Amanda—a name so familiar yet distant, a companion from childhood who had tenderly cared for him day after day, allowing his fading life to endure.
Shi Hao’s eyes reddened slightly. Back then, the entire world had abandoned him. His Supreme Bone had been gouged out, his body left half-crippled. Everyone believed he wouldn’t survive.
At that time, only a little girl had never forsaken him. Though bullied by others from different courtyards, she had protected him, cared for him.
Shi Hao took a deep breath, steadying himself, calmly and methodically surveying the surroundings—for this place was unnaturally eerie.
Fifteenth Master remained motionless, eyes closed, showing no signs of awakening.
Meanwhile, Amanda sat atop a towering loess grave mound, beside a jade coffin—equally bizarre. Both had their eyes shut, clearly indicating something extraordinary.
A river flowed through the void, its silver radiance dazzling, with faint golden glimmers dotting its surface. Were those condensed bolts of lightning, or perhaps the blood of a Demon Monarch?
Now, the entire river was pouring into the massive grave, vanishing at its end!
The loess grave emitted divine light that pierced the heavens, blindingly intense, encircled by bands of lightning and even celestial bodies—all manifestations of thunder.
This place even carried the aura of the Immortal Dao, with genuine Immortal Dao arcs flickering, scattered remnants of a past heavenly tribulation.
Shi Hao remained vigilant, refraining from disturbing the two, for he sensed something deeply peculiar here.
“Roar—”
Suddenly, an inexplicable growl arose—low, chilling, as if piercing straight into the soul, like the wail of a peerless vengeful ghost.
Shi Hao shuddered. What creature was this? Where was it? He hadn’t detected it beforehand!
No matter how intently he searched, he found nothing.
His gaze fixed on the loess grave. Was it inside?
Yet no fluctuations emanated from it, and his Heavenly Eye failed here—unable to penetrate the grave!
Shi Hao’s expression darkened. Two people of utmost importance to him were here, and he had to proceed with caution.
He scrutinized every inch of the terrain. The grave bore plants—all rare herbs, dozens to hundreds of them, adorned with radiant glyphs, shimmering brilliantly.
Even their fragrance wafted through the supreme thunder, intoxicating the senses.
Amanda appeared to be sitting there, but in truth, her legs were buried within the grave!
The growl ceased after that single, inexplicable sound—as if warning him, or perhaps intimidating all living beings in this realm.
Shi Hao’s eyes blazed with divine light as he studied Amanda intently.
For she had changed.
Her raven-black hair gleamed, her forehead luminous and pure, her delicate features serene and breathtakingly beautiful. Yet, faint, eerie patterns had begun creeping across her face—like demonic sigils, or perhaps Immortal Dao symbols, flickering with both sacred and sinister auras.
What was happening?
Those weren’t tattoos, but genuine Dao symbols—part demonic, part immortal—shimmering mysteriously on her skin.
Shi Hao’s heart clenched as he noticed crimson patterns slithering down her swan-like neck, vanishing beneath her robes.
Moreover, Amanda’s slender, jade-white hands rested on the jade coffin, faint ghostly light flickering around them.
The coffin was half-buried in the earth, half-exposed atop the grave—crystalline, enigmatic. Was it the source of these changes?
Or was it something within the grave, causing those crimson patterns to manifest on Amanda’s body, rendering her so uncanny?
Shi Hao dared not act rashly. Both his grandfather and Amanda were undergoing extraordinary transformations, locked in some precarious equilibrium.
Fifteenth Master sat motionless before the grave, his black hair disheveled, surrounded by droplets of blood—drawn from the river, the grave, the void itself—slowly coalescing into his body.
The sight was terrifying, sending chills down one’s spine.
Shi Hao knew well: this was the Demon Monarch’s burial ground, the resting place of a being who had nearly attained immortality—perhaps even stepped into the Immortal Dao.
Whose blood was this? Undoubtedly, the Demon Monarch’s. The thought unsettled him.
Shi Zhongtian was his grandfather; Amanda, someone he cherished and vowed to protect. Now, both were undergoing inexplicable changes, casting a shadow over his heart.
Finally, Shi Hao stepped forward. No matter what, he had to venture deeper, uncover what was affecting them.
“Grandfather!”
He called softly, wary of disturbing the silence.
No response came.
As he advanced, a terrifying force weighed upon him—a curse, eroding his flesh, severing his soul.
This place targeted cultivators of all realms. Raw power alone wouldn’t suffice; stepping here meant facing mortal peril.
In fact, the stronger one was, the swifter death came.
In the past, mighty figures from the Three Thousand Provinces had arrogantly sought to explore this place, only to fall on the path, never reaching the grave.
Strange symbols flared across Shi Hao’s body—blindingly bright—manifestations of the curse’s utmost potency.
Yet he stood unyielding, radiating 108 divine halos, dazzling and soul-stirring.
From afar, he resembled an Emperor of Creation, overseeing all existence, extinguishing and birthing galaxies within his gaze, the cosmos collapsing and reforming in his eyes.
It was a bizarre transformation.
Shi Hao even felt himself immersed in a sublime, magnificent ascent—as if he had truly arrived at the dawn of creation, gazing down upon all life.
“Boom!”
His foot stamped, shattering the void.
He forced himself to calm down, withdrawing from that boundless expansion of will. For in that moment, his soul had nearly ignited, as if merging with the heavens.
“An inexplicable aura sought to merge me with the Dao, to dissolve me here!” Shi Hao realized with alarm.
“Dissolving into the Dao” sounded noble—unity with the cosmos—but in truth, it meant perishing, one’s will dispersing into the fabric of existence.
This place grew ever more sinister. Without any creature attacking, it nearly lured him into self-destruction.
Worse, he had been willing, believing himself ascending, growing stronger, stepping onto the supreme path.
“The curse has mutated,” Shi Hao murmured.
He studied his grandfather and Amanda. How had they reached this place? How had they resisted the curse’s corruption?
Especially Amanda, seated atop the grave—where the curse was strongest!
Back then, Shi Hao had barely survived climbing it to gather herbs.
“Grandfather carries the Demon Monarch’s blood. It makes sense he could come this far,” Shi Hao reasoned.
As for Amanda, something must have happened to her. How else could she sit atop that Immortal Grave, her face adorned with those eerie patterns?
And that jade coffin—its design ancient, its engravings intricate—seemed to whisper forgotten horrors of a bygone era.
“This coffin doesn’t belong to this epoch. These glyphs, these incantations… I don’t recognize them,” Shi Hao frowned.
He sensed the coffin hailed from an era far older than even the Demon Monarch’s time.
“Boom!”
Suddenly, as Shi Hao approached, a tremendous force erupted. A creature emerged from the grave, coldly staring at him.
Shi Hao’s heart lurched. This grave truly defied norms, concealing all auras. Despite his vigilance, he hadn’t detected it earlier.
“You… leave.”
The creature’s voice was hoarse, feeble—utterly unlike its earlier sharpness.
It was an old man, leaning on a cane, his robes decayed, his flesh reeking of rot. How long had he been buried?
His face was sallow, sickly—no, corpse-like. Clouded eyes, skin clinging to bones, as if barely clinging to unlife.
He seemed more dead than alive.
His flesh sagged, putrid and lifeless, a sight to repel even the bravest.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” Shi Hao demanded.
The old man grinned, revealing teeth shockingly white against his decaying visage—ghoulishly so.
His tattered robes fluttered as he studied Shi Hao, his murky eyes glinting with something unsettling, like a specter speaking from beyond.
“Exceptional talent… yet something’s amiss with you,” he rasped, his words sending icy chills through the soul.
“Demon Monarch?” Shi Hao ventured, suspecting the truth.
“Before me, who dares claim supremacy?” the old man retorted, his tone both ghostly and imperious.
“Then who are you?” Shi Hao remained expressionless, poised for battle.
“Fallen since the Emperor’s demise, a rotting corpse lingering by the Netherworld, witnessing epoch upon epoch, the rise and fall of ages… I have forgotten who I am.”
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