Chapter 548 - Blade Without Rival, the Khagan's Finale - Part 3

A while later.

In the frozen wilderness, a family of four was reunited.

Naran’s eyes went red the moment he saw him, still a youth in appearance but undeniably his father.

He dropped to his knees, tears streaming down without shame.

“Father!”

The last time he cried was probably the day he was born.

Li Yuan looked down at the towering, broad-shouldered man before him, already showing the weight of age.

He closed his eyes briefly.

And in his mind, a memory from over 30 years ago stirred, of a boy born a natural sixth rank, constantly picking fights. He’d fight anyone, anywhere. But in the end, only the tribe’s Khagan could give him a proper match.

So every day, that kid would wander the tribe asking,

“Where’s my father? Where’s my father?”

Not long after, chaos erupted within the Nine Flames Tribe.

The old-guard natives, unwilling to see the rise of the new generation, stole the Khagan’s axe in secret.

But before the rebel faction could even lay hands on it, the boy had already crushed the rebellion with blood and fire. He reclaimed the golden axe with his own hands, treaded over the corpses of traitors, and ascended the throne of the Khagan.

More events followed, one after another.

As these memories flashed by, Li Yuan gazed tenderly at the brawny man kneeling before him, and spoke with a gentle voice.

“You shine now like the Sun. As your father, I couldn’t be more proud.”

Naran’s throat tightened, and as tears streamed down his face, he broke into a complex smile, half joy and half sorrow.

Li Yuan took his arm and helped him to his feet. “I’ll take you to the Deathless Tomb. Your sister will watch over you. It’s just a sleep. When you wake, you’ll be reborn. I figure...with so many gods lying inside, it can’t all be a lie.”

Naran said nothing more. He simply nodded and replied, “Father, I’ll follow your arrangements. But the Khatun still commands a number of three-headed direwolf riders. If she calls them all together, even sister won’t be able to stop her.”

Li Yuan smiled faintly. “If I’m the one taking you, no one will dare block the way.”

He turned to Snow.

Once a naive, loud girl, later a matriarch who had seen it all, she now simply stood there smiling, quietly watching this moment unfold.

Li Yuan asked, “You’ve spent your whole life in the Western Extremes. Want to go out and see the world?”

“I’ve always been waiting for you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” Snow answered softly.

For her and Naran, bloodlines and nations no longer mattered. What remained was family.

Then, Li Yuan changed his appearance again, back to that of the slightly plump man that he had shown outside Antelope Pass. This form was tethered to his colossal golden body, a thousand feet tall.

And so, one man, one woman, one young man, and one black crow...walked openly, without fear, toward the Tomb of the Gods.

As they moved, the entire Western Extremes stirred into a frenzy.

Waves of direwolf riders were dispatched, galloping toward the Deathless Tomb’s entrance.

When Meng Xingxian heard the news, she told nothing to her son. Instead, she pulled together her last trump card, 300 three-headed direwolf riders, and led them straight toward the Deathless Tomb herself.

By the time Li Yuan’s group arrived at the vast crystal garden of ice, they were met by over 3,000 direwolf riders.

But these were not part of the elite cavalry, just ordinary patrollers riding single-headed direwolves, most of them sixth rank.

At the center, however, stood the real obstacle, the terrifying three-headed direwolf riders.

The 300 of them were all in full formation.

At the very front stood a young man, a face unfamiliar, but clearly one of Meng Xingxian’s closest confidants.

Meng Xingxian herself looked ahead, her gaze pausing on Li Yuan’s unfamiliar face with faint surprise. But then her eyes quickly moved past him, landing on Naran.

“My husband,” she called out. “Why have you come here?”

Naran replied, “I never wronged you. Why must you insist on wronging me?”

“The Khagan entering the Deathless Tomb, is that something to take lightly?” Meng Xingxian said coldly. “The Crowmother forbade me from sending the direwolf riders to escort you. So I waited. Does that count as betrayal?”

“Such hollow excuses. What’s the point?” Naran sighed. “Do you think others don’t see your true purpose?”

His gaze swept across the assembled riders, and in the end, he couldn’t help but ask, “Where is our son?”

Meng Xingxian smiled faintly. “So you

do

remember you have a son.”

Naran stiffened. “He’s

your

son too.”

Meng Xingxian let out a peal of laughter, light and melodious.

But that single laugh made Naran’s face go pale. He barked sharply, “Do you even have any feelings left?!”

Meng Xingxian’s voice turned soft, almost tender. “If we’re talking about heartlessness, isn’t my husband the colder one? I asked so little of you...and even that, you refused.

“The Crowmother was willing to risk her life to pull you off the battlefield. Your sister’s love for you runs deep, and you trust her without question. But you won’t even let

me

send direwolves to escort you, won’t even let me take one last look?

“My husband...you’re the cruel one.”

Naran, never good with words, couldn’t argue. He coughed in frustration, raising a hand to point at her, voice hoarse. “He’s your son too!”

Meng Xingxian replied, “Then if you love me, wouldn’t you want

my

son to stay safe too?”

“Y-you...!” Naran’s cough turned violent. When he lowered his hand from his mouth, it was slick with blood.

Meng Xingxian tilted her head with a soft laugh. “My love, go ahead and tell your sister what you want.”

Then she sighed, voice floating like mist. “Your sister may be strong, but she’s down to her last Heaven Soul now. Meanwhile, these 300 three-headed direwolf riders...were meant to be your secret weapon, saved for the final battle. Who’d have thought I’d have to use them here?

“I’ll be blunt: if your sister tries to force her way through, she’ll die. “And I imagine...you wouldn’t want our son to lose a Heaven Soul aunt, would you?”

She spread her hands, her voice sweet as honey. “Besides, now that

I’m

standing here, how do you plan to enter the Deathless Tomb?”

With that, she threw her head back and laughed again, clear and crisp like silver bells in snow.

Tap...

A soft footstep silenced her laughter.

Meng Xingxian turned, frowning slightly as she noticed the unfamiliar man standing beside Naran.

She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

Li Yuan answered calmly, “The man who can kill you, whenever he pleases.”

Meng Xingxian glanced toward Naran. Seeing the flicker of tension in his eyes, her own expression sharpened.

She yanked her reins and pulled her steed back, waving a hand.

The 300 three-headed direwolf riders surged forward, lances raised.

The young general at their head raised his long spear high, and in an instant, the collective formation roared to life. A massive astral projection 300 feet tall manifested in the air, looming like a titan, looking down at the man who dared to speak so boldly.

Meng Xingxian’s smile returned. From the rear, she watched Naran’s face, clearly catching the worry in his expression.

Satisfied, she said coldly, “Kill him.”

It didn’t matter who he was, nor did it matter what relationship he had with Naran.

Right here, right now, she refused to believe

anyone

could stand against the might of her three-headed direwolf rider formation.

Each direwolf was fourth rank, her trump card.

Each rider was a peak among fifth rank warriors.

To put it bluntly, even if they faced the notorious ghost cavalry of the Lotus Cult, the scourge of the world in their day, her troops wouldn’t necessarily be at a disadvantage.

This was a force forged to be invincible.

And no sooner had she spoken than the astral projection, formed from the three hundred riders, thrust its spear downward.

The air cracked. That single strike carried terrifying, explosive force.

Li Yuan watched quietly.

From the formation’s movements, he could see the faint traces of the Nine Suns Divine Art.

That was the martial arts he had once designed for the Nine Flames Tribe.

Now, that very martial art had been absorbed into their military formations, and turned against him. How laughable. Absolutely ridiculous.

Li Yuan chuckled. A mere combat power of 350k. Garbage, really. And they dared put on airs before

him

?

He stood tall and unmoving, not lifting a finger. Yet around him, the towering blue ice pillars began to melt, and pale flames, bone-white and unnatural, burst into being where no fire should burn.

From within the seemingly fragile shell of a man, a towering golden figure stepped out.

The first step of that golden body, 300 feet tall, brought it level with the military formation’s astral giant.

The second step, 700 feet tall.

The third, a full 1,000 feet tall and overflowing with a golden radiance.

The giant lifted its blade and slashed out.

This was the perfected Great Moon Blade. It didn’t just slice the air. It tore the very fabric of space. A collapsing force rippled outward, pulling everything along with the slash.

Howling winds rose, shrieking with fury. Ice crystals spun wildly, then melted midair. Any direwolf rider who ventured too close was lifted off the ground, then caught in the blaze, burning alive as they floated helplessly.

As for the towering military projection, that 300-foot colossus of formation power shattered like brittle tofu beneath the weight of the blade.

But fourth rank beasts were still fourth-rank.

The three-headed direwolves held their ground, even within the firestorm, their bodies braced, refusing to be swept away like the lesser troops.

But that was the best they could manage.

BOOM!

A blinding slash descended from the heavens, radiant, brilliant, glorious, and dazzling to the soul. It cleaved through the sky and slammed into the three-headed direwolf riders like divine judgment.

Flame and blade merged into a sea of light. And then, nothing remained. The formation. The riders. Everything was gone. Ashes on the wind.

Yet the control behind the strike was exquisite. Not a drop of its fury touched Meng Xingxian.

The flame-laced blade fell just shy of her nose, close enough that she could smell the heat, feel the death. And the Khatun who had only moments ago been laughing like a silver bell stood frozen, wide-eyed, her body trembling.

The golden giant vanished.

The slightly plump, utterly unremarkable man stood once again in its place.

He walked over, lifted the Khagan down from his direwolf, and said calmly, “Go with your sister now. Don’t worry about what comes after. And don’t worry about your son.”

“Mhm...” Naran nodded. He took two steps, then suddenly turned, dropped to his knees, and knocked his head three times against the earth, loud, heavy thuds.

To any outsider, it looked like he was bowing to Snow.

But in truth...the one he bowed to stood behind her.

He rose, squared his shoulders, and marched forward, head held high.

He was heading to the Deathless Tomb to sleep.

Whatever he had suffered before sleep no longer mattered. When he woke, he would be reborn. And then...he would follow his father.

He walked past Meng Xingxian.

Only then did she seem to come back to herself. Her voice trembled.

“Who... who is he?”

Naran merely smiled and walked on. He stepped into the maze of the Deathless Tomb.

And from the distance, a flock of crows rose into the sky to greet him.

Li Yuan watched him vanish inside. Then he mounted his direwolf, turned, and rode away.

Snow followed at his side, their figures growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared completely into the snow.

Only after they were gone did Meng Xingxian finally collapse to her knees, utterly defeated. She muttered to herself, dazed, “The withered flame... Complete soul mastery... How can something like that still exist in this era?”

Clenching her jaw, she glanced toward a distant direwolf rider and waved him over with sudden urgency.

The rider approached, trembling.

Meng Xingxian pulled the man off, then leapt onto his direwolf. And without another word, she rode after them.