Chapter 263: The Return

In the blood pool, streaks of crimson mist rose and surged, all of them merging into Shi Hao’s body, making his flesh radiant and resplendent. He sat in silent meditation, motionless, his body instinctively absorbing the blood of the Kunpeng. His aura grew increasingly powerful.

At this moment, the Qiankun Bag loosened, and a small golden creature peeked out—the Little Rascal. Greedily sniffing the air with its tiny nose, it joined in, basking in the baptism of the Kunpeng’s blood. Even a single drop of this true blood was enough to make venerable beings fight tooth and nail for it, for its benefits were immense—capable of truly refining one’s body and spirit.

Unaware and unfeeling, Shi Hao relied solely on his physical instincts to absorb this power. Engulfed in crimson mist, he shone like divine glass, surrounded by swirling clouds and radiant light. With a thunderous boom, his ten heavenly passages opened. Within one of them, a Kunpeng opened its eyes—the nurturing of its spirit had long begun, but now it was truly taking form, bestowed with life.

A vast surge of life energy emanated from the ten heavenly passages, each infused with a powerful spiritual will. Particularly in the Kunpeng’s passage, a golden-winged bird spread its wings, its gaze sweeping the world with an invincible majesty. Its body, adorned with black patterns, embodied the true essence of the Great Dao.

At this very moment, Shi Hao’s body trembled violently. The golden vortexes on his skin receded, replaced by dense, intricate runes that surged upward before merging into the heavenly passage, fusing with the Kunpeng. These were the profound runic truths left in the blood pool, now etched deep into Shi Hao’s mind—including the most primal rune of all.

Now, he imprinted these inherited marks directly into a heavenly passage, merging them with the Kunpeng spirit, refining them into one. This was a staggering transformation! The spirit’s power skyrocketed, becoming ever more lifelike—as if a true Kunpeng had awakened, soaring through the heavens, unrivaled across the primordial cosmos.

At the pinnacle of the Spirit Transformation realm, one could bestow divine consciousness upon the spirits within their heavenly passages, making them akin to living beings. The nurturing of spirits was an endless path—ultimately, one would withdraw their own will, leaving behind only the treasure spells to evolve into something resembling life.

Of course, this involved profound mysteries. Merely succeeding in nurturing a spirit within a heavenly passage was already an achievement. To fully grant a spirit life would be the work of a god.

Using a Kunpeng as a spirit was no easy feat—such a creature was far too powerful, its form and essence difficult to condense. In truth, if one continuously gathered the Kunpeng’s true spirit from the world, it would grow increasingly terrifying, approaching the might of its original form.

Finally, all the golden and black runes left in the ancient blood pool merged with the Kunpeng within Shi Hao’s heavenly passage, as if reviving it.

“Success!” Shi Hao knew that even if he hadn’t fully comprehended this treasure spell, this unique spirit alone could unleash part of its terrifying might.

Next, he refined the other heavenly passages. In one, a Lion-Dragon roared defiantly at the heavens, as if challenging beings beyond the nine skies. The remaining eight passages lacked divine beasts or fierce creatures to nurture, so Shi Hao infused his own will into one, shaping a figure identical to himself. In others, he manifested sword embryos, towers, bells, cauldrons, and halberds.

Lacking treasure spells, he had to substitute with weapons for now. But the effect was the same—nurturing spirits was about awakening vitality and evolving life. Later, he could replace them with corresponding treasure spells.

At his current level, the spirits he nurtured were merely extensions of his will, destined to return to his true self. The key was to initiate the process and achieve perfect harmony—which he had already done.

Now, all ten heavenly passages had successfully nurtured spirits, reaching a legendary state brimming with vibrant life energy, mysterious and profound.

Gathering the true spirits of creatures corresponding to treasure spells was a long process, possibly extending until the Divine Ascension stage.

On this day, Shi Hao opened his eyes. Months had passed since he entered the blood pool, and now his spirit-nurturing was complete. The pool had dimmed, its crimson mist entirely absorbed by him and the Little Rascal.

The Little Rascal had retreated back into the Qiankun Bag, once again fast asleep. It had shed its fur, regrowing even more dazzling golden fur, gleaming brilliantly.

Shi Hao examined himself—he too had shed a layer of old skin. His newborn flesh was like jade, translucent and radiant, enough to make even women envious.

Rising to his feet, he stretched, his bones cracking. He had grown taller—a thirteen-year-old in the wilderness was already old enough to marry and father children.

With delicate features and lively, ethereal eyes, Shi Hao now wore white robes, exuding an otherworldly grace, like an exiled immortal.

A thirteen-year-old at the peak of the Spirit Transformation realm—each stage perfected, reaching legendary heights. If word spread, it would surely shake the wilderness.

“Can legends be broken?” Shi Hao murmured. In the Blood Transformation and Heavenly Passage realms, he had forged his own path. What about this one?

“It’s time to leave.” With a sweep of his sleeves, he moved like an immortal, darting toward the exit of the Spirit Transformation cave.

The altar had collapsed, burying the exit. But from Shi Hao’s heavenly passage, a Kunpeng surged forth, obliterating everything in its path, carving out a massive tunnel.

Finally, he emerged from the cave, standing atop the azure waves as the sea breeze whipped at his robes, making him appear like an immortal ready to ride the wind home.

Lost in thought, he realized four months had passed since the great battle. The island reefs remained, the mysterious gate still stood—but the Kunpeng’s nest had shattered. From now on, this place would be but a relic, devoid of the Kunpeng’s legacy.

With a sigh, Shi Hao acknowledged that even the mightiest beings would eventually fade into the annals of time.

Instead of leaving immediately, he plunged into the depths, returning to the Yang Extreme Cave to endure the scorching divine flames, meditating upon the mysterious stone platform.

This time, the lightning-like flames licked his skin but could no longer harm him. His spirit burned just as brilliantly, free from pain.

Whether it was the baptism of the Kunpeng’s true blood or his successful spirit-nurturing, he could now withstand these terrifying flames.

Next, he ventured into the Profound Ice Abyss and the Meteor Tomb, reaching their deepest points unscathed—proof that he had truly perfected the Spirit Transformation realm.

“Woo-hoo!” The holy terror howled, racing across the waves into the distance.

This was a myth—a thirteen-year-old achieving such feats, enough to shake the world. A young sovereign was rising!

The emergence of the Kunpeng’s bone rune sent shockwaves through the Barren Lands. Countless major factions were embroiled in the struggle, with rumors of venerable beings perishing in the North Sea—the impact was immeasurable.

The battle had been brutal, with venerable beings clashing beyond the heavens, reaching the outer realms. The final outcome was tragic—some venerable beings fell, while the ancient divine mountains and overseas immortal isles suffered heavy losses. Even the survivors were grievously wounded.

Thus, though skirmishes continued afterward, peace eventually settled. The ancient divine lands were too ravaged to endure further conflict. After the storm, an eerie calm descended as all factions licked their wounds.

Yet this peace was deceptive. Many believed the matter far from over—those who obtained the rune bones would inevitably become targets, reigniting the storm.

For the ancient nations of the Barren Lands, however, this was not unwelcome. Their losses in the North Sea had been minimal compared to the divine mountains and descendants of primordial beasts.

A rare period of tranquility had arrived, bringing peace to the human nations.

In the Barren Lands, within a silent forest where all trees were pitch-black—even their leaves—no birds sang, no beasts roamed. Deathly stillness reigned.

This was the Black Forest, a legendary forbidden land. Since ancient times, few who entered had ever returned alive.

Yet today, a sound echoed through the ancient woods as an old man stumbled out. Though unsteady, he had survived.

The moment he emerged, he roared at the sky, shaking the nearby hills and causing the entire mountain range to tremble.

This was a terrifyingly powerful human—tall, broad-shouldered, with wild, unkempt gray hair and beard, as if untouched for years.

Even disheveled, his regal bearing was unmistakable—like a king standing tall.

But he had only one arm. Strapped to his back was a massive bow. Despite his disability, he radiated divine might.

“I’ve finally escaped! Hah! Damned gluttonous beast—you couldn’t kill me, and neither could the heavens!” His laughter boomed, brimming with indomitable spirit despite years of suffering.

“Thirteen years… My grandson must be grown now, surely a peerless talent—just like me!”

Sitting cross-legged, he began meditating, clearly exhausted from his ordeal. Blood stained his body and beard.

The essence of heaven and earth surged into him, and soon his body glowed. Golden-winged rocs and lion-dragons materialized around him, swirling with terrifying power.

After a long while, he stood, muttering, “Ziling was as good as I was in my youth. By now, he should be able to slay a primordial descendant with a single arrow.”

Despite his suffering, the old man remained spirited, even joyful. “At last, I can reunite with my family.”

Striding out of the mountains, he talked to himself—years of isolation had left him starved for conversation.

“Haoran, I had such high hopes for you. I even ventured into the Battlefield of a Hundred Clans, fighting enemies left and right, just to secure pure blood for your baptism.”

His face softened with affection, as if seeing the chubby, clever infant he’d left behind.

“An accident befell me. I couldn’t bring the pure blood back, but I found a divine pill here—it’ll make up for everything.” He grinned like a child.

“You’re my grandson. You must be outrageously strong by now. Surely no one could bully you?” He laughed heartily.

“Thirteen years… How I’ve missed you all—Ziling, and my dear grandson. I’m coming home.”

At last, tears welled in the old man’s eyes.