The wood spirit essence released by the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree, known as the aura of divine wood, carried an exceptionally pure life force with a profound ability to counter deathly and evil energies.
In mere moments, this divine wood aura flooded the entire Nether King’s Sword Tomb, permeating every cultivator’s body.
For those with high cultivation, the curse was swiftly expelled, their innate resistance aiding the process.
But for the weaker ones, the situation was dire. The curse had infiltrated their souls, becoming inseparable.
Fortunately, Zhang Ruochen’s timely connection with the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree curbed the curse’s spread, pulling some on the brink of death back from the abyss, even if it couldn’t immediately purge it from all.
“What a sinister curse—even the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree struggles against it. Many in the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan still can’t shake it off. Fairy, I’ll need your help,” Zhang Ruochen said earnestly, turning to Ji Fanxin.
Among them, only a few could expel the curse on their own: Zhang Ruochen, Ji Fanxin, and Bao Lie.
Bao Lie relied on his formidable cultivation to force it out, but in this crisis, he couldn’t assist others.
Ji Fanxin, however, was different—Zhang Ruochen could tell she possessed methods to counter curses.
“Alright, gather those still afflicted first,” Ji Fanxin nodded.
“Good, give me a moment,” Zhang Ruochen replied.
Without delay, he linked with the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree, using its aura to swiftly assemble all those unable to purge the curse.
Time was critical—any delay risked more deaths, even with the divine wood aura’s suppression.
The tree’s youth limited its power; fully matured, it could have dispelled such curses effortlessly.
Outside, atop the white bone mountain, the Undying Blood Clan’s divine sons, emperors, and emperor’s daughters gathered, with Ming Xian standing on the platform, intently studying the ancient divine inscriptions.
Though heavily damaged, the inscriptions remained profoundly intricate and challenging to unravel.
“The Sword Tomb must be in chaos by now. I wonder how many will still be alive when we break through,” Emperor’s Son Yun chuckled.
“They’ll likely all perish. Who among those mortals can withstand Ming Xian’s curse?” the long-faced Emperor’s Daughter sneered.
Ming Xian said coolly, “Something strange in the Sword Tomb weakens my curse. I only released a fraction of its power—nothing too potent. Still, it should kill half the living beings inside, and the survivors will be tormented, their strength slashed.”
He brimmed with confidence in his curse power. At the Near-Path realm, how many below Great Saint could resist him?
The Sword Tomb was mysterious, but the Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan was insignificant—no Heaven-Connecting or Near-Path experts, perhaps not even a Dao Domain one. What could they do against him?
Thus, he’d never taken them seriously. Once the inscriptions fell, they’d be lambs to the slaughter.
Xia Wenshin’s eyes flickered with a strange light at冥仙’s words, but he kept silent.
Their priority was cracking the inscriptions to storm the Sword Tomb—nothing else mattered.
As long as冥仙 achieved that, his attitude was irrelevant.
Inside, through Zhang Ruochen and Ji Fanxin’s combined efforts, they painstakingly expelled the curse from everyone.
The divine wood aura then bound all the curse-laden black mist infiltrating the Sword Tomb, preventing further harm.
Zhang Ruochen considered refining it, but the Heaven-Connecting Divine Tree intervened, opting to study the curse for a countermeasure—preparation for future encounters.
“The Undying Blood Clan outside has many formidable foes. The ancient inscriptions guarding the Sword Tomb will fall eventually. The situation’s dire—I must retreat and cultivate, breaking through to Nine-Step Saint King before it’s too late,” Zhang Ruochen declared, resolving to seclude himself after quelling the curse crisis.
Without hesitation, he gathered pre-prepared resources and entered Cold Fire Mountain to push his cultivation, bracing for the imminent war.
Using acquired divine stones, he activated the Sundial, granting ten years of cultivation while mere days passed outside—enough, he hoped, to reach Nine-Step Saint King.
Joining him in Cold Fire Mountain were Xiang Chunan, Murong Yue, Ji Fanxin, True Wonder Little Taoist, Bao Xinghun, Shi Ren, select talented Prison-Suppressing Ancient Clan disciples, and Half-Saints and Saints from the Qiankun Realm. Ten years could significantly boost their cultivation.
Bao Lie stayed behind—his strength had peaked, and further seclusion offered little gain. The Sword Tomb’s precarious state needed his presence to handle emergencies.
Zhang Ruochen distrusted Luo Yi, suspecting ulterior motives and deliberate infiltration. He’d always been wary, and now excluded him from the retreat.
Before secluding, he tasked Bao Lie with monitoring Luo Yi to prevent trouble. With Bao Lie’s power, Luo Yi’s schemes should falter.
Bao Lie’s other duty was guarding Cold Fire Mountain, barring all intruders.
The Sundial activated, its time power enveloping a two-hundred-zhang radius—one year inside equating to a day outside.
Its wide coverage thankfully accommodated many cultivators.
Zhang Ruochen sat beneath it, retrieving the Chenyuan Ancient Sword. Beyond breaking through, he aimed to forge a Dao body for its sword spirit, with top-tier materials already prepared at great effort.
The Sword Tomb’s unique environment promised a perfect, potent Dao body, amplifying the sword’s—and his—power.
He’d seize every chance to strengthen himself to defend the Sword Tomb.
“Wait—perhaps the God-Sword Holy Land can embed that purple divine stone into the Chenyuan’s hilt,” Zhang Ruochen realised.
He summoned Lu Huaiyu, the Holy Land’s premier swordsmith.
Lu Huaiyu took the purple divine stone, examining it closely.
As a master swordsmith, he was intimately familiar with myriad materials.
After a moment, he said, “I can’t guarantee success, but I’ll try. It’s a pity the altar’s gone and Grandfather isn’t here—otherwise, this would be simple.”
Once, Lu Yuanzhi had repaired the broken Chenyuan using the altar’s power; embedding a divine stone would’ve been trivial.
Only a master like Lu Huaiyu could attempt it now.
Handing over the Chenyuan and the stone, Zhang Ruochen resumed his seated position.
As before, his six saint souls emerged, each cultivating a different path.
The advantage of six saint souls shone brightly now.
Coupled with his twelve-ten-thousandths mastery of the Truth Mysteries, his comprehension of holy path rules far outpaced others.
Even outside the Truth Heavenly Domain, the Truth Mysteries let him refine more truth rules.
Reaching Nine-Step Saint King required six to seven million holy path rules—a daunting task needing vast time or extraordinary fortune.
Cultivating two ancient paths—time and space—made it harder still.
Despite aids like the Rule Emperor Artifact, Truth Mysteries, Saint Monk Xumi’s beard, and ancient saint medicines, Zhang Ruochen wasn’t certain he’d break through in ten years.
But he had to—for the coming war demanded it.
The pressure would unleash his full potential.
His preparations were thorough, resources amassed—he just hoped the Undying Blood Clan granted him ten days.
Like him, the others cultivated fervently—strength was survival.
Even Ji Fanxin didn’t slack, far from invincible below Great Saint.
While Zhang Ruochen and company secluded themselves, Ming Xian and the Undying Blood Clan hastened to dismantle the ancient inscriptions, eroding them bit by bit.
No one knew when they’d fully breach.
Time was running out.
