Chapter 4516

“I didn’t do anything; you don’t have to be so polite to me,” Kai said, trying to downplay the situation.

Just then, a figure descended from the sky—a serene old Taoist holding a whisk. His movements were slow, yet each step carried a sense of profound authority.

The sight of the Taoist brought visible excitement to Xiao Yuanshan and the others. They quickly assumed that the miraculous events earlier were his doing.

“Is it him?” Kai whispered, his eyes widening in surprise.

It was none other than Wuji Taoist, the master of Lin Keting. His arrival stirred mixed reactions. Zuo Tianzheng and his allies frowned deeply, feeling the weight of Wuji Taoist’s imposing aura.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers’ souls, snatched away moments ago, had been forcefully returned to their bodies. Such an impossible feat would be unimaginable even for immortals.

“Senior…” Kai stepped forward hastily and bowed. Wuji Taoist had saved his life on multiple occasions, and Kai’s respect for him was immeasurable.

The Taoist eyed Kai critically. “How pitiful… my apprentice’s man reduced to this sorry state,” he said, shaking his head in disdain. From his robe, Wuji Taoist produced a radiant, multicolored pill and tossed it to Kai.

“Eat it,” he ordered bluntly.

Kai didn’t hesitate. He swallowed the pill, and it dissolved instantly. A rush of warmth spread through his body as his depleted energy surged back to life. His aura grew stronger with each passing second.

Xiao Yuanshan and the others watched in awe. The implications were clear—Kai wasn’t just an ordinary man. He was destined to play a critical role in saving the Xiao Dynasty.

“Senior,” Kai asked hesitantly, “did you come here specifically to save me?”

“No,” Wuji Taoist replied flatly. With a wave of his whisk, the air shimmered, and a faint figure materialized—a shadowy presence that gradually took form.

Kai froze. “Taoist Wuwei?” he murmured, recognizing the figure.

The shadow chuckled. “Brother, it’s been so long. Look at you—still weak despite all these years.”

Wuji Taoist smiled faintly. “And you, brother, haven’t changed much. It seems the Great Formation of Heaven and Earth hasn’t hindered you as much as it has others.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” Wuwei replied, his tone light but edged with curiosity. He glanced at the Tenth Prince, standing at the edge of the gathering.

Meanwhile, Wuji Taoist turned his sharp gaze toward the prince. Something deeper was at play, and the air grew tense as the old Taoist prepared to address him.

“Kid, the heavens are merciful. I shouldn’t have struck a child like you,” Wuji Taoist said with a faint sigh.

“But you dared to harm my junior brother. I had no choice.”

His tone was calm, almost regretful, but his eyes betrayed no hesitation.

The Tenth Prince sneered, his cold gaze fixed on Wuji Taoist. “Old bastard, have you come to meet your end as well?”

Wuji Taoist’s expression remained unchanged. Instead, he twirled the whisk in his hand and said casually, “Let me ask your mother first.”

Buzz!

The air vibrated violently as the Taoist made his move. The world itself seemed to contract under his command, and an overwhelming force surged forward.

The Tenth Prince’s pupils constricted as he instinctively raised his golden sword. Yet, the force came too fast—there was no time to draw it properly.

Boom!

A burst of dazzling white light engulfed the battlefield. The Tenth Prince was sent flying like a meteor, crashing into the distance. His once-mighty golden sword disintegrated into ash, scattered by the winds.

The Xiao Dynasty soldiers and citizens erupted in cheers. Only moments ago, they had faced certain death. Now, salvation had descended like a miracle.

Some people laughed hysterically, unable to contain their relief. Others fell to their knees, tears streaming down their faces.

With a single effortless move, Wuji Taoist had shattered the Tenth Prince’s oppressive aura, leaving everyone stunned by his sheer might.

Taoist Wuwei and Master Wuliang, standing nearby, both sighed simultaneously.

“Master Wuliang, what’s wrong?” Xiao Jian asked, noticing the somber expression.

Master Wuliang shook his head and let out a long breath. “If I hadn’t been trapped for so many years, dealing with that brat would’ve been as easy as swatting a fly.”

His words carried the weight of past glory and deep frustration.

Before the ancient war between gods and demons, Wuliang and Wuwei had been true immortals in the heavens, standing at the pinnacle of existence.

To them, mortal cultivators—no matter how powerful—were insignificant.

“Even gods are just self-proclaimed nobles,” Wuliang muttered, disdain flickering in his eyes. “In our view, they’re nothing more than pompous fools.”

His words hung in the air like a declaration of forgotten greatness, a reminder that the true strength of immortals was yet to be fully revealed.