The Blood Bodhi, originally a supreme sacred tree that could aid in enlightenment, had now become tainted by demonic energy.
Yet, Shi Hao still attempted to meditate beneath the ancient tree, hoping to glean some insight from it.
For within the tree’s essence lay imprints—he heard the resonant toll of sacred bells, saw the highest ancient temples, their golden tiles radiating divine brilliance.
But the halls were dripping with blood. Despite the deafening chants of scriptures, the scene was eerie—the grand ancient palace, its golden tiles streaked with crimson.
The bloodstains were mottled, splattering onto the ground.
Intense golden light poured down, yet black mist also spread—this was the world Shi Hao witnessed in his mind, leaving him deeply unsettled.
Especially when he approached the Scripture Pavilion—the sound shook his body violently, as if it were not a holy chant, but the sermon of a great demon!
Should he push open that door? He hesitated.
He had reached the most crucial place, yet it was also the most perilous. This was a vision reflected from his inner world, undoubtedly an imprint within the Blood Bodhi.
One step further, and he might be assimilated—either as a demon or a monk of Buddha?
**”Boom!”**
In the end, Shi Hao pushed open the door. He would step inside, to witness the ancient and mysterious legacy said to have birthed immortals and even a Monk-King of the past.
Everything had changed. Black blood streamed down the golden tiles, splattering onto the ground with a horrifying sound!
—
**Outside the Heavenly Beast Forest.**
The forces of the Otherworld were vast, stretching endlessly. For that rotting wooden chest, they had mobilized countless experts, drafting warriors from every clan.
“This ancient forest was clearly half-destroyed earlier—why is it now lush with green radiance again?” someone exclaimed, utterly shocked.
It was beyond belief. Everyone had sensed the destructive aura before, witnessed the mountains collapse, lava surge, and meteors fall.
Yet in the end, it had revived, brimming with life once more—an unfathomable mystery.
“What of our people?” asked a red-haired elder, one of the commanders.
Of course, he was not a Supreme Being—merely one of the leaders overseeing the allied forces.
The true Supreme Beings had indeed arrived, seated high in the heavens, their figures shrouded in chaotic mist, motionless as statues.
Though they restrained their auras, the pressure they exuded still made cultivators tremble, compelling them to kneel in reverence.
“The situation may be dire. All communication from within the forest has been cut off—those inside have lost contact!”
“Investigate! Find out what happened!”
The efficiency of the Otherworld forces was remarkable. Dozens of teams rushed into the forest and soon returned with answers.
“Many must have perished—vanished without a trace!”
“Indeed, attempts to relight their soul-lamps mostly failed!” another group confirmed.
The news was staggering. So many powerful figures—over a hundred great cultivators—gone. The cost was too great!
“What of the young lord of the Imperial Clan?” someone pressed urgently. If anything befell a descendant of the Imperial Clan, they would bear the blame.
For that ancient lineage had not produced an heir in tens of thousands of years. If this one perished so soon, it would be an unspeakable disgrace—proof of their negligence.
“And the inheritor of the Gu Clan? Has he also met disaster?” another asked, for this clan was equally fearsome, standing equal to the Imperial Clan without bowing.
“Good news—their soul-lamps remain lit! They live!” someone announced with relief.
After a long wait, the truth emerged: the forest had indeed been half-destroyed. All life within that region had met calamity—utter annihilation.
They were completely lost, their soul-lamps dark and cold.
Those confirmed alive were in another region, though many were grievously wounded, their conditions dire.
“As we suspected—that ancient beast briefly awakened and unleashed a world-shaking roar. All life in its path was obliterated!”
When this news spread, chaos erupted outside the Heavenly Beast Forest. Many great cultivators shuddered, chilled to the bone.
This forest was too terrifying. So many experts had entered, only to be wiped out in an instant—how cruel and horrifying.
“What of Huang? What of him?!” someone demanded urgently.
This entire operation was for him. Everyone had been hunting him—Shi Hao’s fate was of utmost concern.
“We have no way to track his soul-lamp. But logically, if he was in that region, he must be dead!”
“We received reports—those cultivators were pursuing him. Huang must have been in that area!”
A heavy silence fell. So, Huang was dead too.
“What of the chest? That is the key!” a silver-haired elder barked.
Whether Shi Hao lived or died, that wooden chest had to be found. Otherwise, this entire mobilization would be for nothing.
They feared—after that ancient beast’s roar, what could remain?
If even great cultivators had perished without a trace, could the chest have survived?
“That chest cannot be destroyed! If it could, it would not have endured for eons in an ancient tomb. It must still be in the forest—search every inch of it!” a commander roared in agitation.
This was a decree from Anlan and Yu Tuo themselves—a mission of utmost gravity.
“Find it at all costs!” Even one of the Supreme Beings, seated high above, finally spoke, his tone unyielding.
This was a death order, leaving no room for failure.
Soon, dozens of teams dispersed, combing the forest in a sweeping search.
“Found him!”
Much later, when the cry rang out, everyone outside the forest stirred with excitement. At last—results!
“Where? Bring the chest here!” many elders shouted, their thoughts fixed solely on the rotting wooden chest.
“No… it’s Huang! He’s alive!” the messenger hastily clarified.
**”What?!”** The elders froze.
Others stood stunned, disbelief etched on their faces. This news was too shocking—how could Huang have survived the recent cataclysm?
“That damned bastard!” someone suddenly howled, eyes burning with fury.
Their world had just lost nearly a hundred great cultivators—all slain while hunting Huang. And yet, Huang lived?
The injustice stoked their rage.
Clans tied to the fallen were especially incensed—their kin had died for nothing.
To kill Huang, so many experts had perished, annihilated by the ancient beast’s roar—yet the target himself remained unharmed, still free.
Many eyes turned bloodshot, murderous intent surging.
“Revenge! Kill Huang!”
“I’ll slaughter that little whelp! Never in recent history have we suffered such humiliation—a hundred great cultivators lost! This is blood debt! This is a crime!”
“Slay him! Behead him! Torment his soul—make him wish for death!”
For some, even the wooden chest was momentarily forgotten. All they wanted was Shi Hao’s gruesome end.
Others remained coldly rational, pondering—how had Huang survived? It defied reason. A miracle.
A mere young cultivator—how could he outlast those at the Dunyi realm?
“Proceed with caution. No more tragedies!” someone warned.
The recent losses were too severe—too painful. How would they explain this to their clans?
“Worry not. This time, there will be no surprises. We’ve pinpointed his location—the brat is meditating beneath a withered ancient tree!” someone hissed through gritted teeth. “He won’t escape!”
“This time, he has no way out. We’ll surround him silently, then strike together—annihilate him!”
“He’s finished! Not even an immortal could save him now!”
The crowd seethed with fury, battle-ready, swearing to swiftly capture and butcher Huang.
“I pray there are no more mishaps. If we lose more experts, it would be a catastrophe. This tragedy must not repeat!” a cautious elder intoned gravely.
“It won’t. He’s done for. Huang has enraged us—he’ll suffer a fate worse than death!” another roared.
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