The charming widow of the Marquis's mansion: The stable boy carries the flag and raises the dra

"Damn it!"

Kui Yuan gritted his teeth and suddenly retreated several feet, trying to create distance and recharge his strength.

But Wang Long didn't give him that chance.

Wang Long's figure blurred, like a golden lightning bolt, heading straight for Kui Yuan's face, raising his hand to strike out with a palm!

That palm strike, imbued with the dual power of righteous energy and the chaotic Dao body, appeared ordinary, yet it unleashed a deafening roar just before it touched Kui Yuan's chest!

Golden light burst forth from his palm, like a small sun suddenly rising!

Kui Yuan's pupils shrank sharply, and he crossed his arms to protect himself. Black mist condensed into several layers of barriers in front of him, attempting to block the palm strike.

But those layers of black mist crumbled like paper in the face of the golden light!

Bang! Kui Yuan was sent flying backward by that palm strike, tumbling several times in the air before finally regaining his footing.

He looked down at his arms; his sleeves were torn, revealing charred skin underneath, with blood seeping out.

His face was ashen, and his eyes were filled with disbelief.

Wang Long looked at him, standing with his hands behind his back, nine celestial sword lights slowly swirling behind him, emitting clear and melodious sword sounds.

He didn't give chase, but spoke softly, his voice clear and steady in the night wind.

"Kuiyuan, your claim of being at the peak of the Heavenly Supreme realm is largely exaggerated."

Kui Yuan's body tumbled several times in the air before he finally managed to steady himself.

He looked down at his charred sleeves, then looked up at Wang Long, who stood opposite him with his hands behind his back, his eyes surging with barely suppressed anger and humiliation.

Having lived for so many years, and after reaching the peak of the Heavenly Supreme, he regarded the entire Eastern Region as his own. When had he ever been so humiliated in front of others?

Wang Long's casual remark almost shattered his Dao heart.

"Great...very good!"

Kui Yuan's voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, his expression completely distorted.

"I, the sect leader, will kill you today!"

Kui Yuan roared and suddenly raised his hands, spreading his fingers wide. Countless black threads shot out from his fingertips, weaving into a giant net that blotted out the sky.

Each thread was adorned with a twisted, ghostly face, emitting a piercing shriek, like the simultaneous howls of a thousand evil spirits.

"Puppet Spirit Seventy-Two Styles - Devouring Ten Thousand Souls from Heaven!"

A massive black net descended upon the dragon, swallowing up even the moonlight in its wake, filling the air with a thick aura of decay and despair.

That was one of Kui Yuan's true trump cards, a killing move refined from the vengeful spirits accumulated over hundreds of years, enough to devour a mid-stage Heavenly Sovereign in an instant, annihilating his soul and spirit.

Wang Long looked up at the massive, all-encompassing black net, his expression remaining completely unchanged.

He slowly raised his right hand, fingers together, palm facing up.

Golden, righteous energy erupted from his body like boiling magma, condensing above his head into a giant light sword tens of feet long.

The sword was as clear as glass, with fine golden runes flowing across its surface. Each rune emitted a clear, melodious hum, causing the surrounding surging black mist to dissipate layer by layer.

"The Righteous Qi Mantra: Dispelling Delusions!"

Wang Long suddenly swung his arm downwards.

The golden greatsword fell with a crash, like a beam of judgment descending from the heavens, striking directly at the center of the black giant net.

The moment the golden greatsword struck, the shrieking faces of the ghosts, like frost and snow scorched by the blazing sun, let out a final, mournful cry before vanishing into nothingness.

The giant black net began to crack rapidly from where the sword fell, like a spider web, disintegrating inch by inch into countless black fragments that were scattered by the night wind.

Kui Yuan's pupils contracted sharply, his chest heaved, and a trickle of dark red blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

His natal soul net was shattered by this sword, and the backlash was like a heavy hammer hitting his primordial spirit.

"Impossible! This is impossible! You're clearly just someone who artificially boosted their cultivation level using external aids..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

Wang Long has moved again.

The golden figure left an afterimage in its original position, and in the next instant appeared in front of Kui Yuan, so close that it could see the fear reflected in the other's pupils.

"You talk too much nonsense."

Wang Long's fist, imbued with the combined power of righteous energy and the Chaotic Dao Body, slammed heavily onto Kui Yuan's hastily raised arms.

Click!

The sound of bone cracking was clearly audible.

Kui Yuan plummeted from mid-air like a cannonball, crashing into the bluestone ground in the center of the square and creating a crater more than ten feet deep.

Pebbles flew everywhere, and dust filled the air.

At the same time, Little Chirp let out a clear cry, and golden flames spewed from its mouth, completely engulfing the Nine Nether Puppet.

A series of muffled cracking sounds came from the flames, and the black scales cracked, melted, and evaporated inch by inch in the golden flames.

It turned into a pool of black residue and disappeared without a trace.

Little Fairy floated down from mid-air and landed on Wang Long's shoulder, a hint of smugness on her face.

"Master, that broken puppet is completely gone!"

Wang Long nodded slightly, but his gaze never left the figure struggling to get up from the pit.

Kui Yuan staggered to his feet from the bottom of the pit, covered in blood, his left arm twisted at an abnormal angle, and his face ashen.

He raised his head, and his gaze toward Wang Long finally revealed genuine resentment and fear.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Zheng Yuan had completely given up.

The combined attack from Ye Wushuang and Xuanzhen Daoist came wave after wave, and several cracks appeared on the dark gold longsword in his hand.

His hand was already cracked from the impact, and blood dripped from the hilt of the knife onto the gravel at his feet. His breathing became erratic, and each parry was more strained than the last.

"Kuiyuan! What are you dawdling for! I can't hold on much longer!"

Zheng Yuan's voice was filled with barely suppressed anxiety and fear.

Kuiyuan did not answer.

Because he himself understands that the situation is completely out of control.

Zheng Hao lay sprawled in a pile of rubble not far away, his limbs broken, barely breathing, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the night sky illuminated by golden light.

He saw his father stagger backward and saw Kuiyuan standing at the bottom of the pit, looking disheveled.

Seeing the disciples of the Primordial Holy Palace rising from the ruins, their eyes blazed with renewed passion.

He opened his mouth, wanting to roar, but could only let out a muffled breath.

In the center of the square, Puppet Three, Puppet Two, and Puppet One were already slumped on the ground, their bodies trembling like leaves.

Kui San's lips moved, his eyes were fixed on Wang Long, and only one thought kept replaying in his mind.

"How did he do that...? Who exactly is he...?"

Wang Long landed slowly, his robes swaying gently in the night breeze.

He turned his head slightly, glanced at Zheng Yuan, who had completely lost power in the distance, and then at Kui Yuan, whose aura was unstable at the bottom of the pit, his voice cold.

"Kuiyuan, Zheng Yuan, since you dare to come to the Primordial Holy Palace today, you will have to pay the price."

Kui Yuan grinned, his body trembling violently.

"Haha, good, very good. Wang Long, is it? I'll remember you."