154: Chapter 154 The Emperor's Shock

"Stop!"

On the viewing platform, Emperor Wu Tianba rose abruptly. His robes billowed without wind, and the aura around him erupted like a volcano—the pressure of the Mahayana Stage descended with a boom. The entire arena sank, the air solidified like iron, forcing countless Cultivators to hunch their backs and struggle to breathe.

Before the words even faded, his figure had already transformed into a scorching golden afterimage, tearing through the sky and lunging straight for the arena!

Third Prince Wu Huang could not die.

At least, not under the gaze of everyone here.

Almost simultaneously, Jian Xiaotian and Emperor also changed color abruptly.

Neither of them had moved an inch, yet the spiritual energy around them was already pulled taut like a bowstring. They locked onto that bloody array shadow, their eyes churning with unprecedented panic—it was an instinctive fear they hadn't felt in a long time after reaching their Realm.

Emperor's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dry like grinding gravel:

"This array... contains the killing intent of the Dao, severing Karma, breaking Reincarnation... This is absolutely not a technique that should exist in this world!"

He paused, a deep wariness flashing in the depths of his pupils, squeezing the words out through his teeth:

"Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan—who exactly are you?"

Just as Emperor Wu Tianba was about to step onto the arena—

That wisp of blood aura gently touched Third Prince Wu Huang's brow.

Extremely light.

Extremely slow.

Like a fallen leaf drifting onto a calm lake.

But in that instant—

"Argh—!!!"

A shrill roar tore through the air, shattering the dead silence of the arena, like the final wail of a dying Vicious Beast.

Third Prince Wu Huang convulsed violently, as if something was being forcibly ripped from his body—this was not spiritual energy, not flesh and blood, but the Foundation he relied on to look down upon his peers, the most core, innate Origin deep within his Bloodline!

His skin withered at a rate visible to the naked eye, his flesh shriveled and sank, his pitch-black hair turned gray and fell out in the blink of an eye, like autumn leaves drifting down.

In just one breath, he decayed from a youth full of vigor into a dying old man, as if a hundred years had passed over him.

The Imperial Supreme Bloodline let out one last wail within him—this was the unwilling roar of an ancient Bloodline, the final struggle of a pride that had been passed down for three thousand years—and then, it fell completely silent.

Life force, cultivation, Divine Soul... everything was collapsing.

Like a great building collapsing with a boom.

It was over.

These two words surfaced in everyone's hearts simultaneously, cold as iron, pressing heavily on their chests.

Even in Emperor Wu Tianba's eyes, a trace of deep sorrow flashed—that was the most instinctive pain of a father seeing his son fall, even if that son was one he had never truly felt at ease with.

But before he could even act, a new mutation occurred!

"Pfft—!"

In the center of the arena, Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan suddenly spat out a mouthful of dark red blood.

The blood splattered on the bluestone, instantly evaporating into mist, and a thick, fishy sweetness filled the air.

His body swayed violently, like a candle in the wind, tottering.

The ultimate array seal in his eyes, which had condensed all his focus and reflected the killing intent of heaven and earth, shattered abruptly—like a star bursting in the night sky, its light dissipating, leaving only emptiness.

"Click, click, crack—"

The blood-colored sword array surrounding his body shattered like a broken glass mirror, fragments of light splattering everywhere.

The red light filling the sky rolled back, as if pulled by an invisible palm, sinking back into his thin body.

The killing aura that had shrouded the entire arena, making everyone's Divine Soul tremble, dissipated along with it.

As if it were an illusion.

As if it had never existed.

But on the arena—

One person kneeling on the ground, one person slumped over.

The whole arena was dead silent.

It was so quiet that even the sound of breathing could be heard clearly, so quiet that even the sound of dust falling felt like it was right beside one's ear.

"Thump."

Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan's knees hit the ground, spiderweb-like cracks blooming on the bluestone slab, stone fragments flying.

He propped himself up tightly, his ten fingers digging into the stone crevices, his knuckles twisted and white, his nails cracking, blood seeping into the stone fragments through his fingertips.

Every breath pulled a fishy, rusty, burning pain from the depths of his lungs, sweat mixed with blood dripping from his chin, forming a dark red water stain beneath him.

The backlash was like ten thousand ants gnawing at his heart, chewing on his Meridians, tearing at his Divine Soul.

This pain was not the sharp pain of being cut by knives or axes, but a torment that spread from the depths of his bone marrow, making one wish to die immediately.

His vision went black in waves, his ears buzzed like a tide, his consciousness swayed repeatedly between clarity and fainting, almost falling into an boundless darkness.

And on the other side—

Emperor Wu Tianba had already shielded Third Prince Wu Huang behind him.

The once high-spirited Third Prince was now slumped on the ground like a rag, breathless, his face ashen.

The spiritual energy in his body was leaking out crazily, like a broken dam, unstoppable and irreversible—his cultivation dropped from Golden Core Middle Stage, Golden Core Late Stage, Golden Core Middle Stage, Golden Core Early Stage...

Until—

Golden Core Early Stage.

His Foundation was completely destroyed, and his path of Dao was severed.

Even if he could live, he would find it hard to return to the heights in this life.

His pupils were unfocused, and in the depths of his eyes, an eternal blood-colored killing array was reflected.

This was not an illusion; it was a fear branded onto his Divine Soul, a nightmare carved deep into his bone marrow.

That was a Heart Demon.

And also his remaining life.

Quiet.

Deathly silence.

All the spectators were frozen in place, like mud sculptures and wood carvings, mouths agape, but unable to make any sound.

Some clenched their fists tightly, nails piercing their palms, blood dripping silently; some had vacant eyes, their pupils empty, still immersed in that world-destroying, bloody scene, unable to extricate themselves.

This battle was no longer a mundane struggle.

It would be branded into history, become a legend, and become something that future Cultivators would tremble as they chewed over when reading history books—

A forbidden chapter.

A long time passed.

A long time passed.

The referee finally came to his senses.

His throat was as dry as if stuffed with sandpaper, his voice hoarse, carrying an uncontrollable tremor, as if he had used all his strength to spit out those two words:

"The winner... is Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan."

No cheering.

No discussion.

No sound at all.

Only countless gazes, pressing down like substance onto that kneeling figure—shock, awe, wariness, disbelief... a hundred flavors mixed together, weaving into a silent tide.

He looked so fragile, as if he would fall over at any moment.

But in everyone's eyes, he was already—

A blood-stained, insurmountable mountain.

Eighteenth Prince, Wu Zhenkan.

This name, from this moment on, would shake the Great Wu, resound throughout all Dynasties, and become an indelible brand in everyone's heart.

Just as the aftershocks had not yet dissipated—

A cloud-white figure, like flowing wind and returning snow, landed quietly beside him.

Her sleeves fluttered lightly, with a faint clear radiance, as if she were a cloud drifting from the horizon, untainted by the mundane world.

She reached out, her movements gentle yet firm as she supported his swaying shoulders, the warmth from her palm like the first ray of dawn in winter.

Her jade fingers rested on his wrist, her beautiful brows furrowed instantly, and a trace of panic flashed in her eyes—that pulse was almost inaudible.

"It's Yun Zhi!"

A low exclamation finally erupted from the audience, the sound wave surging like a tide.

"The number one Genius of the Flowing Cloud Dynasty... She actually appeared in person!"

"What is her relationship with the Eighteenth Prince?!"

Whispers rose one after another, countless gazes lingering on her, some full of amazement, some curiosity, and even deeper wariness.

Yun Zhi seemed not to hear any of the noise.

She just lowered her head, looking at the pale face of the person in her arms, the coldness that usually never melted in her eyes now shattering into full anxiety and heartache—that was an expression no one had ever seen, a softness that bloomed only for him.

"Who gave you permission to use that..."

The voice was very soft, light as a sigh, but carried an imperceptible tremor, and a hint of suppressed anger.

She knew better than anyone—forcibly activating the number one ancient killing array, if one was not careful, would result in Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, never entering Reincarnation. It was a road of no return, a gamble of one's life for the word "win".

Without hesitation, she flipped her hand and took out a jade-green Medicinal Pill.

The moment the pill appeared, a fragrance permeated the air; just a wisp of the escaping aura made the spiritual platforms of several people nearby clear, as if bathed in sweet rain, and even the hidden injuries from days of Cultivating seemed to have been smoothed out a little.

"Nine-Turn Soul-Condensing Pill... It's a Grade Five Spirit Pill!"

Someone who knew their stuff exclaimed in disbelief—a Grade Five Spirit Pill, this was a life-saving treasure that even Nascent Soul Cultivators would exhaust their family wealth to obtain, yet she had taken it out just like that, without even blinking.

She, however, ignored it all, only carefully, almost devoutly, feeding the Medicinal Pill into his mouth. When her fingertips touched his chapped lips, they trembled slightly.

The pill melted, and a warm, majestic life force surged through his broken Meridians like a spring tide, slowly knitting together those wounds that were on the verge of collapse.

His complexion finally had a trace of blood, like a withered branch brushed by the first spring breeze of a cold winter.

Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan raised his eyes with difficulty, looking into her eyes filled with worry and fear, and the corners of his mouth, very lightly and slowly, pulled into a smile—that smile was so weak it was almost invisible, but it carried a sense of relief after surviving a disaster, and a tenderness that only she could understand:

"Yun Zhi..."

"I won."

"Won what, won!"

Yun Zhi's eyes were slightly red, but her voice was deliberately filled with feigned anger, as if covering up something:

"You almost lost your life... and you call that winning?"

Her hand supporting him, however, tightened, as if afraid that if she let go, he would disappear.

This scene was so tender it was out of place with the killing array from just moments ago.

Yet it was more shocking than the killing array.

On the viewing platform, several big shots had deep gazes, each harboring their own thoughts; there was shock, wariness, and even more prudence in re-evaluating the situation.

Emperor Wu Tianba had already handed Third Prince Wu Huang over to the imperial physicians and turned slowly.

The previous fury and gloom on his face had long since vanished, as if they had never existed.

Replacing them was an unmasked, almost burning admiration, even... gratification.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his voice resounding in all directions, his tone gentle and powerful, like a normal father's expectation for his son, rather than an Emperor's judgment of a subject:

"Eighteenth."

"You did very well."

"You were calm in the face of danger, revealing trump card after trump card; even though your Third Brother awakened his Bloodline, you were still able to fight and win."

"Very well."

"Father is very much looking forward to your performance next."

After speaking, he smiled slightly and turned back to his seat.

That smile was gentle and appropriate, just right.

But falling into the eyes of those who knew, it made one's heart cold—as if the Emperor who had been ecstatic because of his son's Awakening, and who had wanted to intervene to save him because of his defeat, had never existed.

In the center of the arena, Yun Zhi gently helped Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan up.

Sunlight broke through the clouds, falling on their shoulders, outlining a silhouette of surviving a disaster.

Quiet, yet with undercurrents surging.

Everyone understood—

From this moment on, the fate of Eighteenth Prince Wu Zhenkan had been completely reversed.

And the layout of the Great Wu Dynasty would also follow...

Turned upside down.