One Sword

One Sword . . .

As the tension reached its zenith in the midst of this celestial showdown, Yang An's gaze remained fixed on the spiraling figure of the golden-winged roc, affectionately known as Little Rascal. An unmistakable air of impending doom hung in the air, and Little Rascal's eyes gleamed with a determination that could rival the mightiest of warriors.

Yang An's very being seemed to pulse with the formidable energy of immortal law, causing the once-menacing tornado to morph into a terrifying arsenal of razor-sharp swords, each one dripping with an aura of absolute power. The sheer destructive potential of these swords was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

In his hand, Yang An gripped a gleaming saber, its blade poised to strike with a ferocity that could rend the heavens asunder. With the grace of a gust of wind, he materialized before Little Rascal, his saber descending like the judgment of a vengeful deity. The force contained within that single strike could cleave through the very fabric of reality itself. Little Rascal, ever the cunning survivor, sensed the imminent danger and took flight, frantically releasing golden feathers, each as keen-edged as a blade. Yet, in the face of Yang An's saber, they were reduced to mere wisps of nothingness.

With an echoing roar, Little Rascal was forced to revert to his original form, his paws extending to form an invisible runic shield of shimmering light. The impact of Yang An's saber against this ethereal defense resounded like a cacophony of shattered dreams. The shield fractured incessantly as Little Rascal fought to evade his relentless pursuer. However, Yang An's saber cleaved through the protective barrier, causing blood to seep from the wounds it inflicted upon Little Rascal's golden body. The overwhelming might of immortal energy was an unstoppable force.

Meanwhile, on a distant battlefield, Qin Wentian watched in agony as Yang An relentlessly attacked Little Rascal. Desperation and fury fueled his every move as he sought to make his way towards the unfolding tragedy. His God's Hand summoned a colossal palm imprint, capable of obliterating anything in its path, but Mu Feng, his formidable adversary, proved to be a formidable foe.

Mu Feng was determined not to let Qin Wentian escape the battlefield so easily. He could not allow such a disgrace to befall him. The stage was set for a cataclysmic clash between the two immovable forces.

Amidst the chaos, the name "Little Rascal" resounded with a sense of urgency in Qin Wentian's mind. The flames of rage flickered in his eyes as he witnessed Yang An preparing to deliver the final blow to his loyal companion. In a heart-pounding moment, as Mu Feng's meteoric fist hurtled towards him, Qin Wentian's voice erupted with an earth-shattering roar, "Little Rascal!"

Empowered by the divine might of the God's Hand, Qin Wentian's outstretched palm clutched an immortal-ranked long spear that seemed to expand with each passing second, its tip aimed directly at Mu Feng's heart. Mu Feng, no stranger to adversity, swiftly retreated in a desperate attempt to evade the impending strike, but it was too late. The immortal spear's indomitable force shattered Mu Feng's immortal fist, tearing through the air like a celestial force of nature.

As Little Rascal bore the brunt of the beam-like saber light, his once-glorious golden feathers now marred by fresh wounds and dripping with blood, Qin Wentian's aura underwent a startling transformation. The very essence of his being seemed to surge forth, and the God's Hand clung to the immortal-ranked long spear with an unwavering grip, unleashing its power to the fullest extent.

Unyielding and unwavering, Yang An continued his relentless assault on Little Rascal. His saber swept down once more, but in that very moment, a profound sense of danger assailed him. With swift precision, Yang An turned to witness an immortal spear expanding to colossal proportions, stretching beyond a hundred meters in length. This spear cleaved through the very fabric of space, its might capable of shattering the firmament itself.

Yang An's saber met the colossal spear head-on, and the clash sent shockwaves reverberating through the heavens and earth. The indomitable long spear shattered Yang An's saber, forged from immortal energy. However, with the grace of a master, Yang An harnessed the power of the wind law, effortlessly translocating himself to safety and narrowly escaping the full brunt of the devastating spear strike.

Qin Wentian, undeterred by this momentary setback, soared through the skies, coming to Little Rascal's side. His gaze bore into Yang An's soul, cold and unrelenting. "Today, I, Qin Wentian, have been shown the depths of shamelessness that some descendants of nobility in the Evergreen Immortal Empire are capable of. You have broadened my horizons, indeed."

Mu Feng joined Yang An's side, their expressions dark and foreboding. Both were formidable figures of the immortal foundation realm. Despite their previous unjust actions against a Celestial Phenomenon Ascendant, they now found themselves unable to vanquish the duo that hovered above them. The irony was palpable, as those who had once sought to target Qin Wentian were now the ones bearing the brunt of humiliation.

With a cold and resolute tone, Yang An declared, "You think you can simply leave like this?"

Qin Wentian's response was laced with a simmering fury, his eyes locked on Yang An. "You invited me to this banquet. Have the events of this evening not satisfied your appetite for drama? Or do you intend to extract my very life as well?" The intent to kill emanated from Yang An, making his intentions chillingly clear. The stage was set for a dramatic conclusion, where honor, jealousy, and vengeance would collide in a maelstrom of emotions.

The grand banquet hall of the Evergreen Immortal Empire's royal palace was a scene of both elegance and chaos. The air was charged with tension as Yang An, perched atop a majestic tiger, confronted Qin Wentian and Little Rascal. His anger, like a relentless tempest, brooked no restraint.

"You have brought chaos to my banquet and shown no respect for the nobles and dignitaries of this royal court. If you think you can simply walk away without offering a satisfactory explanation, you are sorely mistaken," Yang An declared, his words dripping with authority. His heart burned with a seething rage, a malevolent force that seemed beyond his control. This was meant to be a day of triumph for him, his ascension to immortality a cause for celebration. But as soon as he emerged from his seclusion, he was confronted with the unsettling news of Qin Wentian and Qing'er.

Initially, Yang An had extended an invitation to Qin Wentian, driven by the desire to assert his dominance, hoping to force Qin Wentian to withdraw from his pursuit of Qing'er, deterred by the apparent obstacles. Yet, his grand plan had crumbled into chaos, all thanks to the unforeseen actions of Qin Wentian. Now, the thought of letting Qin Wentian escape without retribution was inconceivable. His pride and resentment demanded satisfaction.

Qin Wentian, however, greeted Yang An's challenge with a hearty laugh, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on his adversary. With a flourish, he pointed his long spear toward Yang An, his voice laced with icy determination. "Yang An, you stand within the hallowed halls of the Evergreen Immortal Empire's royal palace. I have no wish to be needlessly cruel, but you seem to have overestimated your own importance. Who do you think you are? Did you honestly believe you could compel my presence and demand answers? Preposterous! Are you even deserving of such a privilege?"

Yang An's countenance darkened, his sinister resolve growing stronger. "We won't know unless we try," he retorted.

"Try?" Qin Wentian's gaze drifted upwards, as if addressing an invisible audience. "I'm aware that many esteemed seniors of the royal palace are watching this spectacle. I trust that each of you can discern right from wrong in your hearts. The descendants of nobility have crossed the line, and I, Qin Wentian, have endured their provocations to the brink of tolerance. If the Qi King Manor does not intervene to halt Yang An's reckless course and his audacious attempt to detain me, then I shall consider his words as a challenge, and we shall resolve this through combat."

Qin Wentian's audacious declaration left the assembled onlookers dumbfounded. His arrogance knew no bounds. He was essentially stating that if the Qi King Manor failed to intervene, he would hold Yang An's life in his hands. The tension in the banquet hall grew palpable as the fate of the confrontation hung in the balance, a dramatic clash between pride, power, and honor.

The indignant sting of those words bore into Yang An's very soul, and he found himself unable to bear the weight of the shame they carried. This place, the Qi King Manor, was not just any location; it was his home, his sanctuary, and the thought of someone daring to challenge his authority within these hallowed walls was an affront he could not ignore.

Predictably, rage coursed through Yang An's veins like a wildfire unleashed. The raw, unbridled surge of immortal might radiated from his being, creating an aura of pure terror that permeated the surroundings. His eyes remained locked onto Qin Wentian, his advance relentless. There was no room for compromise or backing down; this insult had to be met head-on.

"I genuinely wish to witness how you intend to engage in a life-and-death battle with me," Yang An declared, his voice cold and determined. In his hand materialized an immortal weapon, a blade of exquisite and tragic beauty. Its icy gleam emanated a bone-chilling aura, as if merely gazing upon it for too long could result in one's demise.

Qin Wentian, undaunted by Yang An's menacing display, sheathed his spear and, in a swift and fluid motion, summoned the demon sword into his right hand. With a deft cut, he allowed his own blood to drip onto the blade, and instantly, the demon sword resonated with a powerful, overwhelming demonic energy that seemed to encompass the entire vicinity. Simultaneously, in his left hand, he conjured the runebone of the wind roc, an act that seemed to set him on the precipice of a transformation into a majestic roc.

Yang An, fueled by anger and perhaps a touch of arrogance, lunged forward with the speed of the wind itself. Yet, in that very moment, Qin Wentian underwent an astonishing metamorphosis, disappearing from view as a colossal and magnificent great roc took his place.

Yang An, taken aback by the sudden transformation, halted his advance momentarily. Nevertheless, he did not allow his bewilderment to deter him and swung his blade forward with unrelenting determination. However, to his dismay, his blade struck nothing but elusive shadows.

A wave of confusion washed over Yang An, prompting him to extend his immortal sense. But the result was baffling—there was no trace of Qin Wentian except for the great roc that had replaced him. It was as though Qin Wentian had become one with the roc itself. Even the potent sword intent that had been radiating earlier had vanished without a trace. The demon sword, having harnessed the essence of the runebone, had also undergone a remarkable transformation into a formidable roc.

"How swi—!" Yang An's words were cut short as Qin Wentian's overwhelming presence bore down upon him. Yang An brandished his blade, surrounded by an impenetrable force field of law energy that deflected Qin Wentian's assault. Even as he defended himself against Qin Wentian's onslaught, Yang An launched his own retaliatory strikes.

The air crackled with intensity as the gigantic great roc descended, fragmenting into countless shadows that surged toward Yang An. His immortal foundation radiated with unyielding fervor, unleashing law energy that materialized into a fearsome windstorm capable of tearing the heavens asunder. The deafening roars of explosive force filled the atmosphere, each successive impact resonating with unrestrained power.

In the midst of this cataclysmic clash, Qin Wentian launched his own attack, conjuring multiple wind rocs imbued with terrifying might. They streaked toward Yang An, their presence an unstoppable force.

One of the wind rocs, incredibly swift, materialized directly before Yang An, moving at a pace that surpassed even the tempestuous windstorm. It darted gracefully through the openings in Yang An's defenses, its form dissolving into a razor-sharp beam of sword light that suddenly appeared within Yang An's field of vision. Yang An's face contorted in shock as the hum of the sword resonated in his ears, the sound of impending danger.

A sharp, crisp sound pierced the air, the very essence of the clash echoing with finality, as a trickle of blood flowed.

In the blink of an eye, the crowd witnessed a spectacular transformation as a colossal roc descended from the heavens with breathtaking grandeur. Moments later, this majestic roc seamlessly morphed back into the form of a human, revealing the true nature of the incredible transformation Qin Wentian had invoked—the Demonic Divinity Sacrificial Transformation.

Yang An's hands instinctively clutched at his throat, his pallor draining away, leaving his face as white as fresh snow. His gaze remained locked in disbelief on Qin Wentian, while the blade he had wielded fell from the sky, an emblem of his defeat.

This was a scene that defied belief—a sight that would be recounted in hushed whispers and awed tones for generations to come. Immortal Foundation Yang An, the esteemed crown prince of the Qi King Manor, had been vanquished in an instant, felled by a single stroke of Qin Wentian's sword, despite the vast disparity in their cultivation levels. Qin Wentian, a Celestial Phenomenon Ascendant, had performed the seemingly impossible.

A deafening shockwave of astonishment reverberated through the crowd, leaving them awestruck by the sheer audacity and raw power of what they had just witnessed.

A moment later, the ominous aura of imminent danger manifested with a deafening "Boom!" Several figures materialized before the onlookers, each radiating an aura of commanding authority. One of them, appearing beside the incapacitated Yang An, extended his hand, invoking an immortal screen of healing light to envelop the stricken prince. Swiftly, a medicinal pill was administered to Yang An, and within moments, the grievous wound on his throat began to mend. The flow of blood ceased, and the entire scene unfolded with an eerie and predetermined efficiency that suggested this outcome had been anticipated from the beginning. After all, this was the sacred domain of the Qi King Manor, and Qin Wentian's actions could only go so far within these walls.

Within a short span of time, Yang An's injuries were fully restored. His eyes, once filled with surprise, now bore a malevolent, seething hatred as he fixed his gaze squarely on Qin Wentian.

But Qin Wentian, seemingly unaffected by Yang An's malevolence, responded with a sardonic grin. "Young man, it seems you've got quite the fiery spirit in you."

His gaze then shifted to the imposing middle-aged man who had joined the fray—the immortal king character from the Qi King Manor, a formidable presence to be reckoned with. Qin Wentian's voice dripped with sarcasm as he continued, "Oh, but I must confess, my guts are still too modest. If they were larger, I might have simply dispatched him with that single sword strike. Nevertheless, esteemed senior, it might be wise to instill a touch of discipline in young Yang An. Otherwise, I fear his audacious attitude, combined with his current level of strength, would hasten his demise should he venture beyond the confines of the Qi King Manor. Today's incident, had it occurred outside these walls, might have already sealed his fate." With his caustic commentary complete, Qin Wentian couldn't be bothered to spare another glance in Yang An's direction.

Yang An's clenched fist trembled with an intensity that mirrored the boiling rage in his eyes—a tempest of fury that had caught everyone by surprise. The events of this day had unfolded with an unpredictability that left them all dumbfounded. Never had they imagined that Qin Wentian would be such a force to be reckoned with, his dominance so undeniable, and his strength so unparalleled.

Among the onlookers, a tacit understanding had formed—a shared awareness that after this fateful confrontation, Qin Wentian would etch himself deep into Yang An's heart as a relentless tormentor. The seed of hatred sown today would grow into a towering tree, and only by defeating Qin Wentian could Yang An hope to find solace and erase this indelible mark of humiliation.

A wry smile escaped the lips of an experienced observer. "Young man, shouldn't your elders teach you a lesson or two? Your audacity knows no bounds, and I'm not sure that's a virtue."

Qin Wentian, however, was not one to be cowed by veiled threats. He responded with a steely edge to his voice. "Even though I am a friend of Princess Qing'er, are the venerable seniors of the Qi King Manor considering taking action against me as well?"

A chuckle escaped the lips of an immortal king, his demeanor exuding a hint of amusement. "While your performance today is undoubtedly remarkable, young man, it's worth noting that your target happens to be none other than the crown prince of the Qi King Manor himself."

He paused, his expression growing more serious. "However, I must say, Qin Wentian, your audacity has reached astonishing heights. Your actions today have brought great shame upon our Qi King Manor, and I'm genuinely curious to see how far your audacious spirit can take you."

But Qin Wentian was unyielding, his smile betraying a hint of wisdom. "Allow me to offer some advice, senior. If, indeed, you choose to disregard the Evergreen Immortal Empire and the Qi King Manor seeks to exact vengeance solely based on a personal grudge, I'm afraid your esteemed Manor may find the price of your actions to be more than you can bear." His words, while seemingly diplomatic, carried a weight that resonated with a subtle warning.