The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

The Three Sacred Grounds lay to the west of Duanshan City, relatively close to Cangzhou's central region.

At the heart of the three sects stood the Sacred City, which they jointly governed. It was one of the few places where neither the Drunken Immortal Pavillion nor the Myriad Treasures Pavilion had managed to establish a branch.

But while they lacked physical shops in the Sacred City, the Fang Clan's intelligence agents had long since infiltrated it.

It was a massive city, after all—with more cultivators passing through each day than anyone could count. Slipping in unnoticed wasn't difficult.

The Sacred Grounds were several hundred thousand miles from the Sacred City. If anything happened in either location, the other could quickly detect it and respond.

Therefore, just like when they annihilated the Hidden Kill organization, they had to set up a formation in advance—cutting off all channels, erasing all traces—and destroy the Primordial Sacred Ground before anyone even knew it happened.

Fang Ting and his group arrived just outside the Primordial Sacred Ground. In the distance, they could already see the towering peaks that pierced the clouds.

Staring into the distance, Fang Ting's gaze turned solemn.

"Begin," he said calmly.

Without a word, everyone disembarked from the flying vessel.

Fang Chu raised his hand and released tens of thousands of formation flags, over a hundred formation boards, and more than a dozen rare spiritual items.

All of these were necessary components for the array.

Fang Chu could deploy it on his own, but doing so would take too long and be inefficient.

With the Hidden Dragon Guards assisting while Fang Chu oversaw the operation, the entire process was vastly sped up.

Under Fang Chu's direction, the Hidden Dragon Guards placed flags and boards in precise locations.

Fang Ting focused on concealing their presence, ensuring they wouldn't alert the elders and disciples of the Primordial Sacred Ground scattered throughout the region.

Yin Xianhong stood watch, ready to react at the first sign of danger.

Everything proceeded in calm order.

Suddenly—

"Who are y—!?"

A startled voice rang out.

By coincidence—and poor luck—a True Saint-level elder of the Primordial Sacred Ground had wandered too close and stumbled upon the formation work.

"You—!"

He didn't even finish his sentence before Yin Xianhong struck. She instantly immobilized him with several layers of restrictive seals.

She didn't kill him—doing so would extinguish his soul lantern and alert the Sacred Ground. Once the formation was complete, they could deal with him then.

He could only stare in helpless shock.

Too weak.

Too careless.

He had thought himself safe within the heart of his own sect and let his guard down. That complacency cost him everything.

No one paid the matter further attention—it was just a small disruption.

As the formation flags, boards, and spiritual materials were set in place, the grand formation gradually took shape.

The closer it came to completion, the tenser the mood grew. They all knew success was imminent—just one step left—and that was precisely when things were most likely to go wrong.

Fang Ting, however, remained calm.

If they were discovered and failed? He'd just retreat. Once he reached the Emperor Realm, he could do it again—more easily.

Finally, the last core spiritual material—the formation's eye—was set. Fang Chu exhaled deeply and stepped forward.

"Patriarch, the Four-Spirit Mountain and River Formation is complete. It can be activated at any time."

Fang Ting nodded slowly, his voice serene.

"Activate it."

"Yes."

Fang Chu flew into the sky and began weaving hand seals at lightning speed.

Buzz—!!!

As the seals shot out, what had appeared to be inert flags and boards suddenly awakened, glowing with spiritual light and establishing a network of interconnection.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—!!

Beams of light surged skyward, linking points to lines, lines to surfaces—until the entire area was enveloped in a gigantic inverted bowl, sealing off the tens of thousands of square miles below.

The entire Primordial Sacred Ground had been trapped.

To ensure nothing went wrong, Fang Chu had brought additional formation cores and anchors to reinforce the array.

Though his cultivation was insufficient to fully control the formation on his own, with Fang Ting and Yin Xianhong at the helm, even a Saint King would struggle to break through in time.

And this was just a temporary version of the Four-Spirit Mountain and River Formation, deployed using portable tools.

If it had been a permanent installation, built on ley lines with precious materials and months of preparation?

Even dozens of Saint Kings would've been helpless before it.

As the formation completed, the Saint Realm cultivators within the Primordial Sacred Ground finally noticed something was wrong. Powerful auras erupted, crashing into the sky.

"Who dares cause trouble in the Primordial Sacred Ground?!"

The most powerful of them were the three Saint Kings. Their immense forms stood atop mountain peaks like gods, their gazes piercing space.

They saw the Fang Clan's forces.

"Who are you?! What is the meaning of this formation?!"

Though they spoke, they were already probing the formation and trying to alert their allies.

Unfortunately, they were already too late.

Fang Ting moved.

He drew a long black saber, its back engraved with the image of a ferocious, unknown beast—eerily lifelike.

This was the Emperor Weapon Wen Tian, once wielded by the Ten Thousand Mountains Emperor.

"No…!"

"That's—! That's an Emperor Weapon!!"

The three Saint Kings of the Primordial Sacred Ground went pale, their expressions contorted in horror—as though they'd seen something that defied the laws of heaven.

Even pseudo-Emperors might not possess such a treasure. Only true Emperors could wield them.

They might not have used one themselves, but they'd seen such weapons before while journeying through the continents—and that aura was unforgettable.

And by the time they recognized it—

Fang Ting had already raised the blade.

Gathering all his Saint King Ninth Heaven cultivation, he swung downward without flourish or embellishment.

BOOM!!

A saber shadow—ten thousand miles long—ripped through the sky, its speed unimaginable.

It slammed toward the mountains of the Primordial Sacred Ground.

In that moment, a massive light screen appeared over the mountain range—this was their sect's protective grand formation, forged over hundreds of thousands of years.

CRACK—!!!

Even among hegemonic powers, this was a top-tier formation—one that could withstand attacks from dozens of Saint Kings for extended periods.

But its opponent today was a Ninth Heaven Saint King wielding an Emperor Weapon.

The colossal saber shadow paused only briefly—then smashed through the formation like a blade slicing silk.

The saber's light dimmed slightly.

But the grand formation was completely shattered.

Such was the unimaginable might of an Emperor Weapon.