Baixiaosheng's arrival was entirely unexpected—but this surprise simplified what had originally been a complex situation.
Back atop Mount Tai, Fengyun Wuji was greeted by a gruesome scene: dozens of mangled corpses lay strewn across the summit. Among them were Bai Lilang's son-in-law, Chi Shang's senior martial brother, and even his own junior sister—all of whom had inexplicably exploded, their remains blasting apart and gravely injuring hundreds nearby.
"The Fourth Demon King…" Fengyun Wuji almost instinctively recalled the name spoken by the Fifth Demon King.
Roar!
Just as the name surfaced in his mind, wisps of green-black smoke began to gather from the remains of the self-destructed disciples of the Vast Sword Sect. A fierce gust of wind swept up from the cliffside, and the smoke coalesced into a monstrous, ghastly face.
"Fengyun Wuji!" it howled. "Come to me—I await you in the Land of Falling Sakura!"
Slash!
Fengyun Wuji's response was swift and sharp—a single sword strike that split the spectral face cleanly in two. With a flick of his sleeve, the lingering smoke was scattered into nothingness by a rising wind.
"I will come," he murmured, gazing toward the vanishing haze.
With Bai Lilang's death, the truth had largely come to light. The green-robed swordsman once captured by Fengyun Wuji in Pinespring City had finally confessed: he had never actually seen Fengyun Wuji. It had all been a fabrication, forced upon him through Bai Lilang's threats and bribes. As for his plea of helplessness, Fengyun Wuji paid it no mind—such a minor figure was not worth the trouble.
The greatest misunderstanding had been resolved. Though this journey across planes had been fraught with setbacks, it could now be considered a success.
After the Summit of Mount Tai, only about eight thousand sects remained in the martial world. Without decisive measures, that number could have dropped even further.
Fengyun Wuji then shared what he had learned of the post-Ascension world—the truth of the ancient dimension and the real reason behind his journey. A stunned silence fell across the summit. No one had expected that beyond ascension lay not a paradise, but a world teeming with peril.
Even more shocking: the angelic beings responsible for the last massacre of Ascendant martial artists would return once the next wave of ascensions began. They would launch a purge—wiping out all martial arts from the plane entirely.
Among the crowd, reactions varied. Some were anxious. Others, however, were electrified—especially those who yearned for the destructive power of the ancient martial arts. Despite initial despair, many found themselves stirred by excitement. After all, for martial artists, the pursuit of power was instinctual.
The gap between ancient techniques and current ascendant-level arts, as demonstrated by Fengyun Wuji, awakened a restless hunger in many hearts.
Acting under his title as the Sword God, Fengyun Wuji called upon all sects to join him in the coming crusade against the Empire of Falling Sakura. He also issued a solemn request: all sword sects must delay their ascension. Only once every high-level expert had gathered would they ascend—together.
By now, no one dared oppose him. Even if someone did, they would be silenced by the cold stares of their own peers. On this continent, Fengyun Wuji was more than a myth—he was the living embodiment of the martial world's legacy.
With the journey across the planes nearly complete, Fengyun Wuji could finally relax.
On the battlefield that day, Fengyun Wuji had seen the two great forces: one was the Grand Virtue Army, the other belonged to the Empire of Falling Sakura.
From the behavior of the Fourth Demon King, it was clear that his dark arts had spawned numerous monstrous warriors. That was why Fengyun Wuji had asked for the aid of other Ascendants.
In the two months that followed, Fengyun Wuji conceived a bold and audacious plan. He requested the Emperor of the Grand Virtue Empire to grant him command of an army of five hundred thousand. With the Tiger Talisman in hand, he began channeling Devouring Starforce through them, gradually shaping their meridians to accommodate the Demonic Purge Sutra.
Day by day, without rest, he infused their bodies with true energy—forcefully elevating them to the ascension level.
Three months later, an army of ascended warriors—trained entirely from conventional troops—stood ready under his command. Though the process had been grueling and consumed immense resources, the impossible had been achieved.
In the capital, atop the ruins of the imperial palace, the Shengming Emperor delivered a stirring declaration of war. The entire empire's logistics and armaments began operating at full speed—everything now served one purpose: war.
Under Fengyun Wuji's rallying cry, the sects of the martial world united. Together, they marched toward the Empire of Falling Sakura.
Fengyun Wuji stood on a vast plain at the border between the two empires. Behind him stretched the endless ranks of the Grand Virtue Army. Opposite him stood the assembled warriors of the martial world.
His divine sense blanketed the battlefield—and far in the distance, he sensed the enemy. The army of the Empire of Falling Sakura was approaching, its thunderous march shaking the earth. Among them, tens of thousands exuded an aura that was not human. Fengyun Wuji understood: these were no longer men—they had become demonic.
They would be left to the martial world's finest.
In his war chariot, the Shengming Emperor gazed into the horizon. Waves of movement surged at the edge of vision. The sound of marching feet rumbled in the distance.
"They're here at last…" the emperor whispered.
Suddenly, a cold, sinister divine presence swept over the battlefield like a flood. Fengyun Wuji's own spirit surged to meet it.
Crackling!
Bolts of thunder and arcs of lightning split the skies. Dark clouds surged in from all directions, blotting out the sun. In their wake, a crimson sky was revealed—blood-red, like the prelude to apocalypse.
Within that bloodstorm, a massive winged creature floated—long tail, black horns, gleaming twin eyes that shone like stars embedded in the heavens.
"You've come," the Fourth Demon King's voice echoed, metallic and hoarse, vibrating through the clouds.
"Yes," Fengyun Wuji replied coldly. "Your schemes are finished."
"Don't flatter yourself. Kill you, and I can finish off the rest of these humans myself. Even the Holy Temple can't intervene now. The Fifth Demon King—what a disgrace. If you hadn't killed him, I would've done it myself."
"Then let's end this war," said Fengyun Wuji, his voice low and resolute.
Rays of brilliant swordlight burst from his palms, dozens of shimmering blades forming in the air. A jet-black arc shot from his chest, circling him in a glowing spiral, trailing fierce, screaming winds.
"Come then—let me end you!" roared the Fourth Demon King, pressing his hands together as streams of blood-red energy converged. Thunderclaps echoed across the sky, heralding doomsday.
"Attack!" The Shengming Emperor raised his sword high, and the Grand Virtue Army thundered forward like an avalanche.
From the other side, beastlike roars split the air. The warriors of the Empire of Falling Sakura let loose primal howls—their bodies twisting, growing, armor tearing apart as they transformed into grotesque, green-skinned monsters, eyes filled with bloodlust.
"Charge!" shouted the martial world's elite, soaring into the sky, blades flashing as they descended upon the demonized masses below.