A dragon horn, stained with blood, crystal clear and translucent—just its mere approach exuded an overwhelming aura, capable of severing one’s very soul!
Shi Hao’s eyes burned with desire. If this truly was a dragon horn, the value of claiming it would be unimaginable!
Yet, he found himself utterly unable to approach it. Though the horn had broken off, it still pulsed with life energy, its runes swirling autonomously, lethal to any who dared touch it.
Gazing at this treasure, Shi Hao could only watch helplessly. The artifact was simply too formidable.
By his estimation, if this horn truly belonged to a pure-blooded dragon, forging it into a divine weapon would undoubtedly make it one of the mightiest arms in the upper realm—its power beyond comprehension.
After lingering for a long while, he had no choice but to leave.
“Unwilling…” Even in this perilous place, where ominous threats lurked at every turn, Shi Hao couldn’t help but glance back repeatedly at the horn, his heart filled with longing.
Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of something else—a single scale, barely clinging to a trace of blood, its runic fluctuations intense.
Golden in hue and over a foot long, its patterns formed an archaic symbol resembling the character for ” Rebellion” (rebellion).
Was it connected to the dragon horn? Shi Hao stared, rooted to the spot once more. Like the horn, this scale was also impossible to approach.
Yet, to his astonishment, the mysterious flame within his body surged forth, landing on the scale and igniting it, drawing out a wisp of golden light before consuming it.
What was it doing? Shi Hao frowned in suspicion.
Soon after, the enigmatic flame soared back into his body, and the violent runic fluctuations of the scale vanished, leaving it with an ancient, subdued aura.
Now a deep, lustrous gold, its brilliance turned inward, exuding a solemn dignity—as if tempered by the passage of time.
The killing intent was gone? Shi Hao was stunned, but his instincts told him it was true.
Extending his divine sense cautiously, he found himself unharmed. Then, activating his bone inscriptions and treasure techniques to seize it, he encountered no backlash.
He swiftly picked it up, only to realize this single scale weighed a staggering hundred thousand pounds—absurdly heavy, far beyond his expectations.
*Clang!*
A light flick of his finger produced a metallic chime, clear and resonant. The scale was an inch thick and a foot long—ample material for forging a divine weapon.
Perhaps it was already a natural treasure in itself.
“If I make it back alive, I should ask the Dragon Maiden—is this truly a dragon scale?” he murmured to himself.
Along the way, he encountered many eerie objects—some terrifying, others of immense value—yet none could be approached or taken.
“An altar?”
Abruptly, Shi Hao realized that after traversing thousands of miles, he had neared the cabin of this ancient ship. Outside it stood a pitch-black altar, carved with archaic patterns.
The engravings were intricate, marred by countless blade and sword marks—evidence of past battles. Once again, the flame within him stirred, imprinting everything into his mind.
Ascending the colossal stone steps, Shi Hao climbed the altar, which towered like a mountain.
At its summit lay a sunken pool filled with a five-colored liquid, luminous as jade nectar and radiating dazzling light.
“Is this… blood?” Shi Hao tensed. Upon closer inspection, he confirmed it was indeed blood. Was this part of a ritual?
This blood was extraordinary—just gazing at it evoked an unfathomable power. Shi Hao sensed it was far more potent than ordinary crimson blood, yet equally suffused with a chilling killing intent.
“Everything here is sharp, exuding an aura of slaughter—as if brought back from a battlefield. Or is it just my imagination?”
He dared not open his Heavenly Eye, fearing the interwoven runes might provoke the five-colored blood’s wrath. Yet even observing it calmly, he felt something amiss.
The altar suddenly rumbled, and within the five-colored liquid, a shocking scene emerged—faint voices accompanying the vision.
His focus sharpened. It wasn’t an illusion—the images grew clearer.
“Kill—!”
Suddenly, the roar of battle shook the heavens. The five-colored blood rippled like a turbulent sea, revealing blurred scenes within.
An ancient, colossal city. A boundless battlefield. Warriors capable of plucking stars and seizing the moon—each impossibly powerful.
The city, unbreakable, spanned the borderlands like an entire world.
*Boom!*
The battlefield trembled with the highest divine power, runes surging, causing stars to fall from the sky.
The scale of the battle was unimaginable!
Then, he saw seven figures, supporting one another, staggering toward the ancient city under the setting sun—their bodies battered but unbroken, exuding an indomitable aura.
Like seven invincible kings, they stepped over countless corpses to return and defend the city.
Soon, endless horrors descended—beings radiating supreme divine power, as if immortal, their presence tinged with the light of immortals.
“Ah—!”
The seven blood-soaked figures stood atop the city walls, howling at the heavens before charging back into the fray.
Within the city, the weak and wounded—gaunt elders, frail youths, even a girl in patched animal hides—climbed the walls to join the fight.
Shi Hao’s heart quaked. On their foreheads, sacred light erupted, converging to pierce the heavens—the patterns forming a single character: ” Sin” (sin).
At that moment, his blood roared in resonance. The same mark blazed on his own forehead, brighter than ever, runes intertwining as holy light surged skyward.
A deep sorrow gripped him. This was no mark of sin—it was a badge of honor. He remembered the voice he’d heard when his “sinful blood” first boiled, his skull glowing, the clouds parting:
*”We are not sinners… The blood in our veins is not tainted. It is glory—proof of our ancestors’ valor and triumph.”*
*”We… are not the accursed. Our forebears… still fight there, sealing the heavens, cutting off retreat. They bleed and stand guard at the borderlands.”*
The memory echoed in his ears. Shi Hao’s emotions surged.
“The borderlands… Is that the borderlands? Where is it? One day, I will fight my way there!” He clenched his fists.
The five-colored blood dimmed, the visions fading. In the final glimpse, one of the seven kings fell, and the stars themselves darkened.
*”We fight, sealing the heavens… but we cannot hold. Where are the successors? The covenant…”*
The voices of the six surviving kings, their towering figures bloodied and battered, supporting one another under the crimson sunset, were unbearably desolate.
Shi Hao’s eyes stung. Watching one king fall, his heart ached as if he could do nothing to help.
“Where are you? Where is the borderlands?” His voice trembled.
“The covenant… Could it be the ancient covenant?” He recalled the covenant mentioned by the Celestial Clan—its meaning unclear, but the word itself was the same.
*Hum!*
With a final tremor, the altar’s ripples subsided. The last scene Shi Hao saw was a black ancient ship, drenched in blood, vanishing into a void rift beyond the borderlands.
“This ship?!”
Shi Hao shuddered, his heart heavy.
Was this the source of the eerie and ominous? The ship’s origins were terrifying. Its appearance—was it a blessing or a curse?
Silence returned. Descending the altar, he bowed solemnly before approaching the cabin. The structure was colossal—standing before it, he felt like an ant entering a grand hall.
Yet inside, darkness reigned. Thick, gray mist seeped out, carrying an aura of the uncanny and ominous.
“If I can’t leave, I might as well see this through.”
Resigned to his fate, Shi Hao pressed on. Legends claimed none who boarded this ship ever left alive. With the worst already in mind, fear no longer held him.
His only hope now lay in the flame within him.
The cabin’s oppressive gloom startled him. This was no mere hold—it was an entire world, a shattered landscape.
A broken mountain, even in ruin, pierced the clouds.
At its base lay countless corpses—some clad in ancient attire, others in battle-worn armor from epochs long past.
Beneath the mountain stood an enormous stone cauldron, faintly glowing—the only auspicious light in this deathly gloom.
Approaching, Shi Hao rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Beside the cauldron was a massive jade table.
Upon it lay rows of severed heads, still dripping blood, their faint light flickering.
Beside them stood tablets inscribed with archaic characters—ones even he couldn’t decipher.
Extending his divine sense, thunderous dao voices resonated, allowing him to comprehend the words. They were ancient, unlike any script of the present era.
“Great Scarlet Heaven’s Lord… Supreme Purity Heaven’s Lord… Yu Yu Heaven’s Lord…”
Shi Hao inhaled sharply. Where had he stumbled into? This grotesque and horrifying scene made his scalp crawl.
The Lords of the Great Scarlet Heaven, Supreme Purity Heaven—these were immortals!
Even now, remnants like the Great Scarlet Heaven Flame and Yu Yu Heaven Flame existed in the world—legacies of these very beings. And here he stood, before their memorial tablets.
But the true horror was the heads before the tablets, still pristine, their blood undried.
“Could these… be the heads of the Great Scarlet Heaven’s Lord, Supreme Purity Heaven’s Lord, and the others?”
Shi Hao’s hair stood on end. The thought was too monstrous to fathom.
*Flicker.*
A faint light flashed. The tablets and heads vanished. The stone cauldron’s glow pulsed once more.
Was it an illusion, or had the cauldron projected those images?
Shi Hao stared at the cauldron. Despite its sealed lid and supreme enchantments, cracks spiderwebbed across its surface—as if it might shatter at any moment.
Since boarding this ship, everything he’d witnessed defied reason. But this place… this was true terror.
A bone-deep chill gripped him—not from the cold, but from the dread in his heart.
How could such a place exist? To witness these things… it was beyond comprehension.
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