My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Regardless of how surprised Lü Yang was, Ye Qingfeng's hand was also getting hotter and hotter.

His ethereal and serene demeanor, with his sword and paper puppet, made him appear to the audience as a celestial sword immortal descended to earth.

This also made Ye Qingfeng's sword increasingly sharp and unpredictable.

He looked up and gazed at the center of the hall.

Three paper maids were dragging a terrified wealthy businessman toward the backstage. The businessman's crotch was wet, and he was crying and screaming in agony.

Ye Qingfeng made a move.

The first step has been taken.

The hem of his blue Taoist robe fluttered gently as he walked with a leisurely gait.

He wasn't running; he was just walking at a normal pace. But strangely, even though the three paper maids were still seven or eight zhang away from him, he only took one step to get close to them.

Shrinking the earth to an inch.

The three paper maidens turned their heads at the same time, their ink-lined eyes widening and their paper mouths splitting open to emit a piercing shriek.

They released the wealthy merchant, their ten fingers transforming into ten sharp paper spikes, stabbing at Ye Qingfeng from three directions!

Ye Qingfeng didn't even raise his sword.

He simply flicked his left hand lightly.

The nascent Samadhi True Fire in his palm floated out and split into three in the air, transforming into three golden-red fire lotuses the size of fingernails.

The fiery lotus floated down lightly, landing precisely between the eyebrows of the three paper figures.

"laugh--"

A slight burning sound.

The three paper figures suddenly froze, remaining motionless in their attacking stance.

The next second, golden-red flames began to spread from the point between their eyebrows—not burning outwards, but penetrating inwards.

The paper figures became transparent from the inside out, and flames could be clearly seen flowing within them, burning and purifying the runes drawn with cinnabar and the imprisoned fragments of living souls.

Three breaths.

The three paper figures turned into three clusters of pure white ash, which drifted away in the wind.

Ye Qingfeng continued forward without stopping.

The wealthy businessman collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the scene, forgetting to cry out.

Take the second step.

On the left, two paper turtle figures are pinning a young scholar against the wall, their paper claws piercing his shoulder, drawing blood.

The scholar's face turned deathly pale; he was about to be disemboweled.

Ye Qingfeng held the sword in his right hand and casually slashed.

It wasn't a slash aimed at the paper figure, but rather at the air between them.

"Buzz—"

The Autumn Water Sword emitted a clear hum, its blade shimmering with azure light, and a pale golden sword aura shot out from its edge.

The sword energy was as thin as a hair, yet as solid as a substance. It drew a graceful arc in the air, bypassed the scholar's body, and precisely cut into the necks of the two paper pimps.

There was no sound.

The heads of the two paper figures slid off silently, the cuts as smooth as a mirror.

The paper was still rolling its eyes when it hit the ground, but its body had already begun to spontaneously combust, and it burned to white ash in a few breaths.

The scholar seemed a little stunned.

"Stand by the door," Ye Qingfeng said casually, without stopping.

third step.

Ahead, five paper puppets rushed out from behind the scenes.

These paper puppets are different from ordinary paper figures. They are nearly ten feet tall, with bamboo strips as the skeleton and seven layers of yellow paper soaked in corpse oil on the outside.

Each paper puppet holds a thick-backed paper cleaver, its blade coated with a ghostly green phosphorus poison.

These are "war puppets" meticulously crafted by the Paper Goddess, each possessing combat power comparable to fifty years of cultivation.

Five paper puppets spread out in a fan shape, blocking Ye Qingfeng's path.

Instead of attacking immediately, they simultaneously opened their paper mouths and spewed out five streams of gray-black, malevolent energy.

The air currents intertwined in the air, forming a large net, and the morning breeze covered the leaves!

Wherever the Yin Sha Net passes, even the flames dim—this is a sinister technique specifically designed to corrupt yang energy and suppress fire magic.

However, his flames were different now.

Ye Qingfeng finally stopped.

He looked up at the Yin Sha net covering him, his expression remaining calm.

"A trivial skill."

He raised his right hand and raised the Autumn Water Sword, the tip of which pointed diagonally upwards.

With his left hand, he held his fingers together like a sword and lightly stroked the blade.

"Ignite."

The pale golden sword aura on the sword suddenly transformed into golden-red flame sword aura! It wasn't just attached to the surface; the entire sword, from the inside out, became a vessel for flames!

Ye Qingfeng flicked his wrist, and the sword traced an arc.

A perfect arc of flame rippled upwards, meeting the Yin Sha Net.

The moment of contact—

"boom!!"

As if encountering its nemesis, the Yin Sha Net let out a mournful wail, and the gray-black air currents twisted wildly in an attempt to retreat, but the arc of flames had already completely enveloped it.

Wherever the golden-red flames passed, the Yin energy melted away like ice and snow, unable to even struggle.

In three breaths, the Yin Sha Net was completely burned away.

Seeing that their magic had been broken, the five paper puppets roared in anger and charged forward, brandishing their poisoned cleavers!

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and the five blades blocked all of Ye Qingfeng's evasive angles, the sound of the blades cutting through the air was sharp and piercing.

Ye Qingfeng simply sighed softly.

"Too slow."

His figure flickered.

It didn't disappear, but rather transformed into five afterimages!

Each afterimage maintained his sword-wielding posture, facing a different paper puppet.

The five afterimages moved in different ways—some stabbed, some flicked, some slashed, some swept, and some slashed.

Golden and red flames of sword energy bloomed simultaneously in five places!

"Puff puff puff puff puff—"

Five soft sounds rang out almost simultaneously.

The five paper puppets remained frozen in place, still pouncing. In the center of their chests was a fist-sized hole with smooth edges, inside which golden-red flames burned quietly.

The flames began to spread from the hole, from the inside out.

The defensive runes drawn with blood on the paper puppet's surface melted and crumbled rapidly, like snow hitting boiling water. The bamboo frame crackled in the flames, and the seven layers of yellow paper soaked in corpse oil peeled off and burned.

Five breaths.

The five paper puppets, each ten feet tall, turned into five piles of white ash.

Ye Qingfeng's true form was already five steps away, and the five afterimages slowly dissipated. He remained standing with his sword in hand, his gray-blue Taoist robe spotless, and even his breathing was perfectly steady.

Step four, step five, step six...

He continued forward.

Wherever it passed, the sword light and flames mingled.

A paper figure lunged down from the beam to ambush him, but he didn't even raise his head. Instead, he swung his sword upwards with a backhand motion, and the sword energy soared into the sky, piercing the paper figure and pinning it to the beam, where it burned.

A paper puppet emerged from the ground through the bricks. He moved lightly, tapping the top of the paper puppet's head with his toe. Samadhi True Fire flowed down from his foot, and the paper puppet turned to ashes before it could even scream.

A paper figure was hiding among the guests, trying to take advantage of the chaos. He flicked his left finger repeatedly, and several fire lotuses floated precisely, bypassing the real people and burning only the paper figures.

Within ten steps, he had already destroyed twenty-three paper puppets.

Every step involves either a sword strike or a finger flick.

With each strike, a paper puppet is reduced to ashes.

There were no superfluous movements, no flashy moves, only extremely precise and elegant killings.

The guests who had been fleeing in terror gradually stopped and stood there, watching the gray-blue figure stroll through the sea of ​​fire, brandishing his sword and flicking his fingers.