To know this, the more Qi chanisms one possesses, the greater the range of spells they can cast, and the stronger their paper strength as a cultivator. However, where does he truly have twenty-four strands of clear and turbid Qi? rely sixteen strands!
Zhang Yan responded faintly, "It’s good that you’ve all arrived."
"Kill!"
The two Ming Qi First Realm disciples, lacking the qualifications to master advanced spells, wielded only their flying swords. At this mont, they both let out a spirited shout, their swords cutting toward Zhang Yan simultaneously!
anwhile, the Ming Qi Second Realm cultivator stepped back, releasing sixteen strands of clear and turbid Qi from his mouth and nose. They swirled and danced in midair, glimring with a yellow light, as if about to form a spell. Yet suddenly, a flash of green brilliance swept across the scene. Two sharp sounds rang out—"Chak, chak"—and two heads fell to the ground. The flying swords aid at Zhang Yan lost their spiritual chanisms and were effortlessly brushed aside by his raised hand.
Seeing the sixteen strands of clear and turbid Qi attempting to form into a spell, Zhang Yan’s lips curled into a sneer. With such sluggish spellcasting speed, would you dare wield it in a close-quarters skirmish?
He tossed the Proclamation Pen from his hand outward. The pen rotated midair, instantly dispersing all spiritual energy. The cultivator trembled violently before he could react; the pen then flicked and wiped across his forehead, erasing the Primordial Spirit Essence Blood in an instant. What remained was an empty shell that toppled lifelessly.
Sensing sothing, Zhang Yan abruptly turned his gaze towards the stairwell corner, where a cultivator had just ascended from the Seventh Realm. Witnessing Zhang Yan slaughter three Ming Qi cultivators as effortlessly as dispatching chickens, the newcor froze with terror and scrambled to retreat downstairs, stumbling over himself in panic.
Unhurriedly, Zhang Yan descended to the lowest level.
His gaze swept across the scene, discovering Feng Ji encircled by five Ming Qi First Realm cultivators. Feng Ji gripped a jade pot in his hand and, upon seeing Zhang Yan descend, promptly downed its contents in one gulp, then discarded the vessel. Crossing his hands behind his back, he shook his head and sighed, "Zhang Yan, you are indeed impatient. Your appointed ti isn’t until tomorrow."
Turning his back calmly, Feng Ji waved his hand with an air of triumph and commanded, "Kill him."
As the group’s magic artifacts and flying swords rose just skyward, a shadow suddenly enshrouded the room. Looking up, they were greeted by a thunderous "Boom!"—a colossal inkstone slamd down. The entire Seventh Realm of the tower shook. When the dust settled, neither Feng Ji nor the five cultivators remained intact; their flying swords and artifacts had been crushed into dust alongside them.
Extending his hand, Zhang Yan retrieved the Soul Suppressing Inkstone and surveyed the area expressionlessly. Without hesitation, he ascended to the upper levels, moving leisurely as wisps of fog unfurled from his steps. Wherever he passed, the place beca shrouded in mist.
Back in the tower’s Seventh Realm, Wu Zhen appeared ill at ease and sighed, "Junior Su, you’ve truly dragged into deep waters this ti. Originally, the plan was for you to introduce to Senior Brother Su, and in return, I’d assist in teaching him a lesson. How did it escalate to killing this person outright?"
Opposite him sat a cultivator in his thirties, who smiled lightly and said, "Brother, did you truly believe Su YiAng would go to such lengths for a re spirit pet? I have no interest in Zhang Yan himself; I only require his True Disciple identity. For the sake of my elder brother’s grand design, even if it were an innocent bystander, we’d still have no reservations about executing them."
Wu Zhen’s face clouded with difficulty as he protested, "Junior, this is playing with fire. A True Disciple carries imnse stature—should news of this leak, not just I, but your Su Family would face thunderous retribution beyond repair!"
Su YiAng chuckled aningfully and replied, "How could this possibly leak? By then, we’ll all already be ’dead.’"
"You!" Wu Zhen leapt to his feet in shock, then froze upon seeing Su YiAng’s faintly smiling expression. Contemplating those words, his expression slowly darkened into understanding. He collapsed into his seat, shaking his head bitterly with a hollow laugh. "It seems my return to Mingcang Sect is no longer viable."
Su YiAng burst into laughter and said, "So what? Brother Wu, you hail from the ’cold list,’ your house already fallen into ruin. Why worry over going back? My Su Family is committed to gathering exceptional talents without discriminating against backgrounds like other noble clans. As long as one is capable, they may enter the gates of the Su Family. Brother Wu, after cultivating for thirty-five years, you have reached Ming Qi Third Realm—far beyond my abilities. Talent such as yours, I would not dream of letting slip away."
Detecting Su YiAng’s recruiting undertone, Wu Zhen hesitated briefly before noticing the younger man’s penetrating gaze fixed on him. Chilled by realization, he thought, "Su YiAng brought along several Ming Qi cultivators. Though they are weaker than , his noble lineage guarantees he carries Dharma Treasures. If I refuse today, I may truly lose my life."
Resolving himself, Wu Zhen no longer hesitated. Rising from his seat, he bowed and declared, "From this day forward, I, Wu Zhen, am willing to heed Second Brother’s commands." Without another word, he raised his hand and swore an oath.
Overjoyed, Su YiAng acknowledged the gesture inwardly, noting Wu Zhen’s tact. He promptly assisted him back into the chair, and to further lure his allegiance, wore a mysterious smile as he said, "Now that Brother Wu has joined our fold, it’s only fair I share so insight. Do you know why my elder brother is determined to claim Deep Pool Canyon?"
Wu Zhen answered, "Second Brother, I beg enlightennt."
Su YiAng grinned enigmatically and whispered, "Our Su Family ancestor once learned of a hidden secret—that beneath the Nine-Curves Stream Palace within Deep Pool Canyon lies the remnant of a Gray Dragon that cultivated for ten thousand years, as well as a True Dragon Mansion. The Old Li Qu Bo has guarded this area for hundreds of years in search of the gateway but has failed repeatedly to uncover it. Should our Su Family seize this location, any family mber with the appropriate destiny could instantly refine the Gray Dragon relic into an external body, and this mansion could serve as the foundation of our Su Family sect!"
Wu Zhen was left utterly dumbfounded by the revelation. As comprehension dawned, he stared at Su YiAng with stunned realization and murmured, "The Su Family... harbors ambitions of independence?"
Su YiAng stood, gazing at the bright moon outside the window, and proclaid boldly, "The Su Family’s vision spans all Nine Provinces. How could we be confined by the trivialities of one province or sect?"
Wu Zhen inhaled deeply, quelling the turmoil within his heart. While Su YiAng’s words felt overly grandiose, the Su Family’s rapid ascent to noble prominence over the past millennium lent credence to such aspirations. Rising to his feet, he cupped his hands in salute and declared, "Second Brother’s aspirations are lofty; I, Wu Zhen, am willing to attach myself to such ambition."
At that mont, a clear male voice rang out from the doorway: "Small-minded thieves, daring to dream of seizing the heavens itself?"
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