Chapter 1311: Eleven Great Emperors!

Chapter 1311: Eleven Great Emperors!

Above the firmament, the vortex roared at this very moment, its thunderous clamor surpassing even the mightiest lightning.

Its echo swept across the entirety of Wanggu.

Like a cascade of heartbeats, it reverberated within the chests of all living beings, shaking the minds and souls of countless races.

At the same time, across the lands of Wanggu, poisonous flora—scattered throughout various regions and not yet fully withered—

began trembling this instant!

As if in welcome!

Then, from within the celestial vortex surged a tide of dark violet miasma, erupting forth with the force of collapsing mountains and surging seas.

It billowed outward, instantly blotting out sun and sky.

And within that noxious fog emerged a tall, slender figure—

a silhouette as black as ink.

The moment he appeared, every poisonous plant across Wanggu bloomed in unison!

Toxic essence rose abruptly along the very laws and principles governing Wanggu.

And the source of it all was none other than the figure within the miasma.

He was stepping forth!

Clad in a long robe of black satin that cascaded like a nocturnal waterfall, its hem stained with frost crystals formed from congealed venom, shimmering with an eerie glow.

His raven hair hung loose, falling like crow feathers, strands threaded with ghostly green phosphorescent flames—like countless tiny serpents flicking their tongues in shadow.

Most astonishing of all was the mark upon his brow: twelve petals encircling one another, twisting into the visage of a beautiful yet grotesque face.

Horrifying to behold!

It was Li Mengtu!

His arrival sent shockwaves through every race of Wanggu and every cultivator from the Sacred Lands who had been watching—hearts quaked, spirits trembled.

“A second quasi-immortal!”

In the Human Imperial Capital, Ning Yan sucked in a sharp breath.

In Fenghai Prefecture, Yao Hou and others sensed this scene through arcane means—and were equally stunned.

So too were the Crown Prince and his entourage in the Ji Yue Great Domain, along with cultivators of myriad races—all hearts churned in awe.

Even the Empress’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“This one is also a quasi-immortal! Though inferior to the first, his aura still far surpasses that Yan Zi by an immense margin!”

As dread thickened in her heart, Li Mengtu aloft in midair cast his gaze across the world below.

“So… this is Wanggu…”

Li Mengtu drew a deep breath.

According to ancestral records preserved by his clan, he knew well—his forebears hailed from Wanggu.

An overwhelming tide of emotion swelled within him, and he was about to speak further—

when Xing Huanzi’s cold voice cut through the air.

“What are you blocking there for? Now that you’ve descended, hurry up and make way for the others!”

Li Mengtu snorted but stepped aside nonetheless.

Scarcely had he moved when the vortex above roared anew.

This time, mountains came first.

One after another, illusory peaks materialized beyond the vortex—and the moment they appeared, the real mountains of Wanggu began to tremble.

Amidst those layered mountain shadows in midair strode a woman.

Her features were strikingly beautiful yet icy-cold; her nose high-bridged, lips stained crimson like cinnabar, bearing the chill of snow atop distant summits.

She wore a moon-white, wide-sleeved celestial gown embroidered with overlapping silhouettes of faraway peaks. The ashen-gray patterns shifted with each step she took, as though mountains drifted through mist and cloud.

As she walked, stone pathways coalesced beneath her feet, suspended in air—and behind her, the phantom mountains thundered ceaselessly, as if bowing in reverence.

It was Yuan Shan Su!

Yet she did not come alone. Behind her, emerging from the mountain shadows like something seeping from a rift in hell, came another figure—a man bearing a broken sword.

He wore a tattered robe of raven-blue, his hair streaked gray and crimson, haphazardly tied back with a bone hairpin. At the ends of his locks clung dried black blood, as if hacked off by a blade and left to grow wild.

His expression was frigid, eyes brimming with venomous malice—as though some demon lurking beneath a deep abyss, ready to drag any soul into eternal damnation.

Especially chilling was the shattered blade strapped to his back.

Its hilt was wrapped in half-rotted human skin; its edge riddled with fine cracks, from which oozed dark violet demonic qi.

That aura soared heavenward, spreading relentlessly in all directions.

Faint cries of tormented beings could be heard within it, chanting deathly incantations.

He was none other than Xie Lingzi!

Once more, the hearts of Wanggu’s myriad races trembled.

Even the Empress instinctively stepped backward. To her eyes, the first arrival had been supreme, the second formidable, the third astonishing—

but this fourth… radiated pure evil!

And all of them—quasi-immortals! All of them—Great Emperors!

Most crucially, the energy within the vortex continued to surge.

So powerful was this force that heaven and earth changed color, causing human cultivators of Wanggu to shudder uncontrollably—even otherworldly races felt primal awe.

Those earlier arrivals from the Sacred Lands now suffered violent palpitations.

Particularly the scattered quasi-immortals among them—they felt it most acutely. They clearly perceived that each of these newly descended figures, and indeed the very presence still brewing within the vortex, surpassed Yan Zi by an unfathomable degree!

And… the descents were not over!

All of Wanggu trembled at this moment.

Just then, amid the tension and watchful anticipation of all factions—

a sword’s cry echoed from the vortex above humankind.

Qian Jun Pi Yi—transformed into sword-form—shot forth from the vortex like a spear cleaving armies!

The heavens and earth shook at its emergence, as if sun and moon blazed together.

Every blade across Wanggu resonated in harmony.

Countless observers instinctively turned their gazes toward it—even divine beings projecting their awareness here found their spiritual senses rippling.

Truly, these two swords radiated transcendent immortal energy, imbued with extraordinary vitality!

They were treasures unmatched in this age!

Among them, Qian Jun measured three chi and three cun in length. Its blade resembled crystallized meltwater—translucent, threaded with glimmering stardust. Along its spine ran silver cloud-and-thunder motifs.

Yet Biyi was slightly shorter by an inch, its blade the hue of jade-green, its surface etched with overlapping mountain ranges and cascading waterfalls. Its edge, thin as a cicada’s wing, was peerlessly sharp.

At this moment, the twin swords shimmered in mutual radiance, circling through the eight directions. Wherever they passed, the void froze like ice, leaving behind faint blue sword-trails.

Moreover, their resonant cries pierced the heavens, echoing across the skies—the very words Qianjun had once proclaimed for himself:

“Qianjun commands slaughter!”

“Biyi commands defense!”

“Together, they can cleave through the barriers of ten thousand realms; apart, they shield humankind from divine calamity!”

These three declarations thundered across the world, shaking the minds of all who heard them—just as the vortex roared ever more fiercely. This time, four figures descended simultaneously.

The first was a burly giant, striding forth with a greatblade slung over his shoulder. Towering like an iron bastion, broad-shouldered and thick-backed, his hair tied carelessly into a horse-tail with a strip of beasthide, his eyes sharp as blades.

Nineteen divine fangs hung from his waist, each carved with the name of a divine altar he had slain.

His name: Wang Peng!

Beside him stood another man, middle-aged in appearance yet slender of frame, bearing at his side a narrow, slender sword whose scabbard bore a perpetual rime of frost.

His name matched his nature: Li Hanfeng!

His Xian was the sword!

The third appeared as a refined scholar steeped in classical learning—clad in an ash-gray robe, fair-faced, exuding an air of erudition mingled with seven parts of hidden, coiled sharpness. In his hand he held a bamboo scroll inscribed with countless characters.

His Xian was the written word!

His name: Li Xuance!

As for the fourth among them—he was Bloodcloud Daoist!

His hair blazed crimson like living flame, tangled and spilling wildly over his shoulders. His face was gaunt as a skull, his entire being seeming to have crawled forth from the depths of a blood-soaked sea. As he advanced, crimson clouds billowed from his body, and the bloodthirsty smile curling his lips made it seem as though the whole world ought to be swallowed by his scarlet miasma.

Each of these four was a quasi-immortal!

Now ten quasi-immortals had descended upon Wanggu. The entire realm trembled—skies churned, earth thundered, every race shaken to its core.

Tension and dread became the dominant chords, erupting within the hearts of all living beings—even the gods were no exception!

As for the quasi-immortals of the sacred lands, their inner worlds already roared with celestial thunder; terror surged like tidal waves, overwhelming their every thought.

For these nine newcomers, though perhaps not quite matching the first arrival, were all Quasi-Immortal Emperors—and each one’s manifestation sent violent ripples through Wanggu’s very laws and principles, affecting all existence.

In the understanding of the sacred land quasi-immortals, such power bordered on that of a Xia Immortal—each surpassing Yiyanzi.

More crucially, even if they themselves had never possessed a Xian, they had learned of its existence from ancient immortals and from Yiyanzi.

Yet every single one of these arrivals… possessed a Xian!

And not merely so—their Xian’s concentration was horrifyingly high.

But what stunned them even more was age.

All ten quasi-immortals were comparatively young—clearly, each was a peerless prodigy!

Such a figure, even one alone, would shake the world.

Yet now… there were ten!

Ten Emperor-level beings!

Thus Wanggu reeled in horror, the myriad races trembled, the sacred lands quaked, and even the gods grew grave.

None knew whence these ten Emperors came—or why.

Within the Empress’s heart, unreality swelled to unbearable intensity. She drew a deep breath, about to speak—

—but suddenly, a cough echoed from within the vortex.

That single cough became a storm, rising to supreme heights.

“More?”

The sacred lands shuddered; the myriad races’ hearts clenched. The Empress’s pupils contracted sharply.

From the vortex emerged an eleventh figure.

Clad in a pale gray brocade robe, his black hair neatly bound by a jade coronet, the ends falling to his waist, his features gentle, warmth shimmering in his eyes—as if capable of dissolving all defenses.

He resembled nothing so much as a refined young master from an illustrious house.

It was Zhou Zhengli!

As he stepped forward, a humble smile graced his lips—but Li Mengtu and the others instinctively turned their gazes toward him.

This subtle shift did not escape notice—from the sacred lands, from the myriad races, nor from the Empress herself, who studied Zhou Zhengli, wondering if he might be their leader. Zhou Zhengli, smiling gently, then spoke:

“My apologies—we encountered some complications en route. Several Divine Lords intercepted our Sovereign in the Primordial Sea.”

“Fearing for Wanggu’s safety, our Sovereign dispatched us ahead of schedule… hence our slight delay.”

“And our Sovereign himself is already on the way—he should arrive shortly.”