Chapter 8: Remnants of the Former Dynasty?

Two Heavenly Palace Realm cultivators clashed hundreds of times in the high sky within a short span, their battle carrying them far beyond the city outskirts to a deserted stretch of land.

Birds and beasts scattered in fright. Waves of force rolled and churned. Blazing divine light surged from both figures as their techniques wove together in breathtaking displays — one a tide of black malevolence, the other a flood of white-gold metal energy. Even a distant glimpse was enough to inspire dread.

Another mutual palm strike. The brilliant energies dispersed and scattered into the clouds as strange phenomena, and both combatants were pushed back several steps.

Xiao Lin's breathing was ragged, blood staining the corner of his mouth, his body already bearing wounds. The black-robed elder, by contrast, was entirely unscathed, his hawk-like eyes locked unblinkingly on Xiao Lin.

More precisely — on the long, black-cloth-wrapped object strapped to Xiao Lin's back.

The reason he had not struck with full force was precisely because of that thing.

No matter how powerful a cultivator, none could afford to ignore it.

For that was Dragon-Sparrow — one of the rarest divine weapons in the world, one of the three great treasures of the imperial court, forged entirely from meteorite iron, its blade bearing the spiritual impressions of a dragon and a sparrow, capable of cleaving any blade under heaven.

There were folk rumors that Dragon-Sparrow had not always belonged to the court — that decades ago it had been the treasured guardian blade of the jianghu sect "Moon-Cleaving Valley."

But Great Jin officially proclaimed that Dragon-Sparrow had been the court's blade since time immemorial, merely lost to the outside world for several centuries…

"Ugh!"

After dozens more exchanges, Xiao Lin's wounds multiplied. In terms of raw power, he had almost no equal within the Heavenly Palace Realm — yet this black-robed elder had thoroughly shattered that confidence.

Every time he struck with his twin blades, their golden radiance was caught bare-handed by the elder and halted dead in its tracks, unable to advance further; the rebounding force would instead send tremors of injury through his own body.

Spit!

Xiao Lin coughed up a mouthful of black blood, his eyes crimson as he stared at the black-robed elder, his pupils trembling.

"I never imagined — the 'Nether-Poison Elder,' whose name made the jianghu tremble a hundred years ago, feared by neither ghosts nor gods… has become a dog of the court's Pei Clan."

Having his identity guessed, the black-robed elder showed no surprise. He merely chuckled coldly:

"The Nether-Poison Elder died long ago beneath his own Nine Abyssal Nether Poison. From that day on, there was no more Nether-Poison Elder in this world — only Elder Wu, a retainer of the Pei Manor."

Xiao Lin's expression darkened. His pupils trembled slightly, as though a painful memory had surfaced. He lowered his voice:

"That incident — was your Pei Clan involved?"

The instant the words fell, the black-robed elder lunged forward. His eyes flashed with cold killing intent, and a dense black fog billowed out, sweeping toward Xiao Lin.

This strike — nothing below the Dharma Manifestation Realm could withstand it.

Xiao Lin was drenched in blood, yet he suddenly spread both arms wide and let his twin blades drop.

He reached one hand behind his back, as if gripping a hilt.

The black cloth was blown away by the wind, revealing an enormous ancient blade — five feet long, three feet wide, its surface dark as lacquer, heavy and imposing. A single glance felt like it could cut the eye.

The moment it was unsheathed, the vast clouds overhead seemed to split open. Faint phantom silhouettes of a dragon and a sparrow intertwined within the rift, and the color of heaven and earth changed.

The black-robed elder let out a cold, sharp laugh:

"Ha! What a Dragon-Sparrow."

* * *

"Miss Liu, please head back now. Two miles east of here, the provincial guard soldiers are waiting."

The moment Liu Zhi heard Pei Su's words, she left immediately — departing without so much as a glance at Zhao Lan, which pained him deeply.

"Good," said Pei Su, clapping his hands together with a smile. "Now you can make your move."

Zhao Lan had been gripping his blade hilt the entire time. His expression was dark and brooding. He growled in a low voice:

"Pei Su, what exactly are you trying to do?"

"I can see you hold a grudge against me. Liu Zhi has already left — why haven't you struck yet?"

"Are you provoking me?"

"Provoking you?"

Pei Su couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. He gave no further answer, simply turning his back and walking away.

Zhao Lan stared at his retreating figure. His face twitched. The urge to draw his blade grew stronger and stronger. The veins on his arms bulged as he shouted:

"Pei Su, you despicable bastard! I'm also at the Profound Origin Realm — don't think for a second that you can—"

Suddenly, Zhao Lan's mind went blank. All he saw was a palm strike descending on him like a thunderclap — and then he was sent flying, crashing to the ground, his consciousness muddled, his entire body wracked with agonizing pain.

He forced his eyes open and saw only that Pei Su had withdrawn his right palm.

What the hell!

When did that happen?

How was that possible?!

"Both at the Profound Origin Realm, yet you can't even take a single palm strike from me?"

Pei Su looked down at him from above. The warmth, the deference, the casual ease that had marked his demeanor before — all of it was gone. Only a vast, cold indifference remained.

His entire bearing had shifted in an instant.

If the Pei Su from before had seemed like a graceful young noble of the mortal world, then in this moment, Zhao Lan felt as though he were looking at an ancient god or demon.

Even holding that gaze for a fleeting moment made him shudder involuntarily. What terrified him even more was that Pei Su was still walking toward him.

What now?

Was he going to silence him?

So this was his true face — what "graceful young lord"? It had all been a performance for outsiders!

Zhao Lan closed his eyes.

His last coherent thought before losing consciousness was:

Uncle Xiao… I still… believe you are innocent!

Pei Su gazed down at the unconscious Zhao Lan, his eyes cold.

Barring any surprises, Elder Wu had already planted a poison mark on Xiao Lin. It was time to arrange for these two to meet — the scheme he had been plotting for so long could finally begin its opening act.

Suddenly, the wind stirred in the peach grove not far away.

Pei Su glanced over, seeming to sense something. A flicker of contemplation passed through his eyes.

Then, with a surge of palm force riding the wind, he severed Zhao Lan's meridians and damaged his heart and lungs.

The next moment…

His body seemed to be enveloped by the wind itself, dissolving from sight, his very presence erased without a trace.

It was a pity no powerful cultivator was there to witness it — for anyone who had would surely have cried out in shock: "Nirvana Concealment?!"

The world's breath-concealment arts were many and varied, each with its own strengths and weaknesses — some excelling at masking one's aura, others at concealing one's form. But when it came to the supreme pinnacle of breath-concealment, every grandmaster would name only one thing.

Nirvana Concealment.

As the ancient texts described: "Dyed yet unstained, hidden yet unseen."

To reach this state of concealment was to become one with heaven and earth — invisible, traceless, beyond detection.

Had Xiao Lin mastered this art, he could have evaded the Heavenly Palace Stone's detection entirely, free to roam anywhere in the world with the court powerless to find him.

Yet this supreme pinnacle of breath-concealment had gone unachieved for several centuries. Many in the jianghu even doubted whether it was anything more than an empty legend.

Pei Su, however, had achieved it — a year and a half ago, at the moment of his Breakthrough into the Profound Origin Realm, he had experienced a sudden flash of enlightenment and cultivated the Lesser Formless Art, stored deep in the Pei Manor's vaults, to its ninth tier, attaining Nirvana Concealment.

Even his grandfather Pei Zhao had been deeply astonished — more so than when Pei Su had first mastered the Qi Sight art to perfection.

* * *

The death he had imagined never came. Zhao Lan felt a sharp sting in his consciousness and opened his eyes — not to Pei Su's face, but to a flood of brilliant light.

Was this a dream?

Or some immortal realm?

What met his gaze was a young woman — a young woman whose very appearance struck him to the core.

Her brows were like the faint outline of distant mountains; her eyes like scattered stars; her nose delicate; her lips like a touch of cherry blossom. Her features were as though heaven itself had carved the most perfect work of art, and her gauze skirt drifted around her like a waking dream.

Zhao Lan's mind went utterly blank. He forgot even the pain. His entire vision was filled with that graceful silhouette — skin like congealed cream, pure and otherworldly.

She stood amid heaven and earth, and the peach grove lost its color, the green mountains bowed their heads, the clouds fell silent, and the wild geese felt ashamed.

"A… a celestial being?"

Zhao Lan murmured the words and fainted dead away.

Before him, the young woman furrowed her brow slightly and turned to the elderly woman beside her:

"His meridians are severed and his lungs are damaged. If we don't save him, he will certainly die, Granny Ling."

The elderly woman wore a green robe, her hair entirely white. She looked at the young woman's pure and clear eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"Attendants."

A squad of guards immediately stepped forward from behind and helped Zhao Lan to his feet.

The elderly woman sighed quietly:

"Your Highness has a kind heart — but always remember, the human heart is difficult to fathom."

After the elderly woman led the group away, the empty meadow suddenly seemed to warp and distort — and then Pei Su's figure slowly materialized.

At this moment, his eyes were fixed on the direction the group had departed, a flame of excitement flickering within them.

He could never have anticipated —

That here, of all places, he would encounter such an extraordinary surprise.

Remnants of the former dynasty —

The imperial bloodline!