Quriong Wanxue reappeared against a familiar chest.
Wanxue stumbled, ghost snow collapsing around her into harmless flakes.
A hand caught her waist, steady and warm.
"Easy," Ling Feng's voice murmured, right by her ear. "You're back."
Her heart thudded wildly.
She blinked up.
He stood there, calm as if he'd just pulled her away from a crowded street, not from a field of ghost immortals and emperor lineages. Chaos Force coiled lazily around him, but his gaze on her was soft, steadying.
"I… they…" she managed, breath catching. "Ghost Monk, Golden Child, everyone…"
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead lightly to hers for one heartbeat.
The world steadied.
"Don't worry," he said quietly, casual and absolute. "They die right now."
Her ghost heart stuttered at the tone.
Ruthless.
Certain.
He straightened, Chaos Force still humming. Time in the Dao Field remained near-frozen, the entire pocket realm caught in a shimmering web that only he could move through freely.
"Hold on," he added. "I'm going to grab everyone."
Wanxue barely had time to nod.
Space twisted again.
Ling Feng stepped—and vanished.
…
He reappeared in the jade cavern.
Li Shangyuan still sat beneath the hanging jade icicles, eyes closed, Pure Jade Sacred Heart Art ringing in harmony with the chimes. Cracks of old fear and restraint were only halfway turned into beautiful patterns across her inner heart.
To her, nothing changed.
To Ling Feng, the jade lights were nearly motionless, each note stretched long and thin.
He reached out, brushed her shoulder.
Chaos wrapped around her like a second layer of jade.
"Borrowing you for a bit," he said softly. "You'll finish carving later."
She didn't hear the words.
She simply vanished from the cavern, carried along by Chaos.
…
He stepped again.
Blood pit.
Chen Baojiao laughed, hair flying, Tyrannical Valley Immortal Springs roaring as blood-dao spears crashed against her body and sank into bottomless wells. Her new Fate Palace was just beginning to condense behind her, a hall made of storming springs and boiling blood.
Ling Feng hooked an arm around her waist mid-roar.
Her eyes widened.
"Eh—?"
"Field trip," he said, grinning. "You'll like this one."
Then she, too, disappeared, leaving the pit roaring on without its favorite madwoman.
…
Step.
Xu Pei in the valley of Myriad Immortals Grass, storm clouds rotating above, dao threads whipping around her like a storm map.
Step.
Lan Yunzhu in the Heaven-Study basin, rivers flowing through her veins, a new water palace opening like a lake in her soul.
Step.
Su Yonghuang standing before blazing armor, Solar Immortal Physique drinking sun dao like wine, the shadow of a twelfth palace just beginning to coalesce.
Step.
Chi Xiaodie atop a buried drum, war echoes shaking her bones as she hammered out her own roar against a chorus of old generals.
Step.
Bai Jianzhen deep in the sword mine, ore humming around her, sword-light stretching thin lines through the air as she refined a Fate Palace made entirely of sword marks and killing intent.
Step.
Bing Yuxia before the severing cliff, Heaven Cutting Tablet held high as sword-scars leapt one by one, her severing dao cutting away her own shackles first.
For all of them, it was nothing more than a momentary blur.
A pulse in their enlightenment.
A hand, warm and familiar.
Then Dao Land vanished.
…
When Ling Feng stopped, they all stood together.
The Dao Field spread out before them—ring of broken pillars, paved stones etched with ancient dao lines, sky heavy with condensed laws. In the center, Ghost Monk and his allies were still frozen mid-motion.
Divine Spark Prince's divine chains still descended.
Crescent light still folded space.
Insects still crawled.
Ghost lotus petals still closed around a Wanxue that no longer existed there.
Wanxue herself stood at Ling Feng's side, a step behind, one hand unconsciously gripping his sleeve.
Chaos Force eased.
Time resumed.
To the ambushers, everything happened in a single impossible instant.
Their prey dissolved.
A cold wind blew.
Then a circle of terrifying auras erupted around them.
Li Shangyuan, jade heart polished and steady, Frost Dragon Sword resting at her side.
Chen Baojiao, blood springs boiling, smiling like both war and laughter.
Xu Pei, swirling storm clouds of dao, violent and controlled.
Chi Xiaodie, Lion's Roar bloodline pulsing, eyes bright with battle excitement.
Su Yonghuang, sunfire rising behind her like a new dawn, Solar Immortal Physique blazing.
Bai Jianzhen, sword intent pressed so thin it seemed almost absent—until one looked too closely and felt their soul sliced.
Bing Yuxia, severing aura coiled like a drawn sword, Heaven Cutting Tablet resting against her shoulder.
Lan Yunzhu, rivers flowing beneath her skin, gaze deep as a thousand currents.
And in front of them all, Ling Feng.
Dao Land's laws shuddered under the sudden pressure.
Ghost Monk and the others whirled around, their expressions shifting from triumphant cruelty to sharp, wary unease.
"Again," Ling Feng said, rolling his neck, joints cracking lazily. "Didn't I say the next time you tried something… you die?"
His eyes swept over each of them, contempt open, calm, unhurried.
"I guess you really do have a death wish."
He didn't posture.
He didn't unleash any big move.
He just flicked his sleeve and started assigning people like it was a casual chore.
"Shangyuan," he said. "The bald one is yours."
Ghost Monk's eyelid twitched.
"Baojiao, the golden skeleton."
Golden Child's eye flames flared.
"Pei, the one wrapped in borrowed hymns."
Hundred Clans Child bristled, the clans behind him roaring.
"Xiaodie, you can keep the loud Divine Spark."
Divine Spark Prince's face contorted. "You—!"
"Yuxia, the bug."
Ghost Insect Evil Child's smile vanished.
"Jianzhen, the little crescent."
Titanic Crescent Saint Child's crescent seal pulsed with dangerous light.
Ling Feng's tone didn't change the entire time.
The women moved.
They didn't argue. They didn't pout. They simply stepped forward, each one locking onto her target with the ease of long familiarity.
Ghost Monk and his allies exchanged quick glances.
They had come in force.
Ghost Zen Tribe's young lord with his secret Zen Law.
Divine Spark Country's pampered prince, backed by phoenix and heaven's will contenders.
Insect King Imperial Lineage's infamous Evil Child.
Hundred Gods Country's favorite to become a future God-Monarch.
Titanic Crescent Sacred Ground's prime descendant.
Hundred Bones Sacred Tribe's sharpest golden fang.
In Necropolis, such a combination could topple entire alliances.
Backing down now would mean admitting that all the prestige of emperor lineages and great powers could not withstand one human and his women.
Pride screamed.
Retreat would be a crack in their dao hearts they might never repair.
Ghost Monk drew a slow breath.
His lips curled into a thin, cold smile.
"Amitabha," he said softly. "You think women can block our path?"
His ghost lotus flared.
Ghost Buddhas rose behind him, monk-shadows chanting, lotus petals unfolding in layers. Ghost Zen Tribe's secret Zen Law surged, mixing Buddhist mantra with ghost howls. The Dao Field itself trembled.
Chen Baojiao laughed, stepping down toward Golden Child.
Chi Xiaodie grinned like a lion smelling prey.
Bing Yuxia's gaze sharpened as she looked at Ghost Insect Evil Child.
Lan Yunzhu's rivers calmed into dangerous silence.
Xu Pei's storms thickened.
Su Yonghuang's sun intensified.
Bai Jianzhen's sword aura… thinned.
Li Shangyuan stepped forward.
Quiet.
Ghost Monk's sharp gaze cut toward her as she approached.
Of all the women, her presence was the least flamboyant.
No roaring storms. No roaring flames. No raging blood rivers.
Just jade.
Her Pure Jade Physique had been polished across countless battles and quiet cultivation. Under Chaos's influence, her energy flow had become frictionless; power moved through her without waste, without cracks.
She walked until she stood opposite his ghost lotus.
Up close, her presence was like a still pool of clear water.
Ghost Monk smiled condescendingly.
"Little girl," he said gently, clasping his hands. "You dare raise a hand against this monk?"
Li Shangyuan looked up.
Her eyes were calm.
She didn't argue.
She didn't explain.
Her fingers closed around the Frost Dragon Sword's hilt.
"Die," she said.
Nothing more.
She drew.
Pure Jade dao and Chaos-enhanced law harmonized in that motion—Pure Jade Sacred Heart Art aligning her intent, Frost Dragon Sword's icy dragon qi sharpening it, Chaos Force smoothing away every impurity.
One sword descended.
No flourish.
No unnecessary twist.
Just a single, perfectly clean arc of crystalline inevitability.
In that instant, Dao Land itself seemed to hold its breath.
Jade light burst from the blade, not blinding but absolute. Frost dragon shadows coiled along the sword path, their bodies formed from cold dao lines inscribed with Pure Jade patterns. Chaos threaded through those lines, ensuring nothing could slip between.
The ghost lotus froze mid-bloom.
Every petal stopped.
Ghost Monk's chanting cut off in his throat.
Ghost Buddhas in the air shattered into still images.
The sword-light passed over him as gently as a winter breeze.
Then…
Cracks appeared.
Not on the sword.
On reality around him.
On the ghost lotus.
On Ghost Monk himself.
His robes turned translucent jade, the ghost qi around him congealing into clear crystal. His eyes widened, but no sound came out. His body, his dao foundation, his Zen Law—all of it solidified into a single, flawless jade statue in the blink of an eye.
The statue was beautiful.
Peaceful.
Serene.
For half a heartbeat, he seemed like a saint in meditation.
Then the first fracture split across his cheek.
Lines spiderwebbed out.
Down his throat.
Across his chest.
Through the ghost lotus beneath him.
The Dao Field's air rang with the sound of jade cracking.
Li Shangyuan lowered her sword.
No second stroke.
She didn't need one.
With a soft, final chime, Ghost Monk and his lotus collapsed into dust—fine jade powder scattering across the Dao Field's stones, blown by a wind that hadn't been there a moment before.
There was no scream.
Nothing to ferry.
Nothing to save.
Just an empty space where the Ghost Zen Tribe's proud young lord had been.
Silence fell.
Golden Child's flames flickered violently.
Divine Spark Prince's divine rings stuttered.
Hundred Clans Child's phantom clans trembled, some instinctively taking a step back.
Ghost Insect Evil Child's smile disappeared entirely, pupils shrinking.
Titanic Crescent Saint Child's grip on his crescent seal tightened until his knuckles cracked.
Wanxue exhaled, a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
Divine Spark's group finally understood what kind of nightmare they had walked into.
The jade dust from Ghost Monk's body had not even finished scattering before a heavy silence crashed over the Dao Field.
Ghost Buddhas were gone.
Ghost lotus gone.
Ghost Zen Tribe's proud young lord—turned into powder by a single, clean stroke of Li Shangyuan's sword.
For a breath, no one moved.
Divine Spark Prince's divine rings trembled behind him, their once-proud brilliance stuttering like candles in a storm. Hundred Clans Child's phantom legions quivered; some ancestral shadows already looked as if they wanted to turn and flee. Golden Child's golden bones rang faintly as they shook, light flickering unsteadily.
Around them, the gathered Ghost Immortals—experts from imperial lineages, great powers, and ancient kingdoms—stared as if they were seeing a ghost even more terrifying than themselves.
World-renowned geniuses.
Emperor-lineage elites.
All of them had come swaggering into Dao Land, convinced that with emperor weapons and supreme merit laws in hand, they could at least wrestle with anyone beneath Heavenly King.
Now, they realized that every single one of the human women circling them… stood on a level they had only heard about in rumors and ancestral stories.
Even among younger generation Ghost Immortals, beings who could trade blows with Heavenly Kings were rare pillars.
Here, those pillars were wearing soft robes, standing by Ling Feng's side, and looking bored.
Ling Feng chuckled, low and lazy.
He let the sound roll through the Dao Field, soft as a breeze—and yet, in that quiet laugh, there was a casual verdict on everyone present.
'Mm about what I expected. Every one of mine can wrestle with Heavenly Kings now. What are a few Heavenly Sovereign brats going to do to them?' He thought to himself. He knows clearly where each of his wives' combat prowess lies now.
Chen Baojiao did not wait for more words.
Her blood was already boiling.
The lingering echo of Ghost Monk's shatter still sang in her bones, resonating with the roar of her own Tyrannical Valley Immortal Springs. Her springs churned within her Fate Palaces, each one a furious sea eager to smash something apart.
She stepped forward.
Her scarlet dress fluttered in a wind that only her blood created. Her bare feet ground down into the Dao lines beneath her, cracking them like they were cheap tiles.
Her gaze locked on Golden Child.
His golden skeleton burned with imperial radiance, each bone tempered by the aura of Ghost Immortal Emperors. Ghost fire burned in his sockets, eyes like twin suns of bone.
"Human woman," he roared, fury and disbelief twisting his features. Immortal bone plates slid over his body, stacking layer upon layer like an impregnable fortress. "My bones were tempered beneath emperor might! You—"
Baojiao burst out laughing.
The sound rang like bells from the deepest part of the valley, bright and utterly fearless.
"Good," she said, voice rich with delight. "Let's see how they sound."
The Imperial Violent Hammer appeared in her hand with a low, sullen hum. A tyrannical aura erupted from the weapon, tides of brutal force spreading out like shockwaves from smashed mountains.
She spun once.
Her body moved with the relaxed confidence of a woman who knew she could crush any opposition underfoot. Immortal springs surged; the countless wells in her Fate Palaces linked together through Chaos-tempered channels, flooding the hammer with terrifying force.
Then she dropped it.
It wasn't a complicated technique.
No intricate patterns.
No layered dao diagrams.
Just a falling mountain that had decided everything beneath it was already dead.
The platform shuddered.
The hammer came down on Golden Child's defensive bones with a sound that made every onlooker's teeth ache—like a massive bell forged from emperor steel being smashed apart with a world-ending fist.
For an instant, his layered immortal bones held.
Then the springs erupted.
Tyrannical Valley's immortal water surged up from within Baojiao's body, slammed into the hammer, and detonated. The impact did not simply collide with Golden Child's defense; it seeped into every crack, every joint, every rune carved into his golden skeleton.
His bones didn't just break.
They imploded.
The layers of immortal bone armor detonated inward, collapsing into a spray of golden sand and bone dust. The divine runes etched into them screamed once, then were smothered, ground into nothing by the violent spring force.
His ghost flames snuffed out mid-roar.
Golden Child's body folded like a toy crushed in a giant's hand, his chest caving in along a dozen collapsed ribs. For half a breath, he hung suspended in the air, golden dust cascading around him like a mock coronation.
Then he fell.
When his corpse hit the Dao Field, the impact was muted. There was nothing left in him strong enough to make a sound.
Silence.
Many Ghost Immortals had to forcibly stop themselves from clutching their own ribs.
Their minds kept telling them: that was Golden Child, pride of the Hundred Bones Sacred Tribe, bones tempered in Immortal Emperor aura over countless years. He had become sand… in one hammer.
Hundred Clans Child's scalp went numb.
The leader of the Hundred Gods Country's next generation shook, divine bloodlines roaring through him as if to wake him from a nightmare.
He refused to believe.
He roared, stepping forward, the heaven-and-earth energy of Dao Land surging behind him. Fate Palaces opened; phantom legions ascended from his body like divine banners.
Ancient god phantoms, each bearing a different dao, rose one after another behind him. Some held halberds, some spears, some proud banners of their own. Their presence made the Dao Field tremble, as if a hundred worlds had stacked themselves atop this locus.
"My bloodline bears hundreds of worlds!" he shouted, voice ragged with both fury and fear. "You—"
His eyes caught Xu Pei's.
She stepped forward, azure robes rippling like storm-ridden clouds.
Compared to Baojiao's wild heat and Li Shangyuan's crystalline calm, Xu Pei's aura was like a balanced storm front—quiet on the surface, riven with violence underneath.
She smiled at him.
Soft. Almost apologetic.
"Feng doesn't like noisy people," she said gently.
Her azure halberd slid into her hand, its blade humming low. The world seemed to lean toward it, drawn by an invisible tide. Within her body, the Myriad Immortals Source Grass she had devoured earlier unfurled, its countless dao leaves amplifying every thread of energy she moved.
Violent Cloud Chant roared to life.
But this was not the original Merit Law's crude tempest.
Chaos Energy had long ago seeped into her circulation, transforming her violent bursts into compressed packets of controlled destruction.
Cloud after cloud condensed in her Fate Palaces, not exploding, but tightening, compressing, rotating.
She thrust.
The halberd did not scream through the air. A slender storm-bolt leapt from its tip, not loud, not flashy—just dense. So dense it made the surrounding Dao Field shiver in protest.
The compressed storm blast smashed into the wall of god-phantoms.
The phantoms did not even have time to swing their weapons.
Under that concentrated weight, their bodies crumpled as if they were mere smoke pretending to be solid. Divine images of ancient gods—once revered by entire lineages—were pulverized into nothing within a single breath.
Hundred Clans Child's eyes went wide.
The wave didn't stop at his phantoms.
It continued forward, seamless, smooth, like a blade hidden inside a falling thunderhead. It hit his chest with a muffled thump that sounded almost gentle.
Inside his body, it was anything but.
Fate Palaces collapsed like cracked porcelain.
Organs imploded, not bursting outward but caving inward, crushed by the internal storm. Divine images carved into his bones shattered, ancestral bloodlines tearing loose from their channels like chains yanked from rotting walls.
He took one step back.
Then his legs folded.
Hundred Clans Child toppled backward, eyes still wide, still full of disbelief as they stared up at the sky he would never see properly again.
He died without even understanding how badly he had been outclassed.
Divine Spark Prince's divine rings flickered wildly now. The divine flames that always danced proudly along his body sputtered, some extinguishing outright.
He felt naked.
Those two… dead already?
Golden Child.
Hundred Clans Child.
Names that had never once known humiliation in the Sacred Nether World were removed like weeds from the roadside.
Divine Spark Prince's lungs burned.
Rage and terror mixed into one poisonous brew.
He refused to retreat. To step back now was to admit that he, proud prince of Divine Spark Country, had overreached so far that even his sister and Di Zuo's names could not shield him.
He threw everything out.
Divine rings exploded into full brilliance behind him, each ring a blazing world of supreme god-flame. Divine sparks danced in the air, forming chains of divine characters that linked heaven and earth.
He screamed, voice cracking as he poured everything into arrogance and borrowed backing.
"My sister and Di Zuo will—"
He never finished.
A sharp, leonine snarl cut across his words.
"They're not here."
Chi Xiaodie moved.
Lion's Roar bloodline exploded inside her, veins lighting up like golden rivers. Her Fate Palaces roared; every battle echo she had hammered into her bones in Dao Land responded at once.
She didn't even properly draw her Life Treasure sword.
The Virtuous Paragon sword stayed mostly in its sheath, its faint gleam merely outlining her movement.
She simply stepped in, slipped inside the arc of his divine rings as if they were full of gaps, and drove her palm into his chest.
The impact rang through his body like thunder trapped inside a bell.
Bones shattered in a cascading wave.
Meridians tore; divine flames twisted out of shape, collapsing as their channels broke. She guided her force with careful, ruthless precision. Rib cage folding, spine cracking, divine rings collapsing—yet she deliberately curved her power around his heart and head.
He coughed blood, divine rings snapping, his body hanging in the air on inertia alone.
She caught his neck one-handed.
Her fingers dug into the tendons at the base of his skull, lifting him off the ground with humiliating ease. His feet dangled, eyes rolling, divine flames sputtering like dying fireflies.
Chi Xiaodie's gaze was cold, utterly unmoved.
"Feng said not to break the platform," she said flatly. "He said nothing about your bones."
Her grip tightened.
Divine Spark Prince spasmed, limbs twitching uselessly. The proud heir of Divine Spark Country now hung like a broken chicken in a butcher's hand, barely able to wheeze.
The Dao Field fell even quieter.
Even the distant laws of Dao Land seemed to pause, as if stunned by how quickly the balance of power had flipped.