With a thud, Hundred Illusions Divine Son’s headless corpse crashed heavily to the ground.
Zhang Ruochen recalled the Azure Sky Pagoda, then retrieved the Spring of Life, letting a single drop fall onto Shi Ren’s head.
Shi Ren’s body became enveloped in a radiant life force, his wounds healing rapidly.
Next, Zhang Ruochen walked toward Bao Lie and Bao Xinghun. “Xinghun’s injuries are severe. I have the Spring of Life—it might help him recover quickly.”
Bao Lie didn’t refuse Zhang Ruochen’s kindness. “A single Chenyuan Ancient Sword isn’t enough to prove your identity.”
Zhang Ruochen understood his meaning and nodded lightly. Approaching Bao Xinghun, he sprinkled a drop of the Spring of Life onto him, then produced the Eight-Dragon Umbrella and the Nine-Dragon Carriage.
“The Eight-Dragon Umbrella and Nine-Dragon Carriage were once used by Father Emperor. Only direct descendants of the Saint Ming Zhang family can command their artefact spirits. If Third Senior Brother still doesn’t believe me, I can take you somewhere.”
Upon seeing the Eight-Dragon Umbrella and Nine-Dragon Carriage, Bao Lie’s conviction grew, his towering frame trembling faintly.
But how could a long-dead junior brother be alive again?
It was too unbelievable.
Bao Lie asked, “Where?”
Zhang Ruochen waved his arm, opening the world gate of the Qiankun Realm. “Please.”
Bao Lie, with his profound cultivation, feared nothing and stepped boldly inside.
Entering the Qiankun Realm, Zhang Ruochen first took Bao Lie to the imperial tomb forest and the Shrine of All Emperors, then introduced him to the descendants of the Saint Ming Central Empire’s former vassals.
Zhang Ruochen could sense Bao Lie’s resistance and suspicion waning.
Beneath the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree, Bao Lie exhaled deeply. “Little Junior Brother, tell me your story. What have you been through these past eight hundred years?”
A bitter smile crossed Zhang Ruochen’s face. He plopped onto the ground and began recounting.
As time ticked by, the doubt and hostility in Bao Lie’s eyes vanished entirely, replaced by rapt attention to Zhang Ruochen’s tale. He growled, “Princess Chi Yao has become a god?”
“Yes,” Zhang Ruochen replied.
Bao Lie deflated like a punctured balloon, slumping to the ground. “I’ve been cultivating tirelessly in the Nether Dungeon, dreaming of breaking out to face Princess Chi Yao again and exact revenge. Damn it—who’d have thought the Princess Chi Yao of old is now an empress and a god? How do we fight that?”
Zhang Ruochen stood, patting Bao Lie’s shoulder. “The Nether Dungeon’s cultivation resources are scarce, yet you’ve reached this level, Third Senior Brother. That’s remarkable.”
“Besides, Chi Yao wields the Heavenly Wheel Seal, granting her thirty times the cultivation time.”
“Now, the Kunlun Realm is reviving. The rules of heaven and earth are no longer incomplete, and every cultivator’s progress has accelerated. It’s the best of times.”
“But with the Hell Realm’s massive invasion and the Heavenly Court’s mortal realms plundering resources across Kunlun, saint-level battles rage everywhere. Panic reigns, and chaos grips the world. It’s also the worst of times!”
“Third Senior Brother, this era needs you. Join me—leave the Nether Dungeon and conquer the world together. What do you say?”
In Zhang Ruochen, Bao Lie glimpsed the shadow of Emperor Ming. Lost in thought for a moment, he rose. “You make it sound like I enjoy staying in this hellhole. Let’s go—now. I want to see what kind of experts the Hell Realm and Heavenly Court have. Time to fight to my heart’s content.”
“No need to rush. I came to the Torture Penalty Prison Realm for another urgent matter. Let’s leave the Qiankun Realm, and I’ll explain slowly.”
As Bao Lie stepped out of the Qiankun Realm, Bao Xinghun’s roar greeted him. “Where’s my father? What did you do to him?”
“Xinghun, what are you yelling about?” Bao Lie shot him a stern glare.
Bao Xinghun, clearly intimidated by Bao Lie, stowed his spear and muttered, “Father, where did you just go?”
“Don’t ask. It’s not time for you to know.”
Bao Lie pointed at Zhang Ruochen. “This is your Martial Uncle. Go pay your respects.”
“Martial Uncle?” Bao Xinghun froze.
Zhang Ruochen, hands clasped behind his back, nodded with a smile.
Bao Lie kicked Bao Xinghun’s leg, scolding, “What are you dawdling for? Your Martial Uncle outranks you in seniority and surpasses you in cultivation. I tell you to salute him, and you feel wronged?”
Bao Xinghun was speechless. He was a Five-Step Saint King, ruler of a prison realm—yet here he was, treated like an ungrown child.
But having been disciplined by Bao Lie since youth, he harboured a lingering fear and dared not disobey.
“Greetings… Martial Uncle.” Bao Xinghun clasped his fists and bowed.
“Little Leopard, no need for such formality.”
Zhang Ruochen chuckled, then produced a golden spear—a Seven-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact—and handed it over.
Bao Xinghun hesitated, unsure of Zhang Ruochen’s intent.
“Since you’ve paid respects, how could your Martial Uncle not offer a gift? This spear was taken from a divine son of the Heavenly Court. It’s a notch above the one you wield.”
Bao Xinghun paused, then accepted the golden spear. After inspecting it, his face lit up with ecstasy. “A Seven-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact! It’s really a Seven-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact—amazing!”
Resources in the Nether Dungeon were scarce, and skilled artefact forgers were rare. The weapons Bao Xinghun and Bao Lie used were naturally of modest quality.
Even Bao Lie was stunned by the words “Seven-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact.” He strode over, snatched the spear from Bao Xinghun, and said, “What’s a kid like you doing with such a powerful weapon? At Five-Step Saint King, you can’t even unleash its full Seven-Yao power. I’ll hold onto it for you until you reach Nine-Step Saint King.”
Bao Lie toyed with the golden spear, his eyes blazing with excitement.
Bao Xinghun’s head drooped in defeat. A Seven-Yao Wanwen Holy Artefact hadn’t even warmed his hands before his father claimed it—a truly tearful tragedy.
Zhang Ruochen laughed. “Third Senior Brother, you still love snatching others’ weapons? Didn’t you take enough from Sixth Senior Brother back in the day?”
“How’s that snatching? It’s just safekeeping.”
Bao Lie continued, “Besides, Sixth Junior Brother was a master artificer. If I didn’t take from him, who else? If I wasn’t quick, the good stuff would’ve gone to Eldest or Second Senior Brother.”
His gaze softened, falling into silence before asking, “Little Junior Brother, are Eldest and Second Senior Brother still alive?”
Zhang Ruochen shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know. According to the histories of the First Central Empire, Eldest Senior Brother Hongya died fighting Xue Chaoyang, the First War God of the Chiqing Central Empire, in the Yin Burial Mountains. Second Senior Brother Chen Daogu was burned to death by Huo Mo Xiaosheng, the Azure Emperor’s top disciple, with heavenly fire. Third and Fourth Senior Brothers’ fates are unknown—dead or alive, no one can say.”
“Eight hundred years ago, too much happened. We need to investigate ourselves to uncover the truth. The First Central Empire’s histories are just a cover-up.”
Bao Lie clenched his fists, urgency in his voice. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go find out now. If they’re alive, we’ll drag them out. If they’re dead, we’ll dig them up. As for Xue Chaoyang and Huo Mo Xiaosheng—killers must pay with their lives.”
Zhang Ruochen said, “I came to the Torture Penalty Prison Realm to find someone else too.”
“Looking for someone here? There’s barely a living soul in this place—another cultivator?” Bao Lie asked.
Shi Qiankun conjured an illusion of the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan’s former leader, Shi Mingyuan—his form and features—presenting it to Bao Lie. “Senior Bao Lie, you’ve been in the Torture Penalty Prison Realm for a long time. Have you seen my father?”
Seeing the illusion, a grotesque, terrifying image flashed in Bao Lie’s mind. His leopard eyes widened. “It’s him—how could it be?”
“You’ve seen my father?”
Joy spread across Zhang Ruochen, Shi Qiankun, and Shi Ren’s faces.
Bao Lie nodded. “Don’t get too excited—it might not be as you hope. Little Junior Brother, you’ve already encountered him.”
Zhang Ruochen’s heart stirred, shock crossing his face. “Third Senior Brother, you mean… that thing?”
“Exactly—the monster from earlier.”
Bao Lie continued, “If he’s truly Shi Mingyuan, the former leader of the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan, then I suspect he’s either been poisoned by the Nether King’s blood or had his mind overtaken by the Nether King’s spiritual will.”
“No, that’s impossible. Father’s spiritual power was immense—how could the Nether King control him?” Shi Qiankun protested.
Bao Lie countered, “What if the Nether King struck at a critical moment during his breakthrough?”
Shi Qiankun fell silent, unable to argue.
Zhang Ruochen asked, “Does that mean the Nether King isn’t sealed and roams freely in the Torture Penalty Prison Realm?”
At this, Shi Ren and Shi Qiankun shivered, instinctively scanning their surroundings, dreading the sudden appearance of the Nether King.
“Of course the Nether King is sealed, but… the situation’s grim. I’ll take you to the sealing site—you’ll see for yourself!”
Bao Lie glared at Shi Qiankun, Shi Ren, and Bao Xinghun. “Your cultivation and mental resilience are too weak. Stay back, lest the Nether King enslaves you.”
Bao Lie and Zhang Ruochen boarded the Golden-Step Dragon Carriage, speeding onward.
After travelling tens of thousands of li, Zhang Ruochen suddenly felt the once-vibrant rules of heaven and earth thinning. The spiritual qi vanished, as if they’d entered a forbidden zone.
The carriage halted, and Zhang Ruochen and Bao Lie stepped out.
This region bore no crystals—only black soil and rock, devoid of life or qi, akin to a dead planet in the cosmos.
Zhang Ruochen gazed into the distance. Six colossal holy swords, each ten thousand zhang long, formed a sword mountain on the horizon, radiating blinding light.
A corner of the dark world was illuminated.
Between the six swords flickered dense lightning, heavenly fire, gales, and ice mountains, emitting a deep, resonant hum.
Bao Lie said, “You’re one of the six sword bearers of the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan, but you wield only the child swords. The six mother swords are all impaling the Nether King’s body.”
