced to a laughingstock, their name forever sullied, becoming nothing more than whispered gossip on the tongues of others.

Xi Chaoyuan let out a cold, derisive laugh. The man before her was truly an utter fool, daring to antagonize the very sword successor she had personally designated. Was he simply weary of life?

“Come, let us return.”

Xi Chaoyuan turned her gaze upon Jun Jinghong. Her sole purpose in coming here had been to retrieve her; the time had come for Jun Jinghong to learn the profound Grand Void Divine Sword Art.

“Yes, Grand-Ancestor.” Jun Jinghong affirmed.

With that, the two departed, returning to the Grand Void Sword Pavilion.

****

Within the Secret Realm

Having dispatched Li Mengyue, Xian Yuan moved to assist Murong Fier in confronting the remaining combatants. Curiously, Lin Feng, Li Mengyue’s purported lover, evinced not the slightest reaction to her death, a fact that perhaps validated Xian Yuan’s earlier suspicions.

The other disciples from Rising Cloud Island proved utterly incapable of matching Xian Yuan. She hadn’t even resorted to her miraculous powers, yet her True Immortal cultivation alone sufficed to suppress every combatant save for Lin Feng, thereby creating an advantageous environment for Murong Fier.

Lin Feng’s face was slick with sweat, his hand gripping his long sword so tightly his knuckles were white. His brow furrowed deeply, and his eyes betrayed a flicker of anxiety and disquiet. Murong Fier’s power far surpassed his wildest imaginings; with every swing of her Demon Slaying Spear, the very air around them seemed to congeal, leaving him virtually no opening to launch an attack.

Murong Fier stood, Demon Slaying Spear in hand, her cold, dismissive gaze sweeping over Lin Feng. “Lin Feng,” she stated with utter contempt, “do you truly believe your paltry strength is sufficient to impede me? How incredibly naive!” Her voice carried a sharp edge of derision, as if mocking his utter powerlessness.

Lin Feng grit his teeth, resolute in his refusal to be taken captive without a struggle. He subtly regulated his breathing, striving to calm his tumultuous emotions. Abruptly, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes, and his sword techniques shifted with astonishing unpredictability. The blade’s light, swift as lightning, surged forth, striking relentlessly towards Murong Fier.

Murong Fier’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. She had not anticipated such a swift and decisive counter-attack from Lin Feng. Her form flickered, deftly evading his assault, and with a fluid motion, she delivered a powerful backhand strike. The Demon Slaying Spear glowed with a sudden spiritual light, landing a heavy blow directly upon Lin Feng’s body.