Above Martial Mountain, a massive vortex spanning a hundred zhang suddenly appeared, drawing in the ancient energies from the surroundings. The swirling vortex twisted the fabric of space, and a faint crack began to form, visible to all below.

  "It's time to leave," many murmured, their eyes filled with reluctance as they gazed at the crack. The speed of cultivation here was incredibly fast, and the quality of energy was far superior to the outside world. Compared to the outside, the cultivation speed here was several times faster.

  "Finally, we can leave this damned place," Li Hongtao opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the crack in the sky. A sinister smile spread across his face, but beneath the malice, there was a hint of panic. He had lost the Soul Crystal, and it had been taken by Yang Tian.

  When Li Hongtao returned, he would undoubtedly face severe punishment. Not only had his void ring been stolen, but the small stash of ancient elixirs his family had accumulated had also been plundered by Yang Tian and his group. His status within the family would not only decline but he might even be stripped of his position as a saint.

  "You little bastard, it's all your fault! Only by obtaining your cultivation technique can I save my position. You must die!" Clenching his fists, Li Hongtao's gaze shifted to Yang Tian, his eyes filled with bone-chilling killing intent.

  Sensing the intense hostility directed at him, Yang Tian turned his head and met Li Hongtao's ferocious gaze. The two exchanged venomous smirks, their murderous auras colliding like clashing blades.

  "Now, you don't even have the qualifications to fight me," Yang Tian chuckled, turning his attention back to the crack. Li Hongtao had lost all his resources and hadn't even condensed a phenomenon. Compared to other saints of his level, his strength had fallen far behind.

  "Yang Tian, be extremely careful once we leave. The Yin-Yang Joy Sect will definitely not let this go. If necessary, return the Dan Xuan Sect's mark to them," Qing Yuan patted Yang Tian's shoulder, his voice filled with concern.

  Qing Yuan had expelled Wang Long from Martial Mountain, but compared to the Dan Xuan Sect's mark, that was a minor issue. Moreover, the ancient elixirs he had obtained from the Joy Sect disciples numbered in the millions!

  If the Yin-Yang Joy Sect were to lose the Dan Xuan Sect completely, the gap in nurturing their younger generation would only widen. Therefore, this mark was of utmost importance to the Yin-Yang Joy Sect and could not be allowed to fall into the hands of outsiders.

  "Understood," Yang Tian nodded. The mark was of no use to him now. He wouldn't be able to enter Martial Mountain the next time it opened, and that would be thirty years from now. But that didn't mean he had to return it to the Yin-Yang Joy Sect!

  Boom! As the energy fluctuations grew stronger, the crack rapidly expanded, as if torn apart by an invisible hand. When the crack reached a hundred zhang in size, the ancient energy surrounding it slowly dissipated.

  Whoosh! Countless people rushed toward the crack, which would only remain open for an hour. Those who were late would be trapped inside.

  In the past, there had been those who tried to stay inside for the full thirty years, but when Martial Mountain reopened, those people had vanished without a trace.

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  "Let's go too," Yang Tian said, noticing that most people had already left. The five of them walked toward the crack.

  In a flash of darkness, Yang Tian and his group appeared at the foot of Martial Mountain. The dense crowd had thinned considerably, but many still remained.

  "It's time to leave," Yang Tian muttered to himself, his gaze sweeping the surroundings as he clenched his fist.

  "Who is Yang Tian? Come out now!!"

  Suddenly, a spectral figure coalesced within the void. Swathed in funeral-white robes, the elder's visage twisted like ancient parchment - creviced with lifetimes of wrinkles yet burning with bestial fury as his molten gaze scorched the assembly below.

  "That's the Jiang family's patriarch," someone recognized him and quickly moved away, fearing they might get caught in the crossfire. The Jiang family was a powerful clan, with a War King expert in their ranks.

  Many turned their gazes toward Yang Tian, their eyes filled with mockery. It seemed Jiang Ling had been killed by Yang Tian, and they were curious to see how he would escape this predicament.

  "Is this old fool Jiang Ling's father?" Yang Tian rubbed his nose, about to crush the spatial jade slip when another figure appeared in the void.

  "Yang Tian, you little brat, come out now!" A gloomy-faced old man shouted from a distance, his eyes scanning the crowd with terrifying killing intent.

  "That's the Huang family's patriarch. How many people has Yang Tian killed? So many want him dead!" Many exclaimed in excitement. These were War King experts, rarely seen in public. Today, two had already appeared, both intent on killing Yang Tian.

  By now, many had gathered in the void. Yang Tian's reputation had spread after he expelled Wang Long from Martial Mountain. The old demon Wang had publicly declared that he would kill Yang Tian.

  "So you're Yang Tian." The Jiang Patriarch's voice cracked like glacial shards, eyes bleeding primordial bloodlust that warped the air between them. His declaration hung frozen - not a challenge, but a death sentence etched in permafrost.

  "Old fool, what are you shouting about? You're ruining my mood," Qing Yuan's face darkened as he gripped a large hammer, directly insulting the patriarch.

  Xing Hao materialized like unsheathed steel. "Patriarch Huang," he spat, his aura coalescing into blade-sharp frost, "your spawn murdered my sister. The Stormcloud Sect will salt your ancestral graves unless you grovel for mercy!"

  The twin patriarchs stiffened as winter's bite filled the air. Jiang's wrinkled face twitched momentarily before settling into glacial resolve - no mere princeling's tantrum could shake centuries-old power.

  "Stormcloud..." Huang's bloodied lips formed the syllables like a curse. Though his Yellow Dragon Valley connections ran deep, provoking these lightning-wielders meant courting celestial wrath. "Even corpses betray me!" he seethed, calculating which lesser nephew to sacrifice as peace offering.

  Jiang's roar shook snowfall from pines. "The Yang whelp dies NOW! Let your pathetic sects bleat - my vengeance carves mountains!"

  Qing Yuan's hammer erupted with dawn-break radiance. "Your funeral, relic." Thunderous light arced skyward, painting warrior sigils across low-hanging clouds.

  "Insolent maggot!" Jiang's palm strike froze time itself, spatial bonds crystallizing around Qing Yuan. His killing intent arrowed toward Yang Tian - a primordial force bending reality into crushing singularity.

  Yang's bones screamed protest. Blood vessels ruptured as War Sovereign pressure rewrote physics. Through vision gone scarlet, he glimpsed Death's scythe descending...

  Until cosmos fractured.

  A fist forged from dying stars obliterated causality. Purple annihilation waves birthed and unmade matter as they surged - not attacking, but erasing Jiang's existence from universal memory.

  "Blackthorn!" Jiang's desperate counter-manifestation - a hundred-headed hydra of ancestral spite - dissolved like ink in tsunami. The patriarch became projectile, mountain ranges shattering under his comet-trail impact.

  "MEANING?" The crater's echo carried Jiang's broken defiance.

  From lightless depths between worlds, Blackthorn's verdict came: "The throne's shadow protects its heirs. Linger, and I'll gift your skull to palace landscapers."

  As the Void Marshal turned, Yang Tian executed the seventh royal bow. "This unworthy life is yours to command, Lord Blackthorn."

  Before acknowledgment came, reality hemorrhaged. A palm strike spanning horizons descended - not of flesh, but concentrated hatred from the Joyous Union's deepest vaults.

  The true trial began.