“Gentlemen, please!”
Dressed in pristine white robes, the master of the forbidden zone exuded an ethereal grace, untamed even in his fallen state, appearing like a true immortal banished to the mortal realm.
With a sweeping gesture, he invited the crystal skull and the others to land beside the thatched cottage. Nearby, emerald bamboo swayed, rustling softly, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees.
Before the cottage, a cosmic lake shimmered, gathering the stars of the heavens into its depths—a grand spectacle indeed.
Two child disciples, a boy and a girl, reappeared, standing behind the master of the forbidden zone, preparing tea to entertain their esteemed guests, though none of the three beings partook.
The altar expanded to half a person’s height and settled on the ground.
“Were you slain by that being who kept a flock of chickens?” the master of the forbidden zone asked solemnly, discussing their demise with the three beings.
Shi Hao was taken aback. *A master who raises chickens?* How absurd.
Suddenly, he recalled something—a being he had heard of before. Future Cao Yusheng had once roared across realms, mentioning a terrifying entity who casually kept true phoenixes like chickens at his doorstep.
Could the master be referring to *him*?
“Shamefully, we were obliterated, our souls shattered. Now, we remember little of our past, only fragments of memory, knowing only that we fell in the great reckoning,” the crystal skull lamented, its voice tinged with endless melancholy.
“No recollection at all?” The master smiled faintly before mentioning another being. “Were you slain by the one who peddles fake medicine?”
“It feels familiar, but I cannot confirm if there is a connection,” the crystal skull replied.
Shi Hao couldn’t help but wonder—*the one who sells fake medicine?* What an eccentric title for a terrifyingly powerful being.
Though the phrasing was odd, Shi Hao sensed an underlying horror in these words.
“Could it be *that* being?”
He had once heard of a creature whose body was split into six parts, each sealed within a different immortal herb—a truly horrifying tale.
Was this the reason for such an unflattering moniker?
“Or perhaps the butcher?” the master asked again, his tone deceptively mild.
Shi Hao was speechless. What kind of titles were these? It seemed even the most forbidden beings had their peculiarities.
“The butcher? Are you mocking us, brother? I faintly recall a being who slaughtered countless, calling the fallen ‘swine.'” The crystal skull sighed bitterly.
“More accurately, he should be called the Slaughterer—a being deserving of eternal torment. I wonder if he has truly perished,” the master mused to himself.
Shi Hao listened, itching to speak.
The master glanced at him. “Some knowledge is best left for later. Walk your path steadily, and when you reach that level, you will understand.”
Shi Hao recalled the master’s past hints about the dark world—a realm of unspeakable horrors, where even Yu Tuo was a dark evolver, and the foreign lands had been corrupted.
“Since the fall of emperors, epoch after epoch, these beings and events are but ripples in the river of time. Even those who once dominated their eras cannot claim supremacy across history,” the master reflected.
Then, thinking of himself, he shook his head. A broken body, half a skull—what remained? Only stubborn obsession, lingering in the mortal world.
In the end, Shi Hao was left bewildered. He knew only that beyond the dam lay the truth—the source of calamity, a place of great terror.
No wonder the Willow God had vanished there. It had its purpose, its reasons.
*Would the Willow God ever return?* His heart tightened. Even the master of the forbidden zone had barely crawled back, clinging to half a skull.
“Honored elders, I wish to train beyond the dam!” Shi Hao suddenly declared.
“Are you jesting?” The crystal skull’s purple-gold flames flickered coldly.
Undeterred, Shi Hao explained that he had once stood there, though he dared not cross. It was a place where even immortal-level experts had perished, their corpses hanging on the dam—a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
“I only seek to temper myself on this side, not to cross,” he clarified.
“Throughout the ages, the strongest have sought that place at the end of their paths. It is indeed… a worthy destination,” the master remarked, then added with a cold smile, “But to reach the pinnacle only to throw oneself into the flames—only those weary of life would dare.”
“Young one, do not overreach. Focus on your cultivation. Only at the True Immortal realm should you consider such a journey,” the crystal skull advised.
Even it, in its prime, had never dared to cross.
“Very well. If you can reach the flawless, perfect realm of the Supreme Being, I may grant you passage,” the master relented.
Shi Hao had once reached the dam through an impossible path, unrepeatable now. Only these ancient beings knew other ways.
“I’d even take the younger generation there—a thunderous abyss beyond the dam would temper them well,” Shi Hao muttered.
“You can barely protect yourself, yet you think of others? Reflect on your haste. Your foundation is unstable!” the master rebuked sharply.
Shi Hao sighed. Even Jin Tai Jun had seen this flaw, let alone these supreme beings.
For years, he had contemplated his path, even considering severing his foundation to start anew.
“You have two choices: endure the Soul-Severing Curse, tempering yourself in agony, or begin anew,” the master stated.
The crystal skull was stunned. This youth had survived the Soul-Severing Curse and still thrived?
“I will endure the curse. From this day, I seclude myself—I will not emerge until I am a flawless Supreme Being!” Shi Hao vowed.
The secrets he had heard—the Slaughterer, the keeper of phoenix-chickens—had shaken him. Mediocrity was no longer an option.
“Enter the golden hall.”
The master pointed to a golden palace where Shi Hao would endure the curse’s torment.
Steeling himself, Shi Hao entered. Each visit meant agony, yet he still shuddered at the thought.
The Soul-Severing Curse was the cruelest punishment—eroding cultivation while torturing body and soul.
Three days later, Shi Hao emerged drenched in sweat, blood, and even fragments of bone.
Who could imagine such suffering?
Thirty years had passed, yet the torment only worsened. But the master assured him—this was normal. The curse grew crueler with time.
The crystal skull stared at him as if seeing a ghost. How had he survived with his cultivation intact?
“What have you learned?” the master asked.
“I suspect this may be the world’s most brutal cultivation method—eroding one’s own power, only to refine it like gold in fire,” Shi Hao replied.
The master’s expression turned odd. The curse was meant to destroy, not temper. But since Shi Hao saw it thus, he let it be.
“Elder, I crave battle. Seeing the younger generation temper themselves in bloodshed has moved me. Since leaving the borderlands, I’ve grown stagnant,” Shi Hao said.
To him, seclusion was not idle meditation but relentless combat—enlightenment through life-and-death struggle.
“Then I shall send you to witness the might of vanished races.”
The master opened a path to a shattered world in the chaos.
“Though dead, their battle spirits remain. Fight them!”
This was a battlefield of Supreme Beings—a trial Shi Hao had long been prepared for, but only now could endure.
“Kill!”
Shi Hao charged in, immediately besieged by countless foes.
Ten days later, he emerged—bloodied, broken, barely conscious. The battle had been unimaginably brutal.
“I will seclude myself to reflect. I shall return.”
Half a year later, Shi Hao entered the Void God Realm, battling in the dark prison—another trial.
After prolonged combat, he secluded himself again, refining his path.
Thus began Shi Hao’s frenzied cultivation—testing himself in battle, advancing through blood and fire.
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