Chapter 4517

Zuo Tianzheng’s nerves were fraying. To take down the Xiao Dynasty, he had gambled everything, sacrificing nearly all the demon masters the Demon Sealing League had painstakingly cultivated over the years.

Now, the prospect of failure loomed large. If the Xiao Dynasty couldn’t be subdued, and the lives of these masters were wasted in vain, the Demon Sealing League’s strength would be devastated. Zuo Tianzheng shuddered at the thought—without that power, he might not even be worthy of being a servant, let alone a leader.

Desperation filled his eyes as he turned toward the Tenth Prince. Surely, this must just be a test of strength. Surely, the prince hadn’t yet unleashed his full might.

The Tenth Prince, however, was livid. Clutching his wounded arm, his fury burned hotter with every breath. The indignity of being injured—here, in the Heavenly Realm of all places—was almost unbearable.

At the ninth level of the Mahayana Realm, the Tenth Prince was an undisputed force. Few in the Heavenly Realm could rival such strength. Mahayana masters at their peak were scarce, and Immortal Realm cultivators were even rarer. Once someone reached the Immortal Realm, they often withdrew from worldly struggles, focusing solely on their ascension to immortality.

For centuries, the five domain masters—giants of the Immortal Realm—hadn’t shown their faces in the Heavenly Realm. They were legends, far removed from the concerns of mortals and even most cultivators.

“Little brat,” Taoist Wuji sneered, his voice like ice. “Calling me an old bastard over and over—have you no respect for your elders? If I don’t teach you a lesson, you’ll think yourself untouchable.”

Before the Tenth Prince could retort, Master Wuliang interjected, his voice sharp with urgency. “Wuji! Don’t hold back. Kill this little devil!” His tone betrayed not just anger but desperation.

“You cannot treat him as a child anymore!” Master Wuliang shouted again. “He’s far beyond that!”

Driven to stop the Tenth Prince, Master Wuliang resorted to drastic measures—burning his own blood essence to bolster his strength.

In the Heavenly Realm, replenishing burned blood was nearly impossible, making such a move almost suicidal. With his vitality drained, Wuliang’s strength had plummeted dramatically. He wasn’t even sure if he could now hold his own against cultivators of the fourth or fifth level of the Mahayana Realm.

For a being of his stature, the humiliation was unbearable. Once an Immortal Realm cultivator, Master Wuliang had stood at the pinnacle. Now, he felt like a tiger stranded on a plain, harassed by scavenging dogs, or a dragon trapped in shallow waters, mocked by shrimps.

The battlefield crackled with tension as Taoist Wuji prepared his next strike, and Zuo Tianzheng prayed silently. The Tenth Prince, furious and unyielding, stood ready to retaliate. In this chaotic struggle, only one thing was certain—whoever faltered would face utter annihilation.
A successful cat is stronger than a tiger, and a phoenix without feathers is no better than a chicken.

“Master Wuliang, haven’t you always taught me to be kind?” Xiao Jian asked, his gaze sharp as he addressed the elder monk.

Master Wuliang folded his hands, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Second Prince,” he replied, “kindness depends on the timing. For a brat like this, kindness is wasted. He must be eliminated to quench your anger.”

Finishing his words, he solemnly intoned, “Amitabha…”

Kai, watching this exchange, couldn’t help but smile faintly.

The Tenth Prince’s face was a mask of frustration and humiliation. His earlier arrogance had completely evaporated. The fight had humbled him, forcing him to confront an uncomfortable truth: he was not invincible.

In his mind, the Tenth Prince had assumed this confrontation would be like stepping into a kindergarten—effortless, a place where he could dominate with ease. But to his shock, this “kindergarten” harbored not just children but formidable adults. Taoist Wuji’s appearance was that of a seasoned warrior, an adult who had stepped into the playground and effortlessly turned the tables.

The Tenth Prince couldn’t risk underestimating him any further. His gaze locked onto Wuji, who stood poised, calm, and unshaken. For once, the prince hesitated, holding back his attack.

Wuji Taoist broke the silence with a cold smile. Taking a deliberate step forward, he flicked the whisk in his hand with a precise motion. The simple gesture sent a ripple of power through the air.

Seeing this, the Tenth Prince had no choice but to react. With a grim expression, he hurled his long sword forward, channeling all his energy into defense. The tables had turned. No longer was he the aggressor; now, he was forced into a defensive stance, his survival dependent on staying vigilant.

Unlike the Tenth Prince, Wuji Taoist held all the cards. He could prolong the fight, drag it out indefinitely, or strike decisively at any moment. The tension in the air was palpable.

Then, it happened.

Boom!

Two blinding rays of light clashed in the air, unleashing a massive shockwave. The resulting explosion rippled outward, its force so immense that it seemed to dim the sun and moon above.

The crowd, already tense, scrambled to retreat, dodging the cascading waves of energy. The devastation was unimaginable.

When the light finally faded, all that remained was desolation. The ruins were gone—reduced to dust, indistinguishable from the empty void where they had once stood. No buildings, no corpses, not even the faintest sign that this had once been a flourishing imperial city.

Xiao Yuanshan and Zuo Tianzheng, both masters of the Mahayana Realm, stood in silent awe. Neither dared to underestimate the power they had just witnessed.