CHAPTER 243: KILL THE AUTHOR

Everyone looked at Jun Zha with unbelievable gaze, wondering if his mouth is a cursed treasure.

Because Yu Xuan simply moved.

Jun Zha too looked embarrassed.

He had expected Yu Xuan to speak lofty words.

He had even prepared a few lines of his own, meant to stall and provoke while his allies prepare some defensive measures.

The ground cracked.

No warnings, no chants — just a step forward and a ripple of power that made the world shudder.

Then came the darkness.

Darkness like water erupted from Yu Xuan’s feet and surged outward in waves.

Yu Xuan didn’t even look like he was exerting himself.

He raised both hands slowly, as though parting a curtain — and behind him, the darkness rose higher, a living tsunami.

It came crashing forward.

Wu Tianjian, Wu Jianxiao, Jun Zha, Li Shen and Luo Xianyin they just looked at the sea of darkness surging towards them.

They didn’t even have time to scream or attack.

And then — silence.

The plain was empty, eerily still.

The only figure left standing was Yu Xuan himself.

He blinked, lowering his hands. The darkness receded like an obedient pet, fading into mist.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, eyes scanning the void where his opponents had been.

"..."

His expression was of disbelief.

He rubbed his eyes once, then looked again.

"Are you... fucking serious?" he shouted into the stillness. No echo answered him.

Even his spirit sense and vision found nothing.

They were just... gone.

A sour little laugh escaped him.

Afterall, their end was very anti climatic.

He had expected at least to see the hidden moves, before he ended them.

But due to Jun Zha’s rambling he’d let curiosity and a flicker of amusement cost him the spectacle.

"Is this what loneliness at the top feels like?" he muttered, staring at the sky with the faint air of an expert who’d just realized there was no one left on his level.

The experience tasted both hollow and absurd.

If this were a story plotline, if some petty author had scripted such a scene — Yu Xuan fancied he would track that writer down and strangle them himself.

He imagined the righteous readers rising up in righteous fury, banners held high, chanting for justice.

"Kill! Kill!!" the imagined crowd roared.

"Purge the evil!"

"The Great Demon must die!"

"We are the true rulers of this world — purge the evil!"

"All Hail !–!"

The demon in his daydream grinned, Kitchen flames surrounding him.

"Haha, the world is already in my palm. Come at me!"

Yu Xuan chuckled at his own imagination — only for the heavens to answer.

The sky split open with a thunderous flash of gold.

Four brilliant figures descended, each carrying an aura that bent space itself.

Behind them drifted Tianling, the artifact spirit of the Heaven Immortal Sect, laughing softly like a spectator who had just witnessed the punchline of a grand joke.

Yu Xuan had the vague feeling that somewhere someone had just spoken a complex mathematical equation aloud but he chose to ignore it.

***

Earlier...

High above the battlefield, five figures stood on a floating platform of condensed spiritual light, watching the chaos unfold below.

They had witnessed Long Anming, Piao Ling, and Kong Xuanyi fall one after another, and the desperate struggle of the remaining disciples.

"Grand Elder, that child clearly has a few screws loose. Did you not see his earlier behavior?" said the Undying Martial Emperor, High Elder Wuji.

Baotian’s lips twitched, the memory of Yu Xuan’s display with Long Anming was still vivid and haunting his mind.

"Grand Elder, will there be... retaliation from the dragons?" asked Fang Wu, the Eternal Battle Sovereign and peak master of the Martial Heaven Peak.

His voice was cautious, as if sensing future troubles.

Earlier, Yu Xuan had very clearly done something to Long Anming — something both unholy and unforgettable and Fang Wu had nearly stepped in to stop it.

But the Martial Ancestor himself had stopped him, stating that whatever happened, no one is to interfere.

Baotian sighed. He felt like he had aged several thousand years in a single day.

’If this kid inherits the legacy, only trouble will follow,’ he thought grimly.

A small, treacherous part of him even hoped Yu Xuan might lose. But deep down, he knew that was wishful thinking.

Then, below them, Yu Xuan unleashed his terrifying move — the moment the dark sea swallowed all of his opponents in a single wave.

Silence.

All five of them stood still, their expressions a mix of awe and speechlessness, until Yu Xuan’s voice echoed faintly from below cursing, followed by a theatrical sigh about "loneliness at the top."

Baotian’s face twitched once... then again.

"What the ‡÷¿∑˜∂∆ß√∫µçΩ≠±ø¡?!" he swore in an ancient tongue so old it had no translation, only resonance, it even sounded like math.

The air trembled. Even the clouds above quivered, as if trying to solve whatever something impossible.

Everyone turned toward him.

"Wasn’t that... a bit too easy?" Fang Wu finally said, breaking the silence.

"Peak Master is right! Entirely too easy," Wuji agreed instantly, nodding with the eagerness of a man who had just found a safe target for blame.

Baotian exhaled sharply and looked toward the Martial Ancestor.

"Ancestor... is it over?"

He, too, felt uneasy. The whole battle had been one-sided — so absurdly so that it almost felt staged.

The Martial Ancestor didn’t answer immediately. His ancient gaze was still fixed on the battlefield, as though replaying every moment in his mind.

Yu Xuan’s behavior — the arrogance, the absurd commentary, the sheer disregard for decorum, whispered unsuitability for his path.

And yet... he could not take back what had already begun.

Because he made a promise with someone.

A promise was a promise and he was a god of his words.

"Let’s go," he said at last. His tone was calm, but there was a faint sigh beneath the words — the sigh of someone who knew exactly how much trouble lay ahead.

Like that, all of them descended toward the battlefield below.

Only Tianling, the artifact spirit, was laughing — the bright, melodic laughter of one who understood the joke better than anyone else.

***

Yu Xuan looked up as five figures descended from the sky, their presence bending the air itself.

"Haha, child, you sure are something," Tianling, the artifact spirit, said first, his tone warm and almost teasing as he floated behind them like an amused spectator.

Yu Xuan blinked.

"You really remember me?" he asked.

Though Tianling had nodded earlier, he hadn’t expected the ancient spirit to actually recall a lower-realm cultivator like him.

"Of course," Tianling replied, his eyes glimmering.

"Only you and that dragon girl completed the entire trial from the lower realms. How could I forget?"

"Congratulations, Yu Xuan, for surviving," Fang Wu, the Eternal Battle Sovereign, said next, his voice polite but faintly distant.

Yu Xuan caught the hidden meaning immediately.

Surviving, not winning.

Baotian’s mouth twitched. He clearly wanted to say something — but after a long sigh, he simply folded his arms and decided not to.

Then the Martial Ancestor finally spoke. His voice was calm but carrying the quiet weight.

"Child, as you have emerged victorious, you are the rightful inheritor of my legacy."

Yu Xuan instantly straightened, cupping his hands.

"Thank you, Ancestor, for entrusting your legacy to me."

"Wait, let me finish!" the Martial Ancestor interrupted, his composure cracking slightly.

Yu Xuan froze mid-bow, eyes wide, a little embarrassed.

The other elders quietly averted their gazes, faces carefully neutral. None of them dared laugh, but it was clear they wanted to.

Arguing with a junior was beneath them — but oh, how tempting it was.

The Martial Ancestor continued.

"To be honest, child, your abilities are... strange, so strange that, for a moment, I even suspected you were a Heavenly Human."

That single phrase rippled through the air like thunder.

The other figures had their expressions shifting from mild curiosity to genuine shock.

Heavenly Humans, they not just represented a race, but also a disastrous history within the Heavens.

The Ancestor continued as if nothing had happened.

"With the sheer number of divine abilities you wield, you are surely favored by the heavens themselves. My inheritance would add wings to that potential..."

He paused.

"...but, child, you lack the character. You are far too carefree, far too chaotic. Your heart is unrestrained, untempered — perfectly suited for the Demonic Path."

Yu Xuan stayed still, expression unreadable. The others exchanged glances.

The Martial Ancestor looked at him for a long moment, then said quietly,

"Still... a promise is a promise. I will give you a chance. One chance only."

He lifted his palm. The heavens darkened.

From his hand, light poured like molten gold.

A figure began to take shape within it — a towering youth, his skin pale as moonlight, golden hair cascading down his back.

Nine pairs of radiant wings unfurled from him, each feather gleaming like a sun fragment.

He stood nearly seven feet tall, clad in divine armor etched with the sigils of countless weapons.

His aura alone was enough to make the air tremble and the land beneath bow.

And he had something Divine about him.