Volume Three: The Intent of Ten Directions Chapter 73: South of the Southern Mountains

If the Profound Enlightenment Realm could be called godhood, then the Path Entry Realm was fit for kings. To reach its pinnacle and utterly dominate peers of the same level—such a one was crowned a Celestial King.

In the southern mountains, blood soaks the earth, and none bear witness. This place is destined to become a tomb.

All the cars came to a halt, for ahead, Qin Yang’s vehicle had stopped. Seeing that he had not stepped out, everyone remained wary, choosing to stay in their cars.

Lighting a cigarette—truth be told, it had been days since his last. The taste of nicotine had faded considerably.

He smoked only for the sake of looking cool.

He had dressed formally, just to bed Wu Yaoyao, his coat left behind in the car, the Starfall Blade thrust into the ground. Cracks radiated around it, snaking outward.

At that moment, one after another, people began getting out. Among them, twelve red-flag sedans drew all eyes—bulletproof, at that.

Before him stood twelve elders, each a legendary figure in the ancient martial world. Unfortunately, Qin Yang had never entered that world, so he did not recognize them.

They were known as the Twelve Celestial Kings—invincible beneath the Profound Enlightenment Realm.

This hunt for Qin Yang had two aims: first, to claim the Enlightenment Fruit; second, to seize the cultivation method that had so rapidly increased his strength.

Everyone wished to keep the spoils for themselves. Yet, having met on the road, they had no choice but to join forces—thus, their grand display of power, hoping to force compliance.

A chill of murderous intent surged in waves. No one spoke. Qin Yang narrowed his eyes; for some reason, the sight of formidable foes always excited him.

He had faced those of the Profound Enlightenment Realm before, but the strength of these twelve Celestial Kings remained unknown.

Would they be able to truly pressure him, to force him to a higher plane?

The thought filled him with anticipation.

Around him, the aura of the Way began to manifest. Of the Five Elements, only the Way of Water had he grasped so far; the Gale’s intent remained elusive.

Thus, he yearned for battle, reminiscent of his duel with Master Yideng—a fight to the death, forged in the crucible of fierce combat, where one either triumphed or perished.

A dry cough echoed—a signal. At once, everyone surged out, swift as the wind.

He took one last drag, tossed the cigarette away in irritation, and cursed, “Damn it, can't even finish a smoke in peace.”

He blew a perfect smoke ring into the air. In a flash, the Starfall Blade was in his hand, swirling in the air like a blossom of blood-red plum petals.

He advanced with an enigmatic step, suppressing all present with a single gesture.

With one stroke, he slew twelve men. Whether Qin Yang had done it deliberately, they could not tell—but for him to slay twelve of their number in one move, it was a brazen provocation.

“Heh, stop sending these useless fools to die. Why not come at me yourselves? That would be far more interesting.” He leaned on his blade, gazing at them, his heart tumultuous. These men were powerful, to say the least; all were seasoned veterans. An ordinary person could never take advantage of them. The Twelve Celestial Kings—comparable to the Profound Enlightenment Realm—had once united to slay a master of that level, shocking the world.

“Hmph. Let me test your strength.” As befitted a Celestial King, the old man’s voice brimmed with arrogance and might. He took a step, palm striking toward Qin Yang.

It was the Way of Earth, an aura of soil and stone.

A halo of earth energy shimmered around his body, a thorough defense—perhaps overly cautious, considering battle had yet to truly begin.

Seeing the palm imprint in the air, Qin Yang did not wield the Starfall Blade, but punched out fiercely. Had all twelve attacked together, he would have unleashed his Berserker Titan form, but for a single opponent, it was unnecessary.

Bang!

Chen He’s aged face changed sharply as he staggered back two steps. He had already held this youth in high regard, yet found that still he had underestimated him.

“Truly worthy of being the Beihai Qin Yang. To snatch the Enlightenment Fruit amidst so many experts is no small feat. Our purpose here is simple: hand over the Fruit and the cultivation method that has powered your rise, and we will leave immediately. What say you?”

His head cocked to one side, scorn etched across his face as he regarded these men, already half-buried by the yellow earth. “And if I refuse? Do you think you can really stop me?”

“Do you even know where you are?”

At his question, they faltered—newcomers to Bincheng, unfamiliar with its terrain. They shook their heads.

“This is the southern mountain—the Tomb of Bones.”

Laughter rang out, wild and unrestrained. At once, a sense of foreboding filled the air. Had he chosen this place for them to die in? They hardly needed his arrangements; each of them, for all their martial prowess, was wealthy beyond measure.

“Foolish child. Watch how I deal with you.” With that, Chen He charged again, prompting exclamations from the crowd—it was clear he was about to unleash a powerful technique.

He sneered, unimpressed. So what if his opponent was a little faster? To kill him at his strongest would be all the more impactful—a truly stunning feat.

As Chen He’s fist neared, Qin Yang merely smiled. The Starfall Blade flashed, swift as a thunderclap.

His power soared, his speed became a blur—those present saw only a streak of light trailing through the air.

His previously restrained aura now erupted without reservation.

The Way of Slaughter, the Way of Thunder, the Way of Water—and in that very strike, even the rhythm of the Gale was present.

Faced with such a terrifying blow, Chen He had no chance to resist; he was instantly overwhelmed. The remaining Celestial Kings turned pale, desperate to intervene, but Qin Yang would not allow them the chance.

It was all within his calculations; his speed became yet more overwhelming.

“No!”

Wrinkles etched deep with despair, Chen He was unwilling to die.

“You should have thought of this sooner.” With a single stroke, his head parted from his body, which Qin Yang kicked aside. The murderous aura about him was fully unleashed as the Starfall Blade pointed at the rest.

Arrogantly, he declared, “Who’s next?”

“Damn, Elder Chen was felled with one blow! This Beihai Qin Yang is a monster.”

All swallowed hard. They had come hoping to seize some advantage, but now saw that it was not so easily won—indeed, it might cost them their lives.

They exchanged uneasy glances, whispering in agitation. For the Twelve Celestial Kings to lose one at the outset was a disgrace. United, they had slain a Profound Enlightenment master before; would they now fear a mere youth?

“There’s something unholy about this brat. Attack together—finish it quickly, or else things will turn against us.”

The eleven surged forward, employing every technique at their disposal.

“Hmph, what a pack of cowards—dressing up your fear as righteousness. How amusing!” Qin Yang, not forgetting to mock them, unleashed his full strength, with no intention of holding back.

In the southern mountains, on this tomb of bones—who would be buried here, in the end?