"Hmm? Is someone ahead? Why did I sense nothing at all?"
Hu Jia stood close behind Xiao Jietian, peering intently into the apparently empty void ahead, brow furrowed in confusion.
Xiao Jietian reached out and lightly flicked her smooth forehead with a finger.
"Learn more from Xue'er."
Hu Jia immediately turned to look at Han Xue—only to see that the purple-robed maiden had already drawn her longsword. Her stance was steady, profound energy quietly circulating, every line of her body taut with readiness for battle.
"Little Xue, did you sense an enemy?" Hu Jia stared at Han Xue—who was clearly weaker than herself—with a face full of question marks.
"No," Han Xue replied gravely, eyes never leaving the void. "But if Xiao Jietian says there is someone, then there definitely is."
Hu Jia helplessly patted her own forehead.
Is this what a heart smitten beyond reason looks like?
Just as she opened her mouth to tease further, an eerie, aged voice suddenly drifted out from the emptiness.
"Jie jie jie…! I never expected you to detect this old man's presence. It seems the intelligence was not entirely wrong—you truly do possess the might of a four-star Dou Zun."
Space rippled like water.
An old man clad in gray-white robes stepped forth from the distortion. Dense black mist clung to his form like living shadow. He stood suspended in midair, the corners of his mouth stretched in a perpetual, ghastly smile as he regarded the three of them.
Xiao Jietian's expression turned strange when he heard himself described as merely a four-star Dou Zun.
He was presently at the absolute peak of the Dou Zun realm—poised at any moment to step into the One-Revolution Dou Zun stage.
His gaze settled upon the ever-smiling old man: pallid complexion, pervasive black mist, cultivation firmly lodged at the peak of five-star Dou Zun.
"Xiao Jietian, who is he?" Hu Jia asked in a low voice, eyes narrowing warily as she stared at the newcomer.
"Judging by his attire and aura… he belongs to the Hall of Souls," Han Xue answered before Xiao Jietian could speak. She had long heard of the deep enmity between Xiao Jietian and that sinister organization. As someone born and raised in the Central Plains, she naturally possessed some understanding of its infamous figures.
Xiao Jietian gave a slight nod.
"Correct. He is from the Hall of Souls—and not just any member. This is none other than one of their Heavenly Venerates: Old Freak Zhaixing."
"Oh? You actually know of this old man?"
Old Freak Zhaixing's smile widened slightly in surprise.
"Since you recognize me, then be sensible and surrender quietly. It will spare us both unnecessary trouble. Our Hall Master places great importance upon the key held by your Xiao Clan."
He let out another creepy chuckle.
"The intelligence only mentioned that you chanced upon a small world left behind by some unknown Dou Sheng—what astonishing fortune! Hiding your entire Xiao Clan inside it is indeed quite secure."
His smile grew colder.
"But now I have found you. And I, too, am exceedingly curious about that small world of yours—curious enough that it managed to expose and eliminate most of the scouts we dispatched within."
"You desire my small world?" Xiao Jietian's lips curved in faint disdain. "Then you must first possess the ability to seize it. Perhaps… you will die here instead."
In truth, he had long been curious to meet this character in the flesh.
Old Freak Zhaixing was the Heavenly Venerate who appeared most frequently and acted most brazenly throughout the original tale. Now that the man stood before him, Xiao Jietian wished to see for himself just how strong this notorious figure truly was.
After a moment's thought, he turned to Hu Jia and Han Xue.
"Do not move recklessly. Simply stand behind me."
"How about we retreat into the Eternal Heaven World?" Hu Jia anxiously tugged at his sleeve.
"No need," Xiao Jietian replied calmly, casting a contemptuous glance at Old Freak Zhaixing. "With only this level of strength, he cannot threaten me."
"Arrogant whelp!"
Old Freak Zhaixing's ghastly smile twisted into a snarl of fury.
"Since you court death, allow this old man to show you the chasm between us!"
His pallid palm thrust forth from the wide sleeve. Vast quantities of black mist surged forth, instantly coalescing into a gigantic handprint ten zhang across. With a deafening howl it slammed downward toward the three of them.
Fine cracks spiderwebbed through the surrounding space wherever the palm print passed.
Faced with such a terrifying attack, Xiao Jietian merely smiled—lightly, disdainfully, contemptuously.
He stood rooted in place, neither dodging nor retreating, simply watching the colossal hand descend.
Then he raised his own palm.
With a casual, almost negligent grip—
Space itself collapsed before him in a violent implosion.
The black mist palm print shattered instantly, dissolving into countless wisps of dark vapor that scattered on the wind.
"Is that all you have?" Xiao Jietian mocked, voice dripping with scorn. "Such feeble attacks. Is the Hall of Souls so destitute that you cannot even afford proper meals?"
Old Freak Zhaixing's face flushed purple with rage. He ground his teeth audibly.
"Insolent brat! Do not be so smug—behold my true might!"
"Zhai Xing Hand!"
He sneered viciously, thrusting his pallid right hand forward. Black mist roiled violently across his palm—then, in an eerie instant, the hand simply vanished.
Only the arm remained visible, protruding from empty space.
A ghostly pale hand abruptly materialized directly before Xiao Jietian's throat, reaching to seize his neck.
"Zhai Xing Hand? Hah… nothing more than a parlor trick."
A cold gleam flashed through Xiao Jietian's eyes.
His right hand erupted in brilliant crimson lightning as he thrust it forward without hesitation.
"Chi—!"
The finger pierced Old Freak Zhaixing's ghostly wrist with pinpoint precision.
"Ahhh—!"
A blood-curdling scream tore from the old man's throat. His pale, sinister hand had been cleanly run through by a single digit!
"Impossible… how could you possibly…!"
Old Freak Zhaixing's pupils shrank to pinpricks. He tried desperately to retract his arm—but the crimson lightning suddenly detonated.
In an instant the electric glow swelled violently, shattering his entire forearm!
"Crack—!"
The sickening sound of splintering bone rang out.
Old Freak Zhaixing's expression twisted in shock and agony. He staggered backward, arm hanging at an unnatural angle, eyes wide with terror.
"What… what cultivation realm are you in? A four-star Dou Zun absolutely cannot break my Zhai Xing Hand!"
Xiao Jietian withdrew his hand, expression tranquil as still water.
"Zhai Xing Hand? With such pitiful power, let alone plucking stars from the firmament—even picking leaves from a tree would be beyond you."
"Pfft—!"
Han Xue could no longer hold back. Laughter burst from her lips.
"You're too vicious! That Zhai Xing Hand is supposed to be one of his signature techniques—yet now it seems the Hall of Souls simply overhyped it!"
"No way—is this really his renowned skill?" Hu Jia joined in mercilessly. "I think it should be renamed 'Ninety-Year-Old Granny Picking Vegetables.'"
Neither woman feared the Hall of Souls in the slightest.
With Xiao Jietian standing before them, they now possessed the strongest backer in the world.
Old Freak Zhaixing—who had been furtively swallowing healing pills—turned livid when he heard their mockery.
For countless years he had roamed the Central Plains unhindered. Who among the major powers did not grant him some measure of face? Yet today his signature arm had been shattered—and two little maidens dared ridicule him openly.
He hastily consumed several more pills from his spatial ring. Xiao Jietian made no move to interrupt.
Perhaps this was why villains in tales always enjoyed watching their foes struggle desperately before the end.
Though, strictly speaking, he now stood on the side of destiny's son, Xiao Yan—not as a true arch-villain.
After the pills took effect, green light suffused Old Freak Zhaixing's ruined arm. The mangled limb slowly straightened, bones knitting back into place.
Once healed, he flexed his fingers experimentally, then fixed the trio with a sinister, venomous grin.
"You did not interrupt my recovery… you will regret that decision. Now behold the true might of a five-star Dou Zun!"
His grin stretched impossibly wide.
Vast Dou Qi surged from his palm, rapidly transforming into a viscous, tar-like substance. With an eerie writhing motion it swiftly hardened into the shape of a pitch-black ghost-headed broadsword.
The weapon was exceedingly strange—its entire blade coated in a layer of jet-black, crystalline material. When its edge casually brushed the air, a thumb-sized spatial fissure appeared without sound or warning.
Old Freak Zhaixing raised the broadsword high overhead.
His body continued to ascend, streams of dark light converging upon the blade. His aura grew increasingly ominous, as though he were preparing to burn his life force in a final, suicidal strike.
Yet the actions that followed left Hu Jia and Han Xue utterly dumbfounded.
A whole flock of crows seemed to caw overhead in unison.