Watching the Mountain

When Ye Shan appeared, an immense Sword Intent filled the heavens and the earth. Through this Sword Intent, every living being could see his image.

This was before he had unleashed that one sword strike.

Within the Profound Pure Sect, those disciples who had previously cursed Ye Shan as a stray dog now stood frozen in place, their mouths agape and their eyes wide as saucers.

The Communication Jade Scrolls in their hands clattered to the ground, yet no one bent to pick them up.

Someone’s legs gave out, and with a THUD, they collapsed to the ground. Their lips trembled, but no sound escaped.

Just a few days ago, they had been in the dining hall, laughing and joking about the white-haired old man who was always scrounging for meals. They had mocked him, saying he’d boasted about his past exploits countless times.

But now... the sword that spanned the heavens and the earth, the blade’s light that tore through all the gloom—it clearly carried Ye Shan’s unique aura, one so proud it couldn’t be bothered to explain itself.

"Ye Shan... Senior Brother..." a young disciple murmured, his face burning hot as if he had been slapped hard across the face.

He remembered gossiping in private that Ye Shan was long since washed up and the Sect only kept him around out of nostalgia.

But now, that blade’s light felt as if it had struck him directly in the heart, sending a chill through his entire body.

The older disciples nearby who had chimed in with similar talk were even paler. They exchanged a look, each seeing endless regret and panic in the other’s eyes.

They had lived through Ye Shan’s era, having personally witnessed that young prodigy suppress the geniuses of the Ten Major Sects with a single sword strike.

But after Ye Shan fell, they had grown disappointed. They even secretly blamed him, believing his arrogance had brought disaster upon the Sect.

Now, this single strike, like a red-hot iron hammer, had brutally smashed all their biases to pieces.

"’So... he never changed,’" a middle-aged Steward murmured, gazing up at the sky with a hoarse voice. "He’s still the same Ye Shan."

All across the Immortal Ancient Cultivation Realm, the world was in an uproar.

In the Ten Thousand Laws Sect, the current Sect Leader was in seclusion but was forcefully jolted awake by a sky-piercing Sword Intent.

He rushed out of his Cave Mansion and stared toward the Profound Pure Sect, his pupils shrinking. ’This kind of Sword Intent... How is this possible?’

The Elders beside him looked even more horrified, for they could feel that in the wake of that one strike, several hidden auras within their Sect had simply vanished.

These were infiltrators they had failed to detect for many years.

"It’s Ye Shan... He actually..." an Elder cried out. "But wasn’t his Golden Core shattered?"

"Golden Core?" Another Elder gave a bitter laugh. "The might of this one strike is likely two or three major realms beyond even the Daoist Venerable Realm, which itself is Above Divinity Transformation."

The remaining Major Sects of the Eastern Domain were in a similar state of chaos. Within their council halls, Communication Jade Scrolls flashed erratically as urgent messages poured in one after another:

"Report: Three Elders from the sect’s covert division are dead. Before their deaths, their auras flared, revealing Evil Demon soul imprints."

"Report: An Array hidden in the rear mountain’s Forbidden Land for a millennium was grazed by the Sword Intent and shattered. It contained an Evil Demon’s remnant soul."

"Report—"

Listening to these reports, a chill ran down the spines of the various Sect leaders.

They finally realized just how deeply the Evil Demon Race and Phoenix Race had infiltrated their ranks, and that they had been completely oblivious! But what terrified them even more was this:

Ye Shan’s one strike had precisely executed every single infiltrator. Not one had been missed.

"He... how did he do that?" someone asked, their voice trembling.

No one answered.

Only a profound sense of unease spread through everyone’s heart.

This strike was too powerful—so powerful it was terrifying. Today he could slay Evil Demons. What about tomorrow?

What if he were to turn his blade...?

"We can never allow another Ye Shan to appear," someone whispered, a sentiment that was met with a wave of silent agreement.

The oath of ten thousand years of peace still echoed in their ears, but the desire to consolidate their own power and eliminate potential threats had already begun to quietly take root.

In the territory of the Demon Race, several Demon Kings looked up at the same time, their eyes fixed on the beam of light that pierced the heavens and the earth.

One Demon King narrowed his golden eyes. ’Ye Shan... To think the Human Race actually produced someone like him.’

Behind him, a Demon Race general reported in a heavy tone, "My King, in the wake of that strike, all three hundred seventy-one hidden presences within our territory have dissipated."

"Mm," the Demon King responded, his expression unreadable. "Send a messenger to the Profound Pure Sect with our congratulations. Say... the Demon Race thanks Daoist Ye Shan for cleansing our lands of these hidden threats."

"At once."

Only after his subordinate had departed did the Demon King let out a quiet breath and mutter to himself, ’What a pity. To think such a man belongs to the Human Race.’

A flicker of apprehension crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by relief. ’Thank goodness that strike wasn’t aimed at the Demon Race.’

The Despair and Silence of the Evil Demon and Phoenix Races

The lands of the Evil Demon and Phoenix Races were now deathly silent. No, what permeated the air was something even worse than silence—a bone-chilling bewilderment.

In the Evil Domain, within the great hall perpetually shrouded in black fog, a continuous series of sharp cracks echoed like a deathly chorus. CRACK. CRACK.

The figure seated high upon the bone throne was seething with demonic energy, yet he could not even muster a roar of fury.

In his crimson pupils, the initial towering rage had been replaced by a deeper, almost vacant bewilderment.

Plans? Schemes? The ten-thousand-year oath?

In the face of that one strike, it all seemed so laughable.

Ye Shan hadn’t even deigned to understand their plots. With a single "not interested" and one flash of his blade, he had ground the painstaking work of countless ages to dust.

"So many... so many years of hard work..." an Elder of the Evil Demon Race wailed as he collapsed to the floor. Tears streamed down his ancient face, but they were tears of black blood. "We were one step away... just one step away."

For this, they had gone so far as to make a Great Dao Oath, promising not to invade for ten thousand years, all just to lull the other side into complacency.

But now, it was all for naught.

It wasn’t just that their infiltrators had been purged. Far worse, their entire strategic foundation—the one that gave them their confidence, their certainty of victory—had been torn out by the roots. And Ye Shan had done it in the most brutish, unreasonable way imaginable.