The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

The Saint Realm cultivators of the Primordial Sacred Ground were all frozen in terror.

They were completely stunned.

One moment, everything was peaceful—then suddenly, a grand formation sealed their entire territory, and in the next instant, someone appeared wielding an Emperor Weapon, slashing down upon them.

The weapon's power was terrifying beyond reason. Even wielded by a mere Saint King, its might was enough to shake the heavens.

With just one strike, the protective grand formation of the Primordial Sacred Ground had been shattered.

But it didn't stop there.

Though the formation absorbed most of the attack's force, the blade shadow still continued to fall.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!

The saber's shadow, stretching miles long, tore through everything like a divine judgment, crashing down with overwhelming momentum. The sheer force of the blade shook heaven and earth, blanketing the area in a suffocating killing intent.

The mountain range upon which the Primordial Sacred Ground stood was cleaved in two.

Disciples and elders near the impact point didn't even have time to react. They were reduced to ash in the blink of an eye by the shockwave and blade intent.

They didn't know who killed them.

They didn't know why they were dying.

They just died—without knowing a thing.

Farther away, disciples and elders who saw the scene unfold were wide-eyed in horror, trembling with fear and disbelief.

They wanted to flee, but their bodies were frozen stiff. Not a single step could be taken.

They could never have imagined a day like this would come—when someone would attack the Primordial Sacred Ground in such a way.

Huff…

That one strike had drained nearly all of Fang Ting's vast reservoir of true essence.

Under normal circumstances, only Emperor Realm cultivators could wield an Emperor Weapon.

For a Ninth Heaven Saint King like Fang Ting, using one was incredibly taxing.

Though the weapon's true power wasn't fully unleashed, even a fraction of its might was devastating. It had instantly broken the Sacred Ground's formation.

"I don't know what offense the Primordial Sacred Ground has given you, sir, but I humbly ask that you enlighten us,"

said one of the Sacred Ground's Saint King elders. His tone was no longer aggressive, but tinged with caution and fear.

They had no choice. The difference in strength and position was overwhelming.

Fang Ting was Saint King Ninth Heaven.

He held an Emperor Weapon.

Their protective array had been destroyed.

The Primordial Sacred Ground was trapped by a massive enemy formation.

They had no leverage. There was no position from which to posture. That they hadn't immediately begged for mercy was already something.

Fang Ting, who had kept his aura and appearance concealed in mist, now dispersed the fog and revealed his true form.

When the Saint Realm elders saw his face, their eyes widened in utter disbelief.

Even more than when they saw the Emperor Weapon, this was the moment that truly shattered them.

When they saw the blade, they'd assumed he was from some hegemonic force outside Cangzhou. That would have been understandable—hard to accept, but logical.

In that case, they could accept admitting defeat.

But when they saw that it was Fang Ting—the very enemy they had oppressed and provoked for years—it was a different kind of pain.

Nothing is harder to swallow than bowing before your enemy.

So their first instinct was to reject it.

"Impossible! How could that be Fang Ting?!"

"He only recently broke through to the Saint Realm—how could he possibly have reached Ninth Heaven already?!"

"Could this be Elder Wang disguised as him?"

Fang Ting's aura wasn't just at the Ninth Heaven of the Saint King Realm—it was at perfection, a mere half-step from the Emperor Realm.

To them, it was inconceivable that Fang Ting had progressed so far, so fast.

They didn't want to believe it—because believing it meant accepting utter defeat.

Fang Ting didn't bother explaining.

Instead, he used the moment of their stunned silence to frantically circulate his techniques and recover true essence.

"Clan Chief Fang,"

the Sacred Ground's elder said cautiously,

"There may have been... minor conflicts between us in the past, but surely there's no need for such drastic action. Why don't we sit down and talk this through?"

At this point, they didn't care if this was truly Fang Ting or not. All that mattered was getting through this alive.

Fang Ting's voice rang loud and clear:

"The Primordial Sacred Ground shall fall today."

With that, he sheathed the Emperor Weapon and drew a Sacred Weapon, surging forward toward the Saint King experts.

There was no need to talk.

This was vengeance—pure and simple.

Seeing that Fang Ting had no intention of negotiating and was already attacking, the Sacred Ground's cultivators were enraged and desperate.

"The battle is far from over!" the Sacred Lord of the Primordial Sacred Ground shouted.

"All elders and disciples—fight with me!!"

It was clear the Fang Clan had come prepared—setting up a formation to trap them, bringing an Emperor Weapon to break their defenses.

If they gave up now, they would become lambs to the slaughter.

The only chance of survival lay in rallying their forces and fighting with everything they had.

Even if it cost them their lives, they would not let the Primordial Sacred Ground die in their hands without resistance.

Another Saint King elder bellowed:

"He forced the Emperor Weapon—he must be exhausted! Everyone, attack together! If we take him down, this all ends here!"

All the Sacred Ground's Grand Saints and Saint Kings charged at Fang Ting.

He stood alone, but completely unafraid. Now partially recovered, he raised the Crimson Phosphorus Heavenly Blade and met them head-on.

BOOM!

BOOM!!

BOOM!!!

Dazzling and terrifying attacks lit up the sky. The heavens within tens of thousands of square miles trembled. Weaker disciples were forced to crawl on the ground, shivering uncontrollably.

Had it not been for the Four-Spirit Mountain and River Formation, the nearby Sacred City and the other two Sacred Grounds would certainly have noticed. In that case, the Primordial Sacred Ground might still have escaped destruction.

Of course, the Primordial Sacred Ground knew this.

Several True Saints rushed to try to break the formation from within.

But with Yin Xianhong commanding the array and Fang Chu assisting, even damaging it was impossible. Just surviving the array's killing mechanisms was already a struggle.

PFFT! PFFT! PFFT!

Fang Ting unleashed a flurry of strikes, slicing down three Grand Saints in a flash.

The gulf between Grand Saint and Saint King was too great.

The Sacred Lord had intended to use the Grand Saints to support and distract, but Fang Ting ignored the Saint Kings entirely, targeting the weaker Grand Saints first.

"Fall back!!"

the Sacred Lord shouted in panic as he realized Fang Ting's strategy.

But where could they retreat? They were trapped inside the array.

SHHHK—!!

With every swing, Fang Ting claimed a life.

The three Saint Kings could only watch in horror as their comrades were slain one by one. They tried to intervene, but couldn't close the distance in time.

Their rage boiled over, their hearts aching with helplessness.

They could do nothing but watch as their Sacred Ground was torn apart before their eyes.