Chapter 86

Everyone stood in stunned silence. So Ling Qingxiao had actually carved open Ling Zhongyu’s chest while he was still alive, just to prove his own point?
The shock was overwhelming. They didn’t even know what to be more horrified by—the fact that there really was demonic energy inside Zhongyu, or that Ling Qingxiao had used such extreme, cold-blooded methods.
Bai Lingluan was utterly broken. She stared blankly, eyes wide, numb with disbelief, as Ling Qingxiao held up the core—her son’s blood still clinging to it.
She glared at Ling Qingxiao with hatred, eyes nearly bleeding with fury. “You’re no celestial, Ling Qingxiao. You’re the real demon! I knew from the start there was something wrong with you. Other children laugh, cry, feel joy and sorrow—but you? You’ve never reacted like a normal person. You have no empathy, no compassion. How dare someone like you call yourself immortal? How dare you walk in the light and receive praise? You’re nothing but a cold-blooded killer!”
Bai Lingluan's voice was so shrill and piercing it scraped at everyone’s eardrums, raising goosebumps on their arms. No one could tell if the chill they felt was from her screams—or from the man standing before them.
To be able to carve open someone’s chest and take their core without blinking, to use such brutal means just to prove a point—Ling Qingxiao’s temperament, when one thought about it, was truly terrifying.
The dragon core in his hand still glowed faintly. It was the source of a dragon’s power, and since Ling Qingxiao’s attribute was cold, the core emitted an inherent chill. That icy aura crept through his hand, into his limbs, down to his very organs.
So this is how Bai Lingluan had always seen him? A strange child without empathy, a future murderer and monster?
Whispers rippled through the crowd, and the disciples watching him from a distance looked both stunned and horrified. Instinctively, they inched away from him. One by one, they withdrew, leaving Ling Qingxiao standing utterly alone in the center of the courtyard—a desolate and striking figure.
In the deathly silence, Ling Xianhong stood on the high platform above and asked, “You did all this...just to prove you were right?”
Ling Qingxiao was silent for a long time before finally answering, “Yes.”
Ling Xianhong looked at him like he was a stranger, as if seeing his second son for the first time. “The heavenly realm has always despised demons, but even the demon clan wouldn’t go this far. You’re far crueler than any demon.”
Everyone around him shunned him. And from above, his father—the man who had given him life—looked down with disappointment and said he was more vicious than a demon.
Ling Qingxiao suddenly thought of the Celestial Emperor. That day, the highest power among the dragon clan, the supreme ruler of the heavens, had looked at him with doubt and asked: “Is the dragon clan’s cultivation truly immortal cultivation—or demonic?”
The Celestial Emperor’s face began to overlap with Ling Xianhong’s. Ling Qingxiao couldn’t help but ask himself again—was he really cultivating the Dao, or something else entirely?
Noticing something was wrong, Luo Han suddenly called out from outside the barrier, “Ling Qingxiao!”
What’s happening to him? Had he fallen into inner demon turmoil?
Ling Qingxiao had been lost in a strange, chaotic state—neither entirely spiritual nor physical—until her voice pulled him sharply back to reality. He jolted out of it, suddenly aware of what he’d been thinking. He had fought tirelessly to vanquish demons, defend righteousness, and had slain countless evildoers—how could he be equated with monsters?
He snapped out of it, and the dark haze around him quietly lifted. His eyes sharpened once more. Looking up at Ling Xianhong—his father and the man who gave him life—he asked calmly, “So even now, you don’t think you were wrong?”
Ling Qingxiao had stopped Ling Zhongyu for the sake of the bigger picture, but Ling Xianhong didn’t believe him. So Ling Qingxiao explained. Still, he was not believed. In the end, he had no choice but to dig out Ling Zhongyu’s dragon core and place it before his father’s very eyes, showing him there truly was demonic energy inside.
And even now, Ling Xianhong still didn’t believe him. Still thought it was all out of petty vengeance. His father had never once given him a shred of trust.
“Very well.” Ling Qingxiao nodded lightly. Then, raising his sword to the sky, blood dripping from the blade was instantly frozen into tiny crimson icicles. “Since none of you will believe me, then let the heavens decide who the real demon is.”
Dark clouds had long gathered above Zhongshan, and now, stirred by Ling Qingxiao’s sword intent, they rolled violently. Purple lightning flickered deep within. Luo Han’s eyes widened in shock and she cried out, “Ling Qingxiao, have you gone mad—”
Before she could finish, a thunderclap roared as a bolt of heavenly lightning struck down from the sky straight toward Ling Qingxiao. Disciples were forced to retreat under the impact. In the midst of blinding light, Ling Qingxiao stood still, unmoved. The dragon core in his hand glowed brightly under the divine lightning, the pale white surface now laced with streaks of violet lightning.
Heavenly tribulation thunder dispels demonic forces. The black aura clinging to the core was completely purged. And under this most yang, most righteous force in all existence, the core itself grew even stronger. As for Ling Qingxiao, he remained completely unscathed.
With heaven’s thunder as witness, the demonic energy on the dragon core was proven real. And the fact that Ling Qingxiao had stood so close and suffered no harm proved that he had not fallen to demonic influence.
No one present could refute it now. Who else but a madman like Ling Qingxiao would dare use heavenly tribulation lightning to purify a dragon core?
They didn’t know whether to say he was brave to the point of madness—or just insane. So many great cultivators had perished under lightning trials, even with full preparations. And he had allowed a bolt to strike directly, without even a protective array. If the core had failed, if he had been misjudged by the heavens, if his body couldn’t withstand the strike...
The thought alone was terrifying. The crowd realized with a chill that Ling Qingxiao wasn’t just powerful—he was terrifyingly unhinged.
The force of the tribulation finally shattered Luo Han’s barrier. She saw no need to resist the thunder—if it was going to break, so be it. She didn’t renew it.
Su Yifang’s eyes lit up at once, but she still had a sense of decorum and didn’t rush over immediately. Su Yinyue and Bai Lingluan were far less restrained. They immediately dashed to Ling Zhongyu’s side, dumping life-saving pills all over him in a panic.
Yun Menghan instinctively moved to follow, but hesitated when she saw Su Yin’yue already at his side—then turned to glance at Ling Qingxiao standing nearby. Her steps froze.
“Zhongyu, how are you? Just hold on, Mother will get you medicine right away.”
Bai Lingluan scrambled to her feet, stumbling in her rush to run outside. Usually the picture of grace, she now looked deranged—hair disheveled, movements frantic. She shoved people aside, muttering to herself, frantically searching for something to stop the bleeding.
Luo Han didn’t care about the wreckage on Ling Zhongyu’s side. The dragon core was already in hand—let him do whatever he wanted. Between the two, Ling Qingxiao was the real danger now.
She had silently cursed him dozens of times in her heart, but in front of everyone else, she had to force a smile and speak up in his defense: “Don’t change the subject. What he was like as a child has nothing to do with this. His actions speak for themselves. He’s never done anything cruel or unjust—in fact, it was your so-called model son, your good elder brother, who secretly colluded with demons, then tried to frame someone else when he was exposed. You say Ling Qingxiao’s methods were extreme, but wasn’t it you who forced him to this point? Ask yourselves honestly: if he had just tried to explain calmly—would any of you have believed him?”
They wouldn't believe him. Just moments ago, Ling Xianhong and Su Yifang’s reflexive reactions had already revealed everything.
With the truth laid bare, Ling Xianhong had no choice but to yield. He had always viewed demons as venomous snakes, yet now that his own son was found to be involved with them, he could only blur the matter. “Just now, I was careless. Perhaps Zhongyu was deceived—tricked by some villain into unknowingly accumulating demonic energy. I will thoroughly investigate…”
Before he could finish, a powerful new pressure surged from the thunderclouds above. Ling Xianhong’s expression changed in shock as he turned to Ling Qingxiao. “What kind of thunder did you summon?!”
Ling Qingxiao remained calm. “Demon-Slaying Thunder.”
Since it was Demon-Slaying Thunder, it wouldn’t disperse until all demonic presence in the area had been eliminated. Ling Qingxiao’s dragon core was one source. Clearly, Ling Zhongyu’s was another.
Suddenly realizing what was about to happen, Ling Xianhong panicked. Zhongyu was already gravely injured—if he faced the tribulation in this state, there was little chance of survival. His expression shifted dramatically, and he immediately summoned his life-bound treasure to shield Zhongyu. But he was far too slow. A thin streak of purple lightning, sharp as a serpent, was already bearing down on them.
Blood still gushed from Ling Zhongyu’s chest. He struggled to speak and tightly grasped Su Yinyue’s hand. “Cousin...it’s too dangerous here. You need to go.”
Su Yinyue cried out in anguish, “Cousin!”
She had wanted to promise she would avenge him—that she would train tirelessly for a thousand, even ten thousand years, and one day defeat Ling Qingxiao. But before the words could leave her mouth, she saw Ling Zhongyu’s pupils dilate. In the reflection of his eyes, a streak of violet lightning was rapidly approaching.
Bai Lingluan, far off in the distance, heard the thunder and turned. Seeing what was about to happen, she screamed with bloodshot eyes, “No—!”
Yun Menghan, too, was stunned by the approaching thunder. Remembering that she was a born spirit herb with potent healing abilities, she instinctively tried to run forward to shield Zhongyu. But after just two steps, a deep fear overtook her.
It was as if something inside her recoiled in terror from the thunder. If she stepped closer, she would be noticed—and obliterated.
She froze. Could it be...she had demonic energy inside her? That was impossible. She had never come into contact with anything demonic—except...Ling Zhongyu.
She was so shocked that she forgot what she had been about to do. And in that instant of hesitation, the lightning arrived.
Su Yinyue barely had time to react. By instinct alone, she threw herself in front of Ling Zhongyu. She had just opened her mouth to say, “Don’t be afraid, cousin, I’ll protect you,” when she felt a tremendous force pull her forward.
Her expression froze. She could only stare as the lightning in Zhongyu’s eyes exploded into blinding violet light.
The devastating heavenly thunder pierced straight through her.
Su Yinyue was dragonborn, blessed with the strongest scales, flesh, and wings in all six realms. But in that instant, even her reverse scales shattered. She coughed up blood.
Her dragon core—shattered.
She clung to life, barely, but only life remained. The heavenly thunder was absolute—ruthless but fair. It never showed mercy, nor did it seek revenge. One strike was enough. If you survived, it would let the past go.
Ling Zhongyu was still holding Su Yinyue, who collapsed into his arms. Both were soaked in blood. He called her name, “Yinyue!”
It was a tragic, heartbreaking scene—two cousins, bound in life and death. Everyone around them was visibly moved.
Yun Menghan watched, paralyzed by guilt and confusion. Why did she have demonic energy? Why could Su Yinyue throw herself in front of Zhongyu without hesitation, and she couldn't? She didn’t dare ask. She didn’t dare think.
Su Yifang’s heart felt like it was bleeding. Her tears flowed like rivers. “Yinyue!”
Then, seeing Ling Zhongyu covered in blood, her grief deepened. “Zhongyu...poor children...star-crossed lovers…”
Luo Han’s expression was complicated. She glanced at Su Yifang but said nothing.
Star-crossed lovers? A tragically romantic tale—but the truth behind it might be sickening.
Ling Xianhong was also deeply moved. He let out a long sigh. “Miss Su’s devotion is truly touching. The Ling and Su families have long considered forming a marriage alliance. Today, I will personally finalize this engagement.”
This was everything Su Yinyue had dreamed of—from childhood to maidenhood, through her travels in the immortal realm, her deepest wish had been to marry her elder cousin.
But when that moment finally came, she couldn’t hear it. Her dragon core was shattered. She had already fallen unconscious.
Around them, many disciples wiped away tears, touched by this tale of shared fate. But Ling Qingxiao, still standing where he was, suddenly drew his sword.
An engagement? A romance? Devotion unto death?
No. This wasn’t love. Ling Zhongyu didn’t deserve to be associated with that word. If the founder of the Su clan still had a soul, he would never want to see his descendants degrade themselves like this. Heaven’s thunder might spare the demon—but Ling Qingxiao would not.
Ling Zhongyu had no right to defile the Su clan’s bloodline.
Ling Xianhong saw Ling Qingxiao unsheathe his sword and was finally enraged. “Ling Qingxiao! Enough! You already carved out his core, claiming it was to prove your innocence—I tolerated it. You summoned heavenly lightning, saying it was to purge demonic energy—I still let it go. But now even heaven has forgiven him—what more do you want? Must you drive Zhongyu to death?!”
Ling Qingxiao’s blade radiated killing intent. For five hundred years, the Jiuxiao Sword had drunk the blood of countless demons. Now, sensing battle, it quivered with anticipation. Ling Qingxiao’s dark eyes were calm—too calm. One might call it composure...or cruelty.
“Demons must be slain. He has already turned—he deserves to die.”
His voice was flat, emotionless, as if stating a simple fact. In ancient times, immortals and demons were born enemies. If you didn’t kill them, they would kill you. Spare a demon’s life today, and tomorrow he might slaughter your friends, your family, your children.
So, when you see a demon—every person has a duty to kill.
This was a law accepted by all during the ancient times, but in this era of peace, it sounded horrifying and cruel. When Ling Xianhong heard Ling Qingxiao utter such cold, terrifying words so calmly, he felt a chill run down his spine. “You really are mad. He is your brother! He might have been framed, or it might be a misunderstanding—none of it has been properly investigated. How can you say something like that?”
Ling Qingxiao was completely unmoved. Framed? Impossible. Demonic energy wrapping around the dragon core meant the magic was circulating internally. Instinctively using someone else to shield himself from heavenly thunder—clearly, the demon had already invaded his heart. A person like that—never mind being his brother—if it were himself, he would kill without hesitation.
He raised his sword, its aura so strong that it stirred a resonance with the thunderclouds above. Su Yifang realized that this time, Ling Qingxiao truly meant to kill. She frantically tried to stop him. Even Ling Xianhong, abandoning all pride, moved to intervene. But Ling Qingxiao slipped past like a phantom—his sword aimed straight at Ling Zhongyu.
Ling Zhongyu clutched Su Yinyue and stumbled to avoid him, despite his grievous injuries. But he was too slow. In the blink of an eye, Ling Qingxiao had already slashed him several times, blood pouring from the wounds.
Ling Qingxiao was an extremely stubborn person. Once he decided on something, he would see it through to the end. Pleas and protests erupted around him, but he ignored them all. He adjusted his stance and launched another attack.
The scene became chaotic. The Devourer Beast looked to Luo Han for instructions. She shook her head—this wasn’t its battle.
This was Ling Qingxiao’s trial—his inner demon. Only by ending this himself could he break free of the shadows of his childhood and be reborn.
“Stop!” Ling Xianhong once again deflected the tip of Ling Qingxiao’s sword. Seizing the moment, Yun Menghan staggered forward, placing herself in front of Ling Qingxiao’s blade. Her tear-streaked face looked up at him. “Second Young Master, please...stop. This isn’t you.”
Ling Qingxiao’s voice was like ice. “Move.”
“You weren’t like this before. You were kind, gentle, refined. Have you forgotten who you were?”
He wasn’t this kind of person? Absurd. They had no idea what he had lived through. What gave them the right to act like they understood him? From the beginning, he had always been this way—obsessive, extreme.
His eyes were pitch black—devoid of light, emotion, or warmth—filled only with killing intent. Under his gaze, Yun Menghan trembled with fear. Her sobs grew more sorrowful. She didn’t even know if her tears were for Ling Zhongyu or for the second young master—the light she once admired.
She mustered all her pride to beg, “Second Young Master, you once promised me three things. Helping Zhongyu through the thunder tribulation was one. Now, I ask for the second.”
“Please...let him go.”
She kept the third wish to herself: Please don’t fall into darkness. Stay bright. Stay aloof. Stay untouchable.
Ling Qingxiao’s sword paused for a moment—and in that moment, Ling Zhongyu activated a forbidden technique. Carrying Su Yinyue, he fled from Zhongshan.
Blood Ban—a technique fueled by bloodline and lifespan, allowing for instant escape from any situation. The more one sacrificed, the farther one could flee—far enough to cross into another realm.
For example: the Demon Realm.
Ling Qingxiao let out a cold laugh and turned toward Ling Xianhong, full of mockery. “Framed? Would someone who was framed know how to use a demon clan’s forbidden technique like Blood Ban?”
Blood Ban was sinister and taboo, a technique that harmed one’s foundation. It didn’t exist in the immortal realm—it was created by demons. With so many twists and turns today, there was no room left for doubt.
Ling Zhongyu had colluded with demons and stolen their forbidden arts. It was a certainty.
Ling Xianhong felt a crushing weariness. His eldest son had fallen to darkness, and now so had his second. After all his years of effort, what had it all been for?
His heart broken, Ling Xianhong raised his head to the sky and cried, “Heavens above, what did I do wrong to deserve this punishment?”
A faint glow flickered on Luo Han’s bracelet, hidden under her sleeve. No one noticed.
She received messages like this every day. What did you do wrong? Can’t you tell yourself? What are you asking the heavens for?
If Ling Xianhong hadn’t been so biased and small-minded, things never would have come to this. For parents, it wasn’t about material provision—it was about fairness. If they were unjust, it would destroy all their children. The one deprived would be pushed further and further away; the favored one would grow vain and selfish from never being denied.
Ling Qingxiao was the former. Ling Zhongyu, the latter.
Ling Xianhong’s cries went unanswered. Finally, in exhaustion, he stood on the steps and said, “Ling Zhongyu has colluded with demons. As of today, he is stripped of his title as heir. Await further punishment.”
“Close the mountain gates. Seal Zhongshan. From now on, no one is allowed to enter or leave. Activate the flight-ban array—no message talismans are to be sent for three days.”
One order after another. Finally, his voice turned icy cold as he delivered the last command: “Someone—take Ling Qingxiao away.”
Gasps erupted all around. “Patriarch—!”
“That’s an order!” Ling Xianhong roared. His spirit energy exploded outward, shattering nearby stone carvings into dust. “Ling Qingxiao is ruthless and defiant. As of today, he will be imprisoned in the Spirit-Binding Mountain and lashed with the Green Thunder Whip—a hundred lashes per day, for one hundred days. He is to remain in confinement for one thousand years. No one may visit. Anyone who disobeys—will be exiled from Zhongshan.”
Dragons were tough-skinned and hard to injure—ordinary whips did nothing to them. But the Green Thunder Whip was made from dragon tendons, crafted specifically to punish dragons. A hundred lashes would leave anyone severely wounded—and Ling Qingxiao was to endure it for a hundred days straight.
This wasn’t punishment—it was execution by slow torture.
The last time Ling Qingxiao cut off one of Ling Zhongyu’s arms, Ling Xianhong had nearly used the Green Thunder Whip. Back then, Su Yifang had at least tried to stop it. This time, she stood frozen—silent for a long, long time.
It was chilling.
Luo Han no longer bothered arguing. Times had changed. Before, when she was powerless, all she could do was talk. Now, if Ling Xianhong wanted to use force—fine. She’d fight.
With a family this heartless and a home this cold...there was nothing worth staying for.
After Ling Xianhong finished speaking, everyone fell silent. On a square with tens of thousands of people, not a single sound could be heard. He let out a cold laugh, his gaze sharp as blades as he swept across the crowd. “Why are you all still standing there? This is the Clan Head's command—who dares to disobey?”
The disciples of the Punishment Division mumbled their assent. They were all afraid of Ling Qingxiao, but a Clan Head’s order could not be defied. Bracing themselves, they slowly approached Ling Qingxiao. But as they neared him, Ling Qingxiao merely cast them a calm glance, and all of them recoiled as if stung, retreating several steps at once.
“Clan Head's command? Not necessarily,” Ling Qingxiao said, raising his sword slowly and pointing it straight at his father—the current head of the Ling family. “Change the Clan Head, and it won’t be anymore.”
Everyone was stunned. Ling Xianhong froze for a moment, then burst out laughing in disbelief. “You actually dare challenge me?”
Even with all his breakthroughs, Ling Qingxiao was still only a peak Celestial Immortal, and there was a chasm between that and True Immortal. Moreover, Ling Xianhong was no ordinary True Immortal—his strength and cultivation were solid and formidable.
“It’s not provocation—it’s a challenge.” A vast wave of icy blue energy surged up around Ling Qingxiao. The wind howled, whipping his long hair and robes into a frenzy. It coiled around him in a vortex, and at its center, he stood still as stone. In his palm, his dragon core spun into a phantom within the storm. Then, with a burst of bright light, it pierced into his chest.
The dragon core returned to its rightful place. A torrent of energy flooded into him, and his cultivation surged rapidly, eventually breaking through the limit of Celestial Immortal. Thunderclouds roared above. Though he did not yet face heavenly tribulation, his strength exceeded that of a True Immortal. He had entered the realm of a “False True Immortal”—not yet tested by tribulation, but already standing between the two levels.
At last, his body was whole. Ling Qingxiao clenched his fist and felt that familiar surge of power—that was the essence of the dragon core, the very heart of his race.
For five hundred years, even while fighting in the ancient war, he had lacked his core, relying instead on a divine orb to supplement him. Now that both the dragon core and divine orb resonated within him, he had two power sources in his body.
Before, the odds were uncertain. But now—with his core restored—a challenge against Ling Xianhong was no longer impossible.
Ling Qingxiao gripped his sword tighter, aiming it once more at his father. His eyes burned with fighting spirit. “In the dragon clan, strength determines rule. From the Celestial Emperor to the Clan Head, all positions go to the capable. As the head of Zhongshan, you’ve ruled with bias and betrayal. You’ve lost your virtue and your worth. If you are unworthy—then step down.”
Ling Xianhong was so furious he laughed. He nodded slowly, the fury in his eyes almost tangible. “Very well. You overestimate yourself. Today, I’ll personally clean the house.”
A high-level battle could not be spectated. No one in front of Funing Hall even had time to react before a violent gust of wind swept past. By the time they steadied themselves, Ling Qingxiao and Ling Xianhong were already gone.
Luo Han and the Devourer Beast looked up. Su Yifang scrambled down from the platform in a panic, eyes wide as she scanned the sky.
Dark clouds rolled, lightning crackled. Two streaks of light clashed at high speed above, metal ringing against metal. In the bustling, crowded city of Tianzhao, life continued as usual. Merchants in the East Market welcomed guests; a little girl picked hairpins with her mother. Suddenly, a deafening thunderclap shook the skies, and an oppressive pressure descended on the entire city.
People screamed, diving for cover. They looked up in confusion—and saw light churning within the clouds.
At first it was too distant to see clearly. But then the little girl pointed up in wonder. “Mom, look! A dragon!”
Yes—and not just one, but two dragons.
When dragons battle in the wild, their blood turns the earth black and yellow.
When heaven and earth clash, it ends in death and ruin.
Zhongshan was about to change.

Author’s note: “When dragons battle in the wild, their blood turns the earth black and yellow.” — I Ching