Having cultivated myself into an immortal, all I want to do is raise female disciples.

How could Ye Wentian know what had happened?

He only saw the spirit sword he had summoned in an instant stop in mid-air by the mere word "stillness," and then vanish into thin air by the word "annihilation."

Not to mention the underlying principles, he hadn't even been able to discern whether the young man's body was brimming with spiritual energy.

He just stared dumbfounded at the handsome young man who was gently waving a folding fan, the word "impossible" echoing in his mind.

impossible.

Absolutely impossible!

The True Immortal Breath bestowed upon him by the Emperor Immortal was a power that could enable him to break through the shackles of the Half-Immortal realm in a short time. How could it be unable to do anything about even a mere wisp of the Emperor Wen's divine consciousness?

Emperor Immortal is also a true immortal, how could he be inferior to this outdated old thing?

Ye Wentian's eyes darkened, and he slammed his palms out in the void before him, causing tens of thousands of spiritual swords to reappear around him.

"I don't believe you're that weird!"

He shouted angrily, pushed forward with both palms, and tens of thousands of spiritual swords poured down like a torrential rain.

Upon seeing that this was the same method used before, the young man shook his head and sighed.

"You still don't understand."

The young man took a light step forward, holding a folding fan in his right hand, and casually waved it forward.

A gentle breeze blows.

As the gentle breeze passed by, thousands of sharp spiritual swords solidified in the blink of an eye, and gradually shattered and liquefied into clumps of ink floating in the air as the young man moved, seemingly completely out of Ye Wentian's control, and gathered around the young man.

The spirit swords that should have belonged to Ye Wentian were transformed into ink by the young man with a casual wave of his hand.

Ye Wentian took two steps back in shock, his eyes filled with fear as he stared at the young man. His legs began to tremble involuntarily when he realized that the young man was slowly walking towards him.

Just like back then, when facing Yun Ping.

The young man stood five meters in front of Ye Wentian.

Whether it was Ye Wentian, the other Saint Immortals, or the thousands of Immortal Capital cultivators—even though the young man was already within their attack range, not a single one dared to make a move on their own.

Or rather, they understood that their actions were meaningless.

Behind the youth, endless ink surged, swirled, and prepared to be unleashed, as if awaiting someone's command.

He glanced at Ye Wentian with disdain and said indifferently, "Is this all the power you have with the blessing of an Immortal Emperor?"

Ye Wentian felt a surge of anger rising within him from being mocked. He was about to say something to refute Xuan Lei, but the scene before him frightened him so much that he swallowed his words.

He clearly saw that the thousands of ink droplets behind Emperor Wen were slowly transforming into one sharp spiritual sword after another. When the folding fan in the young man's book opened again, the ink characters engraved on it were the conspicuous character "化" (transformation).

Ink-infused sword.

"You just said that I might have gone down the wrong path."

Emperor Wen seemed to find it quite amusing, a playful smile appearing on his lips.

"Everyone has their own ambitions and their own path. The great path has never been about right or wrong. You don't understand yet."

He shook his head slightly and waved his white feather fan forward.

Suddenly.

Thousands of spiritual swords rained down on the immortal cultivators below.

None of the holy immortals dared to be negligent, and they activated their immortal techniques at the fastest speed in their lives to protect themselves. Ye Wentian was so frightened that he unleashed his true immortal breath to protect his physical body and soul from the harm of the spiritual sword.

As for the immortal cultivators they brought, they all used their protective magic treasures in order to survive this torrential rain of swords.

however.

The young man waved his white feather fan slightly, and with a mocking look on Emperor Wen's face, the character "化" (transformation) flashed again.

The once extremely sharp spiritual sword turned into streams of ink the moment it was about to touch the cultivators of the Immortal Capital.

Strangely, the ink completely ignored the so-called protective magic and immortal techniques, splashing onto the robes, faces, and hair of the cultivators in the Immortal Capital without any hindrance.

That's all.

There was no pain, no burning, just ink stains on my face.

Everyone stood there stunned, expecting a terrifying killing move, but it turned out to be nothing more than ink splashed on themselves...

The young man looked at the cultivators from the Immortal Capital who hurriedly summoned their protective magic treasures as if they were fools, and laughed, "Do you understand my Dao now?"

Do you understand?

How could anyone possibly understand that?

Even Ye Wentian, the most powerful cultivator present, couldn't understand the young man's methods at all.

They tried desperately to wipe the ink off their bodies, but no matter what methods they used, the ink seemed to be an integral part of their bodies and could not be removed at all.

Seeing the bewildered expressions on Ye Wentian's and the others' faces, the young man smiled.

Suddenly, he flashed to Ye Wentian's side and said to him.

"Since you don't understand, then I'll let you take a look."

These words were spoken as soon as they were uttered.

Ye Wentian's eyes widened, and he enveloped his body with spiritual energy at near-instantaneous speed. Combined with the power of the True Immortal's breath, he instantly covered his physical body with several protective formations. His soul was also quickly sealed off to prevent Emperor Wen from using his soul techniques to directly harm his soul.

He even summoned his own magical treasure, a protective mirror that appeared on his chest, its protective divine light completely isolating him from the outside world!

He fears.

He couldn't help but be afraid!

Even before Emperor Wen made a move, he was so fearful and anxious that he had to resort to every means he could think of to protect himself, simply because Emperor Wen's divine consciousness had already come to his side.

But is it useful?

Emperor Wen's expression suddenly turned cold. Compared to his previous playfulness, he seemed to have given up on teasing these cultivators from the Immortal Capital and decided to get straight to the point.

He held a white feather fan in his right hand, flipped it over, and made a downward pressing motion.

boom!

On the plain, a circular pit, five or six meters wide, suddenly appeared.

Ye Wentian looked incredulous. His knee shattered irreversibly the moment Emperor Wen turned the white feather fan, and he suffered boundless pain, immediately collapsing to his knees.

Before kneeling, he clearly saw a large character for "kneel" written on Emperor Wen's white feather fan.

"Master Ye!"

The other five immortals cried out in surprise when they saw Ye Wentian kneeling, and were about to attack Emperor Wen.

However, before they could even move, a figure walked past them unhurriedly from behind.

"I'm a very petty person."

"I always seek revenge and vengeance, and I never want to procrastinate."

He flipped his white feather fan in his right hand again, and the word "kneel" appeared slightly.

The five holy immortals could not withstand the power of this one word. Before their spiritual energy could even circulate, dozens of their meridians were broken, and their legs completely lost the ability to support their bodies, causing them to kneel down as well.

The young man strolled along as if taking a leisurely walk, his gaze sweeping over the thousands of silent cultivators of the Immortal Capital, and he gently waved his white feather fan.

A gentle breeze blows.

The word "kneel" is deeply ingrained in people's minds!

The next second, they will worship him for life.

The cultivators of the Immortal Capital, who should have been loyal to the Emperor Immortal, were now forced to kneel before the True Immortals of the previous era.

A vast expanse of white snow, and no one speaks.

Ye Wentian's body trembled, cold sweat poured down his forehead, and his eyes widened in horror, unable to predict what was about to happen.

The unknown is what is most frightening.

Amidst the vast expanse of white snow, only the young man stood, like a crane standing among chickens.

Immortals are inherently superior to all others.

"To be honest, if you're content to do your own lousy things and use the name of immortals to swindle and deceive people in this world, I'll at most just feel disdain and won't personally take action."

"But you shouldn't have, you shouldn't have tried to harm the Three-Day Academy that I founded."

"They shouldn't have touched my beloved disciple."

He finished speaking.

Emperor Wen's eyes were already filled with murderous intent!

He simply closed the white feather fan, and the word "kneel" vanished completely.

The power that had previously bound the cultivators of the Immortal Capital vanished in an instant. Now free, they dared not oppose the divine consciousness of Emperor Wen. They scattered like birds and beasts, fleeing in all directions like madmen.

Even Ye Wentian was terrified and tried to run away. He knew that if he stayed here, he would only die.

but--

"I said you could leave?!"

Accompanied by an angry shout.

The overwhelming power of the sound made everyone's legs go weak, and countless cultivators from the Immortal Capital stumbled and fell to the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

"You think you can just run away after bullying someone? Do you really think the Three-Day Academy is a place where you can come and go as you please?"

Before Ye Wentian could react, a white figure suddenly appeared in front of him.

Emperor Wen stomped his right foot on the ground, and countless red characters, flowing with endless rage and killing intent, suddenly appeared on the barren ground!

If viewed from above, it would cover an area of ​​several hundred meters in radius... a poem.

Emperor Wen's poem of killing!

The young man coldly stared at the people of Xiandu in front of him, and then turned his gaze to Ye Wentian, who was directly in front of him.

“You said you wanted to see how long my beloved student’s backbone could remain hard.”

"I'd like to see how long your beloved disciple, the Emperor Immortal, can keep this up?"