Chapter 69: Rising Moon, True State

Seeing Li Hao descend from the sky, Li Yuanzhao and the others—already gripped by terror from the swarm of Spirit Beasts—were utterly stunned.

Yu Wei’s mouth hung open, his eyes bulging as if about to pop out. He stared at Li Hao like he’d seen a ghost.

“You’re here too?” Li Hao hadn’t expected to find them in Western City. They were supposed to be on a Patrol Mission—how had they ended up here?

He glanced at Cui Fan, who wore a face of pure misery, clearly resentful of being dragged into this.

Then he turned to Wei Feng. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the man—the tall, silent fellow who’d followed them all the way.

“You…” Wei Feng stared, frozen in disbelief. A Fifteen Li Stage cultivator, he knew the signs. The one who had just descended from the heavens wasn’t Yue Shuhong leading the way—no, it was this boy before him.

The one he’d been tailing and guarding alongside Li Fu… was a Fifteen Li Stage?

Higher in realm than Li Fu himself?!!

Who the hell was protecting whom?

Wei Feng felt his mind go numb. He’d left the Divine Travel Realm long ago, wandered the world, seen countless prodigies. But this—a Fifteen Li Stage at such a young age?

Unheard of.

Everyone said the offspring of the Divine General’s Residence were prodigies. But even prodigies didn’t reach this level!

“Demon Creatures are coming!” someone cried out, voice trembling with panic.

All eyes snapped toward the city wall’s outer edge. The monstrous beasts were already within bowshot range, charging forward in a chaotic, thundering mass.

“Shoot! Now!” The city’s commander—a middle-aged man in the late stages of the Continuation of Soul Realm—roared.

Thousands of arrows, specially forged to repel Spirit Beasts, shot forth like a storm of black rain.

The barrage tore through the front lines. Dozens of Demon Creatures fell, wounded. But the tide kept surging—more charged forward, unyielding beneath the hail of arrows.

“Demon-Subduing Formation!” The commander bellowed again.

Ten or so men in black robes rushed to a high platform on the wall. Each activated their Soul Inheritance—unique in form, yet all linked hand-in-hand, their soul energies pulsing in harmony, forming a delicate balance necessary for the formation to function.

Li Hao watched the approaching horde—the Demon Creatures now only a hundred meters from the wall. His gaze flickered toward Ren Qianqian’s sword.

“May I borrow your blade?”

Ren Qianqian snapped back to reality, staring at him in disbelief. She still couldn’t process the sheer cultivation level he’d just displayed.

Now, he was asking to borrow her sword?

She instinctively tightened her grip on the hilt. “Can you even use a sword?”

She’d ridden with him all the way, and never once had she seen him carry a weapon.

“A little,” Li Hao replied calmly.

He hadn’t had time to carry a sword when he first entered the world—too hurried, too raw. But if he ever returned to the江湖, he’d be sure to bring the sword Second Uncle had given him.

Ren Qianqian hesitated. The Sword Saint’s blade was sacred to her. She cherished it above all. But the battlefield was desperate. And Li Hao—despite his youth—was clearly a master of realms far beyond her.

She didn’t hesitate long.

With a breath, she handed the sword to him.

Clang.

Li Hao drew the blade effortlessly. The long sword, gleaming like autumn water, slid free.

Instantly, the blade trembled—awakening, humming with a deep, resonant cry. A pale, silver-white sword light flared from the edge, pulsing like a living flame.

Li Hao turned, stepped forward—then leapt into the air, standing ten meters beyond the city wall, suspended midair.

The sight froze every soldier on the ramparts.

Floating in midair?

This was the hallmark of a Fifteen Li Stage cultivator!

Even their City Guardian, Elder Yue, had only reached the Divine Travel Realm—never the Fifteen Li.

“Rising Moon…” Li Hao whispered softly.

For five years, he’d studied the final three techniques of The Sea Without Shore.

The sword art had four movements: Tide, Cutting the River, Rising Moon, and the ultimate, Sea Without Shore.

Now, he was unleashing the third—second to the ultimate.

Rising Moon.

At that instant, every soul on the city wall saw it—a full moon rising from Li Hao’s palm.

The sword vanished. In its place, a radiant silver moon coalesced—perfect, luminous, glowing with celestial light. It rose slowly, like a moon ascending over the sea, drifting forward toward the Spirit Beast horde.

Level, True State!

As the moon blazed, all eyes were entranced by its beauty—its impossible, dreamlike radiance.

But then—

The moon plunged into the swarm.

Light erupted.

The shadowy forms of the Spirit Beasts—once a roaring, chaotic tide—dissolved like mist before the sun.

Not retreating.

Vanishing.

Annihilated.

“This sword art…” Ren Qianqian’s pupils shrank. Her face paled with shock. She stared at the boy’s back in disbelief.

That moon… was real?

It wasn’t illusion. It wasn’t magic.

It was sword art—pure, devastating, divine.

Yue Shuhong, too, was shaken. He now understood: when Li Hao had slain the Hupao Immortal earlier, he hadn’t even used his full power. Not even a tenth.

Just this Rising Moon technique—this dazzling, transcendent sword art—was enough to shake the foundations of Qizhou.

Wei Feng stood frozen. His father was a Sword Dao Master, yet even he had never witnessed a technique so breathtaking.

The moon—clear, radiant, like a dream—had illuminated the battlefield.

When it vanished, the soldiers finally snapped back to reality.

They looked around—still in battle. Still on the field.

Then, as they drew bows, their hands froze.

Before the wall—within hundreds of meters—there were no Demon Creatures left.

Only shattered, bloodied corpses.

A sea of Spirit Beast blood, spilled like ink across the earth.

One strike.

One single strike.

And the entire horde—nearly a mile wide—was wiped out.

The battlefield, once roaring with monstrous shrieks and chaos, fell into silence.

So quiet, you could hear a needle drop.

Not just the defenders on the wall were stunned.

The Demon Creatures still advancing in the distance—those ready to charge—had halted mid-motion, utterly paralyzed by terror.

Even the Great Demon Commanders—some at the Divine Travel Realm, equal to the Tiger-Robe Immortal—stared, eyes wide with fear.

That lone figure, standing midair beyond the wall, sword in hand, calm, composed…

He wasn’t just a warrior.

He was a legend.

A sword immortal.

Unreachable.

Unassailable.

Li Hao glanced at the paralyzed swarm. Without a word, he flung the sword into the air—commanding it with his Spirit Sword Control.

The blade spun like a golden needle, blazing forward—cutting through the air in a flash.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

Dozens of Demon Creatures fell, severed in an instant.

Even the Spirit-Wandering Realm Great Demons—those trying to hide in shadows—were caught.

A flicker of light.

A severed head.

A soul severed.

To Li Hao, there was no difference between a Great Demon and the others.

All were dead in a single strike.

Wei Feng, on the rampart, could only stare in disbelief.

Even if he’d fought with his full power, he could never achieve such speed, such precision.

The Spirit Sword Control was three times faster than his own.

It was the same as the Black Light that had killed the serpent spirit.

Was this… really the elder they’d been bowing to all this time?

What kind of monster was Li Fu guarding?!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end