The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

The Sacred Lord of the Primordial Sacred Ground wanted desperately to beg Fang Ting to spare them.

But when he thought of their deep-seated feud with the Fang Clan, his own identity, and the fact that this was their territory—they were supposed to be the ones in control—he simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

Just as he stood helplessly watching disaster unfold, a voice rang out in his mind.

It was the most powerful elder of the Sacred Ground—their Supreme Elder.

"The Fang Clan is determined to destroy us. This man's strength is overwhelming—I cannot resist him. But our Sacred Ground cannot perish like this."

"I will self-detonate to take him down with me. Maybe I can shatter this formation in the process. You must seize the opportunity to protect the disciples and get them out—flee Cangzhou if you must!"

Upon hearing this, the Sacred Lord's heart flickered with hope… but was quickly overcome by sorrow.

This elder was their oldest and strongest, their greatest pillar of support—and he was about to fall.

"Master…"

But there was no time for hesitation. The Supreme Elder had already charged toward Fang Ting, true essence surging and laws rampaging violently, warping the surrounding space.

He was about to self-detonate.

"Trying to blow yourself up?"

Fang Ting had anticipated this. He knew a Saint King-level cultivator might try to delay him this way.

As soon as he noticed the self-destruction process begin, he raised his saber and slashed.

"Sundering Sun!"

A blinding, scorching sun burst forth, turning the battlefield into a molten furnace.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!!

The temperature in the surrounding tens of thousands of square miles soared. A nearby lake boiled dry in an instant.

Suddenly, the blazing sun split apart. A surge of annihilating force erupted and descended.

"This—!"

The Supreme Elder's eyes widened. His self-detonation had not yet completed, but Fang Ting's slash was already upon him.

A final flash of regret and helplessness crossed his face before he was reduced to ashes.

In that last moment, his heart was filled with bitter remorse.

He regretted not stopping his sect from antagonizing the Fang Clan years ago.

And he hated the Fang Clan—for being this ruthless.

"Supreme Elder!!!"

The entire Sacred Ground erupted in anguished cries.

Most of them had never even seen the Supreme Elder, but they all understood what he represented—their last hope for survival.

Now that he had perished, that final thread had been cut.

Despair swept through them like a plague.

The Sacred Lord was overwhelmed with grief. But then—he made his decision.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled out a token.

Fang Ting's eyes narrowed. He instantly lunged with his blade—but it was too late.

Whoosh—!!

A rift in the void opened. The Sacred Lord vanished within it.

The token was a high-tier void talisman, crafted by an Emperor Realm cultivator. It allowed one to briefly traverse space, bypassing most arrays and restrictions.

If Fang Kong, Fang Ting's youngest son with the Void Body, had reached sufficient cultivation, he could have pulled someone directly from such a rift.

But for now, only Emperor-level cultivators had that power.

The Primordial Sacred Ground had once produced a pseudo-Emperor in the ancient era, so it wasn't surprising that they had such a trump card.

Still—it was unfortunate that Fang Ting couldn't finish him.

But the remaining Saint King and Grand Saint cultivators had no such luck. Fang Ting's earlier strike wiped them out instantly.

"Kill them all."

Fang Ting's voice rang out. With a wave of his hand, the waiting Hidden Dragon Guards charged forth.

This elite unit now contained many True Saints. After all, the Fang Clan had seven Children of Destiny, and every member of the clan had been empowered sevenfold—many even possessed Five Element Bodies or Five Element Divine Bodies.

Though not as fast-growing as the Children of Destiny, their talents were unparalleled compared to the so-called geniuses of other hegemonic factions.

Fang Ting had already dealt with the top combatants. The remaining disciples and elders were no match for the Hidden Dragon Guards.

In an instant, the Primordial Sacred Ground became a slaughterhouse.

Screams and wails echoed through the sky. The sacred site of cultivation was reduced to a hellish battlefield.

This was the harsh reality of a world ruled by strength.

If the Fang Clan had fallen back then, their fate would have been far worse than what the Sacred Ground was experiencing now.

Elsewhere, Fang Chu sprang into action.

He wasn't one for battle, but when it came to collecting loot, he was second to none.

The Primordial Sacred Ground had a long and storied history, with a wealth of accumulated treasures that dwarfed what had been recovered from the Hidden Kill organization.

**Techniques, secret manuals, weapons, artifacts—**It was a mountain of wealth.

Fang Ting, on the other hand, had his eyes on a particular treasure he had long desired.

A Heaven-Tier Spirit Vein.

Though the Fang Clan already controlled the Eight Ancient Nations, they hadn't yet established a central imperial capital.

To build a city like Duanshan City or the Sacred City, a Heaven-Tier Spirit Vein was absolutely necessary.

But such veins were extremely rare, and nearly impossible to purchase.

Seizing one was the fastest and most direct method.

In the past, the Fang Clan hadn't had the strength. Now they did. To avenge their past while also claiming the resources they needed—that was the perfect outcome.

The Primordial Sacred Ground had made themselves enemies.

And in this world:

Those who kill will, in turn, be killed.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

Fang Ting reached out with one hand. The mountain range trembled violently.

Then—a dazzling, galaxy-like Heaven-Tier Spirit Vein surged up from deep underground and was sucked into a specially crafted storage bag.

At that moment, the entire Sacred Ground's spiritual energy plummeted.

Rare spirit plants began to wither before the eyes of the cultivators.

Those still fighting froze.

They turned pale as ash.

"It's over… the Sacred Ground is done for…"

"Why—why!!?"

Cries of grief broke out everywhere.

Just moments ago, they had been elite disciples of a grand sect—respected, honored, full of promise.

But now their dreams, their legacy, their very lives… were crumbling.

Hatred surged in their hearts.

Hatred at their own weakness.

Hatred at their leaders—why did they provoke the Fang Clan?

And so, they died.

Carrying their regret and hatred to the end.

When the last screams faded, only the Fang Clan's forces remained.

From the ancient era, the Primordial Sacred Ground had stood for hundreds of thousands of years.

As of today—it no longer existed.

As for the Sacred Lord who escaped?

He had already fled far from Cangzhou—terrified that if he didn't run fast enough, Fang Ting would chase him down next.