The celestial prison was shrouded in darkness, devoid of any trace of life, silent and lifeless for over an epoch.
Even so, the cultivators guarding it kept a close watch on this ancient cage, for the prisoner within was of immense importance—rumored to have an extraordinary origin!
To them, this person should have long perished. Suspended from a blood-iron pillar for endless ages without so much as a twitch, could they truly revive?
Yet, precisely because of their uniqueness, even a single day of existence demanded utmost vigilance—no room for error!
Shi Hao, too, revealed a strange expression as he stood inside the prison, silently observing the figure opposite him. The prisoner’s attire was starkly different from contemporary garb—worn and stained with dull blood.
The blood on their body had long dried, now a dark crimson, lifeless.
Only in a small depression on the ground remained traces of murky red, faintly shimmering with chaotic mist and flickers of lightning.
Yet, upon closer inspection, nothing could be sensed—it was as if the scene merely reflected remnants of the past.
Clearly, their blood was extraordinary. Even in death, wisps of chaotic energy lingered, hinting at a shocking origin!
The denizens of the otherworld regarded this prisoner with fear, unwilling to approach the cage. Though they believed the prisoner had been dead for an epoch, an eerie dread clung to them, making them reluctant to taint themselves with their aura.
In truth, the prisoner was a pitiful sight—suspended from the iron pillar by their own gray hair, coiled around their neck like a hanged ghost, disheveled and emaciated.
Their true face remained hidden, their body gaunt and cold, resembling a corpse that had perished over an epoch ago.
“Fang, take your time and enjoy yourself. Don’t overestimate your worth—here, you are nothing. Countless prodigies have been imprisoned within these walls, some once shaking the ancient and modern eras. And what became of them? Reduced to ashes!” someone sneered.
“This prison even holds prodigies from our own world who committed grave sins. Perhaps we should arrange for Fang to share a cell with one of them—let them have a good chat,” another creature chuckled, though their tone was icy, sending chills down the spine.
“No. He’d be beaten to a pulp, tortured beyond recognition, possibly even killed. Then we’d have no way to answer for it. Whether he can even survive this cage is questionable!” another objected.
They were about to leave, some believing it a waste to imprison a mere Slayer-level cultivator here—hardly worth the effort.
“Only activate a fraction of the cage’s seals. Otherwise, he’ll dissolve into a puddle of putrid blood, body and soul annihilated,” someone said before departing.
And so they did. When the ancient cage was activated, the sealing force was restricted to its lowest level—a faint, murky light rising to envelop the prison.
In this grand prison, the weakest prisoners were typically of the Escape One realm, and even then, only a rare few. The sealing power was overwhelming—those of lower cultivation couldn’t endure it.
Soon, Shi Hao experienced its horrors firsthand.
As the feeble black light emerged, the entire cage turned frigid, an invisible force pressing against him, threatening to tear him apart.
The most terrifying part came with time—the prison grew damp, black droplets forming on the walls and rolling down.
Moments later, Shi Hao grimaced in agony. The black moisture corroded his flesh, splitting his skin as if to rend him limb from limb.
But the worst was at his feet. His battle boots melted instantly, the black droplets pooling around his soles with a terrifying corrosive power.
Shi Hao’s heart clenched—his feet were rotting, dissolving into black liquid. The transformation was horrifying, quickly reaching his bones.
He groaned, enduring unimaginable torment as the black droplets ate away at his flesh, dissolving even his bones.
This was an unbearable ordeal, swift and merciless—already, his feet were being destroyed.
Though he could regenerate flesh and reshape his body, it was useless now. Shackled and immobilized, he had no means to resist.
**Crack!**
His feet rotted away, bones shattered. Collapsing to the ground, he gritted his teeth, enduring even greater pain.
The Blackwater Celestial Prison lived up to its name. The inky liquid, though sparse as dew, was terrifying—imbued with an inexplicable force of destruction.
With his legs touching the ground, the damage only worsened!
For now, he had no recourse. Bound by the shackles of a Supreme Being, his entire body was sealed, leaving only his peerless physique to resist.
Any ordinary creature would have already dissolved into a puddle of filth, leaving nothing behind!
“Ah—!”
Finally, Shi Hao let out a furious roar. Death itself was not frightening, but to perish under torture, humiliated and powerless—that was unbearable.
The so-called black droplets continued to gather, corroding the lower half of his body. Flesh and bone melted into black slurry—a gruesome, horrifying sight.
“Damn it! We forgot one thing—his shackles are still sealed. He has no means to defend himself!”
As they exited the prison, one of the otherworldly beings paled in realization.
Even an Escape One realm prodigy, if immobilized and thrown into this cage, would quickly dissolve into black filth, leaving no trace.
“Hurry!”
Someone rushed back toward the prison.
“Was it intentional? But killing him like this would bring disaster. The higher-ups want him alive,” someone outside muttered.
Whether by accident or design, it had happened.
**Whoosh!**
Several beings arrived, peering into the cage.
“He’s this resilient?” someone marveled, for Fang was still alive—only half his body dissolved.
“Is his physique stronger than even an Escape One realm prodigy?” they wondered.
“No need to rush saving him. We can take our time fetching a Supreme Being to unlock his shackles,” one said coldly, intent on prolonging Shi Hao’s torment.
But fearing greater consequences, others opened the cage and dragged him out.
Soon, a Supreme Being arrived, removing Shi Hao’s restraints before tossing him back inside.
**Thud!**
This time, he was thrown in violently, slamming against the cage with a deafening impact. Blood foamed at his lips, but he uttered not a sound.
“Enjoy yourself!” With that, they finally left.
**Boom!**
Shi Hao’s body blazed with light as he swiftly healed, hovering midair to avoid the damp ground.
His blood surged, divine power boiling as he regenerated his legs and feet, bones regrowing, flesh reforming.
**Crackle!**
Like roasting beans, his body underwent a thousand refinements. His newly formed limbs felt stronger, infused with an inexplicable power.
“Complete laws, flawless world rules!” Shi Hao’s pupils gleamed. He realized—this might be a tremendous opportunity.
In the otherworld, he could reshape his true body and temper his primordial spirit anew!
The Blackwater Celestial Prison held a demonic nature. Even suspended in air, the black liquid gathered once more, corroding his flesh.
At first, Shi Hao tried resisting with divine power, only to find it eroded—delaying the corrosion but unable to stop it entirely.
“What kind of liquid is this? What kind of power?” he frowned.
If this continued, once his divine power was exhausted, he’d dissolve into black filth, annihilated body and soul.
“This is too passive. My divine power must evolve to withstand this force!” Shi Hao clenched his teeth. Unless his power ascended, he couldn’t resist the black liquid.
“Wait… my physique has grown slightly stronger!” He sensed a subtle change—his reforged body was indeed different.
“Then I’ll start with the flesh!” With no better option, he resolved to reshape his body here, forging a new true form in the otherworld.
Soon, he withdrew his divine power, letting the black liquid seep into his flesh, destroying and rebuilding him anew.
To an observer, it would have been a harrowing sight—Shi Hao endured hellish torment as his flesh was pitted to the bone.
Blood spilled, turning black as his body corroded beyond recognition.
**Boom!**
At a critical moment, Shi Hao erupted with radiant light, repelling the black liquid and mist as he began reconstructing his ravaged form.
This was purgatory.
Shi Hao knew his fate in the otherworld was bleak. Rather than await death, he chose to experiment boldly.
“Given his cultivation, can he last a day and night?” someone outside the Blackwater Celestial Prison mused.
Though Fang was renowned, his cultivation was low—the weakest in this prison, never meant for beings like him.
“Main him if you must, but don’t let him die. That would bring catastrophe,” a prison overseer warned, planning to check on him later.
Yet, after just eight hours, they grew restless and ventured deeper into the prison to inspect Shi Hao.
Though they wished to torture him to death, they dared not—fearing the higher-ups’ wrath.
“As expected of a low-level cultivator. He can’t compare to beings of higher realms. Good thing we came,” someone sighed in relief upon seeing Shi Hao’s state.
Inside the cage, Shi Hao’s flesh had melted, leaving black filth on the ground. He hovered like a skeletal wraith, barely recognizable.
His organs had rotted—a ghastly sight.
“His cultivation is still too low. No matter his fame, his true strength is limited,” another remarked.
**Boom!**
Yet as they spoke, a radiant light erupted, illuminating the cage and scattering the black droplets.
Fang’s flesh slowly regenerated, organs reforming with a crystalline sheen. Divine flames seemed to wreathe him, forming a halo of brilliance.
His body was reborn—stronger than before.
The beings outside froze, pupils contracting in shock. How could a Slayer-level cultivator be so resilient?
“He’s reforging his true body, tempering himself—trying to forge a stronger form. How audacious, treating this place as a training ground?!” someone hissed.
To them, Fang’s defiance was unacceptable for his level.
“Is he trying to defy the heavens, using the prison as a whetstone?” another said coldly, displeased.
To them, this was a challenge.
In truth, Shi Hao was oblivious, lost in his own world of suffering.
“The laws in the Imperial Pass are incomplete, the Dao damaged. Coming to our world might grant him immense benefits!” one said, moving to disrupt Shi Hao’s transformation.
“Unnecessary. Even if we stop him now, as long as he lives here, he’ll be tempered eventually. Let him continue,” another intervened, leading the others away.
“Why?” a strong cultivator questioned, unwilling to let Fang benefit.
“This kid is… unusual. His performance is almost heaven-defying. Such talent might even draw the attention of that corpse over there!”
“You mean the ancient monster dead for over an epoch might revive and take interest in him?!” someone gasped.
“I’d welcome it—if that old monster revived and imparted teachings. But that’s unlikely,” the first sighed.
They nodded. If such a thing happened, it would be a monumental achievement—dealing with Fang later would be far easier than handling the ancient monster.
“Still, I can’t stand the thought of Fang benefiting from our world’s complete Dao laws.”
“Relax. We can cripple him anytime,” another said coldly.
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