“What’s wrong?” Feng Buxiu asked.

“You came to the Ghost God Collegium for a sparring exchange, and you only brought one person?” Wu Daozi said.

“One man can stand against a thousand armies,” Feng Buxiu replied coolly. “Brother Wu, why not defeat him first before you mock?”

“You certainly speak with confidence, Brother Feng,” Wu Daozi said, laughing in irritation.

He turned toward Nocturne and said calmly, “Where are the Nine Ghost Princes?”

Nocturne clapped his hands lightly. At once, eight overwhelming auras erupted from around the Heavenly Willow.

These eight had been waiting there all along.

Among them were both men and women, but without exception, each radiated the vast pressure of a Grand Emperor.

Their combined might seemed to weigh down the very heavens.

Their robes billowed, each wore the distinctive gray robes of the Nine Ghost Princes, and the space around them rippled with distortion.

Wu Daozi’s gaze swept the group, his brow furrowing. “Where is Xuan Quan?”

Nocturne looked startled and shook his head. All nine had been summoned, so why was there only eight?

“Chong Ming, what’s going on?” Nocturne asked one of the young men among them.

“Xuan Quan said he had a personal matter to handle,” Chong Ming replied with a faint smile. “He’ll be here shortly.”

“Then he can go report to the Disciplinary Hall for punishment later,” Nocturne said coldly. “What personal matter could be more important than receiving honored guests?”

When Nocturne finished, Wu Daozi turned back to Feng Buxiu with a smile. “Eight will do just fine. Still better than the single person your academy brought.”

Feng Buxiu chuckled. “Hong Yu, go test yourself. It seems Chancellor Wu is mocking us.”

The youth named Hong Yu yawned lazily, looking utterly bored, and strolled toward the center of the stage.

The colossal Heavenly Willow parted its branches to create a path for him.

“Which of you will come?” Hong Yu asked, half-squinting at the eight above him. “Or will you all come at once?”

At those words, the eight Ghost Princes’ faces hardened.

Among prodigies, such talk was blatant mockery, an insult.

Chong Ming was the first to move. He stepped forward through the air and said coldly, “I’ll go.”

......

“What’s going on with him?” Xie Changliu asked, looking at the masked man fleeing ahead.

Xu Zimo frowned slightly.

He had first assumed the man was hiding his face out of shame, but now, after pursuing him for some time, Xu Zimo noticed something far stranger.

The man’s body was shrinking, gradually, steadily, transforming from that of an adult into that of a child.

Xu Zimo had never seen anything like it.

“I’ll hold him,” Xie Changliu said sharply.

He clasped his hands together, and the sword floating before him suddenly expanded dozens of times in size.

That enormous blade carried a heaven-piercing sword intent, tearing through the void and moving at the speed of light to block the masked man’s path.

With a thunderous boom, the giant sword shattered the air itself, cutting off all escape ahead.

The masked man spun around to flee another way, but Xu Zimo and Xie Changliu were already there to block him.

“In a hurry to leave?” Xu Zimo asked with a smile.

“Out of my way!” the masked man snarled, his voice wild and desperate.

The energy around him surged violently, as though it might destroy the entire space.

“Kill,” Xu Zimo murmured, narrowing his eyes.

Drawing Shadow Tyrant, he slashed through the air.

The masked man raised his sword to parry, but his strength was still inferior.

The blow split the heavens themselves, the world swallowed by a spreading wave of destruction.

The masked man’s body was hurled downward; Xu Zimo didn’t relent, he pressed forward immediately.

With one finger extended, he invoked one of the Ten Primordial God-Scriptures, the Creation Devouring God-Finger, a strike that annihilated all things, shattering yin and yang, day and night alike.

Creation energy coiled around his hand as it pierced the man’s abdomen.

The masked man vomited blood, his body falling like a severed kite, crashing through the buildings below with a deafening roar.

Before Xu Zimo could move again, a surge of crimson energy erupted from the ruins.

A violent explosion shook the ground.

From the rubble, a child slowly rose, eyes glowing red like a demon god.

Cracks split across his face, his skull threatening to shatter apart.

“Well now,” Xu Zimo said with a grin. “That’s quite the transformation. Wonder if you’ll keep shrinking until you’re an infant.”

The child let out a hoarse, echoing roar and leapt hundreds of meters into the air.

He was like a human beast, both hands turning into claws as he tore toward Xu Zimo.

Shadow Tyrant clashed against those claws, sparks scattering like meteors, their hardness was beyond expectation.

“He’s burning his Emperor’s blood,” Xie Changliu said in shock.

An Emperor’s blood was among the most precious essences one possessed, burning it meant certain ruin. Restoring it was nearly impossible.

“Good,” Xu Zimo laughed.

Divine power radiated from his body; gold and demonic energy coiled around him, fusing with the endless sharpness of his blade’s aura.

His strikes were blindingly fast, and the child’s claws equally so.

Their battle tore through the sky, their movements too quick for the naked eye.

The heavens above were split and never healed again.

Even Xie Changliu couldn’t find an opening to intervene.

Growing impatient, Xu Zimo raised his hand.

He unleashed the Terrestrial Demon, one of the Ten Forms of Demon, a calamity that devours all.

With a sweep of his arm, thunderclouds rolled in, lightning flashing across the blackened sky.

Then, with another motion, a massive tornado descended.

Lightning and wind fused together, threatening to overturn the entire world.

The storm surged toward the child, its suction force drawing him in and spinning him violently through the air.

Bolts of gray lightning struck down, tearing open his flesh.

The child roared, whether from fury or agony, it was impossible to tell.

Behind him, a blazing sun began to rise.

As it ascended, the void itself began to melt.

Xu Zimo lifted Shadow Tyrant, the blade overflowing with the power of countless prayers and will.

The energy gauge along its spine reached its limit.

“Kill!” Xu Zimo roared.

He swung the blade, ripping through layer after layer of space, colliding with that blazing sun.

A detonation like none before, earth-shattering, heaven-rending, exploded across the sky.

Shadow Tyrant cleaved through the sun and struck the child directly.

Within the Willowfluff Space, as Hong Yu’s final punch landed, a third of the Nine Ghost Princes fell before him.

In mere moments, three of the Nine Ghost Princes had been defeated.

Hong Yu looked at the remaining five and said indifferently, “If you can’t handle me one by one, then come together. Otherwise... I’ll just lose all interest.”

The words had barely left his mouth when, suddenly, the skies above them cracked open.

A blazing sun and a vast, terrifying blade light erupted in tandem.