"YOU!" Ouyang Feng's face contorted, shifting between pale and livid green, his whole body trembling with rage as humiliation surged within him.
"Old Ancestor…"
The disciples of the Banshan Sect were on the verge of exploding. None of them had expected their proud Transformation Stage Elder to be looked down upon so harshly by cultivators from other provinces!
"What are you staring at, you sore sight? Think you're qualified to stand with us?"
A sneering elder from a prestigious sect spoke with biting contempt.
"These Arid Province bumpkins really don't know their place. Even if they reach the Transformation Stage, they're still bottom-feeders."
A green-robed swordsman chimed in mockingly.
"Exactly. They don't understand hierarchy!"
"Even with a breakthrough to Transformation Stage, they're still nothing more than backwater trash. Do they really think they matter?"
"Old man, just get lost. Don't disgrace yourself here."
Wave after wave of ridicule crashed down on Ouyang Feng's aging face like slaps.
Not only the Banshan Sect, but every cultivator from Arid Province clenched their fists in fury. Their teeth gnashed in silence as they stared at the mocking crowd.
This was no longer a personal insult—it was an attack on their entire province's cultivation community.
Ouyang Feng's face darkened. Was being born in the Arid Province truly grounds for scorn?
Even those with weaker cultivation dared to mock him!
Did they think he had no pride left?
"I was born and raised in the Arid Province. The land may be desolate, but its people are not inferior!"
"I've reached the Transformation Stage—why should I bow and let others walk all over me?!"
His face turned red, his voice shaking as he argued back.
"Old dog, do you have a death wish?!"
The Transformation Stage experts from other states roared, their killing intent pressing down like a mountain.
A tidal wave of murderous aura descended, making Ouyang Feng's scalp prickle and his chest tighten.
"You… you people…"
His voice cracked. His throat was dry. His heart pounded like a war drum.
After years of toil, he had finally stepped into the Transformation Stage. A peaceful cultivation path of ten thousand years lay ahead. Why now? Why this sudden disaster?
Maybe… it was better to submit.
After a moment of inner struggle, Ouyang Feng clenched his jaw and reluctantly began to descend.
"Haha! Arid Province cultivators really are cowards! Trash will always be trash!"
The outside cultivators burst into laughter, their disdain even deeper than before.
Ouyang Feng's face burned with shame. He felt utterly humiliated, but for the sake of survival, he forced himself to endure.
And then—
His heart trembled.
The crowd of Arid Province cultivators fell completely silent. Their faces were filled with disappointment. Countless dull, lifeless eyes pierced his soul like daggers.
Especially the disciples of the Banshan Sect—seeing their revered Elder lower his head made them feel as if the sky had collapsed. Their spirits were broken.
Ouyang Feng's chest tightened as if millions of ants were gnawing at his heart. A voice screamed within his mind, pushing him to the edge.
"No…"
"I am the Transformation Stage cultivator of the Arid Province… its number one. If even I think myself lowly, what future is left for our land? If I cower today, even if I live, a demon will haunt my heart. That life—would be worse than death!"
Resolve crystallized in his eyes. His fury ignited like wildfire, and his blood boiled like molten magma.
Ouyang Feng's figure, halfway to kneeling, suddenly stopped—
Then shot back into the air like a blazing comet!
Countless eyes widened in disbelief as he soared upward. His hair whipped in the wind, eyes glowing like stars, and from his mouth erupted a roar that echoed across the heavens—a cry like dragons and tigers, a battle cry from the depths of his soul.
"Arid Province cultivators, what's there to fear?!"
"Anyone who doubts me, come at me!!!"
His voice thundered across the battlefield, filled with resolve and a readiness to die standing rather than live kneeling.
Swish!
A sharp sword cry tore through the sky.
An ancient, heavy sword appeared in Ouyang Feng's grasp—its surface engraved with mountain-like patterns, radiating a blazing yellow aura like a miniature sun.
He raised the sword and pointed forward.
Though just one man amid a sea of enemies, his presence shone with unshakable brilliance!
"Old Ancestor!!"
The disciples of the Banshan Sect were overwhelmed with emotion, shouting in unison.
"That's it! The Kunshan Sword—our strongest treasure!" the Sect Master cried, his voice trembling with pride.
The legendary Kunshan Sword—capable of cutting through anything!
It was the true divine weapon of the Banshan Sect.
"Elder…!"
Gasps of awe rippled among the Arid Province cultivators. No one had expected this reversal. Dim eyes were reignited with fiery resolve.
"Too arrogant!"
"He's asking to die!"
"This senile fool!"
Angry roars exploded like thunder.
The cultivators from other provinces were furious, their pride trampled, ready to strike Ouyang Feng down together.
Yet in the face of this overwhelming pressure, Ouyang Feng stood tall, his back straight as ever.
His eyes radiated calm and unshakable will—utterly fearless.
"Come!"
He bellowed, ready to stake everything.
"Let's take him down together! Kill this old dog!" someone shouted.
But just then, a cold, arrogant voice rang out from the crowd. "Hold it!"
Everyone turned.
A middle-aged man sat within a luxurious carriage drawn by terrifying beasts, wearing golden robes and a crown, exuding a chilling, oppressive aura of blood.
"The Prince Zhen Nan of the Great Zhou Dynasty—late-stage Transformation Stage!" someone whispered, eyes narrowing.
Prince Zhen Nan smiled faintly. "Isn't this a bit excessive? So many of us ganging up on one old man from the Arid Province? What a joke that would be."
"How about this—I'll suppress him with one hand."
The crowd nodded. That seemed more dignified.
Prince Zhen Nan smirked. "Old man, watch closely. This is the gap between us."
He raised a hand and struck out like lightning.
Boom!
A monstrous wave of spiritual force took the form of a massive palm, crashing down toward Ouyang Feng with earth-shattering momentum.
"Kill!!"
Ouyang Feng roared, swinging the Kunshan Sword with all his might. A thick, earth-yellow sword light cleaved through the air, shattering the oncoming force with tremendous impact.
Boom!!
The ground quaked violently.
When the dust cleared, Ouyang Feng stood firm, sword in hand, his face pale but unyielding. Blood dripped from his lips.
"You blocked it?"
Prince Zhen Nan's smile vanished. His eyes sharpened. In a flash, he disappeared from the carriage and reappeared in front of Ouyang Feng, his clawed hand striking like a dragon.
Top-tier Divine Ability—Kanglong Claw!
The sky itself seemed to collapse.
Ouyang Feng gritted his teeth, channeling every ounce of power through the Kunshan Sword.
Clang!!!
A deafening crash rang out.
Ouyang Feng plummeted to the ground, bloodied and battered, but still holding his sword. His body trembled, but his eyes burned with refusal to submit.
"Hmph… garbage," Prince Zhen Nan said coldly, though his heart raged.
Despite going all out, he had failed to finish the old man in one move. Embarrassing.
"Again!" Ouyang Feng shouted.
He had relied on the divine artifact to survive—but survive he did.
"Hmph, this old guy's not bad," some Transformation Stage cultivators muttered in surprise.
Prince Zhen Nan laughed, seething inside. Still daring to fight back?
Without restraint, he unleashed a storm of divine abilities, bombarding Ouyang Feng with relentless force!
Ouyang Feng, sword in hand, fought back fiercely.
Sword light surged into the sky like sunlight bursting from the clouds.
As the Banshan Sect's ancestor, his mastery of the sword arts was unmatched. Combined with the Kunshan Sword's power, he met Prince Zhen Nan head-on.
Soon—
Prince Zhen Nan staggered. A sword wound split his chest. Blood poured.
Fury consumed him.
Without warning, he summoned his own divine artifact—the Hunyuan Hammer.
Like a falling star, it crashed down with hurricane force, shaking the very land beneath them.
Boom!
Ouyang Feng staggered. The Kunshan Sword nearly flew from his hand.
He coughed blood, sneering. "Didn't you say you'd only use one hand? Embarrassing."
Prince Zhen Nan's face twisted with rage. "You want to die?!"
The Hunyuan Hammer surged again, its pressure like a tsunami.
Ouyang Feng blocked blow after blow—until at last, he could endure no more.
Boom!!!
He was smashed into the ground. Blood sprayed. Dust rose.
"If you beg," Prince Zhen Nan sneered, standing above with the hammer in hand, "I might spare your pathetic life."
He didn't just want to defeat Ouyang Feng—he wanted to crush his dignity, and with it, the pride of every Arid Province cultivator.
Ouyang Feng lay there, bloodied, barely breathing. Once mighty, now fallen.
But in the eyes of his people—
He was still the Arid Province's number one divine lord.
"Senior… that's enough…"
Everyone's eyes were red. Their hearts clenched.
"Old Ancestor!!"
The Banshan Sect disciples howled, their voices full of pain.
---
Vote with Powerstones.