422: Chapter 422 Xuanyuan Slaying Immortals Arrive

The moment the Divine Phoenix's long cry resounded—its massive, mountain-like, indestructible body suddenly stiffened like iron!

The hard scales covering its entire body, capable of withstanding the bombardment of Soul Transformation Magic Treasures, actually stood on end piece by piece, emitting a "clatter" sound like metal scraping together!

Its blood-colored vortex eyes, which had always burned with tyranny, greed, and endless cruelty, were now trembling wildly. The blood-red color receded like a tide, replaced by a marrow-deep, instinctual, and uncontrollable—fear!

Despair!

"Th... that is—!!!" Its voice, for the first time, completely lost all its ferocious might, becoming hoarse, broken, and even carrying a hint of a child's helpless weeping:

"Divine Phoenix! It is the true, pure... Aura of the Primordial Divine Phoenix! The Emperor of All Birds! The Incarnation of the Sun! The Dominator of flames across all Realms!"

"She... what flows within her... is not thin ancestral blood... not an incomplete Legacy mark... it is... it is the complete... Divine Phoenix Origin!!!"

Once these words were spoken, it was as if a star had been dropped into a sea of boiling oil!

After a brief, deathly silence—the entire scene completely exploded!

"Complete Divine Phoenix Origin?! How is that possible?!"

"After the Primordial Era, the Divine Phoenix went extinct, and its Origin dissipated throughout the heavens! How did she obtain it?! Refined? Fusion? Or... is she herself..."

"It's crazy! This world is absolutely crazy! The Perfection of the Taiji Yin-Yang Divine Body has appeared! The Undying Divine Phoenix Body has descended with a complete Origin! And they are both Nascent Soul Realm! And both of them, for the sake of that kid... have barged into a death trap set by thirteen Soul Transformation experts!"

"Who... exactly are they?! From what faction do they hail?! Since when has the Human Race hidden such terrifying potential?!"

No one could answer.

Because everything before them had already overturned common sense, shocked their cognition, and crushed their inherent concepts of Realms!

Two figures still stood side by side.

One had the Taiji Diagram suppressing the world behind him, with Yin and Yang Dao light reaching the heavens and earth, as if the Great Dao itself had arrived.

The other was surrounded by Divine Phoenix flames burning the sky, her Supreme cry subduing all spirits, like a Divine Emperor descending into the world.

Two Nascent Soul Realm cultivators.

Two possessors of Supreme Physiques who turned myths into reality.

Two—by virtue of nothing but their Aura and Origin—made thirteen Soul Transformation experts feel as if they were facing a formidable enemy, suspicious and uncertain...

Peerless... monsters!

They stood there just like that, standing in front of Chu Zhanxiao.

There was no gravity on their faces due to being outnumbered, nor were there any concerns about the gap in Realms.

All that existed was that bone-chilling, purely extreme killing intent.

And that... natural... arrogance, as if born with it, engraved deep within their true spirits, overlooking the rise and fall of eternity.

Chu Zhanxiao remained standing in the same spot, motionless.

His black robe was tattered, stained with both his own blood and that of his enemies, and his Qi was slightly chaotic due to the previous brutal battle.

However, the hand gripping that pitch-black heavy sword was as steady as an eternal rock, without the slightest tremor.

He looked at the two backs in front of him—incredibly familiar, yet currently radiating a light that seemed to illuminate the heavens. Deep within those eyes, which had always been as dead and silent as ten-thousand-year black ice, containing only the purest will to kill, there finally appeared a trace of an extremely subtle, yet incomparably real... ripple.

It was like a frozen lake surface into which a warm pebble had been cast, sending out a ripple that was almost invisible. It was faint, but it truly existed.

Then, he spoke. His voice was very soft, carrying the hoarseness from the fierce battle, yet it was as steady as if he were recounting the most ordinary of things.

But beneath that stability, there lay a trace of—almost imperceptible, even to himself—peace of mind.

"Eldest Senior Brother, Second Senior Sister."

The white-robed figure—Xuanyuan Zhanxian, did not even turn his head.

He merely allowed the cold arc of killing intent at the corner of his mouth to quietly soften a fraction, transforming into an extremely faint, yet truly present smile.

His voice, clear as a spring, rang out, carrying a hint of banter from a long-awaited reunion, yet it seemed more intimate and firm than any oath:

"Junior Brother, we cleaned up a few waves of blind trash on the way, which delayed us for a moment." He paused, his tone as relaxed as if he were merely discussing the weather, "It looks like we... didn't arrive too late, did we?"

That figure—Jian Tanghuang, whose entire body burned with destructive golden divine flames and behind whom the phantom of a Divine Phoenix looked down proudly at the firmament—tilted her head slightly.

With those eyes that still burned with intense golden flames but also flashed with a trace of warmth like molten gold, she glanced at Chu Zhanxiao.

Her voice was not as clear as Xuanyuan Zhanxian's; instead, it carried a metallic texture and resonance—cold, yet as firm as a Law forged from divine gold:

"Junior Brother, step back and rest."

She turned her head back. The hint of warmth in her golden eyes vanished instantly, replaced by an even more intense, purer, and more piercing killing intent. Her gaze, like a red-hot blade of judgment, swept across the thirteen Soul Transformation experts opposite her, whose complexions had already turned extremely ugly.

"These filthy wretches—" Her voice turned abruptly cold, each word like ice beads falling onto a jade plate:

"—leave them to us."

Chu Zhanxiao listened to these two extremely simple yet incomparably heavy words, watching these two backs before him that shielded him from all the wind and rain, tearing through all the gloom.

He fell silent.

Then, amidst the deathly silence of the entire scene, the suspicious and uncertain gazes of the thirteen Soul Transformation experts, and the bated breath of the observing myriad races—he stepped forward.

One step, two steps. The hem of his blood-stained black robe brushed across the charred, broken earth, emitting a soft rustling sound, like a battle flag unfurling in the wind.

He walked to the left side of Xuanyuan Zhanxian and the right side of Jian Tanghuang.

The three of them stood side by side.

They formed a... steel battle line, though consisting of only three people, it seemed capable of resisting hundreds of millions of troops and propping up an immortal blue sky.

Chu Zhanxiao turned his head, first looking at Xuanyuan Zhanxian beside him, whose white robes were whiter than snow, who was naturally attuned to the Dao, and seemed to resonate with the Great Dao of heaven and earth, and then looked at Jian Tanghuang on the other side, with golden flames burning the sky, accompanied by the Divine Phoenix, like a Sun Goddess descending into the world.

On his face, which looked as cold and hard as a stone carving due to years of being steeped in slaughter and wind and frost, the extremely faint arc at the corner of his mouth finally deepened slowly.

It was not a cold sneer, nor a mocking laugh. It was a real, warm, and even slightly—as if having traversed the long, bloody passage of time to return to his true self—youthful—smile.

This smile appearing on his blood-stained, murderous, and resilient face was shockingly radiant, like dark clouds parting to pour down the first ray of golden sunlight.

He looked at his Eldest Senior Brother and Second Senior Sister, his voice still calm, yet every word was clear and resounded firmly:

"Eldest Senior Brother, Second Senior Sister."

He paused, tightening his grip on the black heavy sword in his hand. The sword blade emitted a low hum, as if cheering, resonating, and echoing the unquestionable firmness and unspoken growth in his words.

"Now—" He raised his head, his gaze once again cast toward the thirteen Soul Transformation enemies opposite him. In his calm voice, there was an unquestionable declaration:

"—I am no longer the youngest one..."

He turned slightly to the side, his posture so composed it was almost leisurely, as if making way for friends along a secluded path to enjoy the scenery, naturally revealing the silhouettes of the one person and one beast behind him.

Luo Xiaojiu's eyes, clear as if they held the entire expanse of freshly melted snow water, were now slightly widened, reflecting the extraordinary figures of the man and woman opposite. A layer of misty haze instinctively welled up—this was the most primal awe when facing existences that were too dazzling.

But this mist was quickly dispelled by a more vivid radiance—a curiosity as pure and unadulterated as a child discovering a sparkling gem, and an adoration as if tiny stars had suddenly fallen into her eyes, rippling across her delicate, fair cheeks, strangely diluting the blood and murderous Aura permeating the air.

Beside her, Li Jiuyou stood with his back straight as an iron spear thrust deep into frozen earth, refusing to bend even a fraction despite the raging wind and snow.

His lips were pressed white, and fine cold sweat seeped from his forehead, slowly sliding down his angular profile, showing that his internal injuries were surging in waves.

However, his gaze was as calm as the cold water of an ancient pool that had existed for ten thousand years, without a ripple. This gaze swept over Xuanyuan Zhanxian and Jian Tanghuang unhurriedly, not like looking up in awe, but more like a calm "appraisal"—like a top-tier stone connoisseur weighing two pieces of unpolished jade that contained divine light within, or like a strategist planning a campaign, evaluating two unknown chess pieces that had abruptly intruded into the game.

In the deepest part of his eyes, a trace of nearly non-existent caution and calculation flashed by, too fast to capture, cold and without a shred of warmth, containing only the purest calculations of interest and possibility.