1: Chapter 1 His Amazing Perseverance with No Audience_1 1: Chapter 1 His Amazing Perseverance with No Audience_1 The sun hung high in the sky, casting its light and warmth, impartially showering down upon humanity.

It made no distinction between young and old, noble and lowly.

Its boundless love seemed devoid of sentiment.

When the fawn crossed the creek, the birds darted through the forest.

At first, only a dim red dot could be seen on the horizon, which rapidly drew closer with the blink of an eye.

A tail of flame formed a fiery streak across the sky, like an immortal wielding a brush, slashing the heavens.

The mountains and rivers of Zhuang Country, spanning thousands of miles, were almost scorched by this fiery streak, until suddenly a beam of black light surged heavenward, blocking its path.

A ruthless connection was established between heaven and earth, vitality surged.

East, south, west, north, the deadly forces abruptly linked together!

The corner of the sky to the northeast of Zhuang Country was enveloped in dark clouds.

The bright day turned suddenly dark.

A muffled grunt echoed in the air: “Nine Shades of Profound Yin!”

The dot tangled with the sinister clouds only for a moment before plummeting from the sky.

As the dot fell, it accelerated, growing larger and larger, until at last…

It roared like a falling star!

…

The outskirts of Fenglin City were scarcely populated.

Only a small Daoist temple stood, long abandoned and in ruins.

“Boom!”

The fiery dot hit the ground, creating a huge crater, but some force seemed to contain the aftermath, preventing it from expanding.

When the rolling dust cleared, a man in a flame robe emerged.

His sword-like eyebrows extended into his temples, his appearance handsome and bright.

His flame-colored robe was magnificent and elegantly antique, exuding an air of nobility.

However, his disheveled hair and the tears in his robe revealed a touch of embarrassment.

“To think I, Zuo Guanglie, would die in such a desolate place…” The man in the flame robe shifted his gaze and quickly took in his surroundings, then asked with an inexplicable sense of loss, “What is this place called?”

Day turned abruptly to dark again, and a star plummeted from the sky.

The beggars who had taken refuge in the dilapidated temple were already out of their minds with fear, prostrating themselves at the entrance.

Upon hearing the question, one of them, trembling, managed to speak, “Immortal… Immortal Sir, this place is the outskirts of Fenglin City, this temple… we… we don’t know its name.”

The man in the flame robe barely moved his finger, ready to wipe out these beggars.

In this era of great strife, countries waged endless wars.

Yet none of the battles in recent years were as fierce as the grand alliance war between Qin and Chu.

Nearly a hundred thousand cultivators were deployed, and the valley plains where they fought were left barren, the land cratered for miles.

As a key figure of the defeated side, especially after he alone breached the Hangu Pass, nearly reversing the war situation, the relentless pursuit from all sides left him with no one to blame.

However, these beggars were also Zhuang Country’s beggars.

Zhuang Country dared to secretly assist the tyrannical Qin, allowing them to set trap formations within its borders…

These people all deserved death.

But then he extinguished the spark that had formed at his fingertips with a flick of his hand.

“Zuo Guanglie, oh Zuo Guanglie, is this really the breadth of your spirit?

To vent your anger on these pitiable souls who are essentially ignored by all?”

Muttering to himself, Zuo Guanglie sighed, “You may go.”

He turned his back, hands behind him, and cast his gaze toward the ink-stained sky.

Those hidden in the darkness, approaching like a pack of wolves, were the ones he, Zuo Guanglie, ought to kill!

The beggars, as if granted amnesty, scrambled up and fled.

Only the beggar who had first answered hesitated for a moment, looking back at the temple, but his companion yanked him away forcefully: “Do you want to die?”

These beggars sprinted away, perhaps running for their own lives as they never had before.

Zuo Guanglie did not divert his gaze, but his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “You’re not taking your companion with you?”

In the range of his spiritual sense, there were no secrets.

The wooden idols in the temple had long vanished, likely burnt as firewood by the beggars.

Yet underneath the offering table lay another beggar with a faint spark of life, motionless, probably counting the days until death—that was the reason for the hesitation of the beggar from earlier.

The words of the mysterious immortal could not be ignored by the beggars; they even turned back in a swarm.

They raced with all their might, gasping for breath.

But to some who cast their gaze upon this place, the beggars were no sturdier than ants and barely quicker than snails.

They were just… too slow.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Those swiftly approaching sounds from the horizon…

Were countless translucent water arrows, like a swarm of locusts arriving, drawn together by some force and directed at Zuo Guanglie’s vicinity.

Water element vitality went wild in this area of the world.

The translucent rain of arrows formed a massive funnel, obscuring half the sky!

This was one of the Grand Qin military’s iconic range attack Dao Techniques, Rain of Ten Thousand Flowing Arrows.

“Here it comes!”

Zuo Guanglie looked up at the sky as the gusty wind whipped his flame robe and long hair.

He lifted his right hand high.

As the wide sleeve of his flame robe slid down, he revealed an arm as sculpted as jade.

Pale and powerful.

A red orb of light was born in his palm, and in the next instant, brilliance burst forth.

Intense light radiated in all directions.

It was as though Zuo Guanglie, with one hand, had hoisted a sun!

This was a Dao Technique he had created, and with it, he rose to fame at the age of fifteen during the Yellow River Gathering.

Brilliant Sun!

The countless translucent water arrows refracted the descending sunlight into a spectrum of colors, only to be dyed red in the next instant.

It was a wildly violent, intensely fiery red.

With Zuo Guanglie’s right hand as the center, the sky for a hundred yards around was shrouded in red, and Rain of Ten Thousand Flowing Arrows was nullified.

The scene was so majestic that it was difficult for anyone to notice the faint ink stains at the edges of the tapestry.

Before the Brilliant Sun could even spread, countless arrows had already deviated and plummeted.

The running group of beggars fell one after another.

Their bodies were riddled with holes, thoroughly perforated.

They didn’t even have the chance to scream before they died.

Life was so fragile.

“Indiscriminate killing, is that your way?” Zuo Guanglie’s lips curled in scorn, his words directed at no one in particular, but his eyes, radiant as the stars, grew increasingly cold.

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