The Demon Race's Rout

The sword was over four feet long, wreathed in raging flames; no matter how one peered, the true form of its blade remained hidden.

As soon as Xu Xian gripped the hilt, the once elegant and handsome youth was instantly transformed into a god of slaughter.

One strike swept across.

A fiery bird followed in its shadow.

On the front lines of the battlefield, a beast emperor resembling a goshawk was cleaved in two just like that.

It fell into the Demon Suppression Abyss without even letting out a single cry, its long feathers incinerated to ash.

In a single breath, a beast emperor was slain; though the beast perished, the sword intent remained.

He continued forward, wounding several more beast emperors. The residual power of his strikes rained down upon the masses; beast kings lost limbs, and sapient beasts perished.

A single sword strike fell.

Before the beast tide could even react, another strike was already born.

Then, another beast emperor was seen passing from the world.

Those once insufferable beast emperors were now just like their massive bodies—clumsy and cumbersome, with nowhere to hide beneath Xu Xian’s blade.

The sword aura from every swing of that blade cut through beast emperors like a knife through melons, and killing beast kings was merely an incidental task.

In just a few breaths, Xu Xian had charged alone into the heart of the beast tide with sword in hand.

Then, flames surged and thick smoke billowed. The beast tide fell into chaos, scattering in terror. Amidst the sea of fire, they became a tangled mess of confusion.

The sword hummed.

The sword shrieked.

It drowned out everything, yet one could still faintly hear the roars, screams, and wails of the beasts, as well as their curses and pleas for mercy...

Standing at the edge of the sea of fire, the members of the Wendao Sword Sect, who had yet to even draw their swords, were utterly stunned. They stood frozen in place, staring at the churning flames, glancing between their fellow disciples and the chaos before them.

The battlefield was right before them, the heat waves washing over their faces.

It was chaos, yet it could not compare to the shock currently residing in their hearts.

The tower that had appeared for a fleeting moment. The sword wreathed in flames. And the youth charging forward with unstoppable force against a beast tide that crumbled upon contact.

What tower was that? What sword was that? Where did that ancient aura come from? And what was that bird made of fire?

The answers? They knew nothing.

In their cluttered thoughts, the only thing they knew for certain was that when their Little Grand-Uncle had stood here with his sword and declared he would wipe out every demon in the Demon Suppression Abyss, he hadn't just been talking, nor was it a moment of impulse.

He was serious. His confidence came from that tower and that sword.

At this moment, as they gazed at the battlefield where flames surged and smoke raged, the palpitations in their hearts could no longer be described in words. They could only express their awe and shock.

"Little Grand-Uncle is truly fierce!"

"He's too strong!"

"Terrifyingly powerful!"

"That must be a divine sword..."

"..."

Wen Qingxue had known Xu Xian the longest, so her understanding of him surpassed that of ordinary people.

Setting aside the feats everyone knew, she had witnessed him entering the nascent soul stage after not being seen for days and then ascending to soul transformation in a single breath. No one knew how he did it.

Just as now, at the soul transformation stage, he summoned a sword tower and drew a divine sword, rampaging through the beast tide as if entering an uninhabited land.

Each of these events defied current common logic. Books could not explain it, and reason could not define it.

It was like the mystery of why no one in Fanzhou had attained immortality for tens of thousands of years. Miracles happened around him; the illogical became the most reasonable explanation.

She took a deep breath to calm her cluttered thoughts, discarded the noisy voices around her, and gripped her life-bound sword as she stepped into the battlefield.

If she encountered a demon, she would fight. It was that simple.

Bu Yining was the second to snap out of it. He raised his sword high and shouted, "Everyone, follow the Little Grand-Uncle! Kill them all!"

One after another, the others regained their senses. Some drew their swords and struck without a word, while others shouted and charged forward.

They all pursued Xu Xian’s figure, slaughtering their way into that battlefield to reap the harvest amidst the chaos.

In an instant, within the sea of fire, reflections of sword light flickered frequently, and the chaotic sounds of battle grew even more intense.

Yao Zhijian spat out the half-leaf in his mouth and brushed aside the messy hair on his forehead that had become disheveled from days of battle. He muttered to himself, "This really is blood-pumping."

'It’s been hundreds of years since my blood boiled like this.'

As he spoke, he walked forward, his pace gradually quickening from a walk to a run. His sword left its scabbard, and as he leaped into the air, his blade reflected the brilliant light. He grinned broadly.

"Then let's have a grand battle!"

Within the Demon Suppression Abyss, both sides clashed. Across a hundred miles, winds howled, lightning flashed, thunder roared, and flames shrieked. Sword light gleamed in a myriad of colors, cold claws glinted, and earth and stone flew into the air.

Dust clouded the forest, and turbid waves surged.

Shadow after shadow collided, chased, and hunted one another...

Xu Xian charged at the very front, leaving scorched earth wherever he went. The others circled his flanks, waiting for opportunities to strike. On the contrary, the Eight Tribes of the demon race, who had been aggressive earlier, were now being beaten into a steady retreat.

They couldn't defeat Xu Xian in a head-on clash, and they couldn't defend against the members of the Wendao Sword Sect on the flanks.

The beast kings grew cowardly, thinking only of how to save their lives. The beast emperors harbored their own schemes, thinking of how to escape. As for the fifth and fourth-stage beasts, they weren't even worth mentioning; a battlefield like this simply didn't belong to them. They shouldn't have come to join this commotion in the first place, and now their hearts were filled with regret.

Forget fighting—they didn't even know where to run to save their lives.

Atop the walls of Demon-Slaying City, cultivators from various major sects of the Central Plains occasionally retreated from the gray forest, yet they all gathered on this broken city wall by common consent.

With lingering fear, they looked back at the rising flames and the occasional gusts of mournful wind, their expressions varied and their thoughts complicated.

They all knew a fight had broken out, and they knew who was fighting whom.

Although they couldn't see the specific situation clearly, they could catch a general glimpse. The fires of war were moving east, proving that the beast tide that had sent them fleeing in a panic was being held back by the Wendao Sword Sect—and even pushed back.

Even though they didn't know how the people from the Wendao Sword Sect were doing it, at this moment, even if they didn't say it aloud, they couldn't help but feel a sense of awe toward those fellows from the Wendao Sword Sect.

With fewer than a hundred people, they had moved against the current and blocked the entire Eight Tribes of the East Desolation.

If it were them, they absolutely would not do it. It wasn't out of fear, nor was it because they felt they were incapable. It was simply that they felt only fools would do such a thing.

If others weren't stepping up, why should they? In times like these, watching the fire from a distance and not putting oneself in danger was the path of the wise.

Therefore, in their hearts and with their words, they couldn't help but criticize and mock.

"A bunch of lunatics."

"A bunch of idiots."

"They actually dare to block them? Only the people of the Wendao Sword Sect would do something like fighting against such overwhelming odds."

"Fight on, fight on. It’s better if they all die."

Meanwhile, the fifth and sixth-stage cultivators of the Wendao Sword Sect currently guarding the city wall were all silent, their hearts in their throats.

Their cultivation levels were not high, so they couldn't see through the battlefield beyond the thousand miles of smoke. They could only hear the commotion and the faint rumbles echoing back. They had also seen the moment when the white light soared into the sky and the giant bird rose into the clouds, but they couldn't distinguish whether it was friend or foe.

They only knew that the fellows from the Central Plains had all run back, leaving only the experts of their own sect to fight a lonely battle. They also heard from those who returned that the enemy was a beast tide, a black mass of countless demons.

Fighting against such odds, the Wendao Sword Sect’s situation was not optimistic.

But they couldn't help. The Little Grand-Uncle had ordered that they were not to move out recklessly. Thus, they could only pray silently in their hearts that their fellow disciples, seniors, and elders would return safely.

Nangong Ning was among them.

Her emotions were very complicated.

Six years ago, Xu Xian had protected her behind him. Today, Xu Xian was still protecting her behind him. This feeling was beyond words. Her eyes were filled with worry as she whispered to herself, "Little Grand-Uncle, you must be okay."