625: Chapter 625 Melee Between the Two Sides

Time flowed away like water, silently and imperceptibly.

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye since the Heavenly Palace Grand Competition.

The spiritual light from the three bronze mirrors shone day and night, and the people within the images died again and again.

At first, one could still count how many people had died, but later, no one bothered to count anymore.

In the pavilion, you held a teacup, your gaze resting on the bronze mirror displaying the Nascent Soul arena.

In the image, between two mountain ranges, two groups of people were approaching each other.

Yan Feng, Sima Yu, Sima Tao, Liu Yunge, Liu Chenfeng, Sima Jing, and others lined up in a row. Behind them stood a dense crowd of over a thousand people—all of them Nascent Soul Cultivators from the Heavenly Palace lineage.

Opposite them, Xuanyuan Yao, Sacred Land Saint Son, Mo Wentian, Holy Maiden Shen Mengqi, Luo Jiuchen, and others stood side by side. Behind them were also over a thousand people, their Aura no weaker at all.

Xuanyuan Yao gave her long sword a shake, the tip pointing directly at Yan Feng, her voice cold and clear: "Yan Feng, today, none of your Heavenly Palace lineage will be able to leave."

Yan Feng's expression was gloomy: "Yaoer, must we really go this far?"

"Enough nonsense. I have sworn an oath: either you die, or I perish," Xuanyuan Yao said with a cold face.

She recalled being bullied that day, and the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. As a Prodigy of the Xuanyuan Immortal Clan, her Family had held her in the palm of their hands like a treasure; when had she ever suffered such grievances? Let alone being beaten, she had not even been scolded before.

Yan Feng scanned the area, his gaze falling on Sacred Land Saint Son and Luo Jiuchen: "Brother Sacred Land Saint Son, Brother Luo, are you two also going to deal with me?"

Sacred Land Saint Son frowned, paused for a moment, and then spoke: "Brother Yan, let us not speak of personal friendship today. As a Saint of the Holy Land, I should naturally stand on the side of the Holy Land."

Luo Jiuchen sighed and shook his head: "Brother Yan, we have known each other for a while, and I do not wish to go this far either. But your Heavenly Palace's actions are truly arrogant."

Mo Wentian stood with his arms crossed, a trace of a smile hanging on the corner of his mouth, as if he were watching a good show.

"Hahaha..." Yan Feng threw his head back and laughed, "My Heavenly Palace's actions are arrogant?"

He paused and scanned the area: "Let me ask you all, which Family has not had human blood on their hands? Which Family has not killed innocent people? And now you speak full of benevolence and righteousness?"

"Stop the nonsense." Xuanyuan Yao's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, "Prepare to die."

As soon as she finished speaking, she thrust her long sword out. The tip tore through the air, emitting a harsh, shrill whistle as it went straight for Yan Feng.

"Xuanyuan Sword Strike!"

The tip of the sword transformed into a golden stream of light, so fast that it was almost impossible to catch with the naked eye.

Yan Feng dodged to the side, and the ball of flame in his palm exploded violently, turning into a wall of fire that blocked the golden sword radiance outside.

Boom—!

The fire wall shattered, sparks flew everywhere, a layer of the ground was flipped up, and gravel splashed about like raindrops.

In the blink of an eye, the two fought from the ground to mid-air, and then smashed back down to the ground. Every clash was like two meteorites colliding, with spiritual light exploding and waves of Qi rolling.

"Heaven-Burning Palm!"

Yan Feng struck out with his palm, and the flames transformed into a giant hand that blotted out the sky, pressing down toward Xuanyuan Yao.

Wherever the giant hand passed, the air was ignited, leaving behind a scorched black mark, and even the space was distorted.

Xuanyuan Yao did not retreat but advanced instead. Her long sword drew a circle, and a point of golden light gathered at the tip. The golden light grew brighter and brighter, like a small sun rising in her palm.

"Great Sun Piercing the Void!"

The golden light exploded, transforming into a beam of light as thick as an arm, piercing straight at the giant flame hand.

The light beam penetrated the giant hand like a knife cutting through tofu, unstoppable.

The giant hand exploded with a bang, sparks flying everywhere, landing on the ground and burning out deep, scorched pits.

Xuanyuan Yao rushed out from the firelight, her eyes like torches, completely unscathed, her long sword thrusting straight at Yan Feng.

Yan Feng's expression changed. His figure retreated violently, and at the same time, he slapped his palm three times, creating three fire walls to block in front of him.

Xuanyuan Yao pierced through the first wall with one strike, then the second. The third fire wall finally blocked her sword momentum, but she gave her wrist a shake, and the sword tip shot out a beam of golden light. It flew past Yan Feng's cheek, cutting off a strand of hair and leaving a shallow bloodstain on his face.

Yan Feng touched the blood on his face, his complexion turning pale.

He had not expected Xuanyuan Yao to be so strong.

They had sparred before, and it seemed their strength was about the same. He had not expected that after truly crossing hands, there was still some gap.

His face was livid, his eye sockets red, and he roared loudly: "Yaoer, do you really want to fight to the death?"

Xuanyuan Yao did not answer, her offensive becoming even more fierce.

Yan Feng was so angry his teeth were chattering, and he retreated while fighting.

On the other side.

Mo Wentian and Sima Yu had already exchanged dozens of blows.

Mo Wentian raised his hand, and nine natal Flying Swords shot out from his body, hovering in front of him. Spiritual light flowed across the sword bodies, humming loudly.

"Go."

The nine Flying Swords shot out simultaneously, their sword light interweaving to form a huge sword net, covering the sky and earth as it descended upon Sima Yu.

Sima Yu's expression sank, and he flipped his hand to sacrifice a pitch-black banner—the Myriad Soul Banner.

The banner fluttered loudly, black Qi churning as countless soul bodies surged out from it. There were fierce ghosts with hideous faces, and vengeful spirits roaring and wailing, densely packed, blotting out the sky and sun.

The soul bodies bared their fangs and brandished their claws as they pounced toward Mo Wentian. Black Qi permeated the air, cold winds blew in gusts, and the temperature within a radius of ten thousand zhang plummeted.

The nine Flying Swords met the torrent of soul bodies.

Wherever the sword light passed, the soul bodies were pierced through like paper, and the black Qi was shredded by the sword light, emitting shrill wails.

One sword pierces ten souls; a hundred swords slay a thousand ghosts.

The sword net rotated and slaughtered; soul bodies dissipated in swathes, the black Qi was evaporated by the spiritual light, and a burnt, foul stench permeated the air.

Sima Yu's face grew paler and paler.

He desperately urged the Myriad Soul Banner, and more soul bodies surged from within, but Mo Wentian's nine Flying Swords were too fast—so fast that he couldn't see them clearly at all.

The sword light interwove into a net; whenever a soul body collided with it, it was instantly annihilated.

He felt that the soul bodies in the Myriad Soul Banner were rapidly decreasing—these were all things he had spent a lot of effort refining in the Family Secret Realm, and each one lost was one less he had.

Mo Wentian was expressionless, raising his hand and pointing a finger.

"Merge."

The nine Flying Swords converged in the air, their sword lights melding together, spiritual light surging violently, and in the blink of an eye, they transformed into a giant sword a hundred zhang long.

The giant sword hung in the firmament, its body entirely silver-white, blinding cold light flowing along the blade, its tip hanging low, pointing directly at Sima Yu.

Sima Yu's pupils constricted sharply.

He had no time to think, gritting his teeth as he sacrificed an ancient bronze shield. Runes on the shield's surface lit up, and a cyan light barrier enveloped his entire body.

The giant sword descended.

Boom—!

The ancient bronze shield was like paper, shattering instantly, fragments flying everywhere. The giant sword's momentum remained undiminished, continuing to press down.

Sima Yu scrambled to crush a Jade Talisman, and a golden light shield exploded from his palm, wrapping him firmly.

Runes flowed on the light shield, shining with golden brilliance. This was his trump card for saving his life, sufficient to block a full-strength strike from a Spirit Transformation Cultivator.

The giant sword collided with the golden light shield.

Clang—!

A deafening, thunderous sound rang out, like two mountains colliding.

The golden light shield trembled violently, ripples spreading across its surface, but it did not shatter.

Sima Yu was sent flying backward by that immense force, crashing into the cliff behind him, both he and the shield.

The cliff collapsed with a rumble, gravel burying him, and dust shot up into the sky.

Sima Yu rushed out from the rubble, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, his robes tattered.