As the Four Heavenly Kings retreated, Yulin Ghost King, Jinlie Bone King, and Yuanjiu Corpse King collectively sighed in relief, their eyes alight with excitement.
The chance to clash with the Heavenly Palace’s Four Heavenly Kings was a dream for countless Infernal Court powerhouses, though most could only fantasize.
Given the Heavenly Kings’ might, encounters often ended poorly.
Yulin and his companions had fulfilled a long-held wish. Despite heavy injuries and significant losses, wounding the Heavenly Kings made the cost worthwhile.
Once word reached the Infernal Court, it would cause a sensation, elevating their renown and rankings among the ten clans’ powerhouses.
Prajna remained calm, swiftly retracting her power and storing the Destiny Compass.
Yan Wushen recalled the *Book of Death* and turned to Prajna and the others, smiling. “Thanks to you all, dealing with the Heavenly Kings was less troublesome. I owe you a favor. If you face trouble, come to me.”
“Brother Yan, you’re too kind. Facing Heavenly Court powerhouses is our duty, and fighting alongside you is our honor,” Yulin said, his tone flattering.
He had no choice—Yan Wushen’s strength and dominance were unmatched, even in the Infernal Court, where none dared provoke him.
Challengers, including the second and third-ranked Saint Kings, had been thoroughly defeated by him.
Facing Yan Wushen, Yulin treaded carefully, wary of offending him.
Yan Wushen saw through Yulin’s caution and said earnestly, “I’m clear on debts and grudges. Your help is noted. Now, return to your base and heal.”
“We’ll take our leave,” Yulin said.
After brief farewells to Yan Wushen and Prajna, Yulin, Jinlie, and Yuanjiu led their remaining forces away from the ruined battlefield.
Yuanjiu remained silent throughout, unsurprising given his taciturn nature.
Yan Wushen turned to Prajna, thoughtful. “Alone, I stand no chance against the Heavenly Kings. But… haha, from now on, we’re allies. I’ll fully support you as the Destiny Temple’s Divine Maiden. Once you’re stronger, together we could match, even surpass, the Heavenly Kings.”
“The Heavenly Kings are formidable, their Derivative Realm power extraordinary. I’m eager to face them again,” Prajna said calmly, a glint of sharpness in her eyes.
Though she didn’t explicitly accept Yan Wushen’s alliance, her words signaled agreement.
At that moment, a holy light flew from the horizon, landing in Yan Wushen’s hand.
“Hm? Xue Lingxian’s holy thought has dissipated. Pity—I wanted to fight him. Seems that chance is gone,” Yan Wushen sighed, reading the message talisman.
With matters here resolved, he had planned to visit the Blood God Sect but now abandoned the idea.
“No matter. I’ll find a place to heal and cultivate. Prajna, what’s your plan?” he asked, turning to her.
Prajna gazed into the Yin Burial Mountain Range’s depths. “I’m entering the range to comprehend the Path of Destiny.”
“Good luck, then.”
With that, Yan Wushen vanished, his form fading into nothingness.
Prajna lingered briefly, lost in thought, before flashing toward the range’s depths.
The clash between the Heavenly and Infernal Courts’ top powerhouses concluded, with Yan Wushen and the Heavenly Kings all injured. If word spread, it would cause a stir.
Unfortunately, no spectators witnessed it, save a gluttonous golden dragon lurking in the shadows.
“What’s this Nether Clan woman doing in the range’s depths? Dragon Lord must follow—maybe I can reclaim my body.”
The dragon’s eyes darted as it silently trailed Prajna.
—
With the six Patrol Envoys gone, the Blood God Sect regained its calm, all matters seemingly settled.
Repeated attacks had left the sect in ruins, save for Infant Lord Peak, Qianyuan Mountain, and the Blood God Altar. Reconstruction and array reinstallation were needed, but these were minor tasks Zhang Ruochen, as sect leader, didn’t need to oversee.
In the Guiyuan Divine Palace on Infant Lord Peak, Zhang Ruochen, his injuries healed, finally had time to tally his spoils.
Aside from a Heavenly Demon Stone Carving and a suppression rune stone given to Little Black, all seized treasures were with him.
He produced the Space Exquisite Orb containing the treasures, the Azure Sky Saint Dragon, and Xue Tu.
The wealth of over a thousand Saint Kings was staggering, sparking anticipation even in Zhang Ruochen.
After a quick inventory, a radiant smile spread across his face.
“One supreme holy weapon, two divine relics, three king-grade weapons, seven Heavenly Demon Stone Carvings, eight divine materials for forging immortal saint bodies, thirteen divine stones…”
He extracted the treasures one by one, each capable of sparking frenzied competition, even among Great Saints or gods.
Weaker great worlds might lack such a haul.
The Wujian Purgatory Tower was a supreme holy weapon, while the Nether Sun Divine Wheel and Light Heavenly Tome were divine relics, all forged by mighty gods, their power immense, capable of slaying deities.
Among the king-grade weapons, Mo Sheng’s Greedy Wolf Demon Blade was the finest, though slightly damaged. Zhuo Gu’s Purple Extreme Demon Spear and the Black Demon Realm’s Black Spirit Demon Umbrella, used against Zhang Ruochen’s lightning, were lesser but still potent.
Had the nearly eight hundred Black Demon Realm Saint Kings not wielded the Black Spirit Demon Umbrella, Zhang Ruochen’s lightning would have scattered them, sparing Xue Lingxian the effort.
“The Black Demon Realm is impressive, collecting so many Heavenly Demon Stone Carvings. Little Black says they may relate to a divine artifact—true or not, I wonder.”
Touching the varied ancient carvings, Zhang Ruochen’s mind swirled with thoughts.
He had twelve carvings; with Little Black’s, thirteen—over a third of the total.
This surpassed the black market’s collection.
Zhang Ruochen suspected the Black Demon Realm’s Saint Kings, nearly fully mobilized, had gathered more than eight, though he didn’t know who held the rest.
Of thirty-six carvings, Zhang Ruochen had thirteen, the black market nine, and the Moon-Worshipping Demon Sect three, totaling twenty-five.
Eleven remained scattered, their collection no easy task.
The black market was murky, the Moon-Worshipping Demon Sect formidable—Black Demon Realm likely couldn’t seize carvings from them.
Some carvings had vanished, untraceable.
Even with their prowess, Black Demon Realm’s haul was likely limited.
“Losing eight carvings at once—Black Demon Realm must hate me to the bone,” Zhang Ruochen chuckled.
Black Demon Realm, once indebted to Kunlun Realm, had betrayed it to serve Paradise Realm. Zhang Ruochen held no fondness for them and wouldn’t let them have their way.
No Kunlun Realm native would want Black Demon Realm to grow stronger.
If possible, Zhang Ruochen would block them from any carvings.
Studying the twelve carvings, he mused, “The carvings hold profound mysteries, worthy of being demonic holy relics. Mastering any one could lead to divinity. What being created them? Though I don’t practice demonic arts, I can still glean insights.”
In his past life, his cultivation was too low to grasp the carvings’ secrets.
Now, with high cultivation and strength, he could unravel their mysteries, enriching his foundation.
Recent battles highlighted his swordsmanship’s flaws. Beyond Time Sword Technique and Sword Ten, he lacked standout techniques. Neither the True One Thunder-Fire Sword Technique from the Torrential Sword lineage nor Ling Feiyu’s Nine Lives Sword Technique matched his current prowess.
Without a stronger swordsmanship legacy, he had one path: create his own.
Though daunting, it was a necessary step.
For peerless sword cultivators, their strongest techniques were often self-created, maximizing their power.
“With seven hundred thousand sword rules cultivated, given time, I should forge my own swordsmanship,” Zhang Ruochen resolved, eyes gleaming.
With thirty-three divine stones, time was no issue.
Recent events had thrust him into the spotlight; it was time to lie low and reduce attention.
“Hm?”
Sensing something, Zhang Ruochen left the palace, appearing outside the Blood God Sect.
“Show yourself,” he said coolly, gazing in a direction.
A young, handsome figure materialized, bowing. “Greetings, Your Highness.”
Zhang Ruochen recognized him: Qi Sheng, former prince of the Undying Blood Clan’s Qitian Tribe in Kunlun Realm.
When Empress Chi Yao ascended to divinity and crushed the Undying Blood Clan, Qi Sheng and the Undying Goddess Yinghuo escaped.
In the Eastern Region, Zhang Ruochen had encountered them, seizing the God-Slaying Cross Shield and Ten Thousand Beasts Treasure Mirror. He intended to kill them, but Qiu Yichi, the Heart Demon, intervened, saving them.
Sizing up Qi Sheng, Zhang Ruochen noted with surprise that he had reached Seven-Step Saint King.
Considering the Blood Empress’s vast resources and Qi Sheng’s exceptional talent, advancing two realms quickly wasn’t shocking, especially with the time-dilated secret realms in the Endless Abyss’s second gradient.
“Qi Sheng, why are you here?” Zhang Ruochen asked flatly.
Qi Sheng replied respectfully, “Your Highness, I come on the Blood Empress’s orders, requesting you hand over Godson Xue Tu to me.”
Zhang Ruochen’s expression shifted. He hadn’t expected the Blood Empress to send someone for Xue Tu.
His enmity with Xue Tu ran deep, and as an Undying Blood Clan member, Xue Tu, once captured, had no chance of release.
A faint killing intent emanated from Zhang Ruochen.
Sensing it, Qi Sheng’s eyelids twitched. “The Blood Empress instructed me to tell Your Highness that Xue Tu is vital to her. She guarantees he’ll never return to Kunlun Realm or oppose you.”
He added, “This is what the Blood Empress asked me to give you in exchange for Xue Tu.”
Zhang Ruochen nearly refused outright but considered Kong Lanyou and Chi Kunlun in the Endless Abyss’s second gradient. If the Blood Empress took offense, it could spell trouble.
After a moment’s thought, he said gravely, “Tell her to keep her promise. I don’t want to see Xue Tu in Kunlun Realm again.”
He released Xue Tu from the Space Exquisite Orb, tossing him to Qi Sheng.
“Your Highness, this…” Qi Sheng hesitated, holding the spatial pouch.
“I don’t need her offerings.”
With that, Zhang Ruochen vanished.
Qi Sheng paused, then stored the pouch. This outcome was within the Blood Empress’s expectations.
His mission accomplished, he took Xue Tu and headed for the Endless Abyss.
—
Deep in the Yin Burial Mountain Range, thick yin fiend energy cloaked the area, its complex terrain daunting even to top Saint Kings.
Prajna, however, seemed familiar with it, soon delving deep.
The depths formed a self-contained world, gray and lifeless, teeming with dead spirits and phantoms, devoid of vitality.
Ahead stood a towering, humanoid mountain, distinct from others, its silhouette like a standing giant.
It gathered the densest yin and death energies, with destiny fragments orbiting it.
“The Yin Burial Mountain Range is extraordinary, trapping beings’ destiny fragments. It’s ideal for cultivating the Path of Destiny,” Prajna mused, her eyes glinting.
“I’ll cultivate here for a while, then seek the Hundred Dragons Bright Emperor Armor’s spirit—or it may find me.”
Muttering, Prajna approached the mountain, climbing slowly from its base, absorbing its mysteries and destiny fragments.
Watching her ascend, the golden dragon’s eyes widened. “She sure knows how to pick a spot. This is a prime place for Destiny cultivation.”
“Time to reclaim the Bright Emperor Armor.”
After a moment, the dragon extended a claw, conjuring inscriptions linked to the armor.
Outside, it avoided acting to evade Patrol Envoys, but deep in the range, it had no such concerns.
The armor’s phantom emerged on Prajna’s body, a hundred golden lights bursting forth as dragons, roaring thunderously.
“Hm?”
Prajna’s face tightened. She summoned destiny rules, forming an ancient, mottled Gate of Destiny to suppress the armor.
But the dragon’s power, as the armor’s spirit, was too strong, its bond with the artifact unbreakable. Prajna’s current strength couldn’t hold it.
“Bang.”
The Gate of Destiny shattered, and the armor materialized, flying from her body.
“Swish.”
The armor fell into the dragon’s grasp.
The dragon swelled into a ten-thousand-zhang behemoth, its scales dozens of zhang wide, gleaming like divine metal.
Coiling in the sky, it exuded a vast Great Saint aura, pressing on Prajna like ancient divine mountains, rendering her immobile. Yet, she remained calm.
The dragon loomed over her, its gaze cold and emotionless, as if eyeing an ant.
“Nether Clan woman, where did you get the Hundred Dragons Bright Emperor Armor? Speak truthfully, or Dragon Lord will extract your soul and burn it with divine fire for ten thousand years, leaving you neither dead nor alive.”
