When Xuan Yuan   returned to Baoying City, he found it even more bustling than the last time he left.

News of the Celestial Taiyi’s miracles had spread far and wide through merchants traveling from all directions. Now, not only were people from Chuzhou (where Baoying was located) flocking in, but scholars, nobles, and merchants from nearby prefectures and even distant provinces were making the journey just to witness the celestial  signs.

The main street had been renamed Taiyi Avenue. The houses around the celestial  Jade had all been demolished, and their original residents relocated. On the cleared site, groups of laborers were busy constructing the Temple of Taiyi.

Every day, large crowds came to pray nearby. To accommodate these worshippers, the imperial court specially dispatched officials from the Ministry of Works to oversee construction. They first built a temporary shrine centered on the celestial  Jade. Though it was crude, it sufficed for now.

The local county magistrate visited every day. To him, this wasn’t just a miracle—it was a guarantee of promotion and fortune, a direct path to a flourishing political career.

Huang Rong had come with the urgent desire to see her father, Huang Yaoshi, but now that she and Xuan Yuan   were actually back in Baoying City, she wasn’t in such a hurry anymore.

Smiling brightly, she looked at Xuan Yuan  —who had changed out of his blazing Solar Celestial Robe and into a robe of cloud-patterned brocade—and suggested,

“Brother Xing, come stroll around the city with Rong’er first?”

They had always been either traveling or practicing cultivation, or making strategic plans. They had never had the chance to blend into the bustling street life like ordinary people.

“Alright.”

Xuan Yuan   instinctively tried to hold her hand, but quickly realized they were still in Southern Song-era China. Doing so in public would surely attract strange looks from those around them.

At this moment, the Southern Song was enjoying its last era of decaying prosperity. The markets were thriving. Not only were there Song merchants, but also Jurchens, Dalians, Mongols, and even merchants from further west. Shops lined the streets, filled with all sorts of dazzling goods.

Though Huang Rong paused at every stall to inspect the wares, she never bought anything. After all, she was used to the magical tools crafted by Nuwa in the Eastern Celestial Palace—this worldly merchandise was only curious, not impressive.

By the time they were done, she only had two skewers of candied hawthorn in her hands. She’d take one bite, then feed another bite to Xuan Yuan  —nothing more.

Eventually, she said,

“Brother Xing, hold on a moment. Let me check where Father is right now.”

She tilted her head and tapped her ear ornament. Technically, she didn’t need any gestures to control the Xuanbirds—just her thoughts—but she’d developed a habit of tapping it three times.

After a short moment, her expression changed.

“Those bastards! How dare they gang up on Father!”

Xuan Yuan   turned toward her.

“Your father’s under attack?”

“Those damn Quanzhen Taoists! If I’d known they were so evil, I would’ve burned the whole Quanzhen Sect to the ground back when we were at Mount Zhongnan!”

That confirmed everything for Xuan Yuan  .

Apparently, the Seven Quanzhen Elders still believed the lies of Qiu Qianzhang, that fraud who pretended to be his brother Qiu Qianren, and falsely claimed that Huang Yaoshi had killed Zhou Botong—leading them to come here seeking revenge.

“Rong’er, let’s go.”

He grabbed her waist and stepped into a nearby empty alley. With a flicker of light, a red lotus illusion was left in their place.

Their figures blurred. Every step spanned great distances in an instant. In mere moments, they had reached the outskirts of Baoying City.

As they approached a small forest, the sounds of battle reached them clearly:

“You demon! You killed our elder! Today, your blood will pay for his life!”

“Attack! Kill him!”

Inside the forest, the Seven Quanzhen Elders had formed the Big Dipper Formation, combining their power to surround and attack Huang Yaoshi.

In this formation, each person attacked with one hand while placing the other on their neighbor’s body. When an enemy attacked the frontmost member, they didn’t block—their allies struck back from the sides. It was like one person possessing the strength of many. Its power was terrifying.

Back on Zishan, Xuan Yuan   had studied this very formation. Nuwa had even run deep simulations on it using her celestial supercomputer. She had dismantled the entire thing and taught him every nuance.

At a glance, he could see exactly what state the formation was in.

The Big Dipper Formation could be cast with seven people, or scaled up to ninety-eight, one hundred and eight, three hundred sixty-five, even one thousand and twenty-four people—iterations Nuwa had tested and improved.

Trapped inside, even a master could find themselves struggling, hemmed in from every side.

But if one understood its secrets and seized the Polaris position, they could reverse the flow—controlling the entire formation and locking it down.

Now, Huang Yaoshi, also a master of formations, was slowly starting to see the truth. He had once arranged illusions on Peach Blossom Island using only trees and stones. Now, though surrounded, he was already discerning the formation’s weak points.

With a cold sneer, he taunted,

“I won’t lower myself to explain anything to you. If you want to kill me—try it.”

“Die, demon!” shouted Qiu Chuji, the most hot-headed of the seven. He struck with all his might.

Sun Bu’er shouted too:

“Had we known you were so evil, we never would’ve left that child with your little demoness!”

She was about to call Xuan Yuan   a «little demon» too—but the words caught in her throat. A nameless fear overwhelmed her, and she swallowed her insult whole.

“You mean Rong’er!?” Huang Yaoshi’s expression changed. He struck aside Qiu Chuji’s sword and shouted,
“What’s going on!?”

Before he could ask further—

A piercing whistle tore through the air.

Everyone stopped and turned.

A glorious flying sword, wrapped in lightning, came shrieking through the sky like a thunderbolt.

Its target: Qiu Chuji.

Shocked, Qiu Chuji raised his sword to block. The instant they clashed—his sword shattered.

The flying sword pierced through his left shoulder, sending him flying backwards. He crashed through a tree and only stopped after rolling across the ground, heavily wounded.

As the sword passed through the Big Dipper Formation, it detonated with a booming roar. The shockwave blasted the six remaining elders into the air.

“Senior Brother!”
“Qiu Chuji!”
“Junior Brother!!”

Of the six who remained, three rushed to help Qiu Chuji. The other three stood protectively, staring in terror at the sword hovering in midair, still wrapped in celestial lightning.

Sword flight?!

Not only the Quanzhen Seven—even Huang Yaoshi was stunned.

“Sword flight… this is the legendary celestial art… Who are you, mighty one? We are here only to avenge our elder. Please, reveal yourself!”

Ma Yu gulped, sweat beading on his brow as he bowed to the surroundings.

Then a crisp and furious young voice called out:

“Father would never hurt Old Imp Zhou! You stinky Taoists are the absolute worst!”