Fairy Tianchu’s cultivation chamber, nestled within the Nine-Tune Celestial Star, resembled an immortal realm. Spacious and built from rare cultivation resources, it featured a sacred mountain adorned with exotic flowers and ancient trees, bathed in shimmering mist and abundant spiritual qi.
Zhang Ruochen sat cross-legged beneath the mountain, a seven-colored stream flowing beside him, its gentle babbling filling the air.
Seven days had passed.
With the aid of Heavenly Saint Pills and Spring of Life, his injuries were nearly healed.
“Yan Wushen’s Yama Hell was formidable. My Five Elements Chaos Body, nearly perfected below Great Saint, couldn’t withstand it. An ordinary Immortal Great Saint’s body would’ve been destroyed,” Zhang Ruochen reflected.
“Fortunately, the Spring of Life restored my body. Otherwise, I’d need to reforge the Five Elements, wasting all prior efforts.”
His body gleamed like white jade, radiating divine light from within.
The Seven-Star Divine Ling’s sun leaf, now a divine sun, illuminated his body like a lamp, healing him while strengthening his un-immortalized brain and organs. Even his saint rules grew sturdier under its glow.
The divine herb’s benefits were immense.
Though the battle with Yan Wushen had shattered his organs, it brought unexpected gains.
Zhang Ruochen sensed faint immortal light in his six viscera, now half-immortalized post-recovery.
Seizing the opportunity, he swallowed a Heavenly Saint Pill to aid immortalization, refining its energy into his viscera.
Three days later, his six viscera were fully immortalized, boosting his physical strength.
Only his five organs—heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys—and brain remained un-immortalized.
If he could immortalize them, he’d fare better against Yan Wushen next time.
“I likely suffered worse injuries than Yan Wushen, relying on the Sundial to wound him,” Zhang Ruochen mused.
“After retreating, he’ll seek artifacts to counter the Sundial. If he finds one, he’ll return to defeat or kill me.”
A sense of crisis loomed.
With Yan Wushen’s status and motive, he might borrow a king-grade, supreme, or even demi-god artifact from an Infernal god.
Without the Sundial’s edge, how could Zhang Ruochen win?
“Yan Wushen relied on his own power, not artifacts,” he analyzed.
“His spatial mastery surpasses mine—not just in rule quantity but in understanding and saint techniques.”
“To counter his Thousand Hands, Thousand Bodies Yama Technique without Yan God’s Leg, which drains qi, what else can I do?”
“Yama Hell, his strongest move, combines space, Origin, and other paths, harnessing heaven’s rules and qi—a masterful technique.”
Zhang Ruochen exhaled, acknowledging Yan Wushen’s genius.
Both the Thousand Hands technique and Yama Hell were beyond Saint Kings, yet Yan Wushen mastered them.
Far from intimidated, Zhang Ruochen’s fighting spirit surged. Yan Wushen’s strength spurred him to grow stronger.
Recalling his battles with Ming Yao, Ming Buddha, and Yan Wushen, a sudden tremor stirred his heart.
Like a spark of insight, he glimpsed a profound universal truth.
Shen Yuan Ancient Sword flew out, planting itself before him. Ripples emanated from it, spreading across the chamber.
Soon, the ripples enveloped the space.
“Hiss!”
Countless illusory sword shadows rose around Shen Yuan, thousands upon thousands, filling every corner.
Zhang Ruochen’s inner world mirrored this, awash with sword shadows.
He realized that when using Sword Ten against Ming Yao and Ming Buddha, its intent felt incomplete, as if more remained.
It was like playing a melody, reaching the final note, yet sensing the music could continue, evolving into a celestial symphony.
“Impossible. Sword Ten has five layers, and I’ve mastered them,” Zhang Ruochen thought, puzzled.
He re-immersed himself in Sword Ten, chasing that lingering sensation.
Though still by the stream, a duplicate of him appeared, wielding an illusory sword, practicing Sword Ten.
More duplicates followed, each wielding a sword, endlessly refining the technique.
Sword Ten’s “ten” represented ten realms: heaven, earth, east, south, west, north, life, death, past, future.
After countless iterations, enlightenment dawned.
“Heaven, earth, east, south, west, north—these six are spatial,” he realized.
“Could integrating spatial rules create a sixth layer of Sword Ten?”
The five layers were derived from the *Wordless Sword Manual* by predecessors, varying by interpreter.
But predecessors hadn’t fully mastered Sword Ten, nor was the manual necessarily ultimate.
Zhang aimed to surpass Kunlun’s sages and the manual’s creator, becoming a true Eternal Controller, rewriting cosmic order.
This was an unprecedented epiphany!
Drawing from his self-created Sword Realm, a fusion of space and swordsmanship, he saw the sixth layer as its evolution.
While Zhang Ruochen delved into his sword, in a Nine-Star palace, Moyin and Ephraim sat elevated, in human forms.
Moyin, with her seductive beauty, wore a purple gown, exuding a lazy, demonic charm.
Ephraim, burly in dragon-scale armor, resembled a brute giant.
Both rivaled top-tier Immortals, their auras commanding.
Below, dozens of Rakshasa Saint Kings, male and female, were bound by Enoch’s dragon breath, immobilized.
Princess Luo Ji, chained by Zhang Ruochen’s spatial locks, glared coldly at Moyin and Enoch.
As the Rakshasa’s noblest princess, she commanded armies and earned gods’ respect. Such humiliation was unprecedented.
Great Prince Moro fared worse, pierced by Moyin’s roots, his cultivation drained, lying weakly.
Luo Ji’s beauty rivaled Fairy Tianchu’s, her noble aura and flawless figure—snowy skin, slender neck, wasp waist, and enviable legs—seemed divinely crafted, unattainable by any man.
“Release me, or face dire consequences,” Luo Ji warned.
Jealous of her beauty, Moyin approached, her sharp nails grazing Luo Ji’s face. “I’m so scared, Princess. Don’t frighten me,” she mocked.
Luo Ji’s eyes chilled.
Moyin snorted, “Yan Wushen, Ming Yao, and Ming Buddha fled from Master. Yet you flaunt your princess airs. Believe I’ll drain your life essence, turning you into a withered hag?”
Unafraid, Luo Ji sneered, “Zhang Ruochen isn’t this arrogant, yet you, a foolish woman, are so ignorant.”
“You—”
Luo Ji cut in, “Yan Wushen, Ming Yao, and Ming Buddha are strong, but individuals. Yan Wushen’s near-invincible alone, yet the Four Heavenly Kings chased him across Kunlun. Zhang Ruochen, despite his strength, would fall to ten top-tier Saint Kings. The Infernal Realm could easily muster that to target him.”
Moyin paused, then said, “You think the Celestial Court lacks experts to stop the Infernal Realm?”
Luo Ji smiled slyly. “Haven’t you been betrayed by Celestial insiders enough? Some factions fear Kunlun’s rise. Zhang Ruochen’s victory over Yan Wushen has alarmed them.”
“Why oppose me? Why not leave a fallback? If the Celestial Court and Kunlun reject you, I’d generously take you in.”
Enoch growled, “Don’t let her sway you. Deal with Moro first.”
Moyin, glaring at Luo Ji, hummed and approached the Rakshasa captives, Moro’s subordinates.
Her saintly might cowed them. “I hear Rakshasas love meat, especially human. Master would never spare you, but you’ve a chance to live.”
Knowing the Celestial-Infernal enmity, they’d braced for death. A chance to survive sparked hope.
“Moro’s a top-tier powerhouse. Few in your clan match him. Eating his flesh would boost your cultivation,” Moyin said.
“What? Eat the Great Prince? Never!” a loyal Saint King roared.
“As you wish,” Moyin said, her fingers turning to roots, piercing his skull.
Amid screams, she drained him to a husk, crumbling to dust.
The remaining Saint Kings froze in fear.
Moyin’s roots retracted, her finger licking her lips. “Eat Moro, and I’ll free you. Refuse, and I’ll eat you. Choose wisely.”
The Saint Kings’ eyes, now blood-red, turned to Moro.
“Insolent! What are you doing?” Moro roared, gripped by unprecedented fear.
Luo Ji protested, “Don’t go too far.”
Moyin snapped, “Too far? Your clan’s atrocities in Kunlun are worse. This is justice. Princess, eat a piece, and I’ll free you. Interested?”
Though Rakshasa, Luo Ji abhorred cannibalism, finding it akin to self-consumption due to their human-like forms.
