Legend of Zixia

Chapter 256 The Holy Son of Yao Guang
The entire Beidou human race was in an uproar, as excited as the old man in the tavern. Ye Fan had publicly killed Zi Tiandu, the young master of Shenling Valley, and then a mysterious human powerhouse had directly confronted an imperial weapon, massacring the ancestral land of Shenling Valley like a tidal wave sweeping across the five regions.

Although the Southern Region was remote and the news arrived several days later, it still caused a tremendous stir once it spread. In countless cities and markets, cultivators rushed to spread the word, and the younger generation was filled with fervor, their eyes no longer showing fear—

Humans are no longer prey, but wielders of the sword! Offense and defense have shifted, and the world has changed!
The ancient tribes remained surprisingly silent.

Those royal families who once sat high above, regarding humans as mere prey, were now silent and inactive. There was no retaliation, no alliance to counterattack, as if they were wary of something. Human spies investigated extensively, but obtained very little information; only two words quietly emerged from the ancient race—

"Human Demon".

Upon hearing those two words, the human race was completely baffled. They could only speculate: behind this battle, there must be a quasi-emperor level figure involved! And it must be a human!

Instead of suppressing the news, the major holy lands of the human race did their utmost to fuel it. They used communication jade slips, flying talisman arrays, and even their outer disciples scattered throughout the city to spread the truth widely—without concealment, and even deliberately embellishing the details.

The gray-robed old man in the tavern was a low-ranking outer sect steward planted in the Southern Region by the Yao Guang Holy Land. Every word he uttered was secretly transmitted by the sect; the content was true, but his tone was exaggerated, all to ignite people's hearts.

Today, these "storytellers" have spread to more than a hundred cities in the southern region. Wherever they go, the crowds are excited and the morale of the human race is at an all-time high.

Borrowing Ye Fan's brilliance, we will enhance the prestige of the human race;

Using the intimidation of the "human demon" to quell the fear of all races.

While the momentum is still strong, let's revitalize the human race's prestige in the Big Dipper, unite the power of the five regions, and prepare for the upcoming All Races Conference!
After leaving Yunxu City, Zixia and An Miaoyi traveled to Yaoguang Holy Land, where they could bypass the need for transit through the domain gate directly to the Northern Divine City.

Looking up, the world is vast and the scenery is boundless.

The sacred land of Yao Guang stretches for thousands of miles, with nine layers of spiritual mountains rising one after another. Cities float above the sea of ​​clouds, their golden tiles and silver walls adorned with flowing Dao patterns. Temples stand in abundance, their bells ringing far and wide. Each palace is inscribed with ancient formations, radiating thousands of auspicious wisps and countless rays of light. The primordial energy of heaven and earth is so dense that it is almost liquefied, condensing into a faint spiritual mist in the air.

The main peak stands majestically, piercing the sky. White clouds, like ribbons, encircle its waist, while holy light descends from its summit, and the faint echoes of the Great Dao seem to resonate. Flocks of white cranes soar into the sky, their wings slicing through the air, leaving behind trails of talismanic patterns. The entire mountain gate resembles a fairyland, inspiring awe and reverence.

Thousands of rays of immortal light and countless traces of the Dao were visible, but who would know that this was a grave?

Just as the two stood before the mountain gate, gazing upon its celestial aura, a clear voice suddenly rang out from above, as soft as the whisper of the wind:
"Distinguished guests have come from afar; why linger outside the door?"

Before the words were finished, a figure slowly descended the thousand-step stone staircase.

The man was dressed in snow-white robes, his garments fluttering even without wind. His face was handsome and otherworldly, untouched by any worldly concerns. A golden radiance flickered between his brows, as if containing endless holy light that could illuminate the cause and effect of all beings. He walked with composure, without a trace of divine power emanating from him. The 108 protective divine rings around him were no longer visible; they had all been concealed, making him appear like an ordinary cultivator.

It was none other than the Holy Son of Yaoguang.

He walked up to the two women, his expression gentle, and bowed with his hands clasped in a gesture that was almost perfect: "Miss Zixia, Miss An Miaoyi, since you are passing by my sect today, I should do my duty as a host and discuss the current situation with you."

Zixia returned the greeting with a gesture that was almost perfectly executed: "Then I'll take my leave!"

An Miaoyi had been dragged here by Zixia, and seeing Zixia's attitude, she immediately said in a charming and coquettish tone, "Then I'll have to trouble the future Holy Lord of Yaoguang!"

The Holy Son smiled and stepped aside, extending his hand to lead the way: "The breeze is refreshing on the mountain, perfect for discussing the Dao."

···········
"Yao Guang! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you just let it slip by?!" A seemingly ordinary cultivator emerged from the shadows of the side hall, his eyes dim. "The innate Dao embryo has been delivered right to your doorstep, and you didn't seize the chance to take its source. Do you know that she alone is worth all of Hua Yunfei's accumulated wealth!"

The air was still, and the mountain breeze had ceased.

The Holy Son of Yaoguang stood on the stone steps, his white robes fluttering in the wind, yet his expression remained calm. He gazed at the distant horizon, as if piercing through the clouds and mist to see some calamity yet to come.

After a moment, he spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but each word firm:

“Her skill level is above mine; I am no match for her.”

"She's already reached that level? Then why won't you let us make a move!" the protector exclaimed.
"My intuition tells me something big is about to happen! But I won't be weaker than her forever. Once I break through my shackles, attain the same level of enlightenment, and fight her fair and square, I'm confident I'll be no weaker than anyone!"
Zixia and An Miaoyi quietly returned to the Northern Divine City.

The divine city was no longer what it once was. Ye Fan sat upright by the Dragon Transformation Pool, his white robes stained with blood, his golden aura soaring to the heavens, his unparalleled prowess shaking the five domains. Every day, powerful young cultivators from ancient clans would come upon hearing the news, some seeking revenge, others seeking fame, but without exception, all were killed on the spot, their bodies reduced to ashes; while human cultivators who dared to challenge him were all sent flying out of the city, their cultivation crippled but their lives spared.

Zixia had no intention of lingering in the divine city, and didn't even slow her pace. She turned and left, her clothes fluttering, her figure resolute, as if she had already disregarded everything.

This time, she did not invite An Miaoyi to come along.

Noticing the purple figure gradually receding into the distance, An Miaoyi's eyes narrowed, and an indescribable anger and grievance suddenly rose in her heart.

"Am I just a decoration?" She chuckled softly, her voice as light as the wind, yet sharp as a thorn. "You remembered me, so you kidnapped me to go to the fiery realm and experience life and death together; now you just leave without a word—you're truly heartless!"

Her heart was pure and clear, and she shouldn't have been troubled by love, but at this moment, her chest felt like it was blocked, and her breathing became labored. That sentence, "You can't go," wasn't a suggestion, but an order, as if her existence was nothing more than a burden that needed to be protected.

Zixia finally stopped, but did not turn around.

The cold wind tousled her long hair as she gazed at the northern horizon, her eyes piercing through the thick clouds to land on the colossal mountain that slumbered in eternal silence.

Purple Mountain.

That place is where the nine dragon veins converge, the burial ground of the ancient royal family, the forbidden land where countless supreme beings have perished, and the most forbidden of all.

“You can’t go this time.” Zixia finally spoke, her tone as firm as iron. “The place I’m going to is extremely dangerous, and even I’m not entirely sure I’ll come out alive.”

"What are you going to do?" An Miaoyi stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly.

Zixia slowly turned around, her eyes like stars reflecting her face: "I want to perfect my own path."

She raised her hand, her fingertips tracing a line through the air, and three silent sword marks appeared—

The First Cut, Universe

When the sword flashed, all was silent, as if the world were an endless expanse.

The second cut, fate.
There was only a faint trace, as if it could sever the path ahead, like the will of heaven, unfathomable;

The third cut, not yet fully formed, left only a blurry trace, as if it could sever time itself.

However, just as the last knife mark disappeared, Zixia's figure also vanished—there was no earth-shattering departure, but like a wisp of smoke, it was blown away by the wind into the cold night of the northern border, leaving no trace.

Only the cold moon hangs high in the sky.

An Miaoyi stood there, staring at the void, a sudden sense of disorientation washing over her.

She seemed to have forgotten something...

He forgot the conversation he had just had, forgot the three shocking sword marks, and even forgot why Zixia had left.

He then turned around, his white robes fluttering, a gentle light swirling around him, and slowly walked away, as if nothing had ever happened.

Only a lingering trace of sword intent in the wind quietly seeped into the depths of her consciousness—

Those were the marks left by Zixia, not memories, but Dao imprints waiting to be awakened.

(End of this chapter)