The altar trembled violently, malevolent energy erupted, sweeping in all directions like a ravaging hurricane. All the surrounding grass, trees, and boulders were reduced to dust.
An intangible realm was formed, instantly annihilating everything within!
The three mighty cultivators turned pale, their bodies shivering with fear as they desperately tried to flee, yet they could not escape its grasp.
Their spiritual senses keenly told them—those eyes had locked onto them, still dripping with blood, undying even after countless millennia.
“It’s bad!” cried the warrior from the Netherworld.
Behind them, beyond the domain itself, the altar roiled with surging black light. Black ripples spread outward, seemingly gentle, yet more terrifying than any celestial sword.
Nothing could resist the ripple’s path—boulders and mountains alike were cleanly severed. Anything it touched disintegrated into dust.
“No!!”
The pangolin cried out. This crisis surpassed all imagination. Even beings who had ignited their divine flames were powerless to resist.
In the process, his silver tail was grazed, scales peeled off, flesh torn, and a large segment snapped off, vanishing into nothingness.
The pangolin activated a secret technique, spewing jets of radiant essence from his mouth—his very lifeblood, burning away his vitality to boost his speed in a last-ditch escape.
“Ahh!!”
Yang Li also screamed, his back struck and bleeding profusely. He invoked forbidden arts to flee far away, his heart drowning in shock and terror.
Once a prodigy from the Yin-Yang Academy, still relatively young among experts, he was now reduced to a trembling wretch, desperate and defeated.
This calamity was far worse than what Shi Hao had previously endured. Sensing the strength of the intruders, the altar seemed to possess a will of its own, deeming them the perfect sacrificial offering.
Shi Hao watched all this unfold, shaken to his core. He made only one move—retreating into the Bronze Treasure Chest world, holding the Ten-Thousand-Spirit Chart, surrendering to fate.
Surviving last time had been pure luck. This time, he had no idea what awaited. The feeling was dreadful—everything now hinged on destiny, not under his control, helpless and passive.
He could only wait silently. It was the most helpless course, but how could one entrust their fate to another?
Yet Shi Hao had no other choice. There was no escape. If there had been even the slightest hope, he would never have come here—it was a suicide mission.
The Bronze Slab, struck by the black ripple, was already damaged, becoming translucent, the outside world clearly visible through it.
Shi Hao held the Ten-Thousand-Spirit Chart, his expression calm as he waited. Whether he lived or died was now fate’s decision. If he survived, he’d profit by eliminating the three gods.
The three experts fled far, yet still couldn’t escape. Then from the altar flew forth a terrifying object, tearing through space, eternal and crushing, descending to strike.
“What?!” Shi Hao was shocked. This time, it was the golden skeletal hand rising to slaughter intruders.
“No!” the pangolin screamed in terror. Its silver scales flared, releasing divine essence, forming protective sigils—but it was futile.
The golden skeletal hand moved too fast, golden light flooding the sky. It struck the pangolin’s rear half with a single descending blow.
Boom!
With just this strike, golden bones came crashing down, smashing nearly the entire body of the pangolin to pulp. Below the chest was reduced to bloody sludge, bones shattered.
A divine might beyond imagination!
A being who had ignited a divine flame was as helpless as an insect, easily crushed, utterly powerless.
Most terrifying of all—it wasn’t even using techniques or glyphs. Pure physical force, sheer strength and durability, crushed the pangolin, renowned for its formidable defense.
“No!!” screamed the skeleton from the Netherworld, its wings beating furiously, desperate to flee beyond the world.
But it was still useless. The golden skeletal hand swept through lightly, shattering its sacred wings instantly. White feathers scattered, drifting through the sky.
The hand then descended, and the skeleton shattered, joints collapsing with loud cracks, bones snapping and pulverized.
Finally, only the skull of the Netherworld god flew off into the distance, still desperate to escape.
“Defend!” Yang Li shouted, silver locks flying wildly as he summoned a dented copper furnace, broken and worn, many parts dented and ruined.
It was the Void Crucible, its glyphs destroyed during interdimensional travel, stripped of all laws. Yet its incredible durability still remained.
If he hadn’t been cornered, Yang Li would never have resorted to this broken relic—it was a last-ditch effort.
“Ahh!!”
The skull of the Netherworld god and what little remained of the pangolin all cried out, rushing into the crucible as well. With no path left, it was their only hope.
“Clang!”
The lid closed shut. The three gods huddled inside, faces pale with terror, their broken bodies trembling violently, consumed by a fear unlike anything before. Once ignited in divine flame, they stood high among their clans and academies, untouched by fear for countless years.
“Clang!”
The golden skeletal hand struck the Void Crucible, ringing thunderously. The first blow caved in a huge portion, piercing its surface, exposing its insides.
“What?!”
The three gods’ vision darkened. Helpless and weak, they sat trembling, how could they possibly resist now? The Void Crucible, unyielding against even divine kings, was now defenseless.
What strange power did this altar possess? Who placed such terrifying offerings? It was inexplicably dreadful, a source of absolute despair.
“Clang!”
The second strike from the golden hand hit. Five finger bones tore through the crucible, ripping it wide open. The crucible peeled apart like a shriveled tangerine skin, scattering to the ground. The three masters collapsed, bodies broken, powerless to resist.
Unexpectedly, the golden hand retreated without delivering the killing blow.
The three gods’ eyes lit with hope, struggling to rise. But their hope shattered instantly, as if cast from heaven to hell, their spirits broken beyond repair.
From the altar, a crystal skull rose, its eye sockets deep and dark. It flew forward, jaw swinging open, creating a vortex within.
“Ahh!!”
Yang Li screamed in agony, rolling on the ground, struggling violently. His body had remained somewhat intact before, but now it withered rapidly, flesh drying up, essence draining away.
In an instant, he became a skeleton draped in skin, eyes hollow and lifeless.
The pangolin’s upper torso remained. It trembled in terror, backing away, watching the crystal skull approach, howling in pain.
The vortex glowed. The pangolin’s body withered too, scales peeling off, body drying into a skeleton.
Next, the crystal skull grew larger. It opened its mouth and bit the Netherworld god’s skull between its teeth, cleaving it in two with a sharp crack.
“Begging you, spare me!” the Netherworld god roared.
The crystal skull ignored him. With a slight inhale, it devoured half of the god’s soul essence, his very foundation instantaneously dimming.
“Don’t kill me… please… spare me…” Yang Li pleaded weakly. He wanted to live—he was a prodigy, he couldn’t die like this, cast away in a lower realm.
But the crystal skull was indifferent. It bit the skull gently between its teeth, and with a light inhale, drained away ninety percent of Yang Li’s soul essence, leaving only dregs behind.
“Ahh!!”
The pangolin cried weakly, struggling and begging, but the fate could not be changed. Its soul power was drained almost entirely.
The three mighty experts were ruined. Even without anyone striking them, they were as good as dead, their very essence lost, cast from heaven to hell, stripped of all glory.
Whether the golden skeletal hand or the crystal skull, both paused briefly on the Bronze Treasure Chest, hesitated slightly, then returned to the altar without attacking.
Inside the small world, the Ten-Thousand-Spirit Chart in Shi Hao’s hand indeed glowed once more. Countless spirits appeared, glyphs filled the air, and chaotic energy swirled about, deeply enigmatic.
Who knows how long it was before the place finally fell silent.
Shi Hao’s expression was complex, gazing at the smooth bone in his hand. It had saved him again, sparing him from death.
“I survived.” He whispered to himself. But the feeling was bittersweet—it had been a gamble, entrusting his fate to another. Soon enough, he shook off the emotion and walked forward, lifting the three withered remains and striding out of the Western Mausoleum Realm.
Outside, verdant peaks and lush valleys were brimming with life, sunlight pouring in. The past events felt like a dream.
“How could this happen…” Yang Li mumbled, his eyes dim, skin withered, unable to believe the final outcome.
“I refuse to accept it!” the pangolin roared weakly, voice barely more than a whisper.
The Netherworld god had only half a skull left, his remaining soul-light flickering, ready to extinguish. He was filled with despair. To be a god, only to die in such a pitiful manner.
The three had experienced terror, struggle, and despair, mingled with regret. It wasn’t worth it. To kill just a minor cultivator, and end up perishing so miserably.
They were meant to loom over Shi Hao, now they groveled beneath his feet. The cruel reality was unbearable.
Shi Hao laughed, completely shaking off the complex emotions from the Western Mausoleum Realm, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, revealing gleaming teeth that sparkled in the sunshine.
“Where is your confidence and arrogance now?”
A simple sentence, like a blade, struck the hearts of the three, causing them to roar in fury, their bodies cracking badly.
“Ruling a land with cruelty, treating lower realm beings as insects. But now, you are but insects yourselves,” Shi Hao shook his head.
Then, his gaze turned cold. These beings had slaughtered beings in their descent to the lower realm, causing widespread death. Even killing them could never repay the blood debt.
Shi Hao searched their consciousnesses. Though shattered, fragments remained—enough for him to grasp some crucial secrets.
Then, with one kick each, he sent the three skulls flying, exploding midair into fragments!
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