Chapter Forty-Six: Truly a Master

Tianhai Sect’s plaza!

Hearing the brief exchange among the three, many disciples felt a stirring sense of brotherhood—this was what it should be. Having crossed into this distant, ancient continent, Luo Hao, apart from his memories of Meng Li, once again felt as if he had found a place to belong. Though the three of them had not known each other for long, and there was no deep understanding between them, none of that mattered anymore.

What was truly important was that, at the very moment when his life hung by a thread, neither Yan Longyuan nor Sikong Xuan abandoned him. Instead, without hesitation, they chose to stand and fight by his side.

Looking at Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Luo Hao, for the first time, felt the true weight carried by the word “brother.”

“You actually blocked it. It seems I underestimated you. Still, your brotherly affection is enough to make me sick!” Murong Ying spoke again from the center of the plaza, his face, usually calm, now clouded with a rare gloom.

The bond between Luo Hao and the others reminded Murong Ying of his own wayward younger brother, Murong Hai. Murong Ying had always been a peerless talent, striving for perfection in all things. Yet, fate had saddled him with a useless sibling—a blemish on the otherwise flawless canvas of his life.

At that very moment, several hundred miles from Zhen Tian Peak, atop a mountain dense with emerald bamboo, a unique scene unfolded. At the base, clusters of bamboo radiated a blue-green glow, spreading up the slopes, and right at the summit, a purple radiance shimmered like the arrival of celestial energy.

“Second Brother, grab your gear! Let’s head up Zhen Tian Peak!” With a strange cry, a robust, honest-faced man, wearing an apron and wielding a cleaver, burst out from a bamboo hut at the summit.

“Third Brother, what’s going on? I’m still cooking!” The man scratched the back of his head, his deep voice rumbling with confusion.

“Aren’t we going to help, Senior Brother?” In front of another bamboo hut, a disheveled man reeking of alcohol stood beside a young figure, hiccuping as he spoke and exhaling clouds of liquor.

“No need. If he can’t overcome even this minor hurdle, he’s not worthy to join our Purple Ridge Peak.” The young man stood with his hands behind his back, his tone detached as his gaze pierced through the layers of bamboo toward Zhen Tian Peak.

If Luo Hao were present, he would have recognized this youth as Zhan Wuji, the one who had brought him to Tianhai Sect. Hearing Zhan Wuji’s words, the third disciple, who had been ready for a brawl, immediately quieted down, while the apron-clad second brother returned to his kitchen, perplexed.

“So ruthless, Senior Brother. Little Junior, you’re on your own.” The disheveled man took a swig from his wine gourd, secretly muttering as he stole a glance at Zhan Wuji.

The plaza of Zhen Tian Peak was destined for chaos today. Murong Ying, dressed in purple robes like a descending sovereign, moved his jade-like hands through the air in an arcane pattern.

With each motion, a streak of purple light flared, causing the very void to tremble. Under this terrifying distortion, Luo Hao and his companions were like lone boats in a raging sea, threatened with destruction at any moment.

“Purple Star Celestial Art!” As Murong Ying traced his pattern, endless purple light erupted, blazing behind him in a swirling radiance. The disciples of the Purple Star Pavilion were the first to notice, their shocked exclamations ringing out as they realized what was happening.

“It’s the Purple Star Celestial Art!” Not only the disciples of the Purple Star Pavilion, but all those from the surrounding sects cried out in surprise.

The Purple Star Celestial Art was the most closely guarded secret of the Purple Star Pavilion. Legend held that those who mastered it could channel the energy of the celestial Purple Star, refining both body and soul. The Purple Star was known as the Emperor’s Star—what profound mysteries this art must hold.

“Dust returns to dust, earth returns to earth!”

Bathed in purple radiance, Murong Ying resembled an emperor pronouncing judgment. A chilling aura swept over the plaza as he curled his fingers, then struck out with a fist. Purple light poured forth, and high above, a thread of purple brilliance flickered.

The crowd was stunned—was he really summoning the power of the Emperor’s Star? Yet, it was clear Murong Ying’s mastery was incomplete, for the purple light flashed and vanished. Even so, his fist descended like a falling star, brimming with the power to suppress the world.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The void itself buckled under the weight of the purple star, shattering apart. The majesty of an emperor surged forth, and the chaotic currents of the void turned a dazzling purple, raging like celestial dragons unleashed.

Screams rang out from the crowd as some disciples, unable to withstand the oppression of the purple emperor star, collapsed screaming—some even fainting on the spot.

“So powerful!”

The first sensation Luo Hao, Yan Longyuan, and Sikong Xuan felt was that this force was utterly irresistible, as if the entire sky was pressing down upon them. Their bodies bent under the invisible weight of imperial might, bones creaking as blood flowed freely from Luo Hao, his vitality rapidly fading.

“Ha! Rise!” Sensing Luo Hao’s life force ebbing, Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan roared in defiance. Their cries, echoing under the imperial pressure, seemed to shake the heavens. Like an immortal, Yan Longyuan pointed his finger.

Boom!

From the void before him, an ancient finger materialized, its countless runes blazing with light. Yan Longyuan coughed blood as the massive finger descended.

Crash!

The ancient finger pierced the ages, descending with the power to shatter the world. It collided with the purple star in an earth-shattering explosion. At the heart of their clash, the void itself was obliterated, leaving only a vacuum in its wake.

“Heaven-Sundering Thunder Seal!”

A primordial thunder sigil transformed into a purple rune, shooting toward the purple star like a bolt of lightning. The rune shone with countless thunder patterns, spreading into a net that threatened to swallow the sky.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

For a moment, the world fell silent. Then, a terrifying wave of spiritual energy erupted among the four combatants, shattering the void and engulfing them. The disciples around the plaza fled in terror, desperate to escape the devastation.

Those who managed to escape looked back in shock. The center of the broken void was utterly transformed, no longer resembling the plaza it once was.

As the shockwave finally dissipated, four figures emerged from the haze. Murong Ying’s purple robe was tattered, his hair disheveled, one arm hanging limply with a deep, jagged wound that exposed bone, blood trickling steadily down.

Yet Murong Ying seemed unfazed by his injuries. His eyes, surging with purple energy, fixed on the three figures not far away, his gaze flickering with rare astonishment. The three stood pale and blood-soaked, their bodies cracked like porcelain dolls, yet still radiating stubborn vitality.

“They’re still alive? How could anyone survive such a cataclysmic explosion?” The Tianhai Sect disciples, seeing that Murong Ying survived, could accept it. But when they saw Luo Hao and his companions still clinging to life, they were shaken to their core—even a Heaven-Tier cultivator would have approached this with extreme caution. No one could understand how they had endured.

“There’s clearly a great secret here,” Murong Ying thought, paying no heed to the crowd’s astonishment. His eyes, surging with purple light, locked onto Luo Hao. In the instant the void collapsed, he had clearly seen a faint blue radiance within Luo Hao’s body shield all three of them.

“Cough, cough—youngsters, all you ever do is make a mess. Don’t you know how hard it is for an old man to keep the place clean?” As everyone stared in shock at the four survivors, an ancient voice rang out in their minds without warning.

Even Murong Ying was shaken, coughing up blood, while the rest fared no better.

“The Sweeper Elder!” In an instant, all eyes turned to the source of the voice—a stooped old man in tattered gray robes, hair as white as snow. He held a sparse broom, sweeping up shattered stones as he made his way into view.

At the sight of the old man, Luo Hao fell silent in awe. “So he really is a master hidden in plain sight! Jin the Hero was right after all!”