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

The Dragon Extermination Alliance was about to give chase, but Dongfang Weiwo raised his hand and pressed down.

Two terrifying sword intents rose simultaneously behind him—Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng drew their swords at the same time.

One sword intent was as cold as ancient ice, causing snow to fall from the sky; the other sword intent was as sharp as if it had cleaved the heavens, cutting a visible vacuum crack in the air. The two sword intents crossed and slashed down, neatly slicing the vanguard of the Dragon Extinction Alliance into three pieces, with blood mist spreading everywhere.

"A swordsman at the sixth level of the Grandmaster realm?!" The pupils of the Dragon Extermination Alliance members shrank drastically.

Zen Master Qinglong finally shifted his gaze from Li Chenzhou to the young man in mid-air.

His voice was as deep as an ancient bell: "Dongfang Weiwo? You're the young leader of the Azure Dragon Society?"

"Yes."

Who is your master?

Dongfang Weiwo stood in mid-air, facing the pressure of the ninth level of the peak, his expression unchanged: "My master is the leader of the Azure Dragon Society, a recluse who dislikes worldly fame."

The battlefield was deathly silent.

The leader of the Azure Dragon Society. The legendary leader who founded the Azure Dragon Society and took Dongfang Weiwo as his disciple—does he really exist?

Everyone thought that "Big Boss" was just a title, a fabrication by the Green Dragon Society to bluff their way out. He had never appeared, never made a move, and no one had ever seen his face.

But if it's not true, how could an eighteen-year-old boy turn the Azure Dragon Society into the overlord of the West in just one year?

The leaders of the thirty-seven sects of the Dragon Extermination Alliance exchanged bewildered glances. Meanwhile, the eight thousand elite warriors of the Azure Dragon Society once again shouted in unison, "Young Dragon Leader!" Their voices echoed across the land.

The auras of three half-step Celestial beings descended at that moment.

Three gaunt figures appeared out of thin air above the battlefield. Their bodies radiated a faint Buddhist light, as light as water or mist, yet it caused all the cultivators below the Grandmaster level on the entire Frost Maple Plain to go weak in the knees and almost kneel down.

That aura didn't belong to the category of Grandmasters—it lacked the fierce and domineering oppressive feeling of the Ninth Heaven, but instead had a mysterious transcendence that "had already surpassed this level".

Half-step Celestial Being.

The three senior elders of Qinglong Temple, who had been in seclusion for hundreds of years, were invited out of their seclusion.

The old monk at the head of the group raised his hand and lightly pressed down on Li Chenzhou, who was covering the retreat below.

That palm strike had no gale or unusual phenomena, but Li Chenzhou's imperial phantom of "ruling the world" shattered inch by inch. He felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, his face turned deathly pale, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Three dragon heads!" The members of the Azure Dragon Society below shouted in unison.

The crushing of a half-step Celestial Being by the Ninth Heaven is like crushing ants.

Three old monks hovered in the air, their gazes slowly sweeping across the entire battlefield. The cultivators of the Dragon Extermination Alliance knelt and kowtowed, calling him "Buddha."

The eight thousand members of the Azure Dragon Society were so oppressed by an invisible, terrifying aura that they could barely stand up straight—they wanted to fight, but their bodies simply wouldn't obey them.

"The Azure Dragon Society has been defeated," the leading old monk spoke, his voice as indifferent as an ancient bell. "If you wish to convert to Buddhism, you may live."

Another old monk raised his hand and pointed to the east, where only I am:

"Young Dragon Leader? Eighteen years old? What a pity. Your master taught you strategy, but not self-defense. Today, this old monk will act on behalf of your master—"

"You can't do it for me."

A gentle and clear voice descended from the sky.

Three thousand feet above Dongfang Weiwo, the clouds suddenly parted. A white figure fell vertically like a streak of light, landing three feet in front of Dongfang Weiwo.

Clad in white as snow, with long, ink-black hair, and a handsome, otherworldly face, he stood there like a figure stepping out of a traditional Chinese ink painting. A long, unadorned sword hung at his waist.

His eyes were as deep as an ancient well, a kind of composure that transcended time and life and death—as if all things in the world were nothing more than fleeting clouds in his eyes.

He landed without even stirring up a speck of dust.

The three half-step Celestial Elders simultaneously felt an unprecedented palpitation—they had lived for hundreds of years and had not felt this way for a very, very long time.

Dongfang Weiwo turned slightly to the side, his tone calm yet respectful: "Second Dragon Head, thank you for your trouble."

Bai Yujing nodded slightly, his face gentle: "Young Master, you're too kind."

He turned to the three half-step Celestial Elder Monks and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Draw your sword.

The moment that "unadorned longsword" was drawn, all sound in the world vanished.

There was no sword light, no sword energy, no sword intent—nothing at all.

Only the palm strikes from the three half-step Celestial Elders, those three Buddhist techniques powerful enough to crush the peak of the Ninth Heaven, vanished silently under this sword strike, like a wisp of smoke blown away by the wind.

The three old monks simultaneously took three steps back, their expressions changing in astonishment.

"A half-step Celestial Peak?" The leading old monk's voice trembled for the first time. "You are—"

"Baiyujing."

The man in white sheathed his sword with effortless ease, as if he had merely brushed away a fallen leaf from his shoulder. "Second leader of the Azure Dragon Society. Gentlemen… if you wish to cause trouble for my young leader, you'll have to get past me first."

The three half-step Celestial Being old monks exchanged glances, their eyes flashing with determination.

"Work together!"

Three beams of Buddha light erupted simultaneously, and the three palms merged into one.

The power of that palm strike had already surpassed the realm of a half-step Celestial Being, and faintly touched the threshold of a true Celestial Being. All the spiritual energy within a hundred miles of Frost Maple Plain was instantly drained, and the sky darkened.

Bai Yujing drew his sword.

The second sword strike.

Everyone saw this sword strike clearly—it was just a white arc of light, as smooth as the moon, as frosty as snow, extremely slow, so slow that everyone could see every inch of its trajectory; yet it was also extremely fast, so fast that the combined attack of three half-step Celestials seemed as clumsy as an old ox or a broken cart in front of it.

The three palms struck together and shattered.

The robes of the three old monks tore open at the same time, and each of them had a shallow bloodstain on his chest.

It wasn't deep, and it didn't even injure the bones, but three half-step Celestials were hit by the sword at the same time—the difference between the peak of the half-step Celestial and the early stage of the half-step Celestial is a chasm.

"You may leave." Bai Yujing held his sword horizontally in front of him and spoke calmly, "Go back and tell your abbot that Qinglong Temple is closed. This is the will of my young master."

He stepped back half a step, making way for Dongfang Weiwo.

Dongfang Weiwo stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over all the cultivators from the thirty-seven sects of the Dragon Extermination Alliance, before settling on the faces of the three half-step Celestial Being old monks. His voice was calm yet undeniable:

"Qinglong Temple is closed. From this day forward, the thirteen prefectures of the west are under the jurisdiction of the Qinglong Society."

Blood trickled from the corners of the three old monks' mouths. After a long silence, the leader closed his eyes and clasped his hands together in prayer.

"Amitabha... Qinglong Temple is closed."

On the Frosty Maple Plain, the autumn wind rises once more.

Zen Master Qinglong stood still, watching as the three half-step Celestials he had invited were forced back by a single sword strike, and closed his eyes.

After a long while, he clasped his hands together, murmured a Buddhist chant, and turned to leave. His moon-white robes swayed in the wind, disappearing into the distance at the edge of the Frosty Maple Plain.

The 37 sect leaders of the Dragon Extermination Alliance looked at each other in bewilderment—the alliance leader was gone, the supreme elder had been defeated, what was the point of continuing the fight?

It's unclear who dropped their weapon first, but then everyone followed suit like dominoes. Thirty-seven sects, more than thirty thousand cultivators, bowed their heads before an eighteen-year-old boy on Frostmaple Plain.

The Azure Dragon Society won.

Three days later, the grand formation of Tianlong Mountain closed, and the ancient temple, thousands of years old, disappeared into the clouds. No other force in the thirteen western prefectures could rival the Azure Dragon Society.

Meanwhile, the news that "I am the only one in the East who is the young leader of the Azure Dragon Society" spread throughout the entire Tianxuan Continent on the same day.

The East was shaken.

In the Marquis of Weeping Blood's Mansion in the Northern Border, Dongfang Wudi stared at the secret report in silence for a long time, his lips twitched slightly, and then he threw the report into the brazier.

"This child..."

He didn't finish speaking, but the light in his eyes was brighter than a flame.