The stone mountain cracked, revealing a blood-colored altar.
The voice was lazy, as if nothing mattered, giving off a sinister and eerie vibe.
“Greetings, my lord!” The group of riders shouted in unison, their eyes turning even more crimson, as if dyed in blood.
Shi Hao was utterly shocked. To encounter such a blood-colored altar here was unexpected—clearly, it wasn’t connected to the Three Thousand Provinces but to the most terrifying depths of the Borderlands!
This was far too sudden and deeply unsettling.
He had always known that war was coming, one that would sweep across the heavens and earth, leaving no corner of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths untouched. But only now, upon witnessing it firsthand, did he truly grasp how suffocating it felt.
After all, the Immortal Ancient Era had been buried by those very enemies. Now they had returned—who could stand against them?
Back then, there had been the Ten Fierce, the Willow God, the Endless, and the King of Six Paths Reincarnation. But now? None of those supreme experts remained!
The thought of the enemy breaching the gates sent a chill through Shi Hao’s heart. It was happening too fast—he wasn’t ready yet, hadn’t truly risen to his full strength.
The Witch’s expression was grave as well, her usually playful demeanor replaced by the cold aura of a demonic goddess.
She hadn’t expected this day to come so soon. This blood altar had already been constructed, allowing those from the other side to cross over.
At this point, it was clear—the enemy had been preparing for years. When they truly attacked, there would be countless altars and endless armies. The mere thought was enough to make one’s scalp tingle with dread.
“Whoosh!”
Shi Hao struck without hesitation, unleashing the Willow God’s technique. A massive golden willow branch shot forth, transforming into chains of order as it lashed toward the altar, intent on destroying it.
“Who dares act so recklessly in my presence?”
The voice from the blood altar remained lazy, utterly dismissive. The altar glowed, its engravings coming to life as if animated.
A barrier of light rose from the altar, blocking Shi Hao’s attack!
This was a self-protecting formation, designed to prevent destruction.
“Fwoosh!”
The Witch joined the fray, her slender fingers glowing as she unleashed beams of rainbow light—the Severing Heaven Technique, one of her sect’s supreme arts.
But instead of targeting the altar, she aimed at the armored riders.
“Pfft!”
One fell instantly, blood spraying. The Witch remained calm, her demeanor unshaken—a stark contrast to her usual mischievous self.
Shi Hao saw a different side of her now—playful and cunning in normal times, but in battle, she was like a demonic goddess, ruthless and precise.
Strangely, the blood of the slain Heavenly God flowed toward the altar. Even when the Witch shattered the corpse, the blood mist still surged toward it, as if offering itself in sacrifice.
“Kill them!”
The leader roared, undeterred by their disadvantage. His men fought like madmen, their souls already corrupted and demonized.
“Whoosh!”
Shi Hao abandoned the altar for now, focusing on the riders. The Witch joined him, their combined might overwhelming the enemy.
Despite their ferocity, these veterans of countless battles were no match for the two, who had both cultivated immortal energy. Heads rolled as they were swiftly executed.
But the worst part was their blood—no matter how they were destroyed, it still flowed toward the altar, fueling the ritual.
Heavenly Gods’ essence was equivalent to millions of ordinary lives. The sheer volume was horrifying.
Shi Hao and the Witch refused to let the enemy succeed, sealing the blood with divine arts and storing it in spatial artifacts to prevent the altar from absorbing it.
Though most of the energy was denied to the altar, the two remained grim. This altar wasn’t grand enough to allow a full-scale invasion—yet.
But once conditions were right, it would become a gateway for terrifying beings to emerge.
“Not bad. You ended this quickly. You might even compare to those so-called Young Supremes from Immortal Ancient.”
The voice from the altar was youthful, arrogant, and utterly dismissive.
“Come over if you dare,” Shi Hao challenged, glaring at the altar.
“Heh…” The figure on the altar chuckled, his tone casual but chilling. “Not every stray dog is worth my time. But you two… you might just make me move.”
“Enough talk. Fight or flee!” Shi Hao snapped.
“Fool. Do you seek death?” the voice turned icy.
The altar erupted with crimson lightning, its engravings—depictions of the Three Thousand Provinces’ creatures—coming to life, all kneeling in worship toward the center.
“Clang!”
A figure clad in black metal armor emerged, exuding overwhelming dominance.
His aura alone tore through the sky and shattered the earth.
“Am I, Luo Mu, the first in eternity to reclaim this land?” he mused.
His words were arrogant, domineering—and revealing. The other world hadn’t fully invaded yet. He might be the first.
This meant the situation was dire, but not yet irreversible.
“Boom!”
The altar trembled, blood-red light flickering as cracks spread—it was collapsing.
“No!”
Luo Mu’s figure dimmed, on the verge of vanishing.
This altar was flawed, incomplete. Otherwise, the invasion would have already begun in full force.
“Crack!”
He disappeared, but not without a final snarl: “This isn’t over. I *will* cross over!”
Moments later, crimson mist swirled, reforming his figure—now clad in blood-red armor.
“Come. Let me see your strength. I’ve only brought a fraction of mine,” Luo Mu taunted.
His reconstructed form stepped forward. “Though not at my peak, this incarnation should suffice to deal with you.”
With that, he lunged from the altar, striking at Shi Hao with ruthless precision.
“Rumble!”
His palm darkened, absorbing all light around it, even draining vitality from the land.
“Boom!”
Shi Hao countered with a radiant golden fist, their clash a collision of darkness and light.
“Interesting,” Luo Mu mused, surprised by Shi Hao’s strength.
“Interesting?” Shi Hao sneered, pressing the attack. To his surprise, this so-called “lord” was merely a Heavenly God—not the unstoppable terror he’d imagined.
He struck again, his palm descending like a mountain, crushing Luo Mu’s fading form.
“Is this all you’ve got?” Shi Hao mocked.
“Die!”
Luo Mu’s eyes blazed—one like the sun, the other like the moon—as a cosmic force erupted from him.
A miniature universe of yin and yang descended, aiming to crush Shi Hao.
“Nothing special. Same old Immortal Ancient techniques,” Shi Hao scoffed.
“Fool. This was taken from your so-called Young Supremes!” Luo Mu retorted.
Their clash was cataclysmic, the miniature universe shattering under Shi Hao’s assault.
“Gah!”
Though only a projection, Luo Mu coughed up phantom blood.
“You’re nothing,” Shi Hao said coldly.
“This is but a wisp of my power, using *your* world’s techniques. If my true self came, your ‘Young Supremes’ would be crushed like insects!” Luo Mu spat.
“Just finish him,” the Witch said.
Shi Hao obliged, ending the battle with a finger through Luo Mu’s brow.
“Boom!”
The altar shook as the black-armored figure reappeared—still unstable, his lower half trapped in the void.
“You’re strong. Are you one of the Borderlands’ Young Supremes?” the Witch asked, sensing his terrifying aura.
Before Shi Hao could act, she hurled a stone pearl at the altar.
“You—!” Luo Mu’s face twisted in fury, but he couldn’t stop it.
“Crash!”
The altar shattered, Luo Mu vomiting blood as the backlash ravaged him.
“When I truly descend, none of you will survive!”
He vanished before Shi Hao could strike again—his true body still intact, waiting for another chance.
“Who do you think you are? That’s what you get!” the Witch snorted.
With the altar destroyed, the passage was sealed—a disaster averted.
“Let’s go.”
They set off toward the so-called Emperor’s City.
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