Elder Feng Xiao's words…
Did Wind Sword Sect not intend to give up on the Blood-Toothed Demonic Tiger?
Li Zhexian's eyes flickered subtly.
"We also want to see what a ten-thousand-year Blood-Toothed Demonic Tiger is capable of," he said with a smile. "Brother Buyu, Elder Feng Xiao, how about... we work together?"
Hearing this, Feng Buyu's eyes lit up with excitent.
He had long yearned to witness Li Zhexian's sword firsthand.
Feng Xiao, however, raised an eyebrow and looked Li Zhexian up and down.
"You?"
Just one word.
Yet the disdain was unmistakable.
"It's not that I'm unwilling,"
"Only that I don't wish to see you throw your lives away in vain."
Li Zhexian's smile didn't falter. He didn't take Feng Xiao's contempt seriously. If you want to cooperate with soone, you must first show convincing strength.
He took a step forward.
Buzz—
Two brilliant purple Spirit Rings surged upward from beneath his feet.
In that instant—
Centered around him—
The air pressure whirled violently. His white robes snapped in the wind, scattering wood chips into the air and sweeping away even the lingering stench of blood.
To the disciples of Wind Sword Sect, the sight was nearly as shocking as their earlier encounter with the ten-thousand-year Demonic Tiger.
"Pur... Purple?! A thousand-year Spirit Ring?!"
"His first two rings are thousand-year ones?! How is that possible?!"
"Whose monstrous descendant is this Li Zhexian?!"
Feng Buyu locked his gaze on Li Zhexian, eyes burning with excitent.
Unconsciously, his hand once again gripped the hilt of his sword.
If not for the situation, he would've unsheathed it then and there, eager to cross blades and trade insights on the way of the sword.
"A thousand-year Spirit Ring..."
Feng Xiao's eyes were filled with disbelief.
Though Wind Sword Sect was a major power on the Douluo Continent, even in its thousand-year history, not once had there been a disciple whose first two Spirit Rings were thousand-year ones.
This was no re genius.
This was a true monster.
He let out a bitter chuckle and shook his head.
"I've truly been a frog in the well."
Li Zhexian retracted his Spirit Rings and cupped his hands with a warm smile.
"Elder's doubts are understandable."
"To be honest, traveling with you is our gain."
"But the Blood-Toothed Demonic Tiger is truly formidable. With one more fighter, there's one more chance at survival."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward his companions.
"These friends of mine are all among the top young talents of Heaven Dou City, each with unique abilities. I believe we can be of help."
"As for the spoils—let fate decide their distribution."
"What do you think, Elder Feng Xiao?"
The look in Feng Xiao's eyes as he looked at Li Zhexian was filled with more and more admiration.
His words not only saved face for him but also didn't belittle himself and his companions. He also brought up the most sensitive topic of distributing the spoils beforehand.
Feng Xiao stroked his beard and smiled. "Alright, alright, Young Hero Zhexian. I wish us a pleasant cooperation!"
A hint of satisfaction surfaced in his heart.
Although his Spirit Power had reached Rank 70, he had yet to obtain his seventh ring and was still only a Spirit Emperor.
In the earlier clash with the Blood-Toothed Demonic Tiger, Wind Sword Sect had already lost several disciples. Their sword formation's strength had drastically dropped.
Relying on just themselves to face the Demonic Tiger again was a near impossibility.
Teaming up with this group of Heaven Dou's finest prodigies was all gain and no loss.
As for dividing the spoils?
A glint flashed through Feng Xiao's aged eyes—clever and calculating.
No matter how monstrous a genius may be…
Could they outpace the strike of a seventy-ranked veteran sword?
When the ti ca, the Spirit Ring would belong to him.
As for the tiger's skin, bones, and blood—give those to Li Zhexian and his group. That would serve as a "reward."
...
With that, the two groups ford an alliance.
After a brief rest, they followed the intermittent trail of blood, pursuing the Demonic Tiger.
But as they reached a low-lying depression in the terrain, the blood trail vanished—mysteriously and without a trace.
Helpless, they widened their search and began scouring the area in earnest.
About half an hour later, the sun had already begun to set.
They walked into the depths of the depression.
The hot sunlight that filtered through the sparse branches should have brought warmth, but instead, an abnormal, bone-chilling cold perated the area.
The deeper they went, the colder it got, as if they had fallen into an ice cave.
"Be on guard!"
Feng Xiao's voice was low and stern, warning both Wind Sword Sect disciples and Li Zhexian's group.
Everyone nodded, fully focused.
As the vegetation thinned—
The once-dense brush now barely reached their knees, and the surroundings beca wide and open.
Yet an inexplicable dread blanketed them like a dark cloud.
The terrain rose gently ahead.
As they reached the edge of the depression, the view before them slowly revealed itself.
Gasps rippled through the group.
"This… this is…"
Li Zhexian, who had just walked out of the depression, looked at the sight before him with a serious expression.
It was a flat area a few kiloters in size.
The ground was barren, devoid of life. Blood had seeped from countless spirit beast corpses, staining the soil a deep, dark red.
Piles upon piles of bones ford jagged hills, exuding an overwhelming aura of death.
At the center of the field—
A murky pool, perhaps a hundred square ters wide—which was likely where the Blood-Toothed Demonic Tiger drank.
.Next to a steep cliff, a huge cave had been forcibly carved out, its entrance deep and dark. On the flat ground inside the cave, a large, sunken outline of a beast was vaguely visible, which was where the demonic tiger's lair was.
A terrifying tiger's might, almost solid in form, emanated from the cave, kicking up sand and stones into the air.
However, what captivated the attention of Li Zhexian, Feng Xiao, and Feng Buyu the most was a single sword mark that ran from the top to the bottom of the entire mountain wall deep inside the demonic tiger's cave.
"That… that's…"
Li Zhexian's pupils slowly contracted.
The mont his gaze touched the sword scar, the world around him seed to lose all color and shape.
Between heaven and earth, only that sword mark remained.
For a fleeting mont…
He seed to glimpse a white-robed youth, wielding a fierce, ancient sword wreathed in killing intent—his hand slashing down and leaving behind this unparalleled strike.
That single sword—
Severed not only the mountain—
But seemingly cut across ti itself, striking directly at Li Zhexian's very soul!
"Pfft—!"
At that instant—
Feng Buyu beside him suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
The slender Windblade Sword in his hand let out a mournful groan, unable to bear the pressure.
Monts later—
"Ugh—!"
Feng Xiao's eyes snapped wide, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth and staining his snowy beard.
The three-foot longsword in front of him flew away on its own with a clang and was nailed into the ground in the distance.
"Sword Douluo… this is Sword Douluo's work…"
His face turned pale, voice trembling with shock.
"Just the sword intent he gained when he got his fourth Spirit Ring..."
"It's already sothing we can't reach..."
"Terrifying. Truly… terrifying."
No sooner had he spoken than—
Shiiing!
An overwhelming surge of sword qi erupted from around Li Zhexian.
The sheer force of it forced both Feng Xiao and Feng Buyu—fellow sword cultivators—to stagger backward several steps.
Feng Buyu stared, dumbfounded.
"Th-this… this is Li Zhexian's sword?!"
Li Zhexian slowly closed his eyes.
At the center of his forehead, the Qinglian Sword Mark erged once again—brilliant and resplendent, flickering with fierce radiance.
At the sa ti—
Dugu Yan, Ye Lingling, and the others suddenly heard—
A crisp, dense ringing of blades—echoing around Li Zhexian's body.
As if two swordsn—
Across different tis and spaces—
Were now engaging in a clash of sword intent—their resonance piercing across the river of years.
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