The moment they stepped back into the territory of Miaojiang, the very texture of the air changed.
Gone was the dryness of the Central Plains, replaced by a sticky, oppressive heat that clung tightly to their skin.
The wind no longer carried the fresh scent of vegetation.
Instead, it brought a nauseating stench—a mixture of rotting herbs, the foul odor of venomous insects, and a faint, lingering metallic tang of blood that pierced the nostrils.
Li Xingyun and his group proceeded along a narrow path shrouded in miasma, their expressions growing increasingly grim.
As they neared the Witch King's territory, they saw no villages with curling cooking smoke, nor did they hear the playful laughter of children.
There was only a deathly silence.
Occasionally, they would spot a few figures wandering aimlessly by the fields.
"They're medicine thralls," Zhang Zifan lowered his voice, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists.
These once-vibrant lives were now nothing more than puppets controlled by the Witch King's Gu worms.
Meanwhile, in a hidden valley deep within Miaojiang, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The fake Li Xingyun was raising his cup, drinking with two guests of extraordinary bearing.
One of them was a stunningly beautiful woman draped in a wolf-skin cloak, her eyes as sharp as an eagle's. She was none other than the ruler of the Mobei Khitan, Khitan Queen Shuliduo.
The other wore peculiar red and black robes, his face hidden beneath a hood. He exuded a scorching aura and was a mysterious envoy from the Zoroastrian Cult of the Western Regions.
"Please rest assured, you two," the fake Li Xingyun said with a confident smile.
"The Witch King has already laid an inescapable net, and I have mobilized the experts of the Tongwen Manor to provide support here."
"If that Li Xingyun dares to show his face, he will only be walking into his own grave."
Shuliduo let out a charming laugh. "Once this matter is settled, I will be relying on Your Excellency regarding the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun."
The Western Regions envoy spoke in a hoarse voice. "All my cult seeks is an opportunity to enter the Central Plains to spread our teachings."
The three factions each harbored their own ulterior motives, yet at this moment, they had formed an alliance.
They were brimming with confidence, as if they could already envision a future where Li Xingyun was beheaded and the grand scheme of the world was entirely within their grasp.
On the other side, in the deepest reaches of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, the Witch King stood before an enormously massive, blood-red vat.
Inside the vat boiled a dark green liquid, emitting highly toxic fumes. An eerie green light flickered unsteadily against the walls of the container.
Captured martial arts experts were thrown into the vat one by one by expressionless Miaojiang soldiers.
Before they could even let out a scream, they were instantly dissolved by the terrifying liquid, becoming nourishment to forge the Weapon God Altar.
Within the vat, several fully formed monsters slowly stood up.
Their bodies were covered in dark green, hardened carapaces that rendered them invulnerable to blades and spears. Devoid of intellect, they were left with nothing but pure killing instinct.
The aura exuding from each of these monsters shockingly reached the terrifying Great Heavenly Position.
Suddenly, the Witch King looked up, as if sensing something.
The corners of his mouth, hidden in the shadows, suddenly curled upward.
"The mice have entered the cage."
The whereabouts of Li Xingyun and his group had long been exposed.
On the path ahead, three figures quietly emerged, blocking their way.
They were three elders dressed in Miaojiang attire. Their faces were gaunt, and their bodies emanated a deeply unsettling aura.
They were none other than the Witch King's three most capable experts—the Poison Elder, the Insect Elder, and the Miasma Elder.
"Set the formation," the Poison Elder commanded.
The three instantly spread out, simultaneously scattering multicolored powder from their hands.
The powder hit the ground and transformed into a bizarre purple toxic mist, rapidly enveloping Li Xingyun, Zhang Zifan, and Lu Linxuan.
Li Xingyun immediately felt a wave of dizziness. The internal energy within his body felt as if it had been frozen, its circulation becoming extremely sluggish.
Zhang Zifan and Lu Linxuan also turned pale, clearly having fallen victim to the trap as well.
"Careful, this toxic mist can corrode internal energy," Li Xingyun warned.
The three stood back-to-back, warily watching the enemies faintly visible within the poisonous fog.
Countless tiny venomous insects swarmed from all directions, emitting a scalp-numbing rustling sound.
The impossible-to-defend Gu arts and the unpredictable poison techniques plunged the trio into an unprecedentedly bitter struggle.
In just a few moments, all three had sustained wounds, their faces taking on a dark, sickly hue from the poison.
"Die!" the Insect Elder cackled like a night owl, manipulating a completely golden Gu worm to strike straight at Li Xingyun's heart.
Right at this critical moment.
A leisurely voice, carrying a hint of nonchalance, drifted in from outside the battlefield.
"To think you three would use such ugly and despicable methods."
"How utterly tasteless."
Everyone looked toward the source of the voice.
They saw Hou Qing, who had appeared on a nearby treetop at some unknown point.
He held the *Sword of the Poet Immortal* manual in his hand, looking down at the battle below with a face full of disgust.
"Perfect timing. It's about time I tested the power of the divine art bestowed upon me by the senior."
His figure blurred, and like a falling leaf, he drifted gracefully to the ground.
Facing the siege of three Great Heavenly Position experts, his face showed not a shred of fear, but rather a trace of excitement.
He slowly drew the longsword at his waist, pointed the blade at the three elders, and struck what he considered to be an incredibly dashing pose.
The next instant, he began to recite poetry while launching his attack.
"The knight-errant of Zhao wears a tasseled hat, his Wu blade gleams like frost and snow."
As the verse fell, the sword light flared.
Hou Qing's figure instantly transformed into a white blur. His swordplay was elegant and agile, as if surrounded by cherry blossoms, yet it carried a fierce, murderous intent.
"His silver saddle shines on a white horse, galloping as swift as a shooting star."
His blade grew even faster.
The sword light was like a meteor in the night sky, tearing through the purple toxic mist. It wove through the gaps in the three elders' attacks, every strike landing with absolute precision.
The three elders were thrown into utter disarray by this unheard-of fighting style.
Their Gu and poison arts were rendered completely useless in the face of Hou Qing's gorgeous yet deadly swordsmanship.
The toxic mist was ripped apart by the sharp sword wind.
Before the venomous insects could even get close, they were shredded into dust by the invisible sword aura.
"Killing a man every ten paces, leaving no trace for a thousand miles."
Hou Qing's pitch rose, and his sword intent climbed to its absolute peak.
At this moment, he had taken exactly ten steps. He thrust his sword forward, unexpectedly striking down the Insect Elder.
His swordplay became increasingly smooth and effortless, as if perfectly fusing with the artistic conception of the poem, displaying a terrifying strength far beyond anyone's imagination.
"Brushing off his clothes when the deed is done, hiding his body and name deep away."
As the final line of the poem fell, Hou Qing's figure abruptly came to a halt.
He sheathed his sword in one fluid, seamless motion.
*Pfft.* A faint line of blood simultaneously appeared on the Miasma Elder's neck.
Their faces still held expressions of horror as their bodies fell limply, dying on the spot.
Only the Insect Elder remained, pinned to the ground by Hou Qing's foot, unable to move.
Hou Qing leaned down, a gentle smile on his face, and asked softly.
"Tell me the truth."
"Was my routine just now super dashing and incredibly tasteful?"
Right at this moment.
*Rumble—*
The ground beneath their feet suddenly began to shake violently without any warning.
A terrifying aura erupted from beneath them, shooting into the sky and sweeping across the wilderness.
It turned out that the Witch King, seeing the situation turn unfavorable, had directly detonated the explosives buried beneath them.
...
Overseas, on an isolated island.
Fierce winds howled.
The Commander of the Buliangren, Yuan Tiangang, stood at the bow of a ship, but his heart was far from calm.
He slowly stood up. His grand scheme of three hundred years had once again encountered a variable beyond his control.
He thought of the intelligence reports from his subordinates regarding a "mysterious white-clad swordsman" and "turning poetry into swordplay."
Those eyes, which had seen through three centuries of history, became incredibly solemn.
"Such a figure is absolutely no ordinary person."
His strength might already be above the Divine Firmament Position, perhaps even... surpassing his own.