He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

In front of the Hall of Unification of the Four Seas, Ying Ji stood under a ginkgo tree, holding a scroll of bamboo slips in his hand.

Old Jiang leaned against the tree trunk. His wine gourd was empty, but he didn't fill it. It just hung there, spinning between his fingers.

The moment the old Taoist priest stepped into the palace gate, both of their eyes fell on him at the same time.

"The Demon from Beyond the Heavens".

Ying Ji's voice was calm. "Did you come alone?"

The old Taoist priest did not answer.

He looked up at the two people under the ginkgo tree, their bodies shimmering with a clear light, as if they were old immortals who had stepped out of a Taoist temple mural.

His senses swept over Ying Ji, over Old Jiang, over the ginkgo tree, over the entire palace—then his brow furrowed slightly.

He couldn't see through these two people.

Ying Ji's aura was like a bottomless sea, calm on the surface but with unfathomable undercurrents beneath.

What startled him even more was the old man leaning against the tree, spinning his wine gourd—he had just sensed the other man's presence.

"Although I'm a bit of a simpleton, I'm not stupid."

The old Taoist priest spoke, his voice clear and full of energy, "Having dared to come, I have naturally made ample preparations."

Ying Ji remained silent.

The old Taoist priest chuckled, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

He stuck his whisk into the ground and formed a mudra with his hands.

The hand seals are formed slowly, and each seal is extremely stable, as if the angle has been measured with a ruler.

As the handprints changed, the sky over Xianyang began to change color—not gold, but purple.

Auspicious purple clouds are coming from the east.

He forcibly drew in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth within a hundred miles, converging it from all directions to the sky above Xianyang City, condensing it into a purple sea of ​​clouds covering the entire city.

A crack appeared in the center of the purple cloud, and a huge purple eye opened from the crack.

The eye had no pupil; its socket was filled with flowing purple lightning, and its gaze was fixed on Ying Ji under the ginkgo tree.

Zixiao Shenlei.

It was not ordinary heavenly lightning, but a law-level lightning tribulation triggered by compressing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to its extreme.

In the world of cultivation, this is a divine punishment that only occurs during the Tribulation Transcending stage or even the Mahayana stage.

The old Taoist's cultivation was far from reaching the level of transcending tribulation, but he had cultivated thunder magic for his entire life—in more than seventy worlds, specializing in one path and taking it to its extreme.

He used his cultivation level at the Void Refinement stage to trigger the Purple Heaven Divine Lightning.

That's what gave him the confidence to come to Xianyang.

He doesn't need to win; he only needs to bombard the chosen one with the Purple Heaven Divine Thunder.

It would be best if they could be killed, but if they can't be killed, it can pave the way for other reincarnators, making the situation more chaotic and ending this cycle of reincarnation faster.

Lightning surged within his purple eyes.

The first bolt of Purple Heaven Divine Thunder descended from the sky, as thick as a water bucket, its roar shaking the entire city of Xianyang.

The lightning bolt struck Ying Ji directly beneath the ginkgo tree.

Old Jiang raised his right hand.

He was holding an empty wine gourd in his hand, his posture casual as if he were about to catch an apricot falling from a tree.

He casually drew a circle above his head with his index and middle fingers together.

The circle was very small, no more than a foot in diameter, with crooked edges, like something a drunkard had casually scribbled.

The Purple Heaven Divine Lightning struck the circle, and then—it vanished.

Like a drop of water falling into the desert, leaving no trace.

The old Taoist priest's pupils suddenly contracted.

He knew he was in big trouble today.

The indigenous people of this world are far better than he imagined.

Before the second bolt of Purple Heaven Divine Lightning struck, he turned to Old Jiang, his purple eyes blazing with lightning.

The divine lightning transformed into a purple spear, its tip wrapped in intricate lightning patterns—each pattern representing a lightning technique compressed to its extreme.

The spear tore through the air, and wherever the spear tip passed, fine cracks were scorched into the space.

Old Jiang put down the wine gourd and stretched out his left hand.

With fingers spread and palm facing outward, he made a "stop" gesture.

The purple spear stopped three inches in front of his palm, motionless.

The lightning on the spear tip was still pulsating wildly, but it could no longer advance even an inch.

Old Jiang clenched his five fingers, gripped the spear tip, and gently pinched it.

The spear formed from the Purple Heaven Divine Thunder shattered into countless tiny purple light spots in his palm, slipping through his fingers and dissipating into the air before even hitting the ground.

Like crushing a dry clod of earth.

The old Taoist priest's back was instantly soaked with sweat. The gold brocade on his robe was drenched in cold sweat, clinging to his back, icy cold.

He looked at the old man under the ginkgo tree, clapping the crumbs from his palm, his voice hoarse:

"With your strength... you're not destined for greatness?"

Old Jiang said:

Why do you believe that destiny is necessarily the strongest?

He tucked the gourd back into his waistband and took a step forward.

It's just one step.

The old Taoist priest felt the space around him completely locked in that one step—it turned from flowing water into solidified ice.

He wanted to form a hand seal, but his fingers wouldn't move.

He tried to summon the lightning within the purple clouds, but his divine sense could not penetrate the solidified space.

He wanted to escape into the void, but the laws of space completely disobeyed his commands.

He has cultivated thunder magic from more than seventy worlds, and can summon the Purple Heaven Divine Thunder, split the ocean dry, and turn thousands of miles of land into scorched earth.

But at this moment, he couldn't even move a single finger.

Old Jiang walked up to him, extended a finger, and touched his forehead.

It was very light, like tapping a younger person's forehead, reminding them to wear more clothes because it's cold.

"Your batch seems a bit weak."

Old Jiang withdrew his finger, turned around and walked back, saying, "Be more careful in your next life."

As he walked back to the ginkgo tree, the old Taoist's body began to crumble from between his eyebrows.

A fine crack spread from the center of the forehead to the bridge of the nose, from the bridge of the nose to the chin, and from the chin to the neck, chest, and limbs.

A faint golden light emanated from between the cracks—that was the power of the laws left behind by Old Jiang.

The light grew brighter, and the cracks became denser. The old Taoist priest resembled a shattered porcelain statue, collapsing from the inside out into countless tiny points of light.

The light spot vanished before it even hit the ground.

A gust of wind blew through Xianyang Palace, scattering the last few specks of light.

In the Zhongnan Mountains, the reincarnated being hidden in the canopy of a ginkgo tree withdrew his hand from the trunk.

He witnessed the entire process—from the descent of the Purple Heaven Divine Thunder to Old Jiang crushing the Thunder Spear, to the old Taoist being crushed into specks of light with a single finger.

His back was also wet. His close-fitting night clothes were soaked with cold sweat, clinging to his spine, icy cold.

Without hesitation, he activated the directional teleportation talisman.

The moment the light appeared, he vanished from the treetops, leaving only a slowly fading afterimage.

He vowed never to come within a thousand miles of Xianyang City again in his life.

But many more reincarnators did not retreat.

It's not that we don't want to retreat, it's that the arrow is already on the bowstring and we have no choice but to release it.

The old Taoist priest was just part of the first wave—he was too impatient, or rather, too confident, charging ahead alone and becoming cannon fodder.

But his death also provided crucial information to those who came after him: there was at least one powerful expert in Xianyang City whose strength far surpassed that of a cultivator at the Immortal Refinement stage.

The reincarnators reassessed the situation, adjusted their plans, and then made a unified decision—they couldn't act one by one; they had to strike simultaneously.

If the protectors are this terrifying, then how far must fate defy the heavens?

We can't let this destiny continue to grow, otherwise all the opportunities we have now will be lost.