One person: Senior brother Zhang Zhiwei, the Celestial Master begged me to descend the mountain.

The three simple words, carried away by the moist sea breeze, seemed like an irresistible decree, instantly silencing the clamor of the entire sea.

There was a strange moment of stillness in the world.

next second.

Rumble rumble rumble—!

The belated sonic boom, accompanied by a devastating shockwave, finally crashed violently onto the coastline.

That was the mournful sound of the reactor of the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Zeus exploding several kilometers away.

A huge, orange-red fireball suddenly expanded on the sea surface, followed by a mushroom cloud that blotted out the sky and slowly rose up, instantly evaporating the seawater that had been cut open into a sky full of white mist. Rolling heat waves rushed over and uprooted the coconut trees on the shore.

The wind howled, making Zhang Taichu's loose pajamas flutter, but he remained as still as a pillar of strength.

At this moment, whether it was the Behemoth soldiers who had miraculously survived on the scene, Zhang Chulan and his group in the distance, or the leaders of major global powers watching with bated breath through satellite surveillance.

All eyes were involuntarily drawn to the man's right hand.

What was tightly gripped there was no longer that three-foot-long sword.

Instead, it was an old-fashioned sword hilt covered in cracks and rust, with only a broken piece less than an inch long remaining.

Zhang Taichu ignored the tumultuous apocalyptic scene in the distance, and paid no attention to the crowds who had forgotten to breathe out of fear.

He simply lowered his head slowly, looking at the only remaining sword hilt in his hand.

Those eyes, which had just been as cold as ice and regarded all living beings as worthless, now flashed with an extremely rare tenderness and loneliness.

"Old buddy..."

Zhang Taichu raised his left hand, his fingertips gently tracing the rough, weathered lines on the sword hilt. His voice was low and deep, as if he were speaking to an old friend he had known for many years, rather than to a piece of ordinary iron:

"Back then, they followed me down the mountain to quell the rebellion, drank demon blood, and slew evil spirits."

"Later, he followed me back to the mountains for seclusion, where he remained hidden within the universe within my sleeve..."

"I thought that bringing you out this time would allow you to get some fresh air, see the sights of this new era, and see what the outside world has become."

At this point, Zhang Taichu's fingers paused slightly.

Click.

A soft, crisp sound.

The hilt of the sword in his hand seemed to understand his words, and the last bit of iron filings began to fall, turning into black dust that flowed through his fingers.

This famous sword, which had accompanied him through his years of battles and was used to tend charcoal fires in the back mountains of Longhu Mountain, finally came to an end in this mortal world.

With its final collapse, it carried the sword energy powerful enough to cleave heaven and earth, severing the world's hardest steel behemoth for its master.

Ordinary iron, in the end, cannot bear the weight of an immortal.

"I didn't expect this..."

Zhang Taichu gently shook his head, letting out a sigh tinged with regret:

"Now even you can't withstand a wisp of my Qi."

"That's enough."

Zhang Taichu said no more and flicked his wrist slightly.

The sword hilt, bearing countless memories of bygone years, traced an ungraceful yet exceptionally heavy parabola in the air before falling into the still-boiling sea.

thump.

The sword hilt plunged into the water, splashing up a tiny, insignificant wave, which was instantly swallowed up by the surging waves.

Zhang Taichu stood with his hands behind his back, facing the sea where the broken sword was buried, and said softly:

"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes."

"This single sword strike cleaved this so-called invincible fleet, leaving behind hundreds of billions of scrap metal and tens of thousands of tons of wreckage..."

"I'll take you with me in death."

"It's not an insult to you."

madman.

A complete madman.

In the distance, high-ranking officials from various countries who heard these words via satellite felt a chill run down their spines and their scalps tingle.

Cutting off an aircraft carrier destroys a modern fleet, resulting in thousands of casualties and incalculable economic losses.

In the mouth of this Eastern Taoist priest.

It was just a...funeral?

Just to commemorate a rusty, broken iron sword?

This domineering and arrogant attitude, which regards all living beings as worthless and billions of assets as a sacrifice, is even more terrifying from the depths of one's soul than the power of that sword strike.

call--

After doing all this, it felt like a brief but solemn farewell ceremony had been completed.

The suffocating sharpness emanating from Zhang Taichu vanished instantly, and the oppressive feeling that seemed ready to tear a hole in the sky disappeared without a trace.

He transformed back into the Taoist priest who wore pajamas, had messy hair, and looked lazy and carefree.

Zhang Taichu turned around.

Before him stood thousands of fully armed Behemoth soldiers.

These once invincible elites, representing the strongest individual combat power on Earth, now seem to have had their spines removed.

No one gave the order.

No one took the lead.

wow-

wow-

Like dominoes.

First, the soldiers in the front row dropped their guns and knelt heavily on the beach.

Then came the second row, the third row...

In the end, thousands of soldiers, a dark mass, all knelt on the ground.

Their heads were bowed, their bodies trembling violently, and they dared not look up at the figure in pajamas.

That's not surrender.

That is submission to absolute power.

That is the instinctive worship that humans have when faced with miracles.

Zhang Taichu didn't even spare them a single glance.

In his eyes, these soldiers holding high-tech toys were no different from the roadside weeds.

Do you need to greet the ants before stepping on them?

His gaze swept past the dark mass of people, through the still-smoking ruins, and precisely locked onto a figure huddled behind a tree, trembling, hundreds of meters away.

King Nathan.

This man, who should have been the master of this sea area, was now clinging tightly to the tree trunk, his golden pupils filled with numbness born of extreme fear.

"Alright, stop standing there."

Zhang Taichu put his hands back into his loose sleeves, yawned, and his tone returned to its usual nonchalant manner:

"The weapons are gone, and the show is over."

He kicked aside a piece of mecha debris blocking his way, and, wearing his flip-flops, swaggered toward King Nathan.

Wherever they went.

The Behemoth soldiers kneeling on the ground moved to the sides as if avoiding a plague, forcing a wide road to be cleared.

Zhang Taichu walked up to King Nasen, looked at the girl who was already terrified, and frowned:

"What's wrong? Are your legs going weak?"

"Lead the way, girl."

Zhang Taichu rubbed his stomach, looked up at the towering tree deep in the island that emitted a faint light, and licked his slightly chapped lips:

"It took some effort to say goodbye to my old friend."

"This humble Taoist priest is now..."

I'm a little hungry.

"Go and taste the fruit from your broken tree, and see what it tastes like."