Chapter Forty-Three: A Single Palm Destroys the Heavens

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In Su Yizhao’s eyes, a colossal palm imprint, a hundred yards in size, suddenly slammed down toward the surface of the sea. Where the palm passed, the raging waters parted, retreating in all directions. The surface of the sea sank visibly, forming a vast depression. At that very moment, from the center of the depression, a massive fist shot upward.

Palm and fist collided in an instant.

A thunderous boom echoed out, the surrounding seawater vaporizing in a heartbeat as the very void itself shattered. A golden figure shot up from the depths, halting midair a hundred yards from Long Batian, standing poised and unyielding.

“Long Batian, even though you are here today, he must die!” The rugged-faced middle-aged man pointed at Su Yizhao.

As the man’s gaze swept across him, Su Yizhao felt the hairs on his body bristle in terror.

“She must die with him as well!”

“Haha! Old Turtle, after all these years, you’re as arrogant as ever. If I, Long Batian, wish to protect them, you won’t kill a single one!” With a flash, Long Batian placed himself protectively in front of the two.

The middle-aged man smiled wryly, “Alone, I may not be able to do anything to you. But today, our honored guest is here. Senior Dragon, would you lend your hand?”

Long Batian’s entire body trembled, his voice full of alarm, “Senior Dragon? Dragon clan? Run!”

“Too late!”

A melodious voice drifted down from above as a black cloud appeared over their heads. Su Yizhao looked up, and horror seized him. That was no cloud.

A frail figure stood upon the cloud, his face calm and impassive, saying nothing, only gazing down upon the world with utter disdain.

Suddenly, the figure extended a thin, withered right hand, spreading his palm wide and striking downward. In a flash, the frail hand transformed into a gigantic palm print, descending from the heavens and engulfing everyone below.

The air grew stifling and oppressive. Though they were in the boundless sky, Su Yizhao felt as if trapped in a bottle, the stopper jammed tight.

His heart raced wildly. No time for fear, he frantically tried to circulate his cultivation technique. But, to his horror, the once-familiar flow of energy turned sluggish and unresponsive under the power of the descending palm. He could barely move his qi.

What sort of supreme being was this?

Before the palm even landed, its pressure was already there.

Xuan Wuji and the others struggled desperately to escape, but their bodies moved as if mired in mud, unable to break free from the range of the palm.

Only Long Batian, though affected, barely managed to reach the palm’s edge.

“Dragon clan divine art: Heaven-Extinguishing Palm! Which ancestor of the dragon clan are you? Do you seek to ignite a war between sea and land?” Long Batian’s voice was laced with helplessness.

This level of demonic cultivator was far beyond his ability to resist. The only outcome would be a catastrophic war.

The massive palm descended slowly, distorting the void. Blood filled Su Yizhao’s eyes; blood dripped from his mouth, ears, and nose. His bones creaked under the pressure, his flesh and blood nearly tearing apart.

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“Xiu Yue!”

Suddenly, he cried out.

Here, only Li Xiuyue’s cultivation was the lowest. If even he could barely withstand the pressure, how could she possibly endure? Beautiful as ever, blood streamed from her features. If he had not held her tightly, shielding her with all his might, she would already have dissolved into nothingness.

“Xiu Yue!” Blood trickled from Su Yizhao’s eyes.

“Yi... Yizhao... your bright... eyes... in the next life... must find me again...”

“Xiu Yue!” The spiritual energy in Su Yizhao’s dantian seemed frozen. All he could do was cry out in despair, clutch her tightly, powerless to do anything else.

Within ten miles, the void twisted as if about to be torn apart. All the cultivators’ bodies bent and warped under the pressure.

Heaven-Extinguishing Palm!

Terrifying beyond measure!

One palm—annihilating heaven!

All despaired, certain of their death.

Suddenly, Su Yizhao felt his body lighten, and Li Xiuyue vanished from his embrace. In an instant, fear shattered his soul.

Without his protection, would Li Xiuyue not be reduced to blood in the blink of an eye?

He forced his head up, bloodshot eyes searching for her.

Suddenly, his whole body shuddered.

In the sky, a whirlpool a hundred yards across appeared without warning. A cultivator, over thirty feet tall, sat cross-legged within, and before him, in the air, lay the bloodied form of Li Xiuyue.

“Xiu Yue!” Su Yizhao rasped, coughing up blood and fragments of flesh.

The seated cultivator’s face was indistinct, but his voice rang clear: “Any who dare harm a true-blood descendant of the Li clan—die!”

Before the words had faded, he flicked his right hand toward the dragon ancestor.

Long Batian cried out in shock, “A projection from the Upper Realm...!”

The dragon ancestor, sensing death, tried to flee, but with a single crisp sound, his frail body was reduced to nothingness.

“All of the Turtle clan—die!”

The seated cultivator’s right hand became a palm, pressing gently toward the sea.

Su Yizhao hurriedly looked down.

Nothing happened.

The sea was calm, not a ripple in sight.

He was still marveling when, suddenly, a hundred-mile stretch of ocean vanished, exposing the shattered, uneven seabed below. The reefs crumbled into dust.

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It was as if an irresistible force swept out, devouring everything in its path—reefs, fish, shrimp, every turtle cultivator lurking on the seabed for a hundred miles—leaving nothing but emptiness.

Stunned.

The pressure on Su Yizhao had vanished, his bleeding stopped.

But he was oblivious, his mind in turmoil.

What kind of power was this?

Within a breath, waters surged in from afar, slowly filling the void. Yet Su Yizhao knew the sea was now a hundred yards deeper.

He gazed at the seated cultivator, confusion in his eyes. Though the man’s face was indistinct, there was an odd sense of familiarity.

Suddenly, the cultivator’s gaze locked onto him.

Caught off guard, Su Yizhao could not look away; the stare held him fast.

The cultivator said nothing. No one dared speak. The air itself felt sucked dry, oppressive beyond measure.

Their eyes met.

One breath. Two.

Utter silence.

Then, disbelief flashed in Su Yizhao’s eyes.

He recognized this cultivator.

In the ancestral hall of the Li clan in Lisha City was a portrait of a cultivator—now magnified a hundredfold in his mind, perfectly matching the man before him.

This was the ancestor of the Li clan!

He could never have imagined that the seemingly ordinary Li family would have such a formidable forebear.

But that was not what shocked him most.

What stunned him even more was that a flicker of shock appeared in the ancestor’s eyes as well. Subtle, but unmistakable.

Did he recognize him?

How could that be?

“Impossible,” the ancestor murmured, then, uncertainly, “And yet... it is entirely possible!”

Overjoyed, Su Yizhao was about to speak when the cultivator said, “This girl is my true-blood descendant. She will surpass even me. I will take her with me. If you have the ability, come seek her yourself.”

With that, he and Li Xiuyue vanished into the vortex.

Su Yizhao: ...