Above the cloudless skies of the Hehuan Sect, four figures silently appeared, as though shadows slipping forth from a dream. They were none other than Han Ming, Luo Yunhai, Zhao Honglong, and Bai Jingshen. The four stood in a line, none of them uttering a single word. Their gazes were cold.
They knew exactly who had taken part in the assault on the Holy Land of the Immortal River.
It wasn't just the Wu Clan that had planted spies within the sacred center Han Ming and the others had infiltrated spies into the Wu Clan as well.
Among the more than fifty factions who had taken part in the siege of the Immortal River was one that stood out: the Hehuan Sect.
There would be no explanations. No questions asked. It didn't matter whether the sect had joined of its own free will or had been coerced. On this path… mercy toward an enemy was nothing more than stabbing oneself with a blade.
Bai Jingshen soared into the sky, placing his hand against the sect's defensive formation in a single fluid motion.
Crack!
A sharp shattering sound echoed through the entire sect like a crystal breaking under strain. The Emperor-level barrier collapsed in an instant. No warnings. No time to prepare. What was meant to be a shield of protection had now become a gate welcoming annihilation.
In that moment, Han Ming, Luo Yunhai, and Zhao Honglong all released their power simultaneously.
BOOM!!
A beam of pure destruction surged down from the heavens, unleashed by Han Ming. In the blink of an eye, the bodies of hundreds of cultivators below were severed clean through at the waist, their forms reduced to dust, blood splattering across the stone ground.
Fshhh! Blue flames from Luo Yunhai flowed like molten iron, devouring every living thing below without mercy.
Shik! A thousand spirit weapons rained from the skies, each one precise and lethal. With a simple wave of his hand, Zhao Honglong sent the blades swirling in a spiral before piercing through the bodies of the survivors like a storm of steel falling from the heavens.
It was all over in less than ten breaths.
No one had a chance to beg.
No one had a chance to question anything.
They died without ever realizing how they had died.
Or perhaps they did but had no time to speak a word.
The Hehuan Sect… had no Great Emperors remaining. Their leader and top experts had already been sent out earlier to join the assault on the Holy Land of the Immortal River, leaving behind only the remnants making the act of wiping them out all too easy.
"Begin," Han Ming said curtly.
The four wasted no time. They gathered the corpses and lingering soul remnants and immediately forged puppets from the bodies of the sect's disciples. Lifeless forms were inscribed with sealing runes and bound with control techniques, transforming into obedient marionettes.
And then… they moved on without pause, without rest.
The Ravenlight Sect.
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The Copper Sand Chamber of Commerce.
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The White Whale Pavilion.
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Every force that had sided with the Wu Clan in the attack against the Holy Land of the Immortal River was annihilated without mercy. There were no negotiations, no exceptions. Only death followed in their wake.
Beauty, pleading, status none of it held meaning. Not while the blood of the innocent still stained the sacred land.
The four flew from city to city, not as cultivators but as walking cataclysms.
Eventually, they reached the three main factions. It was here that they made a decision: to begin with the Wu Clan. But they would not act directly. Instead, they would send in the puppets—crafted from the corpses of those recently slain to carry out the task. Han Ming would control them from a distance, concealing his presence with the system's masking ability. No identity would be revealed. No trace would be left.
By doing so, they could shift the blame onto the remaining holy lands.
According to Han Ming's calculations, once word spread that the Wu Clan had attacked the Holy Land of the Immortal River, the other factions wouldn't come to the holy land's aid. Instead, they would turn and attack the three major factions instead.
And Han Ming was confident.
The remaining powers had yet to launch their assault precisely because his own side had planted spies among them. Should any mobilization occur, his agents would report it instantly.
At the Wu Clan, the skies above the vast estate were cast in a strange gloom, the air thick with an unseen weight. And yet, none within the clan sensed anything amiss. Even though not a single Great Emperor remained every last one had been sent to the battlefield against the Holy Land of the Immortal River no one seemed concerned.
But then, the abnormality struck.
A gaping rift appeared in the imperial-level protective formation that had long shielded the clan. In the next breath, countless figures dressed in the black robes of the Holy Land of the Eternal Blossom surged in through the breach without hesitation. The attack began in an instant.
"W-What the hell is happening?!"
"We're under attack!"
Boom! Boom! Boom! Explosions thundered through the entire Wu Clan estate. The black-robed intruders showed no mercy, unleashing indiscriminate destruction. Cultivators of the Wu Clan were torn apart, their flesh and blood splattering across the training grounds. Screams echoed as if the gates of hell had opened right within their walls.
And then, a powerful imperial aura erupted from deep within the clan grounds.
"The Ancestor!" one of the elders cried out, a flicker of hope rising in his eyes.
But before that hope could take root, three puppets hurtled toward the aged Great Emperor, exploding upon contact.
BOOOOM!!
Smoke filled the air. Within the blazing inferno, the hunched figure of the old man could be seen swaying unsteadily. He was gasping for breath, face pale, and he let out a hoarse cry.
"Run… the smoke… it's poisoned…"
He couldn't finish.
Dozens of Wu Clan members began to vomit blood and collapse where they stood, writhing on the ground as if being burned from the inside out. The venom spread with terrifying speed throughout the entire clan.
Clenching his teeth, the ancestor used the last of his power to activate the clan's hidden miniature realm, pulling a handful of survivors inside to shelter them.
But the puppets didn't stop.
They continued to charge in, each detonating themselves in turn.
Boom! Boom!
The repeated shockwaves crushed and obliterated everything within range, leaving nothing but ruin and silence in their wake.
The figure of the Wu Clan ancestor vanished into the smoke of the explosion. Whether he lived or died, none could tell. But that single moment was enough for the remaining puppets to rush into the heart of the clan and sweep through its treasures without delay. Herbs, spirit stones, rare artifacts, spiritual veins everything was plundered in the blink of an eye.
Outside, Han Ming stood silently, observing the scene through the eyes of his puppets. A faint smile played on his lips."According to the latest report from our spies, I've already secured over 80% of the Wu Clan's resources."
He wasn't in any hurry. He knew the battle at the Holy Land of the Immortal River would drag on a little longer. But in the end, the outcome would remain largely unchanged, with only minor losses. The Great Emperors who had fallen on the battlefield would inevitably return, thanks to the Soul Halls prepared for their resurrection but only for those factions whose roots stretched into the upper realms. As for the Wu Clan's Soul Hall, it would surely be hidden within one of their miniature worlds.
The problem was... it would take too much time and risk more than was necessary. He had no way of knowing if any near-death Great Emperors still lingered in that realm, and besides, there were still two more major forces that needed to be dealt with. The latest intelligence from his spies had already confirmed that some of the other powers had begun mobilizing their armies.
So, he made his decision withdraw at once.
Before he left, he murmured softly,"As a parting gift, let me leave you something you'll remember for the rest of your lives... and beyond."
High in the sky, one of the puppets came to a halt mid-air. Its body began to glow with a soft, pink light then exploded in an instant.
BOOOOOOOMMMM!!
A wave of pink toxic mist surged outward, blanketing the entire Wu Clan compound. The earth split open, spiritual energy twisted into chaos. The land would remain uninhabitable for the next ten years.
With the Wu Clan crushed, the four figures vanished once more. Without so much as a pause for rest, Han Ming, Luo Yunhai, Zhao Honglong, and Bai Jingxian moved forward without hesitation.
Their next target: the Holy Land of the Immortal Feather.
They wasted no time declaring war. No words were spoken. A new wave of puppets, freshly forged from the corpses of fallen enemies, was released into enemy territory without hesitation.
This time, they used toxic mist first not for any tactical advantage in battle, but for swift extermination. Nearly half of the sect's resources were seized. Mid and low-level disciples were slaughtered to the last, most of them never even catching a glimpse of their true enemy.
But not everything went according to plan. Over ten Great Emperors appeared simultaneously, their sky-shaking auras sweeping across the land as they launched an all-out pursuit of the puppets.
"Burn everything to the ground! Kill every last one of them!!" a thunderous voice bellowed from the heavens.
The pressure of emperor-level power alone caused several puppets to explode on the spot without even being touched. Meanwhile, one of the Great Emperors attempted to divine the origin of the attack, tracing it back to Han Ming but the system intervened just in time.
The system's voice crackled furiously in Han Ming's mind.
[Seriously?! A defense shield again?! Host, is this really what I'm here for?! Are you sure you're not misusing me just a little too much?!]
Han Ming merely smirked, saying nothing. He led the other three straight toward their final target for this phase: the Holy Land of the Blood Moon.
This was no easy target. Just like before, puppets were sent in first. But the moment they touched someone, golden lightning rained down from the heavens, striking each one with perfect accuracy.
Boom. Boom. Boom. The puppets were obliterated in an instant, barely able to react.
Han Ming narrowed his eyes at the wreckage of his puppets and spoke calmly,
"A Child of Fate... judging by the strength of that lightning, probably this world's favorite."
He showed no change in expression. He'd only managed to seize around 20% of the resources but he had no intention of backing down. With a casual lift of his hand, he released a wave of toxic mist into the heart of the sacred land. Not to assassinate. To destroy.
And the results were devastating. Thousands of rare herbs withered and died. Countless valuable artifacts were reduced to ashes. The spiritual energy of the land was thrown into disarray. Even if only twenty percent had been stolen, the remaining eighty was rendered unusable.
They didn't need to kill everyone. It was enough to make sure nothing could grow again.
No apologies. No hesitation. In Han Ming's eyes, enemies never deserved a second chance.
But then, a burst of divine radiance suddenly descended from the heavens, purging all traces of the poisonous mist in an instant.
Han Ming chuckled softly.
"...How terribly annoying."