Mu Yun’s aura churned around him as he unleashed his full strength without reservation. Then, without looking back, he dashed away at top speed, simultaneously spreading out his perception to closely monitor the locations of the nearby civilians.
The Black Bird Guards who had been stationed within the Wen family compound fixed their gazes upon Mu Yun’s retreating figure. The moment his silhouette vanished, they seemed to receive some silent command and, in unison, sprang into motion.
Nearly seven to eight hundred Black Bird Guards surged with energy, their robes flapping loudly as they shot off in all directions like arrows loosed from bows. Their speed was so great that the naked eye could barely track them. All that remained in midair were blurry afterimages, which quickly melted into the distant alleys and rooftops.
In just a few breaths, Mu Yun appeared like a ghost before the officials of the government office over a kilometer away. His breathing was slightly ragged, and for once, his forehead beaded with fine sweat; his eyes burned with anxiety and unease.
Mu Yun fixed his gaze on the prefect of Mingxin Prefecture and, with lips moving rapidly, spoke in urgent, stern tones: “Take your people and get out of here now! You must reach at least ten miles away within half an hour!”
With that, he pressed his lips tightly together, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. He had no intention of wasting words on these officials.
The next second, Mu Yun lightly pushed off the air with his toes and shot off once more like an arrow, disappearing from where he stood and racing into the distance.
His abrupt, almost nonsensical warning left the officials exchanging puzzled glances. Then, as one, they turned their eyes to the prefect of Mingxin Prefecture.
But just as the prefect opened his mouth to speak, everyone’s attention was suddenly seized by a sight in the distance. A mass of shadow, thick as ink, darted at astonishing speed among the rows of buildings. Looking closely, each of those figures wore nearly identical Black Bird Guard robes.
These shadows were indeed the Black Bird Guards—but now, they had shed all their usual composure, their movements fraught with panic. Their faces were etched with barely concealed tension, brows knotted into tight knots, and their eyes betrayed a flicker of terror. They looked as though some monstrous beast was hot on their heels, ready to pounce at any moment.
Witnessing this wildly abnormal scene, the prefect’s heart slammed violently against his ribs. He whirled around and bellowed at the top of his lungs: “You fools! What are you standing there for? Move—!”
But before he could finish, he realized that his subordinate officials had already bolted several hundred meters away, trailing closely behind the Black Bird Guards. The prefect’s eyes went wide with disbelief, his face a mask of shock and fury. For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, flustered in the wind.
After a few seconds, he finally snapped back to his senses and roared in exasperation: “You worthless lot! Wait for your lord prefect!”
With that, he threw all caution to the wind, pumping his legs harder than ever before in his life, scrambling and stumbling after them. Though his appearance was utterly disheveled, his fierce will to survive made him throw dignity to the winds as he desperately chased after the officials and Black Bird Guards ahead.
As time passed, if one looked down from above Mingxin Prefecture, an extraordinary sight would unfold across the streets below. Countless figures were frantically fleeing in every direction. Families, some carrying bundles on their backs, others clutching children, ran for their lives. The human tide surged; wagons and horses mingled chaotically. Some people were knocked to the ground, while others were shoved back to their feet by the crowd behind them and kept running.
In an instant, shouts, cries, and the thunder of hooves merged into a scene of utter chaos. It was as though a flood or a savage beast was chasing them all. Every commoner and every martial artist wore an expression of terror and desperation. They were terrified that one step too slow would doom them to an irreversible catastrophe.
Of course, most of the Black Bird Guards forcibly suppressed their own urge to flee. Scattered across the various streets, they struggled to maintain order and guide the people of Mingxin Prefecture in an orderly evacuation. Amid the din, their voices rang out with unusual clarity: “This way! Keep moving! Don’t stop!”
By now, the area around the Wen family estate had become a place that everyone avoided like the plague.
“Are we almost there?” the prefect muttered, looking rather bedraggled amid the fleeing crowd. As he ran, he channeled his inner qi and shouted, “Stay calm! I am the prefect of Mingxin Prefecture!”
Yet his voice was swiftly swallowed by the chaotic noise. Even he could only desperately keep up with the officials and Black Bird Guards ahead.
Just as the prefect was mentally calculating how much time he had left, an earth-shattering roar erupted from several thousand meters behind him. His steps faltered sharply, and he spun around to look.
A blinding, radiant white light burst forth, like the rising sun, instantly illuminating the entire prefecture. This seemingly ordinary white glow was so dazzling that it seemed to split the very air itself, leaving behind only an expanse of searing brightness.
The ground began to shake violently; countless cracks spread like spiderwebs at breakneck speed. The solid earth looked as though it might cave in at any moment. Then, along countless streets, houses collapsed, and towering trees toppled in droves.
In the distance, a visible shockwave of air rolled in like a monstrous tidal wave, sweeping across the sky. Wherever it passed, clouds churned, and the very heavens changed color. A breath later, that terrifying blast of energy surged forward, bearing down on the prefect’s position with devastating force.
“What—!” The prefect’s mind went utterly blank. He had no words to describe the sheer horror of that power. At that moment, his legs turned to jelly, sapping all his strength to flee. Because this eruption of force surpassed anything he had ever known. The inner qi within his body seemed suppressed by some mysterious might, filling him with an indescribable dread. His lips trembled, but no sound came out; he could only watch, frozen, as the white wave of energy bore down upon him.
Nor was the prefect alone in his helplessness. The fleeing commoners nearby were also terrified out of their wits by the sudden upheaval. Some collapsed to the ground, others screamed wildly, and the entire street descended into hopeless pandemonium. Even the Black Bird Guards were stunned by the force, completely forgetting their duties.
In that instant, heaven and earth seemed to stand still.
Then, a frigid, piercing “Hmph!” exploded like a thunderbolt, crashing down from the vast void. The rolling sound waves battered eardrums and set them ringing, as if they would shatter the very world.
Immediately after, four walls of violet flame surged up from the fissures in the ground. They rose to the sky, radiating an indescribable pressure that commanded even heaven and earth to bow. Across their surfaces burned fierce violet flames, exuding a suffocating, searing heat that set the air itself rippling as if ablaze.
These four violet flame walls stood like insurmountable natural barriers, sealing that destructive shockwave within. The prefect was only about ten meters away from them, and he could truly feel the bone-chilling heat. His skin stung painfully; sweat evaporated before it could even reach his chin; breathing became labored. He just stared blankly at the violet flame walls, his heart filled with shock and terror. Never before had he been so close to such horrific power. It felt as though his very flesh might be melted away at any second.
Yet, despite the torment of the intense heat, a wave of relief washed over the prefect—the relief of one who had barely escaped death. He understood exactly what had just happened: had those violet walls not appeared in the nick of time, his body would have been ground to dust by that white shockwave.
The owner of that cold snort was none other than Lu Xuan. When his previously laid divine sense had dissipated, at the critical moment, he had unhesitatingly unleashed an even stronger wave of divine power, seizing control of the heavenly and earthly forces and using the violet flame walls to contain the destructive energy. Behind those four walls of fire, Lu Xuan’s figure flickered in and out of sight, his gaze as cold as ice—clearly going all out.
The appearance of the violet flame walls gave the panicked citizens a momentary respite. They paused in their flight, turning back to gaze at the burning walls with a mixture of awe and gratitude. Meanwhile, the Black Bird Guards, though shaken, seized the opportunity to hasten the evacuation, ensuring more people could distance themselves from the danger zone. Their voices echoed ceaselessly through the streets: “Move quickly! Get away from here!”
This time, Lu Xuan did not completely seal off the area. Instead, he left an opening at the top of the violet flame walls—like a skylight—to channel the destructive force upward into the heavens, preventing it from wreaking havoc on the ground.
High above Mingxin Prefecture, a hurricane-like vortex, half the size of the entire city, swirled violently. It radiated an aura of death and desolation, as though it were tearing the boundless sky apart. At the center of the vortex, a thick pillar of white light shot straight up, piercing the ninefold clouds. That column of light carried a terrifying concentration of primordial heavenly energy, punching a massive hole in the firmament. It hammered ceaselessly against the clouds, causing the heavens to churn and quake as if the very cosmos were trembling. Wherever the white light passed, clouds were obliterated, and even tiny cracks in space could be seen.
At this sight, not only the citizens of Mingxin Prefecture but also Mu Yun and all the Black Bird Guards halted and looked up at the celestial spectacle. Every eye was filled with astonishment, as though witnessing a divine miracle.
The prefect stood frozen, his eyes wide, the color draining from his face. He looked completely stunned. After all, he was a martial artist at the Inner Qi realm, hailing from a prestigious family in the Eastern Domain. In most places, he was a figure of considerable authority. But the cataclysmic power on display before him—capable of altering the very fabric of heaven and earth with a single gesture—shattered everything he thought he knew. His legs trembled uncontrollably, and waves of shock crashed through his heart. Could such power truly still belong to the realm of mortal martial artists?
While everyone remained locked in stupor, that pillar of white light, carrying the might of creation and destruction, began to dim. Its outlines thinned, as if the colossal hurricane vortex were slowly draining its energy. Eventually, the white beam faded silently into the vast expanse of sky, leaving not a trace behind.
At the same time, the violet flame walls that had sealed this stretch of heaven and earth also lost intensity as the white light disappeared. The leaping violet flames gradually died down, and then all the fire turned into countless tiny specks of purple radiance. These infinite, glittering motes swayed gently in the breeze, flickered a few times, and then melted harmoniously into the myriad things of the world.
When the four violet flame walls had fully dissipated, the area ravaged by the flood of primordial energy lay utterly exposed before everyone’s eyes. The once-level bluestone pavement was now a wreck—slabs overturned and scattered in chaotic heaps. Ravines crisscrossed jaggedly, stretching wildly, as if the earth had been plowed by some giant harrow, leaving behind hideous fissures. As far as the eye could see, no single intact building remained. The former pavilions, towers, houses, and shops had all been reduced to nothing. Vast stretches of broken walls stood silent in the wind, leaving only a desolate field of ruins.
At the epicenter of the blast, Lu Xuan stood firm in midair, his aura steady and his body completely unharmed. Yet his expression was grave, brows furrowed, and a hint of contemplation flickered in his eyes. He had not expected that detonating a seven-pattern Moon Device would unleash energy rivaling a full-force strike from a consummate Divine Mansion realm expert.
Fortunately, Lu Xuan had the upper hand. The only cost was a heavy expenditure of divine power from his Divine Mansion—over half of his total reserves—used solely to shield the city’s inhabitants. He was about to quietly regain his breath when suddenly his heart stirred, catching a familiar aura in the distance. He let out a soft exclamation of surprise, his gaze piercing through layers of rubble and dust toward the source of that presence. “Is that you?” he blurted out.
The newcomer was none other than Plum Blossom Guard Commander Man Qingqiu.
Why had she come here? Could it be that she was here for—
At Lu Xuan’s side, a violet flame barrier floated gently. Through its hazy, fiery veil, the reclining form of Princess Xingyue was still clearly visible.
