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

Their realm is close to that of a Martial Emperor, and their perception of power levels is far more acute than that of martial artists below the ninth rank.

When that warm white halo appeared, they felt something that chilled them to the bone—a feeling they had only experienced once in their lives when they faced a martial artist before they became martial artists and were still mortals.

But how could that be?

They are now Emperor Wu, so why do they still have this feeling?

The bald old man's smile froze on his face.

The gray-robed old man subconsciously took half a step back, and for the first time, something else appeared in his eyes, which were burning with a mad light.

Yun Yi's fist was already clenched.

Five layers of seals? It seems that with my current level of control, it shouldn't be a big problem.

The two figures of Martial Emperors paused in front of him for less than a moment.

They exchanged a glance—a chill that surged from the depths of their bones made them instinctively want to retreat, but the Emperor's pride was like an iron nail driven into their spine, pinning them firmly to the spot.

He fought his whole life, stood at the pinnacle of the world, but at the end, he ran away without even taking a single punch from a child?

To tell anyone would be worse than death.

"Little brat," the bald old man suppressed the tremor in his heart and grinned again, but the smile no longer held the composure of before, "If you're going to fight, then fight already. What are you dawdling for?"

The old man in the gray robe didn't speak, but the burning light in his eyes shone brightly again.

He has lived for twelve thousand years and witnessed countless life and death events. Having reached this point, he has nothing left to fear.

Yun Yi glanced at them, then loosened his clenched fist and let it hang at his side.

"This won't work."

He glanced down at the imperial city below—the densely packed palaces, colonnades, squares, and crowds holding ceremonies stretched out like a miniature scroll hundreds of feet below.

"They damaged my palace, and it will be a lot of trouble to repair it."

"Go upstairs."

After saying that, he disappeared again. When he reappeared, he was thousands of feet in the sky, with layers of clouds beneath his feet and the rising sun above him, its rays turning the edges of the clouds a golden red.

Two figures followed closely behind.

The two Martial Emperors ultimately did not choose to flee. They soared into the sky side by side, their robes fluttering wildly at high speed. As their blood surged, they tore two long slits in the surrounding clouds, leaving two straight trails in the sky.

Yunyi stopped high in the air and stretched his wrists and shoulders.

The movements were casual, like stretching in the yard after waking up in the morning.

His gaze swept over the two old men opposite him who were exerting all their energy to activate their blood and qi, but he looked at them as if they were two unimportant things, without even lingering on them for a moment longer.

The bald old man was the first to lose his composure.

His bare upper body, covered with old scars, suddenly swelled up, and his blood and qi surged out like magma along his meridians, stirring the airflow in the entire high sky into a huge vortex, and scattering the clouds into countless fragments that flew everywhere.

He took a step forward and punched Yun Yi in the face. The force of the punch was enough to tear mountains apart, creating a visible white shockwave.

The gray-robed old man attacked simultaneously.

Instead of launching a direct attack, he flashed around to Yun Yi's side, his withered hand spreading its five fingers, a ball of gray-black light condensing in his palm—that was his trump card, a single strike that could corrode even space itself into a hole.

The two forces, one in front and one behind, one orthodox and one unorthodox, sandwiched Yun Yi in the middle, cooperating perfectly.

Yun Yi watched the two figures getting closer and closer, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Then he raised his hand.

A light punch.

It's like someone who's been squatting by the roadside for a long time, and when they stand up, they casually swing their arm—it's not even a proper exertion.

But when the punch landed on the bald old man, his pupils suddenly dilated—he felt as if he had crashed into a wall formed from the entire sky.

The force didn't come from the front, but rather from all directions, as if even space itself was crushing him, turning his blood, bones, meridians, and muscles into dust in the same instant.

His body exploded into a cloud of blood mist.

The blood mist spread high in the sky, and when blown by the wind, it bloomed like a dark red flower among the clouds. The petals drifted away layer by layer, and then were torn into finer powder by the airflow, disappearing into the morning light.

The gray-robed elder's attack followed closely behind, his palm already three inches from the back of Yun Yi's neck, and the ball of gray-black light was about to erupt.

Then he exploded too.

Like the bald old man, starting from his fingertips, his hands, arms, shoulders, and torso instantly turned into a cloud of blood mist.

He didn't even feel any impact; he just felt himself getting closer to the back of the child's neck, and the next second his vision turned into a sky full of red powder and shattered clouds.

Two plumes of blood mist floated side by side in the high sky, like two pieces of red clouds scattered by the wind.

But the two old people did not disappear.

Emperor Wu's will was too strong. Even though his physical body had been completely shattered, his consciousness remained concentrated in the two plumes of blood mist, barely maintaining a semi-transparent, ghost-like state.

Two old faces floated in the center of the blood mist, their expressions frozen in a blank period of "what happened"—as if they had been hit with a series of combos in a very short time, and before they could even process the pain, they had been pushed to the final destination of "already dead".

About three breaths passed.

The bald old man's ghostly face finally moved.

He glanced down at his transparent, drifting lower body, then looked up at Yun Yi, his lips moving as he uttered indistinct sounds that seemed to come from a great distance:

"...Am I dead?"

"More or less," Yun Yi said.

"Then what am I...?"

"So the soul hasn't dissipated yet." Yun Yi turned his head to look at him, then looked at the gray-robed old man beside him who was equally bewildered. "Not bad willpower. The body is shattered but the soul can still hold on."

"Logically, this situation shouldn't last long, but I can help you stay a little longer."

He raised his hand and casually clenched it in mid-air.

He grasped two semi-transparent souls in his palm, which solidified into two pale white spheres that slowly rotated in his hand.

"Keep it; there's another scene coming up that you can watch."

A muffled sound, like a whisper across water, came from the two orbs of light. It was indistinct, and it was impossible to tell whether it was a curse or a question.

Yun Yi ignored him, flipped his hand to put the two balls of light into his sleeve, and turned to fall downwards.

Below, the ceremony on the altar was still ongoing.

Yunling stood at the top center of the altar, the jade seal hovering in front of her, its surface shimmering, the national fortune within slowly and steadily condensing.

She picked up the prayer text, turned to the eighth section, and spoke in a moderate voice, enunciating clearly and steadily:

"The eighth section, the worship of the earth—receiving the earth's virtue to bear all things, and receiving the fertile soil to nourish all living beings..."

The officials and representatives from all sides listened attentively, and no one raised any objections.

Yunling's achievements over the years are evident to all—from reforming officialdom to border defense, from agricultural management to opening up trade routes, from disaster relief to military reform, each one of which would make even seasoned officials who have been in the court for decades feel ashamed of their own shortcomings.

The ministers at the front knew very well that the Yunming Empire's rapid expansion over the past decade was largely due to the behind-the-scenes efforts of this still-underage princess.

She stood on the altar and recited the prayer, and no one below the altar thought it was inappropriate.

They could even say that they would support the other side even if they were to seize power now.