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墨書 Inktalez
Well, since I am not giving up, what if I enter the World of Mortals? Don't blame him for not reminding me; it is possible to come and go freely.
The book was returned to the Bamboo Slip, stepping back into the sword body, suspended in the air above Tiandong City, neutralizing the previous pressure from the immortal.
In the Underworld River, an immortal dressed in a Yellow Spring Robe stood on a small boat. At the stern was a fisherman wearing a straw hat, continuously rowing, as if stepping out of a painting. In an instant, he crossed an unknown distance and stood in the air above Tiandong, confronting the Rift Sky Sword.
Since he boasts so much, why does he not show himself? Why not come out and face death, so we can witness his celestial authority?
With a punch thrown casually, the Rift Sky Sword was sent flying thousands of miles away, disappearing from everyone's sight.
A hundred thousand years is too long; it passes in an instant. I don't deny it. The newly ascended immortal does not know the origins of that sword.
Before he arrived, his voice was already heard. In the eyes of the Divine Cultivators, across ten thousand miles of Chang Kong, a small black dot was gradually growing larger. Initially as small as a silver needle, after a breath it became the size of a toe. The speed increased rapidly; from leisurely strolling to crossing thousands of miles in just ten breaths. In the astonished gaze of the Nine Nether Immortal, a sword pierced through the immortal's body and gracefully retracted, like a startled swan.
The immortal remains unscathed; though pierced by a sword, Bu Luo restored instantly within a breath, with not even a thread of clothing damaged—perfectly intact.
Everyone looked in astonishment at the figure holding the long sword that had pierced through the immortal's body. If I don't deny it, how could anyone connect this ragged old man with disheveled hair, resembling a beggar on the street, to the renowned Master of the Academy?
If I were to witness it myself, I would tell Tenglan, known as Zhongshang. Even Tenglan would not dare to believe it; upon seeing Yin Tianheng, he wanted to rush forward and question him—why abandon the academy while still alive? Why withdraw from the world? Why leave behind thousands of disciples? Why did he not provide even one way for Liu Dong from the academy to contact him?
But that tattered fur barely covering his body, that hair resembling dirty ropes, that dust-covered face—all told him that this genius disciple before him was no longer the revered Master of the Academy once admired by thousands. Though he did not know what had happened in the past, seeing Yin Tianheng and Ru Ming like this left him with no grounds for reproach.
Yin Tianheng—the kid who sent him here—had never met him before. He found him pleasing to the eye and wanted to take him as a disciple; he thought about moving him but first needed to get past his Liquid Essence.
Yin Tianheng pointed at Gu Ping, his expression clear and mocking, making it evident to everyone present, which only intensified the humiliation and anger of the Nine Nether Immortal.
He was Lei Junhong; remember that name, for it might be the first name I ever heard in my life.
The immortal clenched his fist, fury boiling within him as storm clouds gathered above Yin Tianheng, darkening the sky as if it were about to collapse, ready to crush him into a pulp.
In this world, that kind of technique was something he had witnessed thousands of years ago; it had long since lost its effectiveness.
His long hair danced wildly in the Spiritual Energy, resembling a deity standing between heaven and earth. No matter how the sky threatened to fall or the ground to cave in, Yin Tianheng remained steadfast. Heavenly Might could not bend his spine; even in the face of the immortal's wrath, he would not yield. He was Yin Tianheng, a being who did not seek divinity nor dwell in the heavens. He roamed freely in the World of Mortals, across a chasm of ten thousand years that no one could cross. With a single sword strike, he could slay demons and immortals alike.
If heaven were to collapse, he would hold it up; if the earth were to sink, he would restore it. What could they do to him?
He pointed the Rift Sky Sword towards the heavens, its blade piercing through the Nine Heavens, dispersing the oppressive force of heaven and earth with a single stroke.
With a cough, blood spilled from his lips as Lei Junhong stared in shock at Yin Tianheng. He had never imagined that one day he would be outmatched by a mere mortal who could break through his immortal techniques. Even when standing before that mortal, he felt no trace of Ren He’s oppressive aura. Yet that name—Yin Tianheng—no matter how hard he tried to recall, he could not remember such a powerful cultivator existing in the World of Mortals. Who exactly was this person?
If so, then let me show you what true immortal power is.
Taking a deep breath, Lei Junhong inhaled the Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy into his immortal body. His form grew colossal as he struck downwards with his palm, unleashing a force that obliterated half of Tiandong City. No one could withstand that blow; only Yin Tianheng remained unyielding.
One Hundred Thousand Years Ago, he had killed immortals. Did I really think that after a hundred thousand years he would grow old?
The sword light swept across, and the immortal was reduced to ashes by a single palm amidst the countless beams of light, dissipating into the World of Mortals.
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