Xu Zimo walked out from the Stone Heart Pavilion and looked up at the overcast sky.

In the hazy mist, the whole sky seemed like a giant beast, the thick layers of dark clouds rolling and tumbling.

He spread his arms, the air slightly cool.

A cool wind blew from the north, a few green leaves dancing gracefully in the air.

“Brother Xu, morning,” Lu Ze came out from behind, smiling as he greeted.

Xu Zimo slightly nodded.

“Is Brother Xu ready for today’s great battle?” Lu Ze asked.

“Stomping an ant, what is there to prepare for,” Xu Zimo replied casually.

“Seems Brother Xu is quite confident,” Lu Ze narrowed his eyes slightly and chuckled.

“It’s got nothing to do with confidence. If he had entered the Immortal path, it might be interesting. A mere God Meridian isn’t worth mentioning,” Xu Zimo waved his hand.

“Brother Xu is also a God Meridian, isn’t he?” Lu Ze continued to ask.

Xu Zimo smiled faintly. “Your curiosity seems rather strong.”

“Just showing some concern, since it’s a life-and-death battle,” Lu Ze quickly waved his hands, not daring to ask further.

Under the gloomy weather, the deafening sound of war drums rang out again.

The “rumble rumble” echoed throughout the entire Sacred Stone Mountain.

“Let’s go,” Xu Zimo looked at Great Wisdom and walked toward the front of the mountain.

At this moment, all the members of the Stone Race were also gathering here.

Because every battle concerned the survival of the Stone Race, they were especially attentive.

Wind and sand drifted across the center of the arena.

The land was immersed in a deathly silence.

The people of the Stone Race and Feather Race faced each other from afar.

It was still the same crowd as yesterday. From a distance, the voice of Yu Feihuang from the Feather Race pierced through the crowd, echoing all around.

“Brother Shaoshuo, who are you sending to die today?”

Shi Shaoshuo snorted coldly. “It’s not certain who will die yet.”

He turned his head toward Xu Zimo and said solemnly, “Young Master Xu, I’m counting on you.”

“Don’t worry,” Xu Zimo waved his hand and walked forward.

On the Feather Race’s side, when they saw Xu Zimo step out,

Yu Feihuang frowned slightly and asked, “Who’s that guy? Why haven’t I seen him before?”

“Not sure, but he probably isn’t from the Stone Race,” someone nearby said.

“A hired helper,” Yu Shaoqing chuckled softly. “For someone to still dare help the Stone Race at this point, how interesting.”

“Be careful. Take him down with absolute certainty,” Yu Feihuang said from the side.

...

Dust filled the air between the two men, behind them were the cheers and shouts of their respective races.

The voices echoed beneath Sacred Stone Mountain.

Yu Shaoqing raised his right hand, and all the noise abruptly ceased.

“You seem unfamiliar, brother,” Yu Shaoqing asked. “Where might you be from?”

Xu Zimo did not answer his question but instead asked, “Are you afraid of death?”

“What did you say?” Yu Shaoqing frowned slightly.

“Why ask so much,” Xu Zimo replied. “You’re going to take everything you have with you to hell, so knowing or not knowing makes no difference.”

“Arrogant,” Yu Shaoqing coldly shouted.

The longsword in his hand was drawn in an instant, slashing toward Xu Zimo.

The sword pierced through the void, condensing all its power into a single point.

Xu Zimo chuckled softly, spiritforce surging in his hand as he directly clamped the oncoming sword.

With his other hand, he formed a palm strike that directly pressed toward Yu Shaoqing.

The wind and clouds trembled within his palm, rolling up a majestic force.

Yu Shaoqing quickly extended his right arm in an attempt to defend.

With a loud “boom,” endless spiritforce erupted instantly, and Yu Shaoqing’s figure was sent flying backward.

He quickly stood up from the ground, sticking out his tongue to lick his lips.

Smiling, he said, “No wonder you’re so arrogant, you’ve got some skill after all.”

“Come,” Xu Zimo beckoned with his hand.

Yu Shaoqing’s expression grew slightly serious, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

His figure blurred into countless afterimages, his longsword spinning in his palm as he charged toward Xu Zimo.

This sword strike was simple and unadorned, yet carried an astonishing sharpness.

Xu Zimo struck with his right palm, condensed with endless spiritforce.

Palm and sword collided, and they were actually annihilated at the same time.

Yu Shaoqing’s movements were neither fast nor slow, his expression neither happy nor sad.

His sword techniques had no fancy flourishes, just simple slashing, stabbing, lifting, pointing, thrusting, pressing, chopping, intercepting…

These were the thirteen basic sword techniques.

The thirteen basic sword forms were what every beginner in swordsmanship would practice.

But at this moment, in Yu Shaoqing’s hands, they carried an added sense of artistic conception.

“Sword Dao Origin,” Xu Zimo chuckled. “I’ve seen many people use the sword, but you’re one of the few who has grasped the origin.”

The so-called origin meant seeing through all sword techniques, even being able to create one’s own techniques.

Every astonishing meridian art in history was created by someone.

“You’ve got a bit of an eye,” Yu Shaoqing said faintly. “But this is all there is to it.”

“Is that so?” Xu Zimo laughed softly.

With a metallic “clang,” the sound of the Shadow Tyrant being drawn came from behind him.

Immediately, a hellish saber intent condensed.

“Blades and swords are one family, try mine for size,”

Xu Zimo said with a hearty laugh.

“Slash, chop, hack, slice, sweep…”

These were the thirteen basic saber techniques, also the most fundamental forms.

Compared to Yu Shaoqing, Xu Zimo’s movements were much faster.

After just a few simple exchanges, Yu Shaoqing was already struggling to defend.

His chest was stabbed once, and his figure quickly retreated backward.

“What’s wrong? Tired already?” Xu Zimo laughed.

“Since you are not of the Stone Race, might you tell me your name?” Yu Shaoqing finally grew serious and asked.

“Just a nameless rogue cultivator,” Xu Zimo waved his hand. “Besides, the dead don’t need to know so much.”

Yu Shaoqing narrowed his eyes slightly, saying nothing more.

Around him, strands of dark energy began slowly surging.

A harsh, piercing cry seemed to echo in the air.

At first the dark energy was faint, but in the blink of an eye it surged forth in great waves.

The sky had already been overcast,

but now, within the heavy dark clouds, a crow even blacker appeared, condensing into form.

“True Fate revealed, is it?” Xu Zimo smiled.

The white robe Yu Shaoqing wore already had the image of a crow on it.

Now, the two looked identical.

The moment this crow appeared, the power of darkness erupted.

Ominousness and gloom descended together.

The crow was several dozen meters tall, its entire body as if drenched in ink.

Its wings were full, without any special features, just an inscrutable shade of black.

Its beak looked very hard, slightly sharp.

The most memorable thing was its eyes,

darkness, corrosion, death, making one instantly think of countless unpleasant words.

“World-Destroying Dark Night Crow,” from the Stone Race’s side, Shi Shaoshuo exclaimed in shock.

“Looks like the Stone Patriarch knows his stuff,” Yu Shaoqing chuckled.

“You actually made it your True Fate,” Shi Shaoshuo’s face showed disbelief.