Chapter Sixty-Two: The Sacred Sword of Crimson Blood

Time passed swiftly. Zhou Tian finally finished gnawing on the pork knuckle in his hand, let out a satisfied burp, and followed it with a comfortable groan that drew glances from those around him. Li Lingyi’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to rebuke him, but in the end, he said nothing.

The images in the mirror flickered ceaselessly; battles were unfolding one after another. Zhou Xunchuan, Zhou Zui, and the others appeared from time to time—their usual nonchalance wholly replaced by ruthless efficiency in combat. Whether it was Zhou Xunchuan’s unrivaled Dragon Fist, Li Xuanyi’s sword light that seemed to split the heavens, Liu Yan’s blazing golden flames that struck terror into his foes, or Zhang Yi’s mastery over the world as his chessboard and all beings as his pieces—so formidable that his opponents never even glimpsed his face—each one displayed the prowess of a true prodigy.

As the most outstanding talents of Tianqin, their reputations were well deserved. Not a single one had been eliminated. The fifty names hovering above the mirror were extinguished one by one, until only about twenty remained.

At this point, the pace of elimination slowed. Every remaining contestant was powerful; each fight was a brutal struggle.

The most dazzling among them, however, was that so-called Banished Immortal. His name was first on that notoriously unreliable ranking, lauded to the skies, so Zhou Tian remembered him clearly.

This man truly possessed an “immortal” air: dressed in white robes, his features as refined as jade, strikingly handsome, with silver hair cascading to his waist and eyes as bright as the stars. Simply standing there, he radiated an aura of profound Daoist grace.

“They say the Banished Immortal is a great figure of the ancient Futiantian Realm, returned against the will of heaven. Does Tianqin know anything about this?” Zhi Kong from Luotian Temple asked meaningfully. Buddhism had always harbored a complicated resentment toward reincarnation, but those who truly returned from the cycle were almost unheard of; any hint of such news drew them like sharks scenting blood.

“Those are just baseless rumors. Does Master Zhi Kong really believe such things?” Chancellor Liu replied with a genial smile.

A great figure defying the heavens to return? Zhou Tian peeled the strange fruit in his hand, the jade-like flesh glistening as he popped it into his mouth. Hearing these two old foxes parry each other’s words, he mused privately. He seemed to recall that the notorious ranking, compiled with information from the Fool, had mentioned this too.

Moreover, the Banished Immortal had long been famous in Tianqin. As a lone cultivator, no one tried to recruit him, and Tianqin’s authorities turned a blind eye, which was intriguing in itself.

“Heh heh…” Zhi Kong chuckled perfunctorily at Chancellor Liu’s words and turned his gaze back to the mirror, where the Banished Immortal was now facing off against Zixu. Zhi Kong had raised the topic precisely because of this scene.

The Banished Immortal’s expression was impassive; his silver hair flowed like a waterfall, his gaze brilliant, his robes fluttering gently. He exuded a serene radiance, untouched by mortal dust—a figure of peerless bearing.

Hundreds of yards away, Zixu’s brow furrowed; he was clearly ill at ease. He had heard of the Banished Immortal’s reputation, but thought it mere exaggeration. Only upon seeing him in person did he realize the rumors had not overstated, but rather understated, the truth.

Though the Banished Immortal merely stood there, an inexplicable pressure enveloped the field; Zixu felt as if he were being watched by a primordial beast.

Suddenly, the Banished Immortal moved. With a sweep of his sleeve, a mighty celestial wind arose. The world darkened as a blast of shadowy force swept forth—a wind so fierce it could crush bones and shatter souls. This was the Lunar Gale.

It was only a casual probing strike, yet its terrifying power was on full display—a portrait of invincibility.

Zixu responded at once, his gaze icy. Though he sensed the Banished Immortal’s strength, he was a prodigy of his era, and fear was not in his nature.

He pointed into the void, and endless ancient trees materialized, their green light blotting out the sky. The trees drew upon the essence of all nearby flora, instantly growing tall and sturdy to withstand the lunar wind.

He hailed from the Celestial Academy of Da Luo Academy, which had never fallen from the top five within Da Luo, and was especially versed in the arcane arts of the five elements; this was the Art of Wood.

The heavens shook. The lunar wind battered the towering trees, making them tremble as though summer ice under the sun, gradually melting. Yet, surrounded by forest, more and more essence of wood gathered, shielding against the divine gale.

The Banished Immortal’s face showed neither joy nor sorrow. It had only been a test; he had not sought victory. His figure shifted, white robes billowing as if he descended from another world.

With a thunderous boom, his jade-like palm struck out, fingers aglow. Six radiant suns appeared in the sky, descending in a torrent of blazing fire.

His repertoire was vast; he was well-versed in countless divine arts. This was the Five Yang Palm—a technique of ultimate yang and strength, which normally could conjure five suns, yet he had pushed it to six.

Zixu countered with a palm of his own. Suddenly, black rain poured from a clear sky and thunder rolled, as if the pillars of heaven were collapsing—a spectacle of overwhelming might.

This was the Rain-covering Hand, a water-based technique, perfectly matched to contest the flaming, yang palm.

The world erupted with a deafening roar, as if stars were exploding, unleashing devastating force. Clouds billowed, rain poured, and blazing suns shone blindingly bright.

It was a clash of divine arts.

As the clouds had not yet dispersed, a mighty shout rang out, “Jade-blooded Divine Sword!”

A colossal sword appeared, towering as high as a mountain, its radiant brilliance entwined with countless sutras, the voices of ancient scholars chanting in praise.

Zixu merged with the divine sword, its green aura intensifying, the boundless pressure bearing down on the Banished Immortal.

The Banished Immortal’s brows knit ever so slightly; his flawless, handsome face calm. He raised his hand, five fingers forming a claw seal, and a great dragon burst forth.

“Dragon Seal!” cried Forge in astonishment, the tactical lens over his left eye flashing as it connected to his personal AI. Though only a single move, the AI swiftly analyzed it.

This was a renowned divine technique, famous since antiquity. What shocked Forge was not the technique itself, but the terrifying figures who had wielded it in the distant past. Could it be that the Banished Immortal was…

He turned to glance at the Emperor of Qin, who watched the scene with an unreadable expression.

Though Zixu did not recognize this ancient divine technique, he sensed its power. Yet the arrow was nocked and must be loosed. Gritting his teeth, he swung the divine sword, cleaving through space.

The dragon roared, its eyes shining with uncanny vitality as it coiled around the sword. Zixu’s eyes filled with verdant light, blood blooming in his chest as the sword grew more solid, streaks of crimson surging up its blade.

The Banished Immortal’s hand shifted through three rapid seals. The dragon’s scales erupted with endless runes, its body winding tightly about the sword, its head raised skyward as it roared, shaking the void.

Cracking sounds rang out as fissures spread across the Jade-blooded Divine Sword. With one final dragon’s roar, the sword shattered.

When the dust settled, Zixu’s form had vanished—eliminated. Another name was extinguished from the list.

The Banished Immortal showed no hint of joy. Dressed in white as pure as snow, he glanced upward, as if sensing a secret gaze, then stepped lightly into the void and departed.