The black bird hopped merrily on Blood Blade’s shoulder, utterly delighted. Despite the environment that could easily incinerate a Fourth Heaven Realm God, it remained completely unscathed—a testament to its terrifying nature. It now pranced about triumphantly, mimicking Blood Blade’s voice with exaggerated flair, “Blood Blade, weren’t you so confident before, telling me… ‘I never misjudge’?”
“Got slapped in the face, didn’t you? Embarrassed now?” The bird cackled mockingly. “I told you not to be so sure of yourself. The future hasn’t happened yet—anything is possible.”
“He still hasn’t grasped a First Grade Divine Heart?” Blood Blade frowned slightly. “Seems I overestimated him. He might not be worth my investment. Enough, let’s not speak of him further.”
With that, Blood Blade turned his attention back to the cosmic furnace, observing the occasional strands of dark energy coalescing amidst the terrifying flames. He sought to decipher the profound laws governing their movement, hoping to find the key to his own breakthrough.
“Oh.” The black bird obediently fell silent. It understood all too well—Blood Blade had lost interest in Dongbo Xueying. The bird sighed inwardly, “Poor little fellow.”
It knew.
Blood Blade was, at his core, ruthlessly pragmatic.
Having lived for eons, he had witnessed far too much life and death. To him, such things were mundane. He had taken on countless disciples—inner disciples, nominal disciples—all within the last few billion years. After all, those who failed to ascend to Great Power status had finite lifespans, whether they perished in battle, their Divine Hearts collapsed, or they reincarnated. Over the ages, Blood Blade had taken in many disciples on a whim. If he felt like it, he did. If not, even a First Grade True Intent Transcendent would be brushed aside without a second glance.
If they were worth nurturing, he nurtured them. If not, he couldn’t be bothered to spare them a thought—let alone expend any effort.
He was the mighty Blood Blade, after all. His time and energy were precious!
Even his two most accomplished disciples, ‘Qing Jun’ and ‘Ancient Vault Emperor,’ were merely given opportunities and left to their own paths. He rarely interfered, focusing instead on his own cultivation. This was why he stood at the pinnacle of the Divine Realm—his priority was always his own strength. As for the so-called Blood Blade Court? He cared little. Even when his disciple ‘Qing Jun’ defected, he allowed it silently, for he respected his disciples’ individual paths. Though he seldom intervened, he took quiet pride in their growth.
Territories? Governance? Such matters were left to subordinates like Emperor Qian Que.
“Hmm.” Blood Blade extended his right hand, destructive lightning crackling in his palm. “The same lineage, yet just one step away…”
He raised his head, gaze fixed on the cosmic furnace, watching the occasional flicker of dark energy amidst the raging flames.
—
As for the secret technique within the 351st layer of the Lockworld Tower, Dongbo Xueying had yet to master it—naturally, he still hadn’t grasped the ‘Hunyuan Divine Heart.’
“This is too harsh.”
“Not even a shred of face spared.”
“Before, we could at least stroll in the neighboring gardens. Today, they outright drove us out.”
Inside Dongbo Xueying’s abode, the Xia Clan deities were murmuring discontentedly. When Dongbo entered, they immediately approached.
“Dongbo, by the rules, our permitted area in the Yin Stone Villa is limited to this residence and that corridor,” Emperor Yunhai said with a frown. “But in practice, servants and attendants of inner disciples are usually allowed to visit the neighboring gardens. Yet today, the guards there forcibly expelled us. Dongbo, for them to dare treat us this way… could it be His Majesty is displeased with you?”
“That’s right, Dongbo, what’s going on?” The Xia Clan deities watched him intently.
They weren’t fools.
Being driven out didn’t anger them—but it made them fear Dongbo might have fallen out of the Emperor’s favor.
“A minor setback,” Dongbo Xueying replied with a faint smile. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh.” They exchanged glances but pressed no further.
Yu Jingqiu, however, stepped closer and whispered via mental transmission, “Dongbo, what really happened? Since when do mere guards dare treat our people like this?”
“Perhaps my progress in cultivation has disappointed Master,” Dongbo transmitted back. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
“Be careful, and don’t pressure yourself too much,” Jingqiu consoled.
Suddenly—
“Dongbo, junior brother.” A cold voice rang from outside.
Dongbo turned to see the stern, gray-robed ‘Senior Sister Gong Feng’ standing at the entrance. Her tone was icy. “From now on, discipline your people. Servants and attendants must know where they are and aren’t permitted. This was made clear long ago. Be grateful they didn’t trespass into a forbidden zone—had they done so, execution would’ve been immediate.”
“Understood, Senior Sister.” Dongbo showed no irritation. Strictly speaking, his people *had* violated the rules—though such leniency had been tacitly allowed before.
The Yin Stone Villa was under Gong Feng’s management.
Her sudden strictness signaled her growing disdain for him. He’d long heard of her ruthless demeanor—she only showed courtesy to those with exceptional talent or strength. Others? She barely acknowledged them. Attendants of Third Heaven Realm Gods had previously enjoyed lighter restrictions, and he, too, had once benefited from such privileges. No longer.
“One more thing,” Gong Feng added coldly, tossing him a crystal token. “After two millennia of cultivation, you still haven’t grasped a First Grade Divine Heart. Such incompetence forfeits your exemption from labor duties. In the Yin Stone Villa, labor is mandatory once every thousand years. Go fulfill yours.”
Dongbo caught the token. “Yes, Senior Sister.”
He couldn’t refuse. Labor duties were standard—Gong Feng’s order was absolute.
—
Amidst the sprawling mountains behind the Yin Stone Villa, Dongbo Xueying swung a massive axe, hacking at towering ancient trees. Each strike required his full strength, yet the wood was unnaturally resilient—it took nearly half an hour to fell a single tree.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.* The rhythmic chopping gradually calmed his mind.
Senior Sister Gong Feng’s disdain. His master’s silence. Fellow disciples who once treated him warmly now whispered behind his back or turned cold. This was a world where strength reigned supreme. For a thousand years, he’d received annual Nine Fruits, personal guidance from his master, and access to the Lockworld Tower—resources equivalent to ten millennia under another Great Power.
Now that his peers deemed his potential lacking, their attitudes shifted.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.* With each swing, Dongbo grew more serene, a faint smile touching his lips.
Others’ opinions mattered little.
So long as he walked his chosen path, step by step, doubts were meaningless. When his brilliance shone, respect would follow.
“No wonder Master assigns labor duties,” Dongbo mused inwardly. “Exhausting as it is, the physical toil brings mental clarity. Perhaps this balance—tension and release—is what cultivation truly needs.”
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