The palace stopped trembling, and the Primordial Contract on the great door no longer flickered. The golden light shining on the Sword Spirit Puppets quietly dissipated. The entire valley was deathly silent.

However, this silence did not last long. Soon, those Sword Spirit Puppets began to emit painful howls, yet still raised their longswords and charged forward madly, though the power within the swords was clearly much less than before.

Han Yan looked at Qu Shanling in surprise, never imagining that he would have such a mysterious hand formation. Why hadn’t she discovered this before?

"Quick, kill them, quickly!" Qu Shanling said with a trembling voice, his hand performing the hand formation with veins bulging, his entire body drenched in cold sweat like rain.

Although they didn’t know what mystery lay within his hand formation that could suppress the Primordial Contract that even Ye Lanfeng found helpless, just by looking at his state, Han Yan and the others knew he couldn’t hold on for long. Han Yan couldn’t afford to be surprised any longer and, along with Ye Lanfeng, charged at the Sword Spirit Puppets opposite them.

With the loss of the Primordial Contract’s blessing, the strongest of these Sword Spirit Puppets were only at the Seventh Rank of Sword Master. Even if they fought with all their might, and even with a resolve to die together, how could they withstand the full attack from Han Yan and the others? One by one, figures fell to the ground, their heart meridians shattered, their divine souls scattered. To prevent future troubles, Han Yan and the others didn’t even leave a shred of residual soul behind. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Although they knew these Sword Spirit Puppets were merely being controlled and were innocent themselves, they knew that at this moment, there could be no hesitation, no compassion. Otherwise, not only would they suffer, but perhaps the entire Holy Court Continent would also be deeply harmed.

In just a moment, over a hundred Sword Spirit Puppets lay on the ground, lifeless. Only the last black-clothed man remained standing before the altar, chanting softly. His body had long been riddled with holes by that golden pillar of light, trembling violently from pain.

His gaze, empty and void, was fixed on Han Yan, bewildered, with a flicker of a strange brilliance in his eyes.

Suddenly, he stopped chanting, turned around, and thrust his sword towards Han Yan.

Huayue and the others instinctively blocked in front of Han Yan, their expressions extremely solemn. But soon, they realized their actions were unnecessary. The strength of this black-clothed man wasn’t greater than that of the Sword Spirit Puppets, even lagging behind. He was only at the Third Stage of Sword Master, a level of strength that posed no threat to Han Yan at all.

Before they could take action, Han Yan had already taken a step forward like an arrow, the Cold Sky Sword thrusting straight toward the opponent’s heart meridian.

An astonishing scene unfolded; faced with Han Yan’s sword aiming at a fatal point, the black-clothed man didn’t block or dodge but instead opened his arms and welcomed it.

"Ssh," the Cold Sky Sword pierced into the opponent’s chest, but when it was just a hair’s breadth away from the heart meridian, it stopped.

Almost all the Sword Spirit Puppets had already perished, only one remained before her, yet Han Yan had too many unanswered questions. From the strange brilliance in his eyes earlier and his final act of seeking death, it seemed he still retained some self-awareness. Han Yan didn’t wish to kill him so quickly.

While retracting the sword force, Han Yan swiftly tapped with her left hand, sealing several of her vital meridian points, rendering her immobile.

With a wave of her hand, Han Yan unveiled his mask, revealing an enchanting face.

"It’s you!" Han Yan said coldly. Before her was the captivatingly beautiful young woman who had fought with her since childhood—Fourth Miss Zhao, Zhao Lingxian.

Earlier, when she ordered the Sword Spirit Puppets, her voice was mechanical and hollow, devoid of any emotion. Yet Han Yan detected a familiar sense, and the final result confirmed her suspicions.

However, at this moment, Zhao Lingxian was no longer the enchanting beauty of the past; her beautiful face was filled with pain and despair.

"Han Yan, kill me, kill me!" Zhao Lingxian looked at Han Yan, gasping like a wounded beast, her delicate face twisted with pain, appearing extremely hideous.

"Who’s behind this?" Han Yan asked sharply.

With Zhao Lingxian’s current expression of unbearable pain, it was apparent she wasn’t the true mastermind; there was someone else behind it all.

In the last battle at Flying Peak, Zhao Lingxian was severely wounded, almost dying by Han Yan’s sword, but ultimately was rescued by Yun Qianmo. This meant that Yun Qianmo was likely the real mastermind. But considering the relationship between Ye Lanfeng and Yun Qianmo, Han Yan was reluctant to accept this result, which prompted her question.

"At Flying Peak, didn’t you already meet him?" Fourth Miss Zhao said, her face filled with despair.

"It really is him." Although she already knew the result, finally confirming it left Han Yan feeling desolate. She instinctively looked toward Ye Lanfeng, only to see his calm face, his thoughts indiscernible.

"Why did he do this?" Ye Lanfeng asked Zhao Lingxian.

"I don’t know, I don’t know, he’s a demon, please, kill me." Fourth Miss Zhao trembled in pain, convulsed, and begged Han Yan helplessly.

Han Yan held the Cold Sky Sword but hesitated to deliver the final, fatal blow. Watching her lifelong enemy reduced to such a state, she felt a faint sorrow within. Truth be told, everything Zhao Lingxian did was for her family’s benefit, just like she would do for hers, but her temperament was too extreme, her methods too sinister and vicious.

If not for the sake of family, if her actions hadn’t been so despicable, perhaps they might have become friends.

"Han Yan, I was wrong before, I wronged you, please, kill me, I don’t want to be a puppet, living like neither man nor ghost, please..." Tears of regret flowed from Zhao Lingxian’s eyes.

Han Yan nodded, and the cold blade finally pierced Zhao Lingxian’s heart meridian.

When the Cold Sky Sword previously pierced Zhao Lingxian’s chest, Han Yan realized her body wasn’t only riddled with holes by the golden pillar of light, but her meridians were also scarred, completely different from ordinary people. Observing the situation, it was clear her meridians had been severed one by one and then reassembled.

One can only imagine how much inhuman torment and pain Zhao Lingxian experienced during her ritual refinement into a Sword Spirit Puppet. Even after becoming one, every use of qi still inflicted the same pain. After all, a Sword Spirit Puppet is much more powerful than the Death Spirit Sword Slave Zhao Lingxian previously refined, so naturally, the cost is much greater.

But while other Sword Spirit Puppets had completely lost their sense of self, rendering them immune to such pain, Zhao Lingxian retained some self-awareness, barely enduring under the torment of suffering.

To live lucidly was indeed the cruelest fate for her.