Chapter 188
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Chapter 188: Emperor Realm Powerful Ally
"Below the Emperor realm, all are but ants."
Ming He murmured these words, a wave of absurdity and sarcasm washing over her as she repeated them silently.
Ants.
Her gaze drifted to the distant figure shrouded in the mist, a woman clad in black, her demeanor as cold and unyielding as the night itself. The faint smile on Ming He’s lips carried a trace of bitterness and frost.
Ants cannot shake the heavens.
This was the phrase uttered with casual indifference by the woman who stood aloof in the clouds, her gaze sweeping over the world below with disdain.
Back then, Ming He had strained every fiber of her being, lifting her head high, yet she could not pierce the veil of light that obscured the woman’s cultivation and visage. With her sword in hand, she had fought with all her might, barely shattering the barriers that confined her. Like a beast breaking free from its chains, she had glimpsed the boundless sky, the endless sea, and the purity of light.
Now, it felt as though she had returned to that pitiful state, the suffocating numbness of awaiting death with no means to resist. This sensation was all too familiar, etched deep into her soul.
Ming He raised her eyes to the horizon, where the black winds roared and churned. Her gaze sharpened, as if it could pierce the heavens themselves.
She thought to herself: She had risen from the Qi Refinement stage to the Earth Emperor Realm, ascending from a lowly outer sect disciple of the Liu Yun Sect to stand on the battlefield of the heavens.
After so many brushes with death, so many trials and tribulations, how could she still be considered an ant?
It felt unjust, and she refused to accept it.
"Boom!"
The heavens and earth trembled with a deafening roar.
An Emperor realm practitioner—whether human, demon, or from any of the myriad races of the Tianwu Continent—had not appeared in an age. Such a being, capable of overshadowing the world, was a rarity.
Ming He considered herself fortunate to witness such power in her lifetime, to feel its presence firsthand.
Yet, this formidable figure stood on the opposing side, a natural enemy to all human cultivators. It was a battle to the death—either they would fall, or she would.
The dark clouds overhead grew heavier, spreading across the sky with an unstoppable force, like thunder rolling across the heavens. The storm was coming, and the black clouds loomed over the city, threatening to crush it. They had reached the brink of survival and extinction.
Ming He sighed softly; they had been so close.
The battlefield of the heavens was a realm born from the death of the ancient human emperor, a final line of defense against the invading races of the Tianwu Continent. Even as the black mist and violent winds stirred from the alien blood energy, it remained, at its core, a place of the human race.
Now, the Tian Yan Tribe cultivators had broken through to the Emperor realm, resonating with the battlefield’s spirit. The battlefield itself seemed to cry out, echoing the collective sorrow of humanity, a mournful howl from the heavens and earth.
The dark clouds and howling winds were a manifestation of the pressure exerted by the Emperor realm powerful ally upon the battlefield, as well as a form of weeping from the battlefield itself.
Yet, because of this, the Ancient Formation of Heaven, laid down by Nineteen, and the formation seal fortified by the blood energy of human Earth Emperor Realm experts, all dissipated before the coming storm.
Those bold gambles made in a lifetime had turned to mere bubbles, leaving nothing but fruitless effort.
They had been so close—the Ancient Formation of Heaven nearly crushing the Absolute Formation of Mist, the grand brilliance almost swallowing the dark night beast. It had been within reach.
If light and starlight could have enveloped the entire battlefield of the heavens, if the formation seals could have been solidly united, the human cultivators might have driven out the Tian Yan Tribe, claiming the battlefield as their own for a final stand.
Even against an Emperor realm powerful ally, there had been hope.
But the clan leader of the Tian Yan Tribe had chosen the worst possible moment to break through.
Why now?
Was this the darkness before dawn?
Ming He clenched her fists unconsciously, stepping forward to stand beside Qin Chu Yi. She gazed into the distance before turning her eyes to meet hers.
Their gazes met, and in those eyes, clear as a tranquil spring, Ming He saw not only the weight of solemnity but also the unwavering and luminous resolve of "Sharing Life and Death." These pure emotions left no room for fear, unease, or anxiety.
Suddenly, Ming He felt a profound calm wash over her. The phrase "Sharing Life and Death" surged into her mind, dispelling the tangled emotions like a breeze scattering mist.
She was not one to dwell on grievances, succumb to melancholy, or resign herself to fate. A sword cultivator, even in death, would stand tall, her spiritual energy spent, her flesh shattered, her long sword broken, yet she would fall standing.
Ming He smiled faintly, glancing back at the Earth Emperor Realm expert behind her, who had paled slightly at the commotion but remained silent, steadfastly maintaining the formation. In them, she detected a strange sense of acceptance and unyielding resolve.
Nineteen, clad in black, emerged from the shadows, leading Mo Xiao, dressed in white, by the hand. They halted in the clearing beneath the distant pavilion, their expressions bearing a serene smile, reminiscent of the calm acceptance found in the saying, "To hear the Way in the morning and die content in the evening."
In that moment, though Ming He could not see the cultivators scattered across the battlefield of the heavens, she felt their emotions—some calm and composed, others panicked and heavy, and still others gripped by fear. Yet, all these emotions coalesced into a fierce determination to fight without retreat.
Fear lingered, despair remained, but with no path of retreat, they could only burn their bridges and fight for survival.
"Whoosh!"
A brilliant ray of light suddenly pierced through the overlapping mists, cutting through the oppressive black clouds that loomed over the land. It stood suspended in the air, like a setting sun breaking through the fog, guiding the lost souls of the mortal world.
Ming He narrowed her eyes, her heart surging, her pupils contracting. The sharp clarity of her gaze reflected the rosy light, emanating from the auspicious glow of the ancient divine beast, a natural adversary to darkness and evil.
Vast starlight once again illuminated the heavens, the majestic aura of the Great Path struggling against the overwhelming pressure and terror of the Emperor realm in the distance. In the faint light of dawn, the golden sun flickered, standing alongside the light, piercing through a corner of the darkness.
With a dragon’s head, a horse’s body, and qilin’s feet, the dark fur shimmered with a radiant, jade-like luster. The fiery red mark on its forehead burned like a flame, igniting the celestial dome, the light of hope cascading down, revealing a faint dimness that was neither fully present nor entirely gone.
That was—Qiu Qiu!
Born in ancient times and surviving to this day, the Pixiu, renowned for its auspiciousness, was Ming He’s life-and-death companion. It had once protected the critically injured Qin Chu Yi in Tianwu City and later followed Fu Yao, aiding in maintaining the formation seals of the Tianwu Continent.
No, it was not just Qiu Qiu alone.
Ming He kept her gaze upward, and as the fiery light dimmed, she saw two slender yet resolute figures standing on the broad back of the Pixiu: one clad in snow-white, untouched by dust, and the other in elegant green, swaying gently in the wind.
Those were Fu Yao and Qing Long—the lord of the Imperial Palace, the true leader of the human race, a peak Earth Emperor Realm expert, and the foremost formation master of this era.
They represented the pinnacle of combat strength on the Tianwu Continent, embodying a different kind of faith in the hearts of human cultivators, distinct from Ming He, the young leader.
And it seemed they were not the only ones.
Ming He’s eyes widened as she saw beams of bright light flicker across the horizon, igniting the sky in fleeting moments. That brief brilliance even subdued the boundless oppressive force and the thick, swirling mist.
They stepped through the air, standing amidst the dust, exuding a noble and tragic spirit of self-sacrifice.
Ming He felt a pang of sorrow rise in her heart.
Among those upright figures stood Fu Yao and Qing Long, the ancestral figure Qin Ling from Qin Huang Mountain, the current clan leader of the Jiang Clan, Liu Yu, and many others whom Ming He had glimpsed but had not yet committed to memory.
They were all peak Earth Emperor Realm experts, their auras intertwining to create a vast and boundless presence. Yet, individually, their energies could not match the might of Ming He, who stood at the fifth level of the Earth Emperor Realm.
After all, they bore irreversible injuries, and before this moment, their internal wounds and damaged meridians could not withstand the raging storms and dark fog of the battlefield of the heavens.
They had even reached a point where they could only cling to life with the Pixiu’s auspicious aura, barely maintaining their existence while empowering the formation seals from afar with royal power in the battlefield of the heavens.
But now, they had come forth to the battlefield of the heavens, standing resolutely at the forefront, fearless and ready to face death.
Under the central pavilion, hundreds of Earth Emperor Realm experts opened their eyes, lifting their gazes toward the clouds. Their collective aura focused into a single point, ready to leap into action, resolute and determined.
Beside the white-haired young man, a sleek black dragon, adorned with a horned head, circled silently around him. Its cold, emotionless vertical pupils reflected a hint of humanity, a sense of shared fate with its master.
Ming He’s gaze swept past, noticing the cold, stern woman in black hesitate for a moment before taking her place to the left of Mo Xiao, while the elegantly dressed man in green positioned himself to her right, driving the puppet army that followed Mo Xiao.
A woman with blue hair and blue eyes swept in from the distance, her Human King stage cultivation on full display. She cast a light glance at Ming He before positioning herself nearby Qin Chu Yi.
A demon lord, clad in red with black hair, strode confidently through the mist, accompanied by the black-clad Left Envoy of the Shen beast. With a smirk, she glanced at Ming He and Qin Chu Yi before leaning lazily against a stone pillar. Her relaxed demeanor suggested not despair, but rather the casual enjoyment of a spectator.
Following her were the arrogant and alluring Feng Xin, the quietly contemplative Mu Nan Zhi, the carefree Lou Qing Shang in purple, and the radiant, white-haired Song Guanting… Cultivators known and unknown to Ming He, regardless of their strength or rank, had all gathered here.
From every direction—north, south, east, and west—countless presences were steadily converging, charging toward this place with determination.
By now, the effects of the formation seal, the Ancient Formation of Heaven, and the low-tier Tian Yan Tribe had been significantly diminished. The true battle for survival and victory had arrived.
If the human cultivators, pooling their collective strength, failed to kill the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader who had ascended to the Emperor realm, the human race, the battlefield of the heavens, and the Tianwu Continent would face utter ruin.
But if they succeeded in slaying this Emperor realm foe, even if the formation seal crumbled under the assault of the low-tier Tian Yan Tribe, the residual power of killing an Emperor would be enough to help the battlefield of the heavens and the Tianwu Continent survive this calamity.
All things have their causes and consequences. Humanity must not be driven to complete despair, left with no hope in sight.
After struggling for thousands of years, the human race was finally about to achieve something monumental.
They intended to use the strength of the Earth Emperor Realm and Human King Realm to kill the Emperor realm being revered as a deity.
They were going to slay the Emperor.
Below the Emperor realm, all are but ants. And now, these ants dared to challenge the heavens.
Ming He clenched her fists, her spirit surging. Just as she was about to rise with her sword and stand alongside them, a faint and ethereal voice echoed directly into her soul from the void: “Young leader, do not act rashly. You are part of the main force.”
Her fingers froze, her breath catching as she looked up in surprise. Her gaze pierced through the black fog and barriers, meeting the bright, smiling eyes of the white-clad youth.
Fu Yao, the Lord of the Imperial Palace.
Noticing Ming He’s intense gaze, Fu Yao smiled faintly and lowered his eyes slightly. With a soft murmur, he sent a thread of spiritual energy straight to Ming He’s heart: “For both the greater good and smaller duties, you and little Yi should be the final players in this.”
In terms of the greater good, Ming He, the young leader of the human race, carried the Star Lock, while Qin Chu Yi, the Young Master of the Qin Clan, bore the ancient Emperor’s inheritance.
In terms of smaller duties, during this life-and-death struggle on the battlefield, it would naturally be the Earth Emperor Realm cultivators who would sacrifice themselves before the Human King Realm, and among the Earth Emperor Realm cultivators present, Ming He and Qin Chu Yi were the youngest.
They were frighteningly young, exuding an overwhelming sense of pressure, yet brimming with hope and vitality.
Such vibrant life force should never be the first to fade.
So, let the elders take the stage first!
Even if they all faced death, at least let the elders step forward before them.
This could be seen as using their lives to drain the Emperor’s spiritual energy and will, buying the faintest glimmer of unseen hope.
Until the final moment, they still clung to hope.
Even a victory unseen after death would be enough.
This was Fu Yao’s plan: the leader of the human race, who had survived for a thousand years, born amidst the brutality of alien races, and now facing death at their hands, found this to be the last thing he could do for the Tianwu Continent, Ming He, and Qin Chu Yi.
Ming He was no fool. She understood everything almost instantly after Fu Yao spoke.
A hint of crimson flickered in the corners of her eyes as she lowered her gaze, clenching her fist until blood welled. She gripped the hilt of the Jing Ying Sword tightly, her frustration palpable, yet she remained motionless.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the white-clad youth at the forefront of the group, standing atop the Pixiu as he soared into the wind like a Kunpeng ascending rapidly, leading the charge.
Ahead, shadows flickered. The Tian Yan Tribe clan leader, who had already broken into the Emperor realm, stood above the center pavilion, shrouded in mist. A disdainful smile played on his lips, his every breath exuding an air of condescension, as though he were looking down upon mere ants.
