Many cultivators secretly using divine sense to watch the scene inside the Purple Immortal Pavilion were left shaken. To see someone at late Soul-Split repel a mid-Fusion expert—crossing realms to defeat an enemy—was nothing special in this genius-packed imperial capital.
But to leap a whole major realm and win—that was terrifying. Repelling a mid-Fusion while still at late Soul-Split meant crossing three full sub-levels. Only the monsters in the top ten of the Rising Talents Ranking could pull that off.
In an instant, everyone’s opinion of Ian Song shot up several notches.
When he killed those four guards at the entrance earlier, folks were shocked but mostly saw Ian Song as a strong outsider—one the top ten on the Rising Talents list could easily suppress.
But after he repelled Vergil Beigong’s mid-Fusion guard, people now ranked him right up there with the top ten Rising Talents.
Up above the Purple Immortal Pavilion, the guard Ian had just forced back had steadied himself, but his face looked grim. He stared coldly at Ian Song. “Your strength may match a mid-Fusion expert, maybe even edge past me a little, but that doesn’t mean you can beat me!”
This man was Ling Zhantian, one of the Myriad Saints Sect’s peerless experts. Because of a cooperation pact between the sect and the Beigong clan, Myriad Saints had sent two mid-Fusion experts, plus other elites, to serve as Vergil Beigong’s bodyguards.
As he spoke, black light suddenly surged over Ling Zhantian’s body. When it faded, a set of black battle armor appeared on him, with two ferocious tiger heads mounted on the shoulders.
This armor was the Tiger King Armor, an eighth-grade spirit artifact with astonishing defense. Among same-realm experts, almost no one could break it. It was one of Myriad Saints Sect’s most precious armors—rumor had it there were only nine sets in the whole sect.
Ling Zhantian also gripped a black Abyss Halberd in his hand—another eighth-grade spirit artifact.
At the same time, Ling Zhantian’s aura surged. Behind him, a phantom of a primordial giant tiger appeared—far more massive and solid than the tiger phantom conjured earlier by that late Soul-Split guard outside.
The Tiger King Armor, the Abyss Halberd, and the Spirit Tiger Mantra—together, Ling Zhantian had revealed all his trump cards. With this setup, he could even go head-to-head against late Fusion experts without fear!
“Ling Zhantian’s going all out. I wonder if Ian Song can hold up. If he can, he really does deserve a spot in the Rising Talents top ten!” Across from the Purple Immortal Pavilion, Brandon Nangong was watching closely with divine sense, his tone grave.
Jasper Easton shook his head. “I doubt it. Ling Zhantian usually keeps a low profile, but from the look of things, he’s already top-tier among mid-Fusion experts. Ian Song is strong, but he hasn’t entered Fusion yet. Beating Ling is just too hard!”
Brandon Nangong narrowed his eyes and said quietly, “True, but even if he beats Ling Zhantian, it won’t matter. Vergil Beigong still has three other mid-Fusion guards—one also from Myriad Saints Sect, named Hong Potian. They say Myriad Saints has a secret technique that lets two body cultivators combine their power.
That way, both their strength doubles. The other two mid-Fusion guards are Thunder God Sect elites—they don’t train body arts, only pure lightning dao. Their thunder techniques are so specialized, they basically dominate the field. If the two body cultivators pin Ian Song down and the two thunder experts bombard him from range, even a late Fusion expert would probably die here, let alone Ian Song!
“So you’re saying Ian Song is doomed today?”
One idle playboy asked.
Brandon Nangong mused, “Hard to say. It all depends if Ling Zhantian’s group is willing to throw away their pride and team up. If they do, Ian Song’s got no chance. If they don’t, he might still have a sliver of hope.”
Inside the Purple Immortal Pavilion, Ling Zhantian’s aura kept climbing, pressing relentlessly toward Ian Song.
Under Ling Zhantian's overwhelming aura, Ian Song seemed like a tiny boat tossed about in a raging sea, on the verge of capsizing at any moment. Yet, his expression remained perfectly calm.
"Ling Zhantian, what are you waiting for? Kill him for me!" Vergil Beigong urged impatiently.
"Prepare to die!"
"Roar! Roar!"
Ling Zhantian shouted, as the giant tiger phantom behind him roared, and his Abyss Halberd turned into a streak of black lightning, slashing straight toward Ian Song.
The power of this strike was immense—even the void itself couldn’t withstand it, splitting in two.
Ian felt a massive, destructive force crashing toward him, as if trying to tear his body apart.
"Whoosh!"
The Abyss Halberd was already hovering above Ian’s head.
At that moment, he moved.
Zing!
His spirit sword flashed out of its sheath, stabbing forward again and again.
"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"
A rapid series of crashes rang out, sending massive shockwaves through the air. The entire Purple Immortal Pavilion shook violently. Thankfully, its grand formation held firm; otherwise, the pavilion would’ve collapsed from the sonic blasts. Even so, every item in the room was reduced to dust.
Many cultivators watching with divine sense had their consciousness shattered by the shockwaves, causing muffled groans and screams to erupt in nearby restaurants and teahouses.
Only those with special techniques or Fusion-level strength barely managed to protect their divine sense from being shattered.
"That’s terrifying!" A Nascent Soul cultivator exclaimed, still shaken and unwilling to probe further with his divine sense.
"Yeah, if we were in there, our bodies would be crushed instantly!" agreed an Out-of-Body cultivator, nodding fervently.
Inside a small teahouse, Hannah Murong’s face had turned pale—her divine sense had suffered a slight injury.
"Grandpa, how’s it going?" she turned to ask the old man.