Shi Hao’s thoughts wandered endlessly. Through his conversations with Shen Ming and San Zang, the more he learned, the more he felt a deep reverence for the ancient artifact on the sacrificial altar.
What exactly was this thing? Even the Burial Kings kept their distance from it—it was truly eerie and sinister!
Though it radiated sacred light, shimmering with nine-colored brilliance that illuminated the entire ancient hall, shrouded in immortal mist and intertwined with chaos, it sent chills down Shi Hao’s spine.
Unlike Shen Ming and San Zang, who gazed upon it with fervent longing and fanatical eyes, he felt nothing but profound wariness. Something about it felt deeply wrong.
Even a Burial King, with all their immense power, refused to approach it. This chest was simply too unnatural.
Shi Hao’s mind raced with terrifying possibilities, each thought making his blood run cold. He believed it was best to leave as soon as possible—this thing was better left untouched.
In fact, he had reason to suspect that both San Zang and Shen Ming, despite their backing from Burial Kings, might have impure motives.
They had been chosen by the Burial Kings, bestowed with secret treasures, and sent here—perhaps only so the Burial Kings could further study this ancient artifact.
The more Shi Hao thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
After all, this thing was too terrifying. Since the Burial Kings couldn’t control it and feared it, they would never simply ignore it or abandon it entirely.
Perhaps, throughout the long ages, they had been studying it—not directly, but indirectly, through the hands of others.
Once, a Burial King, unable to resist, had personally attempted to open the chest. The result was an unimaginable calamity.
According to Shen Ming, after that night, the Burial King in the Heavenly Valley became like a lost soul, completely different from before. How horrifying was that?
Shi Hao didn’t know whether the two Burial Kings behind Shen Ming and San Zang had investigated what had truly happened to the one in the Heavenly Valley, or what kind of mutation had occurred.
But he was certain—there must be some earth-shattering secret hidden within.
In that fleeting moment of contemplation, Shi Hao’s eyes grew profound. This place was extraordinary, and it was best to leave as soon as possible. While this thing held allure for the Burial Servants, it held little meaning for him.
“We can’t get close—it will only harm us. We should leave now. This ancient cave seems unstable; something unexpected might happen,” Shi Hao suggested.
Of course, he could only speak this Burial Tongue with the help of the Immortal Medicine secretly translating for him.
“What’s wrong, Brother Huang? Scared?” San Zang chuckled, his golden hair fluttering, stained with blood from his earlier injuries—his body had nearly exploded. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Missing it would be a regret for eternity.”
“Remember, while the ancient cave often opens, this chest appears only once in a thousand years. It doesn’t manifest every time!” Shen Ming added, her beautiful face pale from her severe injuries. Yet, her eyes burned with fervor—she clearly had no intention of giving up.
“I fear something unexpected might happen,” Shi Hao said.
“Brother Huang, are you overthinking things? Worried you’ll end up like that Burial King in the Heavenly Valley, becoming a completely different person?” Shen Ming teased with a smirk.
“Indeed, that incident was bizarre. We must be cautious,” Shi Hao nodded.
“It’s been said—that only affects Burial Servants who see the artifact a second time. This is our first encounter; nothing will happen,” San Zang insisted.
“From ancient times to now, how many have truly seen this thing? Can you be sure none of the survivors suffered any consequences?” Shi Hao countered.
“This…” San Zang hesitated, slightly taken aback.
“I’m certain. At the very least, the King of our Burial Region suffered no mishap when she first saw it!” Shen Ming declared with absolute confidence.
Shi Hao was stunned. How could she be so sure? Burial Kings were beings of supreme status, existing since the dawn of time, living through multiple epochs. Would they really share such secrets with her?
“Do you truly understand the Burial Kings? They may have existed since the Primordial Era, when the Burial Lands first took shape. Do you know what truly happened in the past?” Shi Hao didn’t spell it out, but he knew these two were sharp enough to grasp his meaning.
“Are you suggesting we’re reckless, unaware of the dangers?” Shen Ming asked.
“Or do you think we’re mere pawns, sent by the Burial Kings to test this place—just like the countless predecessors who died here over the ages?” San Zang added.
Shen Ming’s expression turned complicated as she studied Shi Hao.
Both were exceedingly intelligent. They knew what Shi Hao was implying—and from their reactions, it was clear they had already considered these possibilities long before him.
“Still, it’s worth the risk. If we succeed, we could become Burial Kings ourselves!” Shen Ming declared, voicing their deepest desire.
“Even if we mutate, it’s worth it!” San Zang said, even more fanatical. “If my body becomes that of a King, my name will echo through eternity!”
From his words, it was clear—even if disaster struck and he mutated, he would have no regrets. As long as his physical form remained, it would be enough.
Shi Hao was speechless. These two were truly mad—willing to risk losing their very selves just to become Burial Kings?
“Burial Servants value the body above all. As long as my form endures, with those special soils, I will return one day!” Shen Ming said.
“Exactly! If one epoch isn’t enough, then two! If that fails, we’ll sleep through several more!” San Zang’s eyes burned like flames, his golden hair radiating like the sun.
At this moment, Shi Hao could only open his mouth, at a loss for words. He was deeply shaken.
He thought of the Earthly Essence Soil—was this legendary treasure of the Burial Lands prepared precisely for such situations?
He had long known that Immortal beings cherished this soil. If they died, they wished to be buried within it, for legend said that after countless ages, they might be revived.
“Brother Huang, is there anything else you wish to say to us?” Shen Ming smiled.
Shi Hao shook his head and stepped aside. He wanted no part in this.
His gaze shifted between the mysterious chest, the ancient hall, and the void beyond, as if trying to pierce through some hidden truth.
During the Three Thousand Provinces’ genius competition, they had entered the remnants of the Immortal Ancient together. Back then, a Receiving Ancient Hall had appeared in the void—was it connected to this one?
Not long ago, this place had also cracked open, and Shi Hao had faintly glimpsed a dark prison.
Moreover, the mutated Burial King deep in the Burial Lands—who seemed like an entirely different being—could it be related to that dark prison?
As he pondered these possibilities, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Some truths were too horrifying to contemplate—if one thought too deeply, there was only terror.
Because this wasn’t about a single era or a single being. It spanned from ancient times to the present, an unfathomably long stretch of history.
In the unseen darkness, it was as if a hand—or a pair of dark eyes—was orchestrating and observing everything.
“Let’s join forces!”
San Zang and Shen Ming steeled themselves and strode forward, resolved to risk everything in one final assault.
“Wait! Let me withdraw!” Shi Hao called out. It wasn’t cowardice—he simply saw no reason to take such risks with them.
This was a matter for the Burial Servants, and in his eyes, it was deeply ominous. He wanted no part in it.
“Brother Huang, didn’t you know? Once you enter this ancient cave, you either succeed or die. There’s no leaving midway,” San Zang said.
Shi Hao was stunned. He truly hadn’t known—and likely, most Burial Servants were unaware as well.
Shen Ming and San Zang advanced, casting one last glance at him—and to his shock, they were smiling. In this dire situation, how could they still laugh?
Had they discovered his secret? Shi Hao stood silently, weighing his options. Was there truly no way out?
“Boom!”
San Zang moved first, retrieving an edict and hurling it toward the chest on the altar. The Burial King’s decree ignited, transforming into a supreme scripture that enveloped the Origin Artifact. Shen Ming let out a clear cry, her flawless face now etched with intricate patterns—marks left by the Burial King. They glowed brightly before flying toward the chest.
“Not good!”
Shi Hao’s expression changed. A terrifying aura erupted—the chest had been disturbed.
“Ah—!”
Shen Ming screamed in agony, her fiery red hair whipping wildly as cracks spread across her body, threatening to tear her apart.
The light from the chest was too intense, as if it could dissolve everything.
San Zang groaned as well, his limbs severed, blood pouring out. Yet, bizarrely, his dismembered limbs didn’t fall—they remained suspended in the air.
On the chest, countless patterns emerged, writhing like living things, as if thousands of voices were whispering, murmuring, their words chaotic and indistinct.
“What is that?!” Shi Hao gasped.
The chest was moving—something was coming out!
And it wasn’t just targeting San Zang and Shen Ming. Something within was now rushing toward Shi Hao as well—coming for him!
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