Immortal Cultivation Above the Divine Realm

The sky of the Qinlin sect had transformed into a sea of gold. Above, the giant sword of the Sword God Formation gleamed like heavenly rays, shaking the ground and sky, ready to cut down anyone who stood in its way.

To the west, the deep blue sky still struggled to maintain its dignity. The Tianhua sect's Valley Guardian Dragon Formation looked fragile—two coiled water dragons struggled to withstand the pressure of the golden sword strikes. They roared, their bodies coiled tightly, but each gust of wind from the golden swords caused the dragons' scales to crack one by one.

"Slash now!" shouted Tian Xuan, the sect master of the Qinlin sect, his voice full of spiritual power echoing down to the valley floor.

The light from the giant sword instantly shot out, slicing through the clouds, and struck the two guardian dragons with devastating force. The ground shook violently. An explosive sound pierced the silence, and from the sky, Zhu Hao's sword—specially crafted to support the dragon formation—broke to pieces.

"Damn it…" Zhu Hao muttered, his face covered in sweat, his left hand trembling violently from the impact. But still… his arm bone broke, and in an instant, his left arm was smashed to the ground.

"Hold on! Don't break formation! For the dignity of the Tianhua Sect, we must not lose!" he shouted, blood gushing from his shoulder but his eyes fixed firmly ahead.

But the pressure from the golden sword didn't subside. The guardian dragons grimaced even more, their eyes beginning to weaken. They spat out jets of hot water at the sword light, attempting to melt the sword energy like steaming metal with a stream of magma.

But…

It was futile.

The giant sword glowed even brighter, seemingly absorbing the heat and pressure as additional fuel. In a single slash, the two dragons exploded into water particles, shattered into pieces.

"NOOO!!" Several Tianhua Sect disciples screamed, struck by the impact. Their bodies were thrown to the ground like rag dolls. Some were seriously injured, some even lifeless.

Zhu Hao collapsed to the ground, one knee planted in the dirt, his breath ragged, his entire body trembling from the pain of his lost arm.

Just then, Lu Xian stepped forward, his body still shrouded in the aura left by the formation.

He stared directly at Zhu Hao with a faint, sarcastic smile. "What now? Which sect is more despicable?" he asked, his voice calm yet piercing like a cold needle.

Zhu Hao looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"Shut up, you brat! You were only lucky your formation was aided by two new disciples who arrived when our sect was nearly exhausted. Without them, you would have been doomed from the start!"

Lu Xian raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so now your excuse is 'exhaustion'? Laughable."

"Enough, Lu Xian," Tian Xuan said from behind. "There's no need to sully our victory with pointless arguments."

Tian Xuan stepped forward. His eyes were no longer filled with emotion—only the decisiveness of a leader who knows when to draw the line.

"Zhu Hao. You and your sect have lost. You may defend your pride, but the lives of your disciples are far more valuable. Leave before I order a follow-up attack."

Zhu Hao lowered his head. It took five minutes, everyone was silent. Even the wind felt stronger than usual.

Finally, he stood up, using what strength he had left.

"…Alright," Zhu Hao muttered, barely audible. "We will retreat. And… as for Li Yuanmo's death… let's just say we have burned him along with our pride today."

With a limp, he led the Tianhua Sect disciples away from the Qinlin Sect. The disciples carried the wounded, the silence resembling a humiliating but inevitable expulsion.

As soon as the Tianhua Sect disappeared from sight, all eyes turned to Lu Xian.

He remained standing in the middle of the stone field, motionless.

His stomach churned.

His heart pounded.

He knew… punishment awaited him.

Tian Xuan walked slowly toward him. His voice was cold, but not angry.

"Lu Xian."

Lu Xian immediately prostrated himself, his face pressed to the ground. "I apologize… I know I broke out of prison without permission. I just… I just wanted to help. Please… don't increase my sentence…"

Tian Xuan stared at him for a long moment. Qin Chang'er stepped forward, speaking quickly.

"Chief Tian… if Lu Xian hadn't arrived in time, we might all have lost."

Silence.

Tian Xuan took a deep breath, then waved his hand.

"Everyone return to your places. I'll think about this matter later."

---

Several hours later.

In the sect's main hall, Tian Xuan sat alone. Silently, he considered everything that had happened. Then, he called a disciple.

"Bring Lu Xian here. Now."

The disciple immediately rushed to the dungeon.

The guard eyed him suspiciously. "What's wrong?"

"Orders from the sect master. I must bring Lu Xian to see the sect master."

The guard called out to Lu Xian from inside. "Lu Xian! The sect master is calling for you. Immediately!"

Lu Xian stepped out. All the way to the hall, his mind kept contemplating the possible punishments to come: a year's sentence extended, confinement to the meditation chamber, or worse—expulsion from the sect?

Upon arriving at the hall, he immediately prostrated himself deeply.

"I know… this must be about my punishment…"

But Tian Xuan's voice sounded different—calm, and a little… warm.

"Stand up, Lu Xian. Your sentence isn't being increased. In fact… I'm reducing it. From six months, it's being reduced to one month. You only have to serve one more month. After that, you're free."

Lu Xian slowly looked up, his eyes widening. "W… what?"

"You've saved this sect. And that's not something I can ignore."

Lu Xian immediately lowered his head deeply, tears threatening to fall. "Thank you… Chief Tian… I—Lu Xian, promise I won't cause any more trouble…"

"Okay. Now go back."

Lu Xian exited the hall beaming. On the steps outside, he skipped, gliding from stone to stone.

"HAHAHAHA! One more month! Finally… I can cultivate in peace without having to sneak out of prison again!"