"Peering into the Yin to break the Yang, heaven and earth converge at the divine pivot; the Sword is void, the heart is the reality, the heart follows the movent of the Sword, the Sword follows the intent of the heart..."
Emperor Chang Shengzun chanted solemnly, his voice resonating with ethereal clarity. Seated in the lotus position atop an ornate ditation platform inside his flying warship, he radiated an oppressive, divine aura. His presence alone could silence the wind and bend the clouds. Around him, spiritual energy surged and flowed like a river of light, coalescing into a sword-shaped vortex that danced around his body in perfect harmony.
Emperor Chang Shengzun was not rely a sword cultivator—he was the sword cultivator, a legend spoken of with reverence across the realms. A Nascent Soul powerhouse who once singlehandedly split a mountain range in half, his mastery of the Dao of the Sword was unparalleled.
Beneath his warship, an endless procession of armored flying boats followed, each carrying scores of cultivators clad in sleek battle robes. The fleet stretched across the skies like a sea of celestial fireflies, casting shadows over the land below.
His army—ten thousand elite cultivators—marched toward the Xuan Continent under a single banner: The Great Purge.
They had already razed several cities, burning them to ash and rubble. Screams of mortals had faded into silence, their bodies reduced to cinders. Cultivator or not, anyone who dared resist had been cut down without rcy.
"These mortals are like ants," one of the younger cultivators sneered, standing near the observation deck of the warship. He flicked the blood off his blade with contempt.
Another elder nodded solemnly. "They’ve grown complacent in their weakness. Clinging to their lives, refusing to step onto the path of cultivation—how pathetic."
"The Great Purge has only just begun," a third cultivator
---
anwhile, in the heart of a lush valley where a grand waterfall cascaded down glittering rocks, four girls were enjoying a leisurely bath beneath the silken curtain of falling water. The sun filtered through the canopy above, painting the pool in shimring hues of gold and blue. The sound of the rushing water, the chirping birds, and the fragrant scent of nearby blooming flowers created a serene paradise untouched by the chaos of the world.
Laughter echoed as the girls playfully splashed each other. Steam gently rose from the crystal-clear pool, ward by an underground hot spring. Their flawless skin glistened in the sunlight, and their relaxed expressions reflected the bliss of peace and quiet.
Only Mathilda’s hand, however, couldn’t quite behave.
"Hey!" Mana yelped, jumping a little as Mathilda grinned mischievously, her hand having wandered again.
"Oh co on, just a little squeeze," Mathilda said with an impish chuckle, dodging a splash from Mana and ducking behind Astrid for cover.
"You’re incorrigible," Astrid said, laughing despite herself.
Just then, a flash of spiritual energy flickered in the sky above the waterfall. A beautiful young woman dressed in elegant robes descended gracefully, landing near the bathing area. She bowed deeply, her deanor respectful and composed, though her cheeks were tinged red at the scene before her.
"My apologies for the interruption," she said, holding out a sealed envelope. "This is the latest information."
Yuehua, who had been quietly enjoying the tranquil mont, stood and accepted the letter. "You may leave," she said softly.
The ssenger bowed once more and quickly retreated.
Yuehua broke the seal and unfolded the paper. As her eyes scanned the contents, her expression darkened. The peaceful atmosphere around the waterfall imdiately shifted.
"What’s wrong?" Mathilda asked, sensing the tension.
Yuehua sighed, lowering the letter. "It’s the Fiend Emperor—Chang Shengzun."
The Girls also turned their attention to Yuehua.
"He’s broken through to the Nascent Soul Realm," Yuehua continued gravely. "And instead of ascending like others, he’s chosen to remain here... and wage war. He believes mortals are unworthy of existence and is purging entire cities—villages, towns, everything. He’s leading an army of ten thousand cultivators, conquering from the west and advancing rapidly."
Astrid’s brows furrowed. "Isn’t there anyone to stop him?"
"Normally, after reaching Nascent Soul Realm, cultivators ascend to higher realms through the Ascension Stair," Yuehua explained. "But it seems this emperor has acquired so ancient treasure—a tethering artifact that anchors his soul here. He’s using it to remain in this world and strengthen his dominion."
Mathilda leaned back in the water, resting her arms on the rocks behind her. "Hmm... But why kill mortals? Sothing sus."
Yuehua nodded.
"Hmph," Mathilda flicked water lazily, her expression unreadable. "I was getting bored anyway."
Yuehua expression changed. She doesn’t want Mathilda to get involved. She can’t sense their realm. But it seems like around Golden Core Realm.
Mathilda noticed her worries and patted her breast "Don’t worry... Trust ... "
"Say that without sexually harassing her..." Mana quickly said.
---
"Stop," Emperor Chang Shengzun’s voice echoed across the sky, calm yet commanding, as his enormous flying fortress slowed to a halt. Around him, thousands of flying chariots, boats, and beast mounts ca to a still hover in mid-air. The vast formation of ten thousand cultivators paused as one, their auras burning like wildfire across the heavens.
Perched at the forefront of his warship, the emperor stood tall, robed in flowing black and silver robes, with his long hair dancing in the wind. His piercing eyes scanned the distant horizon. His brow furrowed slightly.
"Sothing doesn’t feel right," he muttered under his breath, as an unusual ripple passed through the spiritual winds. He waved his hand, summoning a glowing golden command token.
From the nearby chariot, a figure soared toward him. The commander—a man with a sharp gaze, clad in refined war robes—landed respectfully and knelt on one knee.
"Reporting to Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady. "We have already obliterated two small kingdoms and ten sects that dared resist your divine march."
Emperor Chang Shengzun nodded slowly. "Good. And the next destination?"
The commander hesitated for a mont. "It is... Reverse Fate Country, Your Majesty."
The emperor raised an eyebrow. "Reverse Fate?"
"Yes," the commander continued. "There is an ancient legend. Many powerful emperors throughout history, blessed with great fortune and destiny, attempted to conquer that land. Yet, one by one, their fates were reversed. Their armies were destroyed, their empires crumbled, and they themselves... perished mysteriously."
Though it sounded like superstition, every record they found echoed this eerie tale.
"Hmph," the emperor scoffed, dismissing the notion with a cold smile. "Fate? Reversal? I forge my own destiny with the edge of my sword. Let us see if this Reverse Fate Country dares to defy ."
The commander bowed again, but deep down, a shadow of unease flickered in his heart.
Just then, distant cries and flashes of spiritual light exploded in the far east. Several battalions of sword cultivators from Chang Shengzun’s army had reached a new region—an ancient sect nestled in a mountainous valley.
"Surrender your mortal kin!" a cultivator bellowed, his sword gleaming with killing intent as he descended.
"We are a neutral sect!" the sect elder cried, raising his hands. "We’ve taken no sides—"
But his words were cut short as a flying sword pierced his chest, exploding him into a cloud of blood mist.
"Sect Master!" disciples scread, only to be cut down one after another. The sky rained fire and blades as the army unleashed their wrath. Giant spiritual formations exploded. Blood painted the once-sacred grounds crimson. No distinction was made between warriors, scholars, or children.
"They housed mortals," a cultivator spat. "That alone is sin!"
In another region, a bustling mortal city lit with lanterns and laughter turned into a battlefield within monts. The gates were shattered. Creatures mounted by cultivators stord the streets. Sword light flashed like lightning, carving buildings in half.
"Please, my child—no!" a mother cried, shielding her toddler as a blast tore through their ho.
"rcy! We’re only farrs!"
"There is no rcy for insects," a cultivator replied, hurling his blade forward. Blood splattered, lives ended, and silence took over where once was joy.
The Great Purge had turned into a continent-wide massacre.
Within hours, multiple sects, villages, and cities were reduced to ash. Smoke curled into the sky, and the scent of burning wood and blood filled the wind. The once-vibrant lands now bore scars of destruction.
---
Far away from the chaos.
Four figures soared atop a graceful flying boat — Mathilda, Mana, Astrid, and Yuehua.
Mana looked down and saw countless mortals fleeing in desperation. Even so cultivators were helping their mortal families escape from the continent, carrying their loved ones through the skies or guiding them across treacherous terrain.
"Even if they manage to escape," Yuehua said grimly, "the emperor will simply continue his purge beyond this continent. He won’t stop."
"Don’t worry," Mathilda replied confidently, a smirk playing on her lips. "He won’t get that far."
Her eyes glinted with amusent as she added inwardly, "Should I just poison the entire army? That’d be fun."
"What is our next destination?" Mathilda asked Yuehua.
"We are reaching Reverse Fate Country."
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