In one of the cities within the Horn Constellation Realm, Lu Jingshu had become the secret controller of a large merchant association.
With her keen foresight and extraordinary insight, she had completely subdued the association's owner, who now served her faithfully in secret.
At this moment, she received the shocking news.
Lu Jingshu stood in silence for a long time.
For the first time, her heart wavered.
The Heaven's Mandated Child?
Even if Yang Xiu truly bore the title of Heaven's Mandated Child, could he really compare to Yang Cheng?
"No," she whispered to herself, shaking her head, "I must not waver."
"The destiny of the Wasteland Realm is no ordinary fate—it's far beyond what a normal heavenly destiny represents."
"There must be something I cannot yet see in this grand design. Perhaps this is the trial set by destiny itself—a test for the Heaven's Mandated Child… and for me."
"If I falter now, I might fail Heaven's trial entirely."
Lu Jingshu could only cling to this belief to steady her trembling heart.
Wasteland Realm.
Seven days later.
A piece of terrifying news swept through the world like a thunderstorm.
The Emperor of Western Luo—was slain!
Not only the emperor himself, but all of his sons were killed as well.
Although no one had witnessed Yang Cheng take action, there was no need for proof. Everyone knew—only he had that kind of power.
The method was an assassination—clean, silent, and invisible.
Even the Imperial Ancestral Artifact that protected Western Luo could not touch him.
In an instant, chaos engulfed the entire Western Luo Empire.
Princes and lords from every province raised banners in rebellion, seizing the chance to carve their own territories.
From the looks of it, Great Zhou wouldn't even need to move. Western Luo would soon collapse under its own turmoil.
Once again, the world was reminded of Yang Cheng's ruthless decisiveness.
His vengeance was blood-soaked and terrifying.
Since Western Luo had taken part in the attempt on Yun Liyue's life, Yang Cheng had responded in kind—by wiping out the Western Luo imperial line in one clean strike.
At the Myriad Phenomena Dao Academy, dark clouds gathered overhead.
Moments later, a torrential rain poured down.
The downpour lashed against the academy's blue-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls, soaking everything in sight.
Through the sheets of rain, Ouyang Xun ran barefoot across the muddy courtyard, her pale robes drenched and clinging tightly to her skin. Her jade hairpin had long fallen somewhere behind her.
She ran desperately, splashing through the deep puddles, her breath ragged.
At last, she broke past the gates of the academy and into the wilderness beyond.
The rain only grew heavier.
Soon, heaven and earth blurred together into a curtain of gray.
Suddenly, she froze.
Through the downpour ahead, a faint light shimmered—a strange, almost sacred glow.
On the open ground of a bamboo grove stood a young girl dressed in flowing moon-white gauze. Her long black hair cascaded like a waterfall, and in her hand was a crystal-clear jade sword.
The raindrops fell all around her but refused to touch her, sliding off an invisible aura that surrounded her like a veil of divine light.
She was breathtaking—her delicate beauty seemed sculpted by heaven itself. Yet her cold, expressionless eyes carried no warmth, making her look less like a mortal and more like a spirit that had stepped out from a painting—or a ghost from the depths of the netherworld.
Ouyang Xun's breath caught in her throat. She recognized that face instantly.
It was Tang Xingyu.
But upon a closer look, her eyes were different.
Gone was the softness, the gentle warmth that had once lingered there.
Now, they were as frigid as an icy lake in midwinter—deep, cold, and merciless.
"You've come," Tang Xingyu said softly, her voice calm and crisp like falling snow.
She lifted the jade sword slightly, and a few beads of water rolled off its edge, striking the muddy ground with tiny taps.
Tilting her head ever so slightly, her black hair shifted with the movement, beautiful enough to steal one's breath—yet the words she spoke next froze the blood in Ouyang Xun's veins.
"I've been waiting here… for a long time."
Ouyang Xun's grip tightened on her dagger until her nails dug deep into her palms. "Tang Xingyu, you and I share no hatred, no enmity. Why are you standing in my way?"
Tang Xingyu's moon-white gauze robes rippled like waves in the storm. She raised her sword, and its glow traced half a crescent in the rain.
"Because you are Chengcheng's enemy."
The moment the last syllable left her lips, Tang Xingyu's feet brushed the surface of a puddle and she shot forward like a white egret skimming across a lake.
Her jade sword shimmered through the falling rain, each droplet refracting its blinding light as it pierced toward Ouyang Xun's face.
Ouyang Xun barely managed to raise her dagger in time.
Clang!
The sharp clash rang out, echoing like metal striking stone.
Tang Xingyu's swordsmanship was bizarre and elusive—sometimes her blade scattered into countless petals of pear blossoms, sometimes it coiled like a venomous serpent striking from the mist.
Every thrust and slash hovered near Ouyang Xun's vital points—her throat, her heart, her eyes.
Forced backward step by step, Ouyang Xun's boots slipped through the mud, leaving two crooked trails across the ground.
"Your strength… how can it be this terrifying!" she gasped in disbelief.
She was a Ninth-Realm Martial Sovereign, yet Tang Xingyu was suppressing her with pure power alone.
"It's not that my strength is terrifying," Tang Xingyu said coldly. "It's that your dagger is too dull."
Her wrist turned, and the jade sword in her hand coiled like a living serpent around the dagger before giving it a sharp twist.
A burst of pain split Ouyang Xun's palm as the web between her thumb and forefinger tore open. The dagger flew from her grip and landed with a splash in a nearby mud pit.
Before she could react, the tip of the jade sword darted straight toward her throat, its chilling aura prickling her skin and sending goosebumps racing down her neck.
At that instant, two shadows leaped down from the bamboo grove above.
One of them, on the left, wielded a pair of judge's brushes, their tips gleaming with a faint, eerie blue poison light.
The other, on the right, held an iron chain hammer in both hands, the chain whistling through the air with a sharp slicing sound as it swung.
"Don't you dare harm the young lady!" they shouted together.
The judge's brushes struck toward Tang Xingyu's back, while the iron chain hammer swept at her legs, clearly aiming to force her to retreat and defend herself.
The aura erupting from both men was terrifying—they were both Half-Gods.
Tang Xingyu showed no surprise.
Her jade sword flicked sideways like the tail of a silver dragon. The blade's tip lightly tapped the tip of one of the judge's brushes.
A metallic crack rang out—the supposedly fragile jade sword had chipped a deep notch into the brush's iron shaft.
The man wielding the brushes hadn't even processed what had happened when Tang Xingyu was already upon him. The sword flicked like lightning, tracing a thin red line across his throat. Blood spurted out and mixed with the rain before he even fell.
At the same moment, the iron chain hammer came crashing down toward Tang Xingyu's head.
She didn't dodge. Instead, her moon-white sleeve suddenly puffed up like a billowing sail and slapped forward to meet the attack head-on.
A sharp crack split the air.
The iron chain snapped cleanly in two. The heavy hammer head slammed into the ground with a dull thud, sinking deep into the mud.
The man holding the hammer froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Before he could even gasp, Tang Xingyu's jade sword pierced through his chest, its glowing tip emerging from his back and flashing coldly in the rain.
As the two bodies collapsed into the mud, Ouyang Xun felt her entire body go cold, as if she had fallen into an ice cave.
She turned and ran in blind panic.
Tang Xingyu's strength—her killing precision—was utterly beyond what she had imagined.
Everyone in the world focused on Yang Cheng, yet no one realized that Tang Xingyu was a monster in her own right.
Ouyang Xun stumbled through the downpour, her soaked skirt dragging through the mud. Raindrops—or tears—streamed from the ends of her hair.
But before she could flee even ten zhang (about 100 feet), a streak of cold light flashed past her ear.
A single lock of her dark hair was severed and nailed to a bamboo stalk beside her.
"Ouyang Xun," came Tang Xingyu's calm voice from behind, "you can't escape."
The soft sound of a sword sliding back into its sheath followed her words.
Ouyang Xun's body trembled. She turned slowly.
Tang Xingyu stood beside the two fallen corpses, her moon-white robes stained with faint splashes of blood that somehow made her seem even more ethereal and beautiful—like a demon disguised as a goddess.
Raindrops slid down her jawline, tracing along her pale collarbone before dripping away. Her eyes, cold and deep as an icy lake, never once left Ouyang Xun.
"He's him, and you're you," Ouyang Xun said bitterly, her voice trembling. "Why must you kill me just because of him?"
Hatred burned in her eyes as she took a shaky breath. "Let me go. I know where much of the Ouyang Clan's hidden wealth is. I can share it with you—"
Before she could finish, Tang Xingyu vanished.
Her figure blurred, leaving only a faint afterimage behind.
Instinctively, Ouyang Xun raised her arm to block—but the jade sword had already slipped beneath it, piercing straight through her back.
Her pupils contracted violently. A metallic taste filled her mouth as blood surged up her throat.
She lowered her gaze. The tip of the jade sword had already pierced through her chest, gleaming pale beneath the rain. Scarlet droplets slid down its surface, blooming like tiny red plum blossoms in the mud below.
"I… I… refuse to accept this…" she whispered weakly.
Her body tilted backward, falling heavily into the rain-soaked earth.
Tang Xingyu's voice was soft but cold. "There's nothing to be unwilling about. When you choose to kill others, you should always be prepared to be killed yourself."