"Fang Han..."

Upon seeing Fang Han’s face and the robes of a Qingxuan Sect True Disciple, a cold, taunting smirk slowly formed on Meng Xian’s lips.

His voice had a gravelly, magnetic quality, yet it was utterly devoid of warmth.

"Well, well. To think I’d find you here after searching high and low. That piece of trash, Gong Xing, may have broken the rules and deserved to die, but he was still a True Inheritor of my Netherworld Pavilion."

"The Pavilion issued an order long ago: kill Fang Han on sight. Today’s the perfect day to settle all our scores, new and old."

His gaze swept past Fang Han’s tightly gripped Cloud Splitting Sword, finally landing on his face with the taunting look of a cat toying with a mouse.

"Hand over the Xuanwu True Skill, and I might be merciful enough to leave your body intact."

His tone was nonchalant, yet it carried an unquestionable, domineering confidence.

He wasn’t the least bit worried that a cornered Fang Han might destroy the manual. He was confident his own power was more than enough to subdue Fang Han and snatch it away before he could even think of making a move.

’Leave my body intact?’

Fang Han’s expression was grim. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.

The pressure Meng Xian exuded far surpassed any opponent he had faced before.

He was confident in his current abilities and knew his true combat prowess was far beyond his rank of eighty-first on the Celestial Pride List.

He was even confident he could crush many prodigies ranked higher than him. But against Meng Xian, who held the seventeenth spot, he knew his chances in a direct confrontation were slim to none.

However, it wasn’t in his nature to simply lie down and die.

He secretly circulated the Inner Qi in his body. The tip of the Flowing Cloud Sword trembled slightly, letting out a faint hum as a sharp Sword Momentum began to gather.

At the same time, his left hand quietly slipped back into his sleeve, closing around the cold, heavy Thunder Bomb.

It was his only trump card, his only chance at victory.

He would never abandon the heavily injured Zhao Jin to save himself, not unless it was his absolute last resort.

"A foolish attempt to stop the inevitable. You don’t know your place!"

When Meng Xian saw that Fang Han had not only refused to submit but had actually assumed a fighting stance, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before transforming into deep, scornful disdain.

Before the words left his mouth, he casually raised his right hand and, with a flick of his palm, struck forward.

BOOM—

This palm strike, seemingly slow, was in reality as fast as lightning.

An immense wave of dark Inner Qi erupted from his hand, instantly coalescing into a colossal, incredibly solid Palm Seal dozens of feet wide!

The lines on the Palm Seal were clearly visible, wreathed in a sinister black energy. It carried a terrifying, mountain-shattering power as it descended upon Fang Han like a storm cloud.

Before the Palm Seal even arrived, the terrifying pressure made the air around Fang Han feel as thick as molasses, slowing his movements to a crawl as the ground beneath him began to crack and splinter.

’Sky Splitting!’

Fang Han’s pupils constricted, and a low shout escaped his mouth.

The Inner Qi from his Profound Wind Technique, at the Early Stage of Fourth Grade, burst forth without reservation as he channeled the essence of his Great Success Level Nine Swords of Sky Splitting to its absolute limit.

He gripped his sword with both hands. The Flowing Cloud Sword let out a sharp shriek, like the sound of tearing silk, as its blade flared with a brilliant green light.

His seventy-percent mastery of Wind Momentum furiously converged and compressed, transforming into an intensely concentrated arc of azure light that looked as if it could tear a hole in reality itself. It shot forward to clash with the massive, dark Palm Seal.

This was the strongest attack he could currently muster!

BOOOOM—!!!

The azure arc of light and the dark Palm Seal clashed violently, unleashing a deafening, world-shaking explosion!

The two terrifying forces twisted together, tearing each other apart and unleashing a shockwave that swept outwards in all directions like a tsunami.

It ripped the surrounding trees and vegetation out by the roots and scoured away the top layer of earth.

However, the gap was immense.

The azure arc of light held for only an instant before it buckled under the absolute power, letting out a mournful whine as it shattered completely.

And while the dark Palm Seal had dimmed, its remaining power was still terrifying as it slammed viciously into Fang Han’s defending sword.

CLANG—PFFT!

It was as if Fang Han had been struck by a sledgehammer. The immense force drove his defending Flowing Cloud Sword back, smashing it violently against his chest.

Even with the protection of his Inner Armor, an immense and indescribable power still surged through his body.

A sweet, metallic taste filled his throat as he uncontrollably sprayed a mouthful of blood.

He was sent flying backward like a broken kite, smashing heavily onto the ground dozens of feet away and rolling several times before he managed to stop.

In just one exchange, the difference in their power was clear; Fang Han was heavily injured and utterly defeated!

"Do you see the difference now? Hand over the manual, and I’ll give you a quick death."

Meng Xian withdrew his hand and stood with his hands behind his back, looking indifferently at the struggling Fang Han, as if he had just swatted a fly.

Fang Han felt as if his organs had been rearranged and his bones were on the verge of shattering. Agonizing pain wracked his body.

But the sharp glint in his eyes didn’t fade. If anything, the perilous situation only made his gaze grow colder.

Using his sword as a crutch, he supported his body with his right hand while his left, hidden in his sleeve, tightened its grip on the Thunder Bomb. He secretly infused it with Inner Strength, preparing for one last, desperate gamble.

Just at that critical moment, another aura—powerful, cold, and yet vaguely familiar to Fang Han—streaked toward them from another direction, like the first light of dawn breaking the darkness!

This aura was no weaker than Meng Xian’s, and it carried a hint of stern, inviolable purity.

Meng Xian’s expression changed slightly, and he abruptly turned his head to look.

He saw a graceful figure, like a celestial fairy descending to the mortal realm, her robes fluttering, her speed astonishing.

In just a few leaps, she had already crossed the woods and landed lightly in front of Fang Han and Zhao Jin, perfectly positioning herself between them and Meng Xian.

The newcomer wore the robes of a Qingxuan Sect True Disciple, had a slender figure, and a cold, aloof temperament.

Her face was covered by a white, light veil, concealing most of her features, revealing only a pair of eyes as clear as a frozen pool, yet as deep as a sea of stars.

Her jet-black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, held in place by a simple Jade Hairpin. Though her face was hidden, her cold, transcendent aura and the powerful presence she naturally exuded were captivating.

Her gaze swept over the gravely injured Fang Han and Zhao Jin before turning to Meng Xian. Her voice was as clear and cold as striking jade.

"Meng Xian, if you wish to harm someone from my Qingxuan Sect, you’ll have to go through me first."

Given the importance of a Grandmaster Level Technique, the Sect had naturally dispatched more than just Fang Han. Many others, herself included, had received the urgent call for reinforcements.

Seeing this figure, the tension coiling in Fang Han’s chest suddenly eased. The breath he had been forcefully holding escaped, and he couldn’t stop himself from coughing up another mouthful of dark blood.

But a look of relief appeared in his eyes. He respectfully called out in a low voice:

"Senior Sister Yun."

The newcomer was none other than Yun Muyao, the top prodigy of the Qingxuan Sect, currently ranked sixteenth on the Celestial Pride List—one spot above Meng Xian himself!

"Yun Muyao..."

Faced with Yun Muyao’s sudden appearance, a flicker of surprise crossed Meng Xian’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a fervent will to fight.

As a prodigy of the Netherworld Pavilion, he had his own pride. Even though Yun Muyao was ranked one spot higher, it absolutely did not mean he would retreat.

While the Celestial Pride List rankings reflected one’s power, victory between similarly ranked individuals often came down to their performance in the moment and whether their Cultivation Techniques countered one another.

Upset victories, where a lower-ranked prodigy defeated a higher-ranked one, were not at all rare on the Celestial Pride List.

"I’ve long heard of the famed ’White Mist Sword,’ Yun Muyao. Today, I’ll see if you live up to the name!"

Meng Xian sneered.

Before his words had faded, an even more powerful aura than before erupted from his body.

He slowly pushed out his right palm. The movement seemed slow, but it caused the surrounding airflow to rotate rapidly.

A jet-black Palm Seal, even more condensed and larger than the last, instantly took shape.

A vortex seemed to churn at the center of the Palm Seal, emitting an eerie suction that threatened to devour everything.

Even light seemed to warp in its presence as it hurtled toward Yun Muyao with a dreadful, whining sound, threatening to crush her.

This was the Nether Palm, one of the Netherworld Pavilion’s top Martial Arts. When mastered, its Palm Force was not only incomparably ferocious but could also erode an opponent’s mind and spirit.

...

Above her veil, Yun Muyao’s bright eyes were as cold as a frozen lake, showing no ripple of emotion.

Faced with a blow that would make an ordinary Martial Artist at the Peak of Fourth Grade tremble in fear, she simply raised a slender hand.

And grasped the hilt of the longsword at her waist, which was entirely a lustrous white, as if carved from ice.

SHING!

The cry of the sword rose, like a phoenix’s call from the highest heavens, clear and melodious, instantly dispelling the sinister, oppressive feeling from the Palm Seal.

The longsword left its sheath, its blade flowing with a cold radiance like moonlight. The surrounding temperature plummeted, and fine ice crystals condensed in the air.

’Frost Heaven Slash!’

She flicked her wrist, and with a seemingly casual forward swing of her longsword, a half-moon shaped, ice-blue Sword Qi, as condensed as if it were solid and several feet wide, shot from the blade.

The air itself seemed to freeze in the Sword Qi’s wake, leaving a clear trail of ice as a bone-chilling cold swept out ahead of it.

Unlike the sinister chill of the Nether Palm, this was the power of ice, pure and absolute.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The ice-blue Sword Qi and the jet-black Palm Seal violently collided in mid-air!

BOOOOOOM—!!!

This collision was on a completely different level from the earlier exchange between Fang Han and Meng Xian.

The massive sound was like a chain of thunderbolts from the highest heavens, so loud it felt like one’s eardrums would burst.

Light of black and ice-blue twisted violently, eroding and exploding against one another. The resulting shockwave, a tangible ring of destruction, fanned out wildly in all directions from the point of impact.

The aftermath in the shockwave’s path was horrifying.

A patch of forest on the left, upon contact with the ice-blue aftershock, was instantly covered in thick, hard ice, turning into a forest of crystal-clear ice sculptures.

Then, in the subsequent energy vibrations, it shattered with a series of CRACKS into countless specks of ice dust that filled the air.

Meanwhile, the stone and earth to the right were scoured by the corrosive energy of the Nether Palm Force.

As if gnawed by an invisible beast, it silently turned to dust, leaving behind a deep pit.

"Get back!"

Seeing such a terrifying eruption of power, Fang Han’s expression tightened. Without hesitation, he executed the Wind and Cloud Escape, his figure flashing like lightning to the side of the heavily injured Zhao Jin.

He grabbed him by the collar and shot backward, his feet a blur against the ground.

He retreated a full fifty or sixty meters before finding a massive boulder for cover and finally stopping.

Feeling the residual fluctuations of Inner Qi ahead, which still made his skin prickle, a chill ran through Fang Han’s heart.

The gap between him and top prodigies like Yun Muyao and Meng Xian, both ranked in the top twenty of the Celestial Pride List, was even greater than he had imagined.

This was not only reflected in the sheer power of their Inner Qi, but also in their comprehension and application of "Momentum."