The Black Iron Sect had completely collapsed in this battle, with a blood-red mist and tragic aura veiling the ruins.

Wen Buhuo and Fatty took a secret path to lead the heavily wounded back to the inner courtyard, arriving just as the final wave of arrows from the Blood Wolf Stockade rained down. Flaming arrowheads streaked through the dark night like falling stars, and the remaining elites of the Black Iron Sect were nearly wiped out under this baptism of fire.

Seeing the Blood Wolf army about to launch their final charge, the Sect Leader’s eyes nearly split with rage. He slammed his hand down onto a massive black iron tripod beside him and roared maniacally, "Stop! Under this Black Iron Mountain lies a mechanism that controls the earth’s veins. If you dare take another step, I will bring the entire mountain down to be buried with all of you!"

As his palm pressed down, the entire peak indeed began to shudder violently. The earth moved, the mountains shook, and boulders tumbled down.

The leader of the Blood Wolf Stockade’s expression shifted uncertainly; ultimately, he did not dare to gamble with his life. Taking the opportunity, the Sect Leader proposed: "One battle to decide it all! We each send one man for a duel. If you win, the Black Iron Sect is yours. If you lose, the Blood Wolf Stockade shall never invade again and you will get your people off this mountain!"

"Fine! I’ll make sure you die knowing you were utterly beaten!" The leader laughed boisterously.

The Sect Leader stepped back and bowed deeply to an elderly man. "Vice Sect Leader, you have been in secluded meditation for ten years. Now, the very survival of our sect rests upon your shoulders." The Vice Sect Leader stroked his long beard, his eyes glowing like torches. "Rest easy, Sect Leader. I shall ensure they never return!"

From the Blood Wolf Stockade, however, emerged an unremarkable-looking short man. His eyes were tightly shut, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and he radiated an air of supreme arrogance that made Wen Buhuo furrow his brow.

The battle was triggered instantly. The Vice Sect Leader moved with extreme speed, creating a series of afterimages as he circled the short man, searching for a weakness. Seeing the man’s body full of openings, he suddenly lunged, swinging his ultimate technique—the "Black Iron Mountain-Cleaving Slash"—down from the air.

Clang!

A crisp sound echoed. The Vice Sect Leader’s heavy sword seemed to strike a transparent wall of bronze three inches away from the short man.

"A protective shield?" Wen Buhuo’s pupils shrank. Through his twenty-meter spiritual sense, he instantly saw through it—that was a spiritual energy barrier used by cultivators!

The Vice Sect Leader attacked frantically, but he couldn't even cause a ripple in the barrier. The short man sneered and pulled out a yellow talisman with two fingers. "Freeze!"

The Vice Sect Leader was instantly frozen in place like a wooden carving. Following this, the short man flicked out a fire talisman. It transformed in mid-air into a mass of raging flames the size of a millstone, instantly incinerating the martial arts master, who had meditated for a decade, into charred remains.

"Is that all?" The short man surveyed the area arrogantly as the Blood Wolf Stockade erupted in earth-shattering cheers.

Seeing that a massacre was about to begin, Wen Buhuo took a deep breath and pushed away Zhang Xiaopang’s hand. He walked forward slowly. He hadn't intended to reveal himself, but if this cultivator didn't die, everyone would.

"Another lackey coming to his death?" The short man didn't even bother to lift his eyelids.

Wen Buhuo didn't say a word, the killing intent in his eyes surging. He didn't bother with a feint; his first move was the pinnacle of his two months of hard training—over a dozen highly concentrated fireballs blasted out like a rapid-fire cannon!

Crack!

The short man’s prized protective shield shattered instantly under the frantic bombardment of spiritual fireballs.

"You’re a cultivator too?!" The short man opened his eyes in terror, but it was too late. Wen Buhuo’s movements were several times faster than his. Enhanced by the Wind-Swaying Art, his short sword became a streak of light, slicing directly across the man's throat.

With a scream, Wen Buhuo immediately followed up with another fireball, turning the short man to ash. Amidst the ashes, a crystal-clear black medallion engraved with eerie runes fell to the ground with a thud. Wen Buhuo’s heart stirred: something that even spiritual fire couldn't burn must be a great treasure! He moved with lightning speed, pocketing it before anyone could react.

"Chief!" The Blood Wolf Stockade leader cried out in horror, charging forward desperately to fight for his life.

But Wen Buhuo had no patience left. With a wave of his hand, a massive fireball struck with precision. The Blood Wolf leader didn't even manage a scream before he turned into a ball of fire.

With their leader dead, the Blood Wolf lackeys were scared out of their wits and fled in all directions.

However, when Wen Buhuo turned around, he didn't see gratitude. He saw only the endless terror, awe, and alienation in the eyes of the Black Iron Sect members. In the eyes of mortals, his methods of killing and fire-starting were no different from those of a demon.

Zhang Xiaopang opened his mouth, wanting to call his name, but he was held back firmly by the Sect Leader.

Looking at those fearful gazes, a trace of self-mockery crossed Wen Buhuo’s heart. On this cruel path of cultivation, he was destined to walk alone. He looked back at the ruined sect shrouded in thick smoke and, without leaving a single word, rang the bell in his hand. Leading the expressionless Li Zhuang, he quietly vanished into the dark night of the deep mountains.