Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Qing Yuanzi's hand froze.

He sensed something deeper in the back mountain—those newly lit sword lights were rapidly approaching. They were beings even more ancient than Qing Yuanzi, the true last trump card of the Qingmu Sword Sect, old monsters whom even Qing Yuanzi had to address as grandmaster uncles.

But it would take them time to get there, and if Li Chenzhou made a move now, Qing Yuanzi wasn't confident he could stop him before his lifespan ran out—he wasn't even confident he could live to see the sword lights arrive.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling disciples and elders of the Green Wood Sword Sect, over the deathly pale-faced True Man Qingsong, and over the Sword Pavilion elders who dared not speak out against their anger.

Li Chenzhou glanced at him and said nothing more.

He turned around and waved. Shangguan Jin Hong and Jing Wuming followed him.

On the wasteland, everyone's eyes were fixed on the mountain path of Qingmu Peak.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and the light was dimming. But a dark figure appeared on the stone steps winding down from the mountaintop.

First came the hem of his dark robe, then his long, flowing hair, and then his sharply defined, cold face. Li Chenzhou walked at the front, his pace neither fast nor slow, each step landing steadily on the stone steps, as if he had just returned from a stroll down the mountain, rather than from a life-or-death battle.

A deep wound pierced his left shoulder, still oozing blood. A large patch of his dark robe was soaked through, the color indistinguishable as black or crimson in the twilight, but drops of blood trickled down his arm onto the stone steps, leaving a trail of broken crimson on the gray stone surface, like a silent poem.

Shangguan Jin Hong and Jing Wuming followed behind him. Both bore the marks of a fight, but their auras were steady, indicating they were unharmed. The three walked down the mountain path at a leisurely pace, not as if fleeing, but more like—inspecting their territory.

There were more than two thousand people on the wasteland, and not a single one of them spoke.

They watched Li Chenzhou walk down the mountain path, saw the still-bleeding wound on his shoulder, his calm and composed face, and the regal composure in his eyes. Everyone felt as if an invisible hand had gripped their throats, rendering them speechless.

Iron Hand Luo Xiao was the first to turn his gaze away. He picked up the wine flask, took a large gulp, and then muttered two words: "Let's go."

The five members of the Iron Blood Hall stood up simultaneously and left the wasteland without looking back. Luo Xiao walked in front, his pace so fast that his men almost had to jog to keep up. No one knew what he was thinking, but everyone noticed one detail—his right hand was trembling slightly.

Yin Wuxue stood there for a long time, long enough that Li Chenzhou's figure had disappeared from the mountain path, long enough that twilight had completely enveloped the wasteland. The white-robed youth behind him finally couldn't help but whisper, "Great Protector..."

Yin Wuxue finally came to his senses. He pulled his blood-red cloak tighter, turned and left, his pace more than twice as fast as when he came. His pale face was expressionless, but his lips trembled slightly—not from cold, but from lingering fear. He was afraid that his decision to tighten his defenses earlier hadn't been swift enough.

The carriage from Chaotian Palace began to move. Ling Xuzi lowered the curtain without saying a word. But after the carriage had traveled several dozen feet, a long sigh came from inside. The sigh contained relief, emotion, and a hint of inexplicable awe.

Ling Yunzhi, a member of the Imperial Guard, stared in the direction Li Chenzhou had disappeared into the distance, remaining silent for a long time. Then he suddenly smiled. There was no mockery, no hostility in that smile, only the excitement of a chess player facing a true opponent. He said to his deputy beside him:

"Report back to the Commander: the four leaders of the Azure Dragon Society are all Grandmasters at level three or above, and their fighting spirit is unparalleled. I suggest... a reassessment of the situation in the West."

The assistant jotted down notes in his notebook with lightning speed, his pen trembling.

Shen Jinghong, the commander of the Zhenfu Division, put away his folding fan. He did not leave immediately, but stood there looking at Qingmu Peak for a long time. Finally, he tapped the folding fan in his palm, making a crisp sound.

He turned to look at the scout beside him, his voice not loud but every word clear:

"Investigate for me. The Third Dragon Head, the Second Dragon Head, the Great Dragon Head. I need their names, their cultivation levels, and their origins. Don't come back until you find out."

The scout's face turned ashen, but he still nodded heavily.

The man in the gray cloak from the Wolf Fang Alliance had vanished into the crowd at some point. He arrived faster than anyone else and left even faster; no one even noticed when he slipped away.

People from other smaller factions started discussing it like a hot pot had exploded.

"Did he really kill Qingxuan Zhenren? In front of Qingyuanzi?"

"Didn't you see that sword light? A Grandmaster at the fifth level! Li Chenzhou withstood the sword strike and even killed Qingxuan Zhenren!"

The people on the wasteland gradually dispersed, but the shock and chill lingered for a long time.

People were whispering about Qinglong Temple.

"Qinglong Temple did not send anyone today."

"Yes. Do you think... they already knew the outcome?"

"You mean, Qinglong Temple knew Li Chenzhou could win?"

"No. I mean, Qinglong Temple might know the secrets of the Qinglong Society. Four Dragon Heads, Three Dragon Heads, Two Dragon Heads, Big Dragon Head... Have you ever considered that both Qinglong Temple and the Qinglong Society have the character 'Qinglong' in their names?"

The speaker suddenly stopped, his face turning deathly pale, as if he had revealed a secret that could never be told. The two exchanged a glance, dared not say another word, and hurriedly left with their heads down.

Dusk deepened. Qingmu Peak, like a broken sword, stood silently in the darkness.

The only thing left on the wasteland was a trail of blood winding down the mountain path, gleaming dark red in the rising moonlight.

That night, no one in the thirteen western prefectures slept.

Countless secret letters flew out from all directions of Qishan Prefecture, heading towards the Blood Demon Sect's headquarters, the Iron Blood Hall's main hall, Chaotian Palace, and the desks of the Zhenfu Division and the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Each letter contained the same content:

Qingxuan Zhenren died in battle. Qing Yuanzi appeared, a Grandmaster at the fifth level, but failed to capture Li Chenzhou. Li Chenzhou's cultivation was no less than a Grandmaster at the third level, and his fighting spirit was unparalleled. There are three Dragon Leaders, two Dragon Leaders, and a Great Dragon Leader in the Azure Dragon Society, whose cultivation levels are unknown. It is recommended to temporarily suspend all actions against the Azure Dragon Society and reassess the situation.

The Battle of Aoki Peak has ended.

But the real storm in the thirteen western prefectures has only just begun.