Shi Hao trudged along the mountain path, swaying with each step, his injuries truly severe. The so-called “Great Dao Origin Wound” had left a hidden scar on both his flesh and soul.
This was astonishing. Not just for him—even a great cultivator at the Dunyi Realm would turn deathly pale upon suffering such harm and immediately flee to recuperate.
Because wounds of the Great Dao were the most severe—formless, nearly impossible to heal. Nine out of ten who suffered them would perish!
In ordinary battles, cultivators were no strangers to bloodshed. Losing an arm or a leg was hardly rare; there were even more gruesome injuries.
Yet, with time, such wounds could fully recover.
Once one reached the Heavenly Deity Realm, severed limbs could regrow—it merely required time and the consumption of vitality and essence-blood.
But an origin wound? That was a different matter. Typically, it would linger for life. And if it was even slightly severe, death was inevitable.
Because a damaged origin would continuously drain a cultivator’s life force, withering flesh and desiccating the soul until the body perished and the Dao dissipated.
The collapse of one’s cultivation always began with the origin.
*Cough!*
Shi Hao spat out a mouthful of blood, droplets splattering onto the ground. His path was marked by a trail of crimson—a grim sight.
His body had already healed, but recklessly mobilizing his origin to unleash profound Dao power had damaged it anew.
An origin wound inevitably harmed both body and soul—there was no escaping it!
“This isn’t the first time. I’ll endure it, and my cultivation will rise even higher!”
Wiping the blood from his lips, Shi Hao leaned against the cold stone wall, trembling. His origin wound was erupting violently—standing was a struggle. His face was as pale as snow, his body devoid of strength.
The injury had exceeded his expectations, erupting far more fiercely than anticipated. Provoking the heavenly tribulation had carried its own “karmic” consequences—a forbidden power shrouded in countless legends!
It was said that the Thunder Emperor, once a peerless figure, had perished precisely because he sought to master the heavenly tribulation, to act as Heaven’s proxy and punish all things.
Because the heavenly tribulation involved far more than just the supreme mysteries of thunder—there were other enigmatic and unknown domains.
Officially, the Thunder Emperor’s demise was attributed to the foreign realm’s fear of his unchecked growth, prompting them to unite and annihilate him.
But according to ancient secrets, the true cause likely lay in the “karma” of the heavenly tribulation itself—perhaps even the primary reason!
“Some inexplicable force has latched onto me, damaging my Dao and intensifying my origin wound!” Shi Hao muttered to himself.
He employed the Willow Deity’s techniques to heal, while the unique “Rotational Sea” he had forged—entirely distinct from the cultivation methods of this era—now played a crucial role.
Three strands of immortal qi took form within the Rotational Sea, intertwining and manifesting the profound meaning of “Three Begets All Things,” generating vitality to resist the unseen force eroding his Dao.
In the past, resisting a Great Dao wound would have been arduous. But now, Shi Hao channeled several ancient scriptures, their methods from different epochs resonating strangely.
Within the Rotational Sea, life and death coexisted—a divine diagram of intertwined yin and yang. The “Sea of Death” now devoured the malignant forces within him, growing stronger.
Meanwhile, the “Wheel of Life” within the Rotational Sea spun, severing the dark energies within him and driving them into the Sea of Death, nourishing his body with vast life essence.
*Boom!*
Suddenly, a terrifying backlash nearly shattered his Rotational Sea, dispersing the three immortal qi strands and halting the ancient scriptures.
Shi Hao coughed violently, spewing dark, ghastly blood. His expression darkened.
He glanced skyward. Was this some unseen karmic force? He had never believed in such things, but now, he wavered.
“Whatever this cursed thing is, I’ll eradicate it sooner or later!” Shi Hao growled.
He reflected on his past in the Lower Realm’s Eight Regions, where the little pagoda had often muttered about “karma” and “balance,” even bargaining with him—a weakling at the time—to avoid some unseen consequence.
Could it be that at a certain level of power, such things truly existed?!
“But I refuse to believe it!” Shi Hao declared, as if steeling his resolve.
“Whatever obstructs my Dao and path, I’ll cut it down!” His gaze was resolute as he stared into the void, as if trying to pierce through its secrets.
He wondered—had his last heavenly tribulation truly drawn forbidden forces? Seizing the Thunder Pool and the essence of the Immortal-Slaying Guillotine had defied all reason.
Perhaps he had indeed triggered something beyond comprehension.
But it was all too nebulous—no evidence suggested such irregular forces existed. Thus, Shi Hao had never truly believed in them.
Taking a deep breath, Shi Hao thought of the little pagoda and then of the Willow Deity. Where did that pristine bone gate lead? Where were they now?
So many questions. He longed to see them again—would they reunite?
Undoubtedly, the Willow Deity had forgotten much. It was no longer the ancestral spirit of the Immortal Ancient Era. It had once been shattered, its withered roots reborn through lightning and fire. Later, it endured another calamity, reduced to a seed before regrowing in the chaos. After such cycles of nirvana, its old memories were likely sparse, if not entirely gone.
It had always been searching for something.
“I must recover quickly!” Shi Hao muttered. These mountains were too dangerous—lingering in this state would be fatal.
He was certain he could endure. Back in the Lower Realm, he had suffered the curse of the Immortal Palace’s green bronze rust, his Great Dao origin shattered, declared dead and buried outside Stone Village.
That time, it had taken him over a year to recover from near-death.
“This time, I’ll recover too!” Shi Hao vowed.
Moreover, this was an opportunity. Overcoming this Dao wound and mending his origin would allow him to rise from the ashes, ascending to greater heights. His realm, strength, and most crucially—his potential—would undergo a complete metamorphosis.
But there was a problem: his Dao was now too profound. A blessing and a curse.
A higher realm granted greater resilience against Dao wounds, preserving his existence.
Yet, everything had two sides. Minor wounds could heal swiftly, but if the Great Dao wound surpassed a critical threshold, the situation changed entirely.
Recovery became exponentially harder.
Some said that a Dunyi Realm cultivator with a minor Great Dao wound might recover, but a severe one meant certain death.
As for the Supreme Realm? A severe origin wound offered no hope—only a slow march to the grave.
“Compared to before, my wound is harder to heal. But if I endure, the rewards will be far greater!” Shi Hao breathed deeply, merging with the spiritual essence of heaven and earth. Wisps of pristine energy coiled around him like ethereal dragons.
Soon, he stood, having suppressed the Dao wound slightly, and swiftly departed.
This place was unsafe—he needed solitude to recuperate.
Shi Hao transformed into a wisp of smoke, his speed undiminished despite his wounded origin. His combat prowess remained terrifying as he streaked across the land.
He arrived in a desolate expanse—a cold, hard land of dark red soil, eerily silent, littered with countless divine bones emitting faint, ominous glows.
This was the dwelling of the Golden Bull. Shi Hao had returned, intending to hide in its lair!
In his view, though many foreign realm creatures had entered, few were at the Dunyi Realm. Thus, the Golden Bull posed a greater threat.
He sought to evade that creature of Immortal Gold, and hiding in its nest might be the safest option!
The area was deathly silent. Even with the bull gone, no creature dared encroach upon its territory.
The divine herbs had vanished, likely hiding in the lush mountains connected to this barren land.
Shi Hao had come here partly to dig up a few divine herbs—their immortal substances would aid his recovery.
He also sought the Heavenly Deity Tree. If the legends were true, merging four ancient trees would yield an elixir of immortality!
But the place was deserted—no herbs, no ancient tree, not a whisper of life.
Frowning, Shi Hao attempted to enter the verdant mountains, but a mysterious forcefield resisted him, as if he were trudging through mud.
He retreated, opting not to force his way. Instead, he approached a fissured stone mountain—the Golden Bull’s emergence point—to rest temporarily.
The bull wouldn’t return soon. Given its vengeful nature, it wouldn’t stop until it had slaughtered all who had offended it.
With so many foreign realm cultivators here, chaos was inevitable.
“This is…” Upon entering, Shi Hao was stunned. The mountain housed a cavern leading deep underground, filled with tunnels exuding a mysterious Great Dao power.
The walls shimmered with a faint golden hue, radiating a sacred, harmonious aura—as if he stood before an immortal treasury.
His heart pounded. This place was extraordinary. Studying the rock, he recognized it from ancient texts—this was “Huangdao Stone,” the very material that encased and nurtured Immortal Gold.
Such stones were incredibly rare and potent—how else could they produce peerless Immortal Gold?
Shi Hao’s breath grew heavy. The sheer quantity of Huangdao Stone here defied belief—far exceeding records.
Could the Immortal Gold nurtured here truly be only a foot long?
He doubted it. There might be more—perhaps even a mass larger than the Golden Bull itself, especially given the mysterious Great Dao energy here.
“Could there be another being, besides the bull, still being nurtured?” Shi Hao murmured, his pupils contracting.
This place might hold unimaginable fortune!
With so much Huangdao Stone, the birth of immortal entities was hardly surprising.
Perhaps even greater mysteries lay hidden.
Soon, Shi Hao found the Golden Bull’s nest—a golden pool brimming with liquid radiance, its immortal essence overwhelming.
He stood frozen, utterly awestruck.
What kind of place was this?
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