The scent of blood spread far across the ancient mountain range of the Northern Domain, so thick that even the fiercest beasts shuddered, their fur standing on end as they fled in terror.
“Kill them!”
A swarm of death warriors from the Yin-Yang Sect charged forward, all clad in the sect’s uniform attire. Among them were powerful experts who had reached the Cloud Heaven realm—individuals who might have been revered as elites elsewhere, strutting with arrogance. But now, they were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter.
Because ahead of them, a figure like a god or demon advanced slowly, unstoppable.
“Ah—!”
Tian Fan roared at the sky, unleashing the grief that had long festered in his heart. His Yin-Yang Sword never ceased its deadly dance, carving through flesh as bodies piled at his feet. His white robes were drenched crimson, his hair matted with blood.
With a single slash, a chilling gleam pierced through the air, bisecting an elder who stood in his path. The corpse exploded, chunks of flesh scattering in all directions.
His sword seemed imbued with a terrifying curse—every swing drew blood, every strike claimed a life. Before the gates of the Yin-Yang Sect, corpses lay in heaps, rivers of blood flowing freely. Yet Tian Fan remained silent, advancing with unwavering determination, leaving death in his wake with every step.
“It’s him! It’s Tian Fan! How is he here?! The sect master went to kill him personally!”
A powerful elder stepped forward, one who had lingered at the peak of the Cloud Heaven realm for years, half a step into the Profound Origin Realm. A ruthless veteran.
“Hmph! You dare come to us yourself?!”
The old man sneered, striding forward. His right hand expanded to the size of a millstone, swirling with dark energy, a destructive aura radiating from it.
“It’s Elder Beiming! That bastard is done for!”
“Exactly! Elder Beiming is almost in the Profound Origin Realm!”
Seeing him take action, the Yin-Yang Sect disciples relaxed as if swallowing a calming pill, certain that nothing could go wrong now.
Thwack!
Tian Fan said nothing. His eyes were icy, his expression indifferent. With a single swing of his Yin-Yang Sword, an arm flew through the air, blood raining down.
“Ah—!”
A scream tore from the elder’s throat, his face twisting in horror. He was half a step into the Profound Origin Realm—nearly invincible beneath it! Yet in a single exchange, he had lost an arm.
“What?! How is this possible?!”
“No way! This must be an illusion! Elder Beiming couldn’t lose! He can’t!”
The disciples muttered in disbelief, unable to accept what they were seeing. In their eyes, the man who was second only to the sect master had been effortlessly overpowered by this white-clad youth.
As Tian Fan continued his relentless advance, another elder rushed forward, his face twisted with killing intent.
“Stop right there and die!”
His roar carried a strange power, momentarily disorienting Tian Fan. But Tian Fan’s will was unshakable, hardened further by Zi Ying’s death. In an instant, he regained clarity. Seeing the demonic blade descending toward him, he smirked—and vanished.
Crunch!
A golden fist smashed down from above. The elder who had used the sonic attack paled, resisting with all his might—but it was futile. At this point, few could withstand Tian Fan’s physical strength, short of those in the Transcendent Realm. His body shattered, flesh and bone scattering as he was obliterated on the spot.
“After today, the Yin-Yang Sect will cease to exist.”
Tian Fan’s voice was frigid, his footsteps never faltering as he dragged his sword along the ground, advancing relentlessly.
“Arrogant little b*stard!”
A disciple snarled. Tian Fan’s cold gaze locked onto him—and a golden sword shot from between his brows, reducing the man to a mist of blood.
“You… you monster!”
Elder Beiming roared, but his voice trembled with fear. Against the current Tian Fan, he stood no chance.
Slash!
The Yin-Yang Sword rose again. Tian Fan’s expression was merciless. Words were pointless—only action could vent his boundless fury. Several disciples who had rushed forward were cut down where they stood.
“What do you want?!” Elder Beiming’s face twisted in panic as he took in the corpses and pools of blood around him, his pupils contracting violently.
“What do I want?” Tian Fan’s voice was glacial, his rage crystallizing into pure killing intent. “I’ve come to exterminate your sect.”
He strode forward, raising his sword once more.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Like a demon king, he moved without hesitation, cutting down all who stood in his path.
“Stop!”
Another elder-level figure charged out, his eyes bloodshot with fury. Crimson light erupted from his body as a pitch-black demonic blade materialized in his grasp.
“Hah! You think you know anger? Compared to mine, it’s nothing!”
Tian Fan laughed, the sound desolate. Tears streaked down his cheeks even as he swung his sword, now entirely drenched in blood.
Swipe!
A silver flash, swift as lightning, severed the black blade—and the elder’s body along with it. Organs spilled onto the ground, blood gushing like a fountain.
The onlookers’ hearts turned to ice. That had been a peak Cloud Heaven expert—slain in a single stroke. Who could possibly stop him now?
“Demon! The sect master will make sure you die without a grave!” A group of death warriors rushed to block Tian Fan’s path.
This was a land of bloodshed. Tian Fan, soaked in gore, resembled a demon sovereign awakened in the mortal realm—ruthless, merciless. Heads flew, faces frozen in terror. Corpses piled at his feet as he marched forward, unstoppable. None could withstand him. Not a single soul survived his blade, not even the elders at the peak of Cloud Heaven dared face his edge.
“Ah—!”
Finally, he reached the main gates of the Yin-Yang Sect. Above him, the grand Yin-Yang Taiji Diagram pulsed with the aura of the Great Dao. With a roar, he unleashed a devastating silver sword beam.
BOOM!
The Yin-Yang Sect, standing for countless years, had never been defied like this. But today, a single youth shattered its legacy. The Taiji Diagram—the sect’s sacred emblem, carved by its founding ancestor—was reduced to dust under the overwhelming sword light.
“Blasphemer! You—you sinner!”
The disciples stood frozen before Elder Beiming howled in outrage, charging forward with the remaining sect members. Their symbol had been destroyed—they could not endure this humiliation.
Slash! Slash!
Blood sprayed as the Yin-Yang Sword swept horizontally. With every flash, heads rolled.
“Where are the Yin-Yang Elders?! Why haven’t they shown themselves?!”
Elder Beiming bellowed, his body drenched in blood. Even half-stepped into the Profound Origin Realm, he was nothing before Tian Fan, who had already slain a full Profound Origin expert.
RUMBLE!
In the distance, a mountain ridge exploded. Two terrifying auras erupted as a disheveled old man materialized in the sky, striding forward. Beside him, a wrinkled old woman walked in unison.
“Hehe, little brat, you dare cause trouble in our Yin-Yang Sect? You’ve got a death wish!” The old man’s killing intent was palpable, his white teeth gleaming ominously.
“Kekeke… They say he’s a descendant of the gods. I wonder how his blood tastes—maybe it’ll help us break through our final barrier!”
The old woman licked her cracked lips, her laughter sinister.
The disciples finally relaxed. With these two here, this invader was as good as dead.
“I’ll send you both to your graves.” Tian Fan’s tone was eerily calm, sending chills down their spines. It didn’t sound like arrogance—it sounded like a promise.
“You arrogant whelp!”
The two elders’ faces twisted in fury as they activated the Yin-Yang Secret Art in unison.
The old man’s body erupted with white mist, his aura as vigorous as a youth’s. The old woman was shrouded in black fog. As they moved toward each other, their energies merged with a deafening boom, forming a massive Yin-Yang Taiji Diagram in the sky, radiating the essence of the Great Dao.
The disciples grinned triumphantly. These two were the sect’s hidden aces—born with complementary constitutions, they cultivated the Yin-Yang Arts through dual cultivation, amplifying their combat power fivefold over their peers. Together, they could unleash forbidden techniques of devastating might.
“Hehe, you should feel honored—we’ve used the Yin Yang Death Curse just for you.” A sinister voice echoed from the swirling black-and-white diagram as it descended toward Tian Fan with crushing force. The disciples scattered in panic.
“So what? If I say you die, even the gods can’t save you.”
Tian Fan’s expression remained cold. Behind him, a divine diagram slowly materialized—a Taiji Yin-Yang at its core, surrounded by the eight trigrams (Qian, Kun, Kan, Li, Zhen, Gen, Xun, Dui), arranged in a profound celestial pattern. The air around him seemed to revert to primordial chaos.
Boom!
The two elders were sent flying, blood spewing from their mouths. Staring at the Five Elements Eight Trigrams Seal behind Tian Fan, their faces twisted in abject terror.