Chapter 446: Inviting the Dao into One’s Being

Shi Hao’s heart instantly turned cold. That indistinct, mocking sneer was filled with such disdain and contempt, its lofty demeanor seemingly manifesting through the calamity itself. Was this a mockery of the Desolate Wastes?

As the great tribulation raged on, Shi Hao landed atop a mountain peak, refraining from reckless movement. Instead, he settled onto a massive boulder, clearing his mind of resentment and distractions, entering a state of serene clarity. The howling winds roared like thunder, and across the heavens and earth, streaks of light danced—swords of divine law, slaying all in their path, and black war spears piercing through everything. Those who dared resist were annihilated without mercy!

The net of heaven and earth had unfurled, sparing no sacred being. This was a purge—any who slipped through the cracks would be impaled by spears and dragged into the firmament, ensuring none escaped. The truth was brutal. Those who glimpsed it trembled in terror, their bodies chilled to the bone. Even mighty Sovereigns and the surviving deities who had barely clung to life were abducted. How utterly maddening!

Yet within the calamity, there was also the birth of opportunity. The great Dao had shifted, the upper realm had opened, and runes descended, manifesting profound truths. Those prepared could seize this moment to defy the heavens and “harvest” amidst the chaos. Shi Hao emptied his mind precisely to contend for this fortune, to grasp his own path, to trace the elusive patterns and glimpse the mysteries of order.

The winds raged, staining the world crimson like a whirlwind of bloody fur, wailing mournfully and piercingly. On this day, all cultivators were gripped with terror. They had believed the falling stars were mere illusions, that the calamity had passed—only to realize this was merely the beginning. The celestial phenomena shook their very souls.

“And what of the mortals?” someone whispered in fear. In such a time when gods and ghosts roamed freely and the world itself was overturned, how could ordinary people not be frightened to death? The world was destined for chaos.

Yet the cities remained unchanged. The mortals, oblivious, saw none of these spectral horrors. What manner of power was this, targeting only cultivators while sparing the common folk? In a way, it was a twisted “mercy”—a cruel contradiction.

Many sharp-minded individuals discerned the truth. Cultivators studied the runes, observed the interplay of the five elements, and witnessed the shifts in natural laws—thus perceiving the extraordinary. Some detached themselves, viewing the world through mortal eyes, and through reverse deduction, began to grasp fragments of the calamity’s logic.

Shi Hao sat cross-legged upon the boulder, sinking into deep meditation amidst the upheaval of the great Dao and the overturning of the cosmos, seizing the scattered fragments of divine law. Though engulfed in the tribulation, his body glowed with an ethereal radiance, his eyes occasionally flickering open to witness the myriad symbols flickering in the void, exuding auspicious light.

This was his opportunity. Shi Hao lost himself in the pursuit of these rare, manifesting truths, disregarding all else. These were the fringes of the great Dao, taking form before him. He immersed himself, refining his spirit and tempering his body, his form growing increasingly translucent, even emitting a faint fragrance.

This was not a mere advancement in cultivation but the reforging of his very vessel. Shi Hao drew “Dao traces” into his body, cleansing away worldly impurities and tempering his true form. As the Willow God had said, within calamity lay rebirth—and immense fortune! To seize it was to grasp a heavenly opportunity, laying the most unshakable foundation for future ascension.

Many across the world had sensed it. The most exceptional talents were all making their move, tracing the great Dao’s path, resonating its tangible form with their own bodies. In this extraordinary moment, even the slightest fragment of the Dao’s manifestation was a divine fortune, a boon that would benefit them for life.

Shi Hao sat enveloped in a swirling white mist, carrying a refreshing fragrance, purging all worldly dust. He grew ever more pristine, untouched by mortal impurities, as if transcending into divinity. He had gained immensely. His eyes opened and closed instinctively, capturing the Dao’s laws, probing the origin of all things. A profound, wordless comprehension settled within him.

**”Boom!”**

A surge of Dao energy lifted him, causing him to float above the mountain peak like a small boat upon a turbulent sea, rising and falling as he struggled toward the distant shore, crossing the bitter sea of mortality. Yet there were also violent waves and tempests, threatening to capsize him at any moment.

Such was the great Dao—too vast, too overwhelming. How could mortals hope to command it? A single misstep could shatter both vessel and soul.

Yet Shi Hao pressed on, unawakened, even stepping off his “boat” to wander the sea, bathing in endless waves. It was a perilous act—merging with the infinite Dao, where an individual was but a speck, easily crushed into oblivion.

In reality, this manifested as Shi Hao drawing the densely packed symbols from the void into his body, merging them with his physical treasures, forging his flesh into a vessel of the Dao. This was “accumulating momentum,” laying the foundation for his future path, where the seas would be vast enough for fish to leap and the skies high enough for birds to soar—carving out his own boundless domain.

To guide the Dao into his body, to temper himself with endless runes—this was the forging of an immortal vessel, the accumulation of latent potential, awaiting the day he would soar even higher. Perhaps even a carp’s leap, transforming into a dragon riding the wind, achieving a qualitative metamorphosis, shedding his mortal shell to embody his ultimate path.

For four days and nights, Shi Hao sat suspended in the void, encircled by runes that wrapped around him, inside and out. Eventually, these symbols condensed into flames, scorching his body—a tempering, a refinement through the Dao.

Finally, they took shape. The fragments of the great Dao had linked together, forming a cauldron that encased him, its blazing fires refining his true form.

**”Boom!”**

At dawn on the fifth day, it all dispersed. The world cleared, and Shi Hao opened his eyes, sensing the change within himself. His body exuded a fragrance like orchids and musk—a sign of nearing the Dao, of success.

Even Sovereigns rarely achieved such a feat, save for a select few. His flesh, once as unyielding as the Western Sect’s Indestructible Vajra Body, now resonated with the Dao, effortlessly constructing runes within, advancing both body and law in unison.

The path of cultivation was arduous—the further one progressed, the more treacherous it became, with the constant risk of destruction. But now, he had gained an additional safeguard. His physical vessel was sturdy, imbued with Dao light, perpetually nurturing his essence, spirit, and energy—a harmonious union of body and soul.

Shi Hao had seized his opportunity, laying the foundation of his great Dao amidst the calamity, awaiting the day it would take root, sprout, and soar into the heavens, overshadowing the firmament.

The winds ceased. The streaks of light vanished. The bloodshed and slaughter were no more. Lifting his gaze, the sky was clear—the three great artifacts had disappeared without a trace. The world was peaceful once more, devoid of killing intent.

“Four days and nights… Who knows what transpired?” Shi Hao murmured as he descended the mountain, heading into the distance.

By instinct, he knew the world must have been shaken to its core. Had the calamity truly passed? Shi Hao frowned, certain it couldn’t be so simple.

He called out to the small pagoda, but it remained silent and unmoving—a sign that danger still lurked.

Finally, he forcibly opened the World Treasure Box, compelling it to speak. It awoke reluctantly, warning him that while they were temporarily safe, the calamity was far from over.

“For you, there should be no major issues. But for me, the unknown remains. Do not disturb me.” The pagoda was solemn, instructing him to refrain from contact. Even if Shi Hao faced peril, it could only lie dormant, unable to intervene.

The first wave might have ended, but opening the boundary gate demanded an immense price. Even the upper realm’s titans could not sustain it continuously—they had to bide their time.

Shi Hao left the mountains, heading toward populated lands. This region belonged to the Stone Country, as he had entered from the western border.

A day later, he arrived at a massive city and was stunned by the news he heard.

For four days and nights, the winds had howled, divine law swords and war spears had filled the skies, capturing Sovereigns and sweeping across the Desolate Wastes. The killing intent and battle aura still sent shivers down the spines of cultivators who recalled it.

All Sovereigns had vanished—whether captured or slain, none could say for certain if any had survived. After all, amidst the wailing of ghosts and gods, people had witnessed celestial phenomena—deities being slain, their blood staining the heavens for what seemed an eternity.

Countless strange events had occurred across the land, too numerous to recount.

Most shocking of all was the upheaval in the Fire Nation’s capital. Half the city now lay in ruins, while the other half was shrouded in roiling black clouds tinged with bloody light, surging skyward.

“What? The Fire Nation’s capital was struck by the calamity… wiped out just like that?” Shi Hao was shaken. He didn’t know if Huo Ling’er and her father had escaped—he could only hope they had fled to the Divine Mountain beforehand. Otherwise, the tragedy was unspeakable.

“Within the remaining half of the city, at the roots of a fallen ancient tree, mist billowed forth, revealing a vast battlefield that once defied the will of the heavens,” someone whispered.

Shi Hao shuddered. So there had indeed been something extraordinary there—the Fire Nation’s former guardian spirit tree had sealed away something unimaginable.

“Echoes of ancient gods’ weeping could be heard. Even the calamity failed to destroy that place—it was left untouched.”

Shi Hao longed to investigate, but he was currently in the Stone Country, too far away. With the calamity just ended, news was limited to events within the Stone and Fire Nations. He decided to first head to the Stone Country’s capital.

Along the way, he heard many rumors, including one earth-shattering revelation:

“This lower realm holds something that draws the upper realm’s attention. They must descend to investigate, to search thoroughly. This has been the case since ancient times—yet they have never succeeded.”

No one knew the source of this rumor, but whoever dared speak such secrets was undoubtedly formidable. Clearly, some had slipped through the net—individuals privy to parts of the calamity’s mysteries.

“But descending is no easy feat. The backlash is severe—even the upper realm’s titans risk peril. They must employ proxies to search on their behalf.”

The origins of such whispers were unclear, circulating faintly among cultivators, instilling dread.

Before reaching the capital, Shi Hao heard more news: forces from the Sky-Suppressing Sect, the Everlasting Mountain, and the Western Heavenly Sect were swiftly converging on the Stone Country’s capital.

“Hmm? What’s the meaning of this?” Shi Hao asked a fellow traveler.

“Rumor has it they intend to usurp the country. With the Stone Emperor vanished and the realm unstable, these great sects seek to install puppets—or even rule directly.”

Shi Hao was enraged. Though he held no fondness for the Martial Prince’s Manor, he was still of the Stone lineage, sharing ancestors with the royal house. How could he allow the country’s legacy to fall into outsiders’ hands?

“The upper realm seeks something but cannot descend themselves. Naturally, they must borrow the lower realm’s strength,” the traveler sighed.

Though these were secrets, they had spread among cultivators. Clearly, some who knew the truth still lived.

“Lunar Grace Goddess, the Everlasting Mountain’s anomalies—they’ve all arrived with armies. They likely mean to appoint a new ruler for the Stone Country.”

Hearing this, Shi Hao could confirm that the foreign immortal sects had deep ties to the upper realm—perhaps even serving as their proxies.

“You cannot descend, yet for your selfish desires, you dare defy the heavens like this?” Shi Hao glared skyward. He knew this was part of the calamity’s cause, but it only fueled his fury.

“To covet the Stone Country? Wishful thinking. That ‘thing’ you seek—you shall never obtain it!” Shi Hao sneered.