For the first time since his advancement, He Yu fully released his spirit. His Soul Refining presence exploded out. A heaviness pressed down on the world as the air grew thick and wet. The sky darkened, and the hairs on He Yu’s arms stood on end. The storm had always accompanied his spirit unbound, but now it manifested like never before.

  Great arcs split the sky, and the constant rumble of distant thunder rose like a drum. Along the length of his guandao—forged for him by his own father and scripted with formations by Chen Fei—heaven’s light crackled with sparks of charged power as a churning mass of clouds gathered overhead. Much like his most recent breakthroughs, or even his tribulation to reach Golden Core, the storm gathered in truth. The winds rose, and rain lashed his clothes and skin. Skin that bronzed and hardened as He Yu layered the six pillars of the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering onto his physical form.

  He Yu beheld what lay before him with the sight of an emperor. The Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment showed him the truth of the fight that lay ahead. He stood fully within a realm above Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu. This was not a fair fight. He knew it, they knew it, and most importantly, Tan Qingsheng knew it.

  Tan Qingsheng. The man who would kill his own niece to secure power within the Jade Kingdom looked on, standing fully in the same realm. His features gave no hint of what he might be thinking. Neither did his bearing. He simply stood with his arms crossed and observed. The only emotion he betrayed was that of interest. Interest in what He Yu was capable of, now that they were on more equal footing than their last meeting. Also, a flicker of recognition—confirmation at last that the spirit he’d felt those weeks ago stood before him at last.

  Tan Xiaoling released her own spirit, also now fully within the Soul Refining stage. The bone-white desert stretched from one horizon to the other. Above, the scorching black sun hung in the sky. Under the oppressive weight of the heat and the thirst, life withered. Tan Xiaoling herself resembled her uncle more now than ever. Her hair had grown wild, coming to resemble a mane cascading down her back, barely contained by the silk band she wore.

  She locked eyes with her uncle. Each of their eyes twin pools of molten gold. Each assessing, each daring the other, staring in silent challenge. The elder Tan answered his niece in kind. Jagged spires of metal erupted from the white expanse as Tan Qingsheng’s spirit asserted itself. The forest of spikes and the storm of blades clashed. They vied for supremacy, as each spirit contested the other.

  Wang Xiaobo released his spirit, a sword hanging over a still lake. A pale candle, compared to the three Soul Refining experts—the ones who truly mattered in this contest. The sword crackled with arcs of heaven as He Yu’s spirit reached out and all but smothered Wang Xiaobo’s Nascent Soul presence.

  Xin Lu fared little better. The once-great column of heaven and flame—a firestorm flashing with lightning and roaring with thunder—buckled and threatened to scatter as the winds of all three higher-level experts buffeted him.

  Both Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu seemed feeble, insignificant. In his own mind, his own spiritual sight, He Yu towered over them both. He supposed that, in a way, they’d always been small. They’d always been petty. He beheld them with new sight, new eyes. He saw their truth with the judgment of an emperor.

  They were so much like Sha Xiang. Had she not fallen in with Xiao Jun back in those early days of the sect, had she not taken on the corruption of the demon core and come under the influence of Jin Xifeng, Sha Xiang would have become like these two. Talented? Yes. Powerful? Surely. But inconsequential. Stunted by her own worst impulses, shackled by heart demons. Constantly grasping for more from those she felt her lessers, despite her own inability to best them.

  From this vantage point, he understood why Zhang Lifen had acted towards them as she’d said. She had understood who Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu really were, and she’d treated them accordingly. It one view, it might have been seen as a certain sort of mercy. At least it might have been—had either of them learned their lesson.

  But they hadn’t, and now it had come to this. In a small part of He Yu’s heart, he pitied them. They would be swept away in the coming storm. They would be crushed beneath the feet of the ones whose contest truly mattered here. And yet they couldn’t see it. Yet they stood as though their wants mattered. As though their misplaced pride would somehow allow them to stand on the same ground as He Yu, Tan Xiaoling, and Tan Qingsheng.

  They’d brought this upon themselves.

  Tan Qingsheng’s blade glinted in the light of the dark sun, in the flash of the storm, and flicker of flame. “Shall we?” he asked with a soft chuckle that betrayed his excitement and mirth in equal measure.

  The answer was instant and unanimous.

  The ground shattered and the sky split open. Embers floated to the ground and lit countless tiny fires. The torrential rain extinguished those fires an instant later. Anything in the immediate area that wasn’t immediately obliterated by the release of spirits was ripped to shreds in the exchange that followed. Five forces of nature unleashed upon the world visited destruction only immortals were capable of.

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  A thousand swords rushed toward He Yu. Behind Wang Xiaobo’s technique, Xin Lu followed, his double halberd wreathed in heaven and flame. A short distance away, Tan Xiaoling’s twinned sabers met her uncle’s nine-ringed blade.

  The Spring Rain Mirror flashed into the space between He Yu and the two Fifth Realms. It turned the blades of Wang Xiaobo’s technique, and He Yu caught the following strike from Xin Lu on his guandao. He stepped inside Xin Lu’s guard and formed the Fist of the Heavens.

  The dragon of heaven roared. Lightning split the sky and rain poured down in torrents. The column of flame and heaven that was Xin Lu sputtered and steamed, and the deluge came and came. What remained, the winds scattered. Embers faded to motes of ash, and even the trails of heaven that once twisted round the inferno sputtered out.

  The azure-scaled dragon curled around the storm. With flashing eyes and flowing beard, its bulk encompassed the sky. No longer hidden in the depths of He Yu’s spirit, the dragon of heaven made the storm its home. With each of its mighty roars, a new torrent of rain, a new howling gale, a new cascade of heaven’s anger.

  The earth below flooded, then drowned. Wang Xiaobo moved to guard his sworn brother, his spirit still defiant in its insignificance. The flood washed over the lake at the center of his presence. Flashing heaven struck the sword that hung above, scoring great black scars upon its blade.

  He Yu stood above them, carried on the wings of the Sky Dragon’s flight. The now six pillars of the Ninefold Empyrean Body Tempering rose around him. In one hand, he held the guandao his father forged. It crackled with heaven along its length while winds churned around its blade. His other hand made a fist, with a shining golden dragon laid upon it like a painting placed upon the world. Deep within his eyes, the distant light of heaven flashed as he looked upon his foes with the judgment of an emperor.

  “You should have walked away,” He Yu said. He couldn’t help the sadness that crept into his words. Although he knew what he had to do, he took no pleasure in what was to come.

  “You think I would so easily throw away my pride?” Wang Xiaobo snarled. “It was a stain upon my honor, upon our honor, what you did to us.”

  What he’d done. Yes, he’d humiliated them in front of their peers. Goaded them into a fight by calling them cowards, then beat them like a pair of dogs. But what choice had they left him? They’d made it clear they wouldn’t simply let him be, out of some slight that he’d not even committed. Further, he’d left them with a clear message—that he considered the scales balanced. That he held no grudge for the hardship they’d caused him. That he would leave well enough alone, that all they had to do was walk away.

  Instead, they’d thrown themselves at the mercy of Jin Xifeng. Pledged themselves to the Twilight Empire. Xin Lu had been placed over the former sect lands and had allowed them to fall into corruption and banditry. Wang Xiaobo had been given ducal authority over the Western Passage and had made Li Heng a prisoner in his own home. All because they’d desired vengeance on He Yu for simply defending himself against their schemes and attacks.

  “I take no joy in what I’m about to do,” was all he said.

  He Yu swept his blade across the world and brought down heaven. Great sheets of lightning poured out from the black storm clouds, casting green and purple and gold light over the darkened world. The flood below rose to swallow all the land, and the winds ripped up hill and tree alike. Heaven’s Descending Blade cut into both Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu’s spirits. It was as He Yu had said at the outset—Tan Qingsheng had cosigned them to death.

  Xin Lu, still not fully recovered from the Fist of the Heavens, lay motionless. The flames of his spirit extinguished. Lifeless eyes stared into the dark sky with its black and angry clouds. Wang Xiaobo’s skin gleamed like metal, much like He Yu’s did when he cycled the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. He held his jian in unsteady hands, and anger and grief alike played across his features. He’d survived the strike, but and great cost.

  He Yu slammed down, his guandao screaming with wind and heaven. The heavy blade smashed through Wang Xiaobo’s guard, shattering the jian and biting deep into his flesh. The attack split Wang Xiaobo from shoulder to belly. He fell, and his spirit sputtered out, broken jian falling from lifeless fingers.

  As He Yu stood over their corpses, a long and loud laugh split the air. He turned to see Tan Qingsheng slap away an attack from his niece. The older cultivator’s eyes shone with anticipation and glee.

  “That’s what I like to see!” he roared. “I knew I was right to let you live, He Yu. Between the two of you, maybe now I can have a proper fight.”

  He Yu’s stomach twisted. It had always been a foregone conclusion that Wang Xiaobo and Xin Lu were to die here. They’d sealed their fate when they bargained with Jin Xifeng. When they’d chosen to pursue their senseless animosity towards He Yu, for wrongs Zhang Lifen had done against them. For them, it could have only ended one way. Even at the peak, they couldn’t stand against a Soul Refining level expert. Especially not one like him.

  But he’d spoken truly when he told them he took no joy in their death. To him, to his Dao, killing them was an unfortunate necessity. Back when they were both at the sect, he’d sought to strike a deal with them. He’d asked them to stop, even offered payment. When he thought he’d found a way around their schemes, they attacked him. Then, when he’d grown strong enough, he beat them. But still they’d come. What he’d done here today was merely him ending something they’d started. He Yu had learned well the lessons Sha Xiang had taught him.

  That Tan Qingsheng had allowed them to come just as a test, a means to let He Yu demonstrate his new power, was an injustice he couldn’t let stand. He’d already promised Tan Xiaoling that he’d help her in exchange for her aid. Standing against Tan Qingsheng, then, was a foregone thing. But what sort of king would this man make? If He Yu had the chance to place a finger on the scales, and ensure Tan Xiaoling would eventually rule the Jade Kingdom, he would do so.

  Tan Qingsheng launched a kick at his niece that sent her tumbling toward He Yu.

  “Come, then,” he said, the arid expanse of his spirit drawing life from the surrounding land. “Let us begin the true fight. Let us meet as equals. The Sixth Realm is another peak all on its own, is it not? Let us struggle with one another, and may the strongest prevail.”