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Zhu Chenhao, seeing Pei Xuanjing’s aggressive approach, finds himself cornered.

His face full of panic, he quickly says: “As long as you spare me, I can give you anything you want. Wealth, beautiful women, supreme martial arts secrets… anything. If you are willing to help me conquer the world, I am willing to share it with you.”

Hearing his words, Pei Xuanjing silently shakes his head. He had thought that his opponent, while not necessarily an ambitious man, would at least have some dignity.

But at this juncture, Zhu Chenhao was still clinging to dreams of being an emperor, which Pei

Xuanjing found rather laughable.

Seeing that Pei Xuanjing was unfazed, Zhu Chenhao takes a step back, looking at Pei Xuanjing with a deep sorrow. He cries out: “Pei Xuanjing, we’ve never had any dealings before and bear no grudges against each other. Why are you so aggressive?”

Having his first plan foiled, Zhu Chenhao moves onto his next idea, making sure to portray himself as the victim with a touch of sadness in his voice.

“True, I’ve never met you before, ” Pei Xuanjing calmly states.

Zhu Chenhao, feeling a glimmer of hope as Pei Xuanjing starts to speak, thinks he might have managed to persuade the latter. He quickly adds: “Exactly, you and I have never crossed paths…”

But Pei Xuanjing’s next words felt like a bucket of ice water over Zhu Chenhao: “But, it wouldn’t be accurate to say we have no grudges. After all, both the underworld and the Mire Sect bear substantial grudges against me. Of course, the reason I want to kill you isn’t about your alliances, but for the sake of the people. Because of your rebellion, countless commoners lost their homes and livelihoods…”

“Hahaha… Pei Xuanjing, how hypocritical you are,” Zhu Chenhao laughs, perhaps resigned to his inevitable death, finally letting go of his worries.

At first, he felt Pei Xuanjing had legitimate reasons for attacking him. But when he heard Pei Xuanjing speak of fighting for the people, he found it amusing.

“Pei Xuanjing, ever since your rise to prominence, could you count how many people have died at your hands? You dare to rebuke me, ask yourself, do you have the right to do so?” Zhu Chenhao snarls.

Yes, Zhu Chenhao had risen in rebellion, and committed numerous atrocities.

But did Pei Xuanjing have the audacity to speak such hypocritical words?

In Zhu Chenhao’s eyes, they were no different from each other, and neither was morally superior.

Pei Xuanjing, his heart as solid as a rock, naturally wouldn’t be swayed by Zhu Chenhao’s words. He shakes his head slightly: “Although I have killed many people, I never initiated any trouble or conflicts. They were simply thrust upon me. All I desire is to become immortal.”

He had this confidence because he had never sought to harm anyone, always adhering to the principle of not bothering those who didn’t bother him.

For Pei Xuanjing, he was solely focused on reaching the peak of martial arts, tracing the footsteps of the gods, transcending mortal limits, and reaching immortality.

The power struggles and desires for wealth and glory among others held no value to him.

Even if he had foreknowledge of potential threats from his life simulations, he never proactively took action, but instead only prepared for the possible outcomes.

Thus, he remained unshaken in the face of Zhu Chenhao’s accusations.

Zhu Chenhao stares blankly at the calm and collected Pei Xuanjing, unable to believe the answer he received.

As if a realization hit him, fear washes over his face, and he mutters: “The likes of you are the most terrifying, bound by no rules, doing everything according to your own will.”

Mimicking the ravings of a madman, he points at Pei Xuanjing and exclaims: “One day, you will do even worse things than me for your goals. If I am considered a traitor who has thrown Great Ming into chaos, then you are a traitor against Heaven and Earth.”

Even Ning King Zhu Chenhao, who caused the rebellion and committed countless killings, despite his composure, was aware that his actions were not as righteous as he claimed.

But Pei Xuanjing, despite being responsible for so many deaths, remained indifferent, valuing only his own motivations.

This type of person was terrifying.

Zhu Chenhao could only wonder, what would Pei Xuanjing do one day for the sake of becoming immortal?

Pei Xuanjing watches the deluded Zhu Chenhao, oblivious to the latter’s thoughts.

Upon hearing his words claiming he would become like Zhu Chenhao one day, he doesn’t believe it.

Rather than continue the conversation, Pei Xuanjing raises his sword.

Light flashes from the sword.

Zhu Chenhao stares at the oncoming blade, his eyes filled with despair, regret, and reluctance to yield.

He was born into nobility, entitled to luxury and prestige since birth.

None could oppose his wishes throughout his life — he got anything he desired.

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Unsure of when it started, Zhu Chenhao, who occupied a nearly untouchable position in Great Ming, became filled with resentment.

He was discontent with being a mere duke, someone who had to bow and scrape before the emperor, treated like a mere servant.

Why should it be so?

They were all descendants of the founding emperor — why should he be the one to own Great Ming?

Despite possessing vast power and wealth, Zhu Chenhao had no choice but to obey and follow orders.

Therefore, he planned a rebellion, aiming for the throne.

In preparation, he changed his bold and unruly image, humbling himself before the emperor, hiding his arrogance.

All to silently gather strength, waiting for the day he would ascend to the throne.

But when he amassed an army of a million soldiers and victory seemed within reach, he was met with an unprecedented defeat.

Decades of planning ended in a failure.

Why?

Why was it so?!

With deep reluctance and resentment, Zhu Chenhao slowly closes his eyes.

With an intense yearning for the world, for Great Ming’s glory and power, he dies, full of regret.

Pei Xuanjing felt no sense of achievement in killing Zhu Chenhao; it felt like just another ordinary task. He flicks his wrist lightly, and the Shenxiao Sword returns to its sheath.

He slowly raises his head and looks into the distance, loudly announcing, “Master, since you’ve already arrived, why not come out and greet me?”

Pei Xuanjing’s clear voice echoes all around, and Wang Boan, dressed in a black scholar’s robe with a regular sword about three feet long hanging from his waist, slowly emerges.

“You could have simply left without bothering to expose my presence,” Wang Boan slowly begins..