The three Thunder Spirits danced with joy, swimming through the lightning before submerging into the Thunder Pools Shi Hao had gifted them.
They weren’t truly consuming the pools but rather absorbing the mysterious substances within—the highest essence of the Thunder Dao!
“Once we grow stronger, we’ll try to claim a Thunder Pool ourselves. So many pools drift here—this is our ultimate land of fortune!” the Thunder Spirits communicated among themselves.
Yet, they dared not act recklessly. Disturbing the Thunder Pools was far too dangerous and terrifying, for it might summon the dreaded Executioner’s Blade!
Mu Qing, Zhu Lin, Shi Zhong, the Heavenly Horned Ant, and others were all cultivating, seeking their fortunes within the abyss of lightning. They discovered that this place held great secrets—scriptures and glyphs hidden within the thunder.
It wasn’t an actual ancient scripture but rather a manifestation of the profound truths of the Great Dao.
“In this era, there are no heavenly tribulations, but in past epochs, powerful beings faced thunder tribulations upon breakthroughs. How strange this place is! Could it be that the insights and achievements of those ancient beings were imprinted within the lightning and preserved?”
They meditated, uncovering the secrets buried in the thunderous abyss.
Meanwhile, Shi Hao returned to the embankment, baptizing his true body with the “mist” from the Boundary Sea to temper himself.
Twenty more years passed this way. He had already spent decades here.
According to the words of the Forbidden Master, he needed to endure a full century before returning.
Shi Hao began walking along the embankment, setting his sights on the immortal corpses. He selected an ancient beast—long dead, its era unknown—and attempted to refine it.
For anyone else, even approaching these corpses would be impossible, let alone touching them. Even powerful beings like the Crimson Dragon or Zhu Lin would explode from the sheer intensity of the immortal’s lingering aura if they forced themselves forward.
At first, Shi Hao was extremely cautious. These creatures were too formidable, filling him with wariness, fearing unforeseen dangers.
But as he dragged the ancient beast’s corpse from the embankment and carefully refined its true blood, he made an unexpected discovery—this supposedly immortal being was hollow inside.
“What a pity. The essence of its immortal blood has faded, and its flesh and bones have deteriorated,” Shi Hao sighed.
Though the corpse appeared terrifying, its interior was decayed, far from its prime.
The Boundary Sea had corroded it!
Still, he managed to extract some undying essence from the beast—a precious “great medicine” for the body.
All things possess spirit and can become medicine.
The great medicine of living beings was naturally extraordinary.
Legends said that the refined essence of a true immortal’s blood was no weaker than an elixir of immortality!
“What a waste,” Shi Hao muttered, shaking his head.
Suddenly, a beastly roar shook the waters beneath the embankment, sending waves churning violently.
The corpse trembled, and a phantom surged forth, lunging at Shi Hao.
“This is—?” He was startled but swiftly engaged in battle.
“An indestructible soul imprint?” Shi Hao realized what it was. Instead of fear, he felt exhilaration.
He fought fiercely against the phantom, which was no longer a true immortal but still carried remnants of its former Dao.
This was invaluable to Shi Hao. Battling the fragmented imprints of immortal beings allowed him to observe their Great Dao, learn from them, and refine his own path—a rare and precious experience.
After the battle, the imprint finally dissipated into nothingness.
It couldn’t last forever—only a remnant, destined to fade.
Shi Hao closed his eyes, sitting cross-legged before the massive corpse, entering deep contemplation.
Years later, he finally opened his eyes and moved along the embankment to the next creature.
His cultivation time was too short to achieve immortality, and he couldn’t grasp the key to breaking through. Yet, he felt that this accumulation of insights was the most precious foundation he could build.
At just over three hundred years old, he was far younger than the immortals recorded in history. But this silent accumulation would one day erupt like a torrent.
Once he achieved immortality, it would be unlike anything before—violent as a mountain flood or a tidal wave.
After collecting another small vial of liquid—containing immortal blood and undying essence—Shi Hao triggered the lingering battle imprint within the corpse.
Boom!
Another great battle erupted.
Thus, Shi Hao adopted this method of cultivation: harvesting the great medicine of immortal beings, battling their remnants, comprehending their Dao, and repeating the cycle.
Decades passed in the blink of an eye. Nearly a century had gone by since their arrival.
Now nearing four hundred years of age, Shi Hao still couldn’t find the key to immortality. But his “Great Dao accumulation” grew deeper, silently and imperceptibly.
He gathered Mu Qing and the others, preparing for their return.
Undoubtedly, the three Thunder Spirits had gained the most, their power surging tremendously.
The Heavenly Horned Ant and the Crimson Dragon also seized great opportunities, even compensating for their innate deficiencies.
Dragon patterns gradually emerged on the Crimson Dragon’s bones, filling it with joy. Could its ancestral inheritance finally be awakening?
For years, it had practiced the Phoenix Treasure Technique passed down by Shi Hao, as its innate flaws had prevented the True Dragon’s supreme mysteries from manifesting.
“What about you? Have you found your breakthrough?” Shi Hao asked Mu Qing.
Mu Qing shook his head. Though he had long reached the peak of the Dunyi Realm, the light of advancement remained elusive.
The same was true for the Heavenly Horned Ant, the Crimson Dragon, and the others. Despite centuries of cultivation, none could ascend to the Sovereign Realm.
They smiled wryly. Five hundred years—this was indeed a forbidden threshold, nearly impossible to cross.
“This place is unique, yet we still can’t find our path. Becoming Sovereigns remains a distant goal,” the Heavenly Horned Ant lamented.
But then it consoled itself. In the previous era, how many of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths’ immortals had achieved the Sovereign Realm before five hundred years of age?
There was only one—Shi Hao, the Unmatched!
“If not this time, then next. I’ll bring you to the embankment again in another century and guard your cultivation,” Shi Hao said.
The group fell silent. The issue wasn’t the location—it was the ancient curse of the five-hundred-year limit, an obstacle that had persisted through the ages.
When the century mark arrived, the void split open. Runes flowed like molten iron, weaving through the air and enveloping them before whisking them away.
They reappeared before the Forbidden Master, who nodded silently before allowing them to leave.
Stone Village remained unchanged after a hundred years. Its spiritual energy far surpassed other lands, thanks to the divine herbs planted, the protective formations, and the Nine Dragons Coffin’s suppression.
“Uncle Hao is back!” someone shouted.
A century had brought new generations to the village, its population flourishing.
Yet, time had also taken its toll. Some had passed away.
The village chief, Shi Yunfeng, was now ancient, nearing five hundred years of age. His hair was snow-white, his face deeply lined, and he leaned on others for support as he came to greet Shi Hao.
“Grandpa Chief!” Shi Hao’s eyes stung. A hundred years had turned the once-vigorous elder frail.
This was despite Shi Hao’s past efforts to cleanse his marrow. The old man had never walked the path of cultivation deeply.
In this era of declining laws, even those with profound cultivation couldn’t match the lifespans of past cultivators.
“Returning safely is all that matters,” the old chief said, his trembling hand gripping Shi Hao’s. He knew his time was short.
Of his generation, he was the last. His old companions now lay beneath the village’s burial mounds, leaving him lonely in his twilight years.
Most of that generation had never cultivated seriously, and with the decline of spiritual herbs in this era, their lifespans had been cut short.
Yun Xi supported the old chief, while Shi Ziling and his wife stood nearby. They fared better, their cultivation deeper.
Shi Hao stepped forward, holding Shi Yunfeng’s other arm, feeling the cruel passage of time. The elders of his childhood were nearly all gone.
Even his childhood friends—Da Zhuang, Er Meng, and Pi Hou—now bore white hair. Their parents, though stronger than the chief’s generation, had also begun to fade.
The pain of mortality struck Shi Hao deeply. Partings were inevitable, yet they tore at his heart.
The newer generations of Stone Village were far stronger than their predecessors, their foundations solid from birth.
“I don’t want to watch you grow old!” Shi Hao cried inwardly, deeply moved.
This homecoming filled him with an unprecedented urgency. His nose stung with emotion. He wanted to change fate, to prevent those he loved from fading away.
But what could he do? How many could he preserve with divine herbs and elixirs?
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