Upon hearing these words, the creatures on the shore were both shocked and frowning—this place actually held such immense significance!
A burial ground for Buddhas, a bone-pool for immortal monks—it was spine-chilling, enough to make one’s hair stand on end.
Especially for the inheritors of the Ancient Monks’ lineage, this place was sacred, transcendent, and serene, which only made others feel an even deeper sense of dread.
“Is this… sacred liquid?” stammered a young man, his voice trembling. The pool was simply too terrifying.
Of course, some believed that this place must conceal a great secret, one that sought to forge reincarnation and become a land of rebirth—proof of the lake’s extraordinary nature.
But who would dare dive in to investigate?
No one could reach the lake’s depths. Even the Fearless Lion would likely face immense difficulty, as could be inferred from its earlier words.
Yet, if that were the case, how could they retrieve that chest? Many great cultivators found themselves vexed, realizing the enormity of the trouble before them.
The Fearless Lion fell silent, closing its eyes as it focused entirely on forging its invincible golden body, striving to become a legendary monk-warrior.
Its clan had once followed the Ancient Monks’ lineage and thus knew much of their terrifying ways.
On the shore, some great cultivators recounted the Ancient Monks’ legendary feats.
“Those monks were indeed fearsome. It’s said that after our realm’s mighty ones pacified the Nine Heavens, they believed the situation was under control. Yet, when they stumbled upon a small, dilapidated temple with only a few elderly monks inside, our forces suffered heavy losses.”
“Hmm, indeed. I also heard of a young novice, seemingly no older than a child, who annihilated an entire army of our realm.”
When it came to this lineage, legends abounded.
“Little Lion, are you certain you can reach the lake’s depths and retrieve that chest?” a great cultivator asked.
“I’ll do my best—it shouldn’t be a problem!” the Golden Lion replied.
Yet even it couldn’t be entirely sure, for if the legends were true, this place was extraordinary—likely the supreme legacy left behind by the Ancient Monks.
According to lore, this place must have buried generations of sages, perhaps even predating the era of the Immortal Monk King.
For when the Immortal Monk King emerged, the Ancient Monks’ lineage had already existed in the world for ages.
On the shore, the group grew anxious, fearing they might never obtain the rotten wooden chest.
They attempted to open their Heavenly Eyes, but the lake’s waters remained impenetrable—this was the burial ground of generations of high monks, a place beyond their comprehension.
Even divine senses were useless, swallowed the moment they entered the lake.
Beneath the rippling waters, Shi Hao’s body shattered into pieces, his very soul splitting apart, dissolving into a mass of light that threatened to escape his fractured skull.
This was a devastating injury—he was on the brink of death.
Though he struggled fiercely, the lake’s power was overwhelming, seeking to assimilate him, refining him into pure energy to become part of its waters.
At this moment, a horrifying thought struck Shi Hao—was this lake formed from the dissolved remains of countless fallen experts?
If so, it was truly terrifying!
With a low roar, he felt his forehead bone crack completely as the lake’s waters flooded in, relentlessly assaulting his soul, leaving it riddled with fissures as radiant light surged forth.
If this continued, he would follow in the footsteps of those otherworldly young cultivators—his soul evaporating into mist.
Within him, a strange vitality resisted this force, but it was too weak to free him from this dire crisis.
“Gather!” Shi Hao bellowed.
His shattered body was forcibly reassembled as he invoked the Willow God’s technique, struggling to restore himself amidst the depths.
“Break through—now!” he whispered.
Once his body was briefly reunited, he began his ascension. In this silent abyss, he sought to reach the Severing Self Realm, for his accumulation was sufficient, and now, in this peril, he would force a breakthrough.
**Boom!**
A terrifying divine light erupted within him. Though his body was shattered and broken, a mysterious power still surged forth.
The doors within his body were opening, one after another, unleashing immense vitality to heal his flesh, restore his soul, and empower him anew.
Yet, the appearance of these doors provoked an even fiercer backlash from the lake.
From the depths, a golden force surged forth, shattering Shi Hao beyond recognition—far worse than mere fragmentation.
This was a critical blow. Already bearing the scars of the Divine Medicine Mountain Range’s Dao wounds, repeated suppression here had only worsened his condition.
“What kind of power is this?” Shi Hao was stunned. At the very moment of his breakthrough, he had suffered a fatal strike.
His ascension had been forcibly interrupted.
Now, his flesh was ruined, his soul flickering as it drifted from his shattered skull, corroded by that golden force, on the verge of disintegration.
Reduced to a mass of bloody pulp and shattered bones, he was dragged to the lake’s bottom.
Here, the waters were denser, infused with unimaginable power.
Yet Shi Hao gasped—his soul, though not yet dissolved, could still perceive the scene below, filling him with dread.
Bones. Piles upon piles, stretching endlessly—this was the sight that greeted him at the lake’s floor.
The waters above were sacred, radiant and crystalline, yet the scene below was horrifying, littered with broken remains.
What kind of place was this?
Was this the “Pure Land of Ancient Monks,” their final resting place, as the Golden Lion had claimed? A mountain of bones—how eerie and terrifying.
Shi Hao’s mind reeled, even as he faced the most perilous moment of his life. The golden radiance emanated from these very bones, seeking to refine him into nothingness.
**Boom!**
Among the skeletal remains, some bones themselves gleamed gold, exuding a sacred, gentle light that enveloped him, refining him entirely.
His condition was dire—no longer human in form, just a mass of flesh and shattered bones. Trapped like this, he was in grave danger.
The light acted like a golden furnace, burning and tempering him. His soul, like his body, was disintegrating, unable to hold together.
“Am I to die here?” Shi Hao refused to accept it!
He fought on, struggling desperately. His earlier breakthrough had been cut short, leaving him without greater strength.
**Boom!**
His pulped flesh exploded once more, crushed into bloody mist, his bones ground to dust.
His soul, now fragmented into countless shards, glowed faintly, threatening to scatter.
Yet still, Shi Hao resisted. He summoned every technique at his disposal, clinging to existence, refusing to perish.
In this moment, all his treasured arts manifested, every rune blazing to life as he unleashed everything he had.
A strange sutra’s chant arose, clearer and more profound than ever—the *Indestructible Scripture*, its symbols merging with his shattered flesh, intertwining endlessly.
It was like kneading clay, hammering and reforging him relentlessly.
The *Indestructible Scripture* was a supreme cultivation method for the flesh, and in this dire state, it displayed unimaginable efficacy.
Tempered through countless trials, broken only to rise anew—Shi Hao’s flesh began to writhe, regrowing until a body once more took shape.
Bones reformed, reconnected, as his physique was reassembled.
Shi Hao longed to roar, to howl. Though his flesh had been remade, his soul remained fragmented, still on the verge of dissolution.
The *Indestructible Scripture*, hailed as a supreme art, once ranked among the top three ancient scriptures. Its sole flaw was its inability to cultivate the soul—otherwise, it would have been unmatched.
Undoubtedly, for physical cultivation, it was the foremost scripture, and it had restored Shi Hao’s body. Yet his soul continued to fracture, nearing annihilation.
**Roar!**
With a mighty cry, Shi Hao’s soul-light surged desperately toward his body, the fragments attempting to return to his skull. But a golden skull at the lake’s bottom exerted a pull, thwarting his efforts.
Among the sacred bones below, one golden skull in particular was enigmatic, seeking to claim Shi Hao’s soul for itself.
**Pfft!**
In the end, his soul fragments, glowing faintly, fled chaotically into his chest, merging with his organs rather than dispersing.
“Rebuild the flesh, rebuild the soul!” Shi Hao growled.
He yearned to break through, to undergo metamorphosis here. The *Indestructible Scripture* circulated, mending his wounds, forging an unbreakable body.
And in this process, something strange occurred within him—within his organs, as though mysterious palaces had formed, enshrining the fragments of his soul.
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