The horn Xu Zimo had blown earlier was something he had gotten from his father. Xu Qingshan had inherited the legacy of Grand Imperial Zhen Wu, and that horn was one of the items the Imperial had left behind.
And the sound from that horn wasn’t just a random tune, it was an ancient war song.
Back when Grand Imperial Zhen Wu bore the Heaven's Will, the demons, led by the ten great God Beasts, launched a world-ending war against the human race.
When that war song sounded, it was a call for the demons to rise again to its former glory, to burn bright like the sun for ten thousand ages.
They were the demon race.
They were the rulers of the Desolate Era.
The demon race never retreated.
The demon race never surrendered.
When that soul-stirring battle hymn echoed through the heavens, they charged into battle with radiant fury, shedding blood, sacrificing life.
They sought to revive their people, just as they had once reigned supreme in the Desolate Era.
But alas, the man known as Grand Imperial Zhen Wu was too powerful. From above the heavens, a single glance from him caused eternal collapse, sweeping away all opposition.
After the battle, the Imperial took the horn of the slain Ice Armored Horned Demon Dragon, one of the nine God Beasts, and forged it into this horn as a memento.
So when Xu Zimo used the horn of a God Beast to play their ancestral war song, the slumbering remnants of their souls deep underground awakened.
Back then, after the Imperial killed the nine God Beasts, most of their souls were destroyed. The little that remained was insignificant.
But after tens of thousands of years of recovery, these remnant souls had regained awareness.
Individually, they were weak. But when all nine merged, their combined power was almost equal to the Imperial Meridian Realm.
“I know you’re the Vice-Lord’s son, and you're carrying countless treasures,” Zhong Xin sneered. “But did you think I wouldn’t come prepared?”
He pulled a talisman from his storage ring. The talisman was dark black, and as soon as it appeared, the sword aura attacking Zhong Xin began to slow down dramatically.
Wisps of spiritforce radiated from the talisman, causing the entire formation to tremble, on the verge of collapse.
“A Formation-Breaking Talisman!” Little Gui exclaimed in surprise.
“This thing can destroy any formation below Level 7,” Zhong Xin said with a cold snort.
Xu Zimo narrowed his eyes slightly. He hadn’t expected Zhong Xin to possess such a rare item.
Formation-Breaking Talismans were exceedingly rare.
In the Primordial Heartlands, every martial artist who reached the Paragon Meridian Realm wanted to walk their own Martial Path.
And the same was true for formation masters, their ultimate goal was to one day create a formation with no weaknesses.
The profession of formation master was as ancient as that of martial artists. It was widely known that all formations, from divine grade to mortal grade, had core weaknesses called formation eyes. If someone could find the formation’s eye, they could destroy the whole array.
In fact, most formations didn’t just have one weak point.
After millions of years of refinement, formation masters had gradually minimized these weaknesses.
The most advanced formation ever created was the Hexa-Genesis Immortal Array, left behind by the legendary Formation Emperor Dao Zhen.
This array had reduced its weaknesses to an extreme, anyone trapped inside couldn’t break out from within.
Only someone outside the array could destroy it by force.
All formation masters in the Primordial Heartlands regarded the Hexa-Genesis Immortal Array as the pinnacle of the art.
Now that the “unbreakable from within” problem had been solved, many were studying how to prevent arrays from being broken from the outside, hoping to one day create a truly indestructible formation.
Of course, from the perspective of universal law, such an idea was a fantasy.
The world does not allow for perfection. The River of Fate always leaves a sliver of survival.
But regardless, that ideal was something countless formation masters dedicated their lives to achieving.
Thus, a strange phenomenon had emerged in the continent:
Low-level formation masters didn’t feel such deep respect for formations. They wanted to create formation-breaking talismans, but lacked the ability.
High-level formation masters could easily craft them, but refused, seeing it as an insult to the craft.
For them, making such talismans went against the ultimate dream of creating unbreakable formations. It was an act of betrayal to their beliefs and fellow formation masters.
So this paradox persisted:
The weak wanted to make them but couldn’t.
The strong could, but wouldn’t.
This made Formation-Breaking Talismans extremely rare.
Take the Seventh Grand Elder of the True Martial Sacred Ground, Elder Wan of the Myriad Arrays. He was a seventh-grade formation master. By all logic, the sect should have plenty of these talismans.
But Elder Wan had never made even one.
Unless they owed someone a massive favor, or were utterly desperate, most formation masters would never craft one.
Anyone who helped others make them would be ostracized by the entire formation master community.
Xu Zimo looked at the talisman in Zhong Xin’s hand, slightly surprised.
As the talisman activated, cracks began to spread across the formation, which was already on the brink of collapse.
With a loud boom, the formation exploded and shattered completely.
Meanwhile, the beast-shaped entity born from the fusion of the nine God Beast souls had fully formed. It stared at Zhong Xin with eyes the size of fists, then stomped down violently.
Now that the formation was gone, Zhong Xin didn’t plan to stick around. He wanted to escape and report everything back to the sect.
But just as he turned to run, Xu Zimo drew his blade, Shadow Tyrant, and charged.
Seeing Xu Zimo coming for him, Zhong Xin smirked in contempt. He was a peak Paragon Meridian cultivator. Xu Zimo hadn’t even cultivated that long. How could he possibly win?
But then came the words:
“Nineteen Forms of Dao-Seeking, Sixth Form: Blade of Slaughter.”
As overwhelming blood energy surged into the blade and descended upon Zhong Xin, he suddenly felt a sense of dread.
The curved saber clashed with his sword. The force behind the blow nearly knocked the weapon out of his hand.
Xu Zimo didn’t give him a moment’s rest. With a calm breath, he lifted his blade again and traced a wide arc through the air.
A strange, ethereal pressure radiated from the saber.
“Nineteen Forms of Dao-Seeking, Seventh Form: Draconic Storm.”
The words echoed softly in Zhong Xin’s ears.
The world fell silent.
It was like a bitter northern wind collided with the blazing heat of the Hidden Realm.
Wind and cloud rolled across the sky. In the heavens, it felt as if an ancient dragon roared to life.
In that moment, all beings were lost in the storm, shivering under the dragon’s roar.
And before Zhong Xin’s eyes, there was only one thing left,